lunes, 19 de octubre de 2009

Pelayo or Cavern of Covadonga

...E'en as the morning lark takes wing,
E'er warbling forth its matin song,
In silence we will speed our flight,
While shrouded yet by friendly night.
Cease, then, to mourn, for e'er the dawn
Our loved Cantabria we will see,
And peace, and joy, and liberty!
Hail, Covadonga ! silent cave !
Hail, home of the unvanquish'd brave !
How often, hunted by the Moorish band,
Have Goths, the bravest, noblest, refuge found
Within thy wild retreat—
Fair nature's dwelling seat—
Oh ! when shall I see thee again, Cantabria wild ?
When, happy home, wilt thou greet thy long-lost child?
When shall I see thy tow'ring mountains high,
Whose snowy tops e'en to the very sky
Are rear'd ! piercing the vault above,
As though they daring strove
To woo the angels' love ?
When greet the warbling wild bird's song,
As through the air it skims along ?
Or hear the thunder's roar—when the vivid lightning
So wildly o'er the huge rocks, flashing with its rays,
As though it better loved to sport
Along their rugged steep, than court
The verdant green beneath them sleeping,
And flow'rets gay, with rain-drops weeping !
How often have I watch'd the rising sun's first golden
Sparkling like thousand diamonds o'er Deva's branching stream;

Extraído de "Pelayo or Cavern of Covadonga".1836

En los Picos de Europa...en 722...

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