Henry Wadsworth Longfellow — Ancient Spanish Ballads

I Rio Verde, Rio Verde!        &nbsp Many a corpse is bathed in thee, Both of Moors and eke of Christians,        &nbsp Slain with swords most cruelly. And thy pure and crystal waters        &nbsp Dappled are with crimson gore; For between the Moors and Christians        &nbsp Long has been the fight and sore. Dukes and Counts fell bleeding near thee,        &nbsp Lords of high renown were slain, Perished many a brave hidalgo        &nbsp Of the noblemen of Spain. II Don Nuno, Count of Lara,        &nbsp In anger and in pride, Forgot all reverence for the king,        &nbsp And thus in wrath replied: "Our noble ancestors," quoth he,        &nbsp "Ne'er such a tribute paid; Nor shall the king receive of us        &nbsp What they have once gainsaid. "The base-born soul who deems it just        &nbsp May here with thee remain; But follow me, ye cavaliers,        &nbsp Ye noblemen of Spain." Forth followed they the noble Count,        &nbsp They marched to Glera's plain; Out of three thousand gallant knights        &nbsp Did only three remain. They tied the tribute to their spears,        &nbsp They raised it in the air, And they sent to tell their lord the king        &nbsp That his tax was ready there. "He may send and take by force," said they,        &nbsp "This paltry sum of gold; But the goodly gift of liberty        &nbsp Cannot be bought and sold." III The peasant leaves his plough afield,        &nbsp The reaper leaves his hook, And from his hand the shepherd-boy.        &nbsp Lets fall the pastoral crook. The young set up a shout of joy,        &nbsp The old forget their years, The feeble man grows stout of heart.        &nbsp No more the craven fears. All rush to Bernard's standard,        &nbsp And on liberty they call; They cannot brook to wear the yoke,        &nbsp When threatened by the Gaul. "Free were we born," 't is thus they cry        &nbsp "And willingly pay we The duty that we owe our king        &nbsp By the divine decree. "But God forbid that we obey        &nbsp The laws of foreign knaves, Tarnish the glory of our sires,        &nbsp And make our children slaves. "Our hearts have not so craven grown,        &nbsp So bloodless all our veins, So vigorless our brawny arms,        &nbsp As to submit to chains. "Has the audacious Frank, forsooth,        &nbsp Subdued these seas and lands? Shall he a bloodless victory have? No, not while we have hands. "He shall learn that the gallant Leonese        &nbsp Can bravely fight and fall, But that they know not how to yield;        &nbsp They are Castilians all. "Was it for this the Roman power        &nbsp Of old was made to yield Unto Numantia's valiant hosts        &nbsp On many a bloody field? "Shall the bold lions that have bathed        &nbsp Their paws in Libyan gore, Crouch basely to a feebler foe,        &nbsp And dare the strife no more? "Let the false king sell town and tower,        &nbsp But not his vassals free; For to subdue the free-born soul        &nbsp No royal power hath he!"