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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=538028" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Romero</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">When freedom, from the land of Spain,<br>By Spain's degenerate sons was driven,<br>Who gave their willing limbs again<br>To wear the chain so lately riven;<br>Romero broke the sword he wore--<br>'Go, faithful brand,' the warrior said,<br>'Go, undishonoured, never more<br>The blood of man shall make thee red:<br>I grieve for that already shed;<br>And I am sick at heart to know,<br>That faithful friend and noble foe<br>Have only bled to make more strong<br>The yoke that Spain has worn so long.<br>Wear it who will, in abject fear--<br>I wear it not who have been free;<br>The perjured Ferdinand shall hear<br>No oath of loyalty from me.'<br>Then, hunted by the hounds of power,<br>Romero chose a safe retreat,<br>Where bleak Nevada's summits tower<br>Above the beauty at their feet.<br>There once, when on his cabin lay<br>The crimson light of setting day,<br>When even on the mountain's breast<br>The chainless winds were all at rest,<br>And he could hear the river's flow<br>From the calm paradise below;<br>Warmed with his former fires again,<br>He framed this rude but solemn strain:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Here will I make my home--for here at least I see,<br>Upon this wild Sierra's side, the steps of Liberty;<br>Where the locust chirps unscared beneath the unpruned lime,<br>And the merry bee doth hide from man the spoil of the mountain thyme;<br>Where the pure winds come and go, and the wild vine gads at will,<br>An outcast from the haunts of men, she dwells with Nature still.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>II.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'I see the valleys, Spain! where thy mighty rivers run,<br>And the hills that lift thy harvests and vineyards to the sun,<br>And the flocks that drink thy brooks and sprinkle all the green,<br>Where lie thy plains, with sheep-walks seamed, and olive-shades between:<br>I see thy fig-trees bask, with the fair pomegranate near,<br>And the fragrance of thy lemon-groves can almost reach me here.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>III.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Fair--fair--but fallen Spain! 'tis with a swelling heart,<br>That I think on all thou mightst have been, and look at what thou art;<br>But the strife is over now, and all the good and brave,<br>That would have raised thee up, are gone, to exile or the grave.<br>Thy fleeces are for monks, thy grapes for the convent feast,<br>And the wealth of all thy harvest-fields for the pampered lord and priest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>IV.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'But I shall see the day--it will come before I die--<br>I shall see it in my silver hairs, and with an age-dimmed eye;--<br>When the spirit of the land to liberty shall bound,<br>As yonder fountain leaps away from the darkness of the ground:<br>And to my mountain cell, the voices of the free<br>Shall rise, as from the beaten shore the thunders of the sea.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Cullen+Bryant">William Cullen Bryant</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=538028" data-title="Romero de William Cullen Bryant" data-description="When freedom, from the land of Spain,
By Spain's degenerate sons was driven,
Who gave their willing limbs again
To wear the chain so lately riven;
Romero broke the sword he wore--
'Go, faithful brand,' the warrior said,
'Go, undishonoured, never m..."></div>
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