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Home  »  The English Poets  »  Extract from Roderick

Thomas Humphry Ward, ed. The English Poets. 1880–1918.rnVol. IV. The Nineteenth Century: Wordsworth to Rossetti

Robert Southey (1774–1843)

Extract from Roderick

[The King is in disguise on his final mission to exterminate the Moors.]

ON foot they came,

Chieftains and men alike; the Oaken Cross,

Triumphant borne on high, precedes their march,

And broad and bright the argent banner shone.

Roderick, who dealing death from side to side,

Had through the Moorish army now made way,

Beheld it flash, and judging well what aid

Approach’d, with sudden impulse that way rode,

To tell of what had pass’d,.. lest in the strife

They should engage with Julian’s men, and mar

The mighty consummation. One ran on

To meet him fleet of foot, and having given

His tale to this swift messenger, the Goth

Halted awhile to let Orelio breathe.

Siverian, quoth Pelayo, if mine eyes

Deceive me not, yon horse, whose reeking sides

Are red with slaughter, is the same on whom

The apostate Orpas in his vauntery

Wont to parade the streets of Cordoba.

But thou shouldst know him best; regard him well:

Is ’t not Orelio?
Either it is he,

The old man replied, or one so like to him,

Whom all thought matchless, that similitude

Would be the greater wonder. But behold,

What man is he who in that disarray

Doth with such power and majesty bestride

The noble steed, as if he felt himself

In his own proper seat? Look how he leans

To cherish him; and how the gallant horse

Curves up his stately neck, and bends his head,

As if again to court that gentle touch,

And answer to the voice which praises him.

Can it be Maccabee? rejoin’d the King,

Or are the secret wishes of my soul

Indeed fulfill’d, and hath the grave given up

Its dead?… So saying, on the old man he turn’d

Eyes full of wide astonishment, which told

The incipient thought that for incredible

He spake no farther. But enough had past;

For old Siverian started at the words

Like one who sees a spectre, and exclaim’d,

Blind that I was to know him not till now!

My Master, O my Master!
He meantime

With easy pace moved on to meet their march.

King, to Pelayo he began, this day

By means scarce less than miracle, thy throne

Is stablish’d, and the wrongs of Spain revenged.

Orpas the accursed, upon yonder field

Lies ready for the ravens. By the Moors

Treacherously slain, Count Julian will be found

Before Saint Peter’s altar; unto him

Grace was vouchsafed; and by that holy power

Which at Visonia from the Primate’s hand

Of his own proper act to me was given,

Unworthy as I am,.. yet sure I think

Not without mystery, as the event hath shown,..

Did I accept Count Julian’s penitence,

And reconcile the dying man to Heaven.

Beside him hath his daughter fallen asleep;

Deal honourably with his remains, and let

One grave with Christian rites receive them both.

Is it not written that as falls the Tree

So it shall lie?
In this and all things else,

Pelayo answered, looking wistfully

Upon the Goth, thy pleasure shall be done.

Then Roderick saw that he was known, and turn’d

His head away in silence. But the old man

Laid hold upon his bridle, and look’d up

In his master’s face, weeping and silently.

Thereat the Goth with fervent pressure took

His hand, and bending down toward him, said,

My good Siverian, go not thou this day

To war! I charge thee keep thyself from harm!

Thou art past the age for battles, and with whom

Hereafter should thy mistress talk of me

If thou wert gone?.. Thou seest I am unarm’d;

Thus disarray’d as thou beholdest me,

Clean through yon miscreant army have I cut

My way unhurt; but being once by Heaven

Preserved, I would not perish with the guilt

Of having wilfully provoked my death.

Give me thy helmet and thy cuirass!.. nay,..

Thou wert not wont to let me ask in vain,

Nor to gainsay me when my will was known!

To thee methinks I should be still the King….

O who could tell what deeds were wrought that day,

Or who endure to hear the tale of rage,

Hatred, and madness, and despair, and fear,

Horror, and wounds, and agony, and death,

The cries, the blasphemies, the shrieks, and groans,

And prayers, which mingled with the din of arms

In one wild uproar of terrific sounds;

While over all predominant was heard,

Reiterate from the conquerors o’er the field,

Roderick the Goth! Roderick and Victory!

Roderick and Vengeance!…

The evening darken’d, but the avenging sword

Turned not away its edge till night had closed

Upon the field of blood. The Chieftains then

Blew the recall, and from their perfect work

Return’d rejoicing, all but he for whom

All look’d with most expectance. He full sure

Had thought upon that field to find his end

Desired, and with Florinda in the grave

Rest, in indissoluble union joined.

But still where through the press of war he went

Half-arm’d, and like a lover seeking death,

The arrows past him by to right and left,

The spear-point pierced him not, the scymitar

Glanced from his helmet; he, when he beheld

The rout complete, saw that the shield of Heaven

Had been extended over him once more,

And bowed before its will. Upon the banks

Of Sella was Orelio found, his legs

And flanks incarnadined, his poitral smeared

With froth and foam and gore, his silver mane

Sprinkled with blood, which hung on every hair,

Aspersed like dew-drops; trembling there he stood

From the toil of battle, and at times sent forth

His tremulous voice far echoing loud and shrill,

A frequent anxious cry, with which he seem’d

To call the master whom he loved so well,

And who had thus again forsaken him.

Siverian’s helm and cuirass on the grass

Lay near; and Julian’s sword, its hilt and chain

Clotted with blood; but where was he whose hand

Had wielded it so well that glorious day?…

Days, months, and years, and generations pass’d,

And centuries held their course, before, far off

Within a hermitage near Viseu’s walls

A humble tomb was found, which bore inscribed

In ancient characters King Roderick’s name.