Brought rapine to the homesteads of the free,
And deathless grief to many a beauteous maid;
And wo unutterable cast its shade
Along Biscaya’s lovely sunlit shore.
Weak natures drooped their foreheads, sore afraid,
But Blanca proudly lifted hers the more,
And death to him whose hand might ruffian-dare she swore!
V.
Not long the chance removed, not long the arm
Of withering conquest left the test untried;