To breathe into Pelayo’s ear a voice
Of spirit-stirring power, which like the trump
Of the Arch-angel, shall awake dead Spain.
The northern mountaineers are unsubdued;
They call upon Pelayo for their chief;
Odoar and Urban tell him that the hour
Is come. Thou too, I ween, old man, art charged
With no light errand, or thou wouldst not now
Have left the ruins of thy master’s house.
Who art thou? cried Siverian, as he search’d