For here it was that in 1522 came the chivalrous hero of Pampeluna, who had passed his youth in the court of Ferdinand V., trained in the practice of every knightly accomplishment, but now smitten down, like St. Paul, by divine grace, and come here in accordance with the principles of Christian chivalry in which he had been nurtured, to devote himself to Jesus and Mary as their knight. He laid aside his worldly insignia, and put on the poverty of Christ as the truest armor of virtue, and, on the eve of the Annunciation, kept his vigil of arms before the altar of Our Lady, whom he now chose as the Señora de sus pensamientos—“no countess,” as he said, “no duchess, but one of far higher degree”—and he hung up his sword on a pillar of her sanctuary as a token that his earthly warfare was over.
“When at thy shrine, most holy Maid,
The Spaniard hung his votive blade
And bared his helmèd brow,
‘Glory,’ he cried, ‘with thee I’ve done!
Fame, thy bright theatres I shun,
To tread fresh pathways now;
To track thy footsteps, Saviour God!
With willing feet by narrow road;
Hear and record my vow.’”