1828: ~eiteets €0bsck 
- PHE MAID OF €OVADONGA. 
I wap long entertained an ardent wish to see the Vale of Coyadonga, 
so celebrated in the earlier era of Spanish history. A visit which I paid 
to a friend, who lived part of the year at Canga de Onis, at length 
afforded me an opportunity of indulging these wishes, little suspecting 
the sort of adventure to which they gave rise. The distance from my 
friend’s house to the renowned spot was not inconveniently great ; and, 
accordingly, having procured a strong mule—a sort of accommodation 
peculiarly adapted to the nature of the ramble—I set out, full of roman- 
tic enthusiasm, for this my first chivalric expedition. A few hours’ tra- 
velling brought me to the scene of my anticipated delight. As I gra- 
dually approached the hallowed spot, my heart throbbed with unusual 
emotion ; nor could I view the glowing beauty, the wildness, the majestic 
grandeur of the distant scene, without feeling my heart awakened to 
every sensation of awe and admiration. The silence which reigned 
around seemed to reach the inmost soul; a solemn, breathless stillness 
hung over those imposing solitudes, and afforded a majestic picture of 
repose. The irregular variety and beautifully picturesque appearance 
of the surrounding objects excited the liveliest feelings of surprise. 
Here gigantic masses of rock rose majestically through the green foliage 
in which they were embosomed ; and there the vale was fianked with 
numerous mountain ravines. Uncouth and shapeless clusters of wild 
shrubs at intervals met the sight, strikingly contrasting with the trees, 
irregularly strewn over the hill-sides, and added to the wild beauties of 
the prospect. I visited the famous cavern, where the Goths are said to 
have taken refuge at the time of the Moorish invasion, and where a 
chapel of rude workmanship commemorates to this day the stubborn 
resistance made in favour of barbarian independence. 
Having thus paid my devoirs to the genius of the place, I mounted a 
little eminence near the chapel; and there, inspired by the deep silence 
of the scene, my mind insensibly fell into a train of absorbing contem- 
plation. Methought I was carried back to ages long gone by, and that 
the stirring scenes of an epoch so mournful to my country: were rehearsed 
anew. With these ideas of despondency and gloom, came mingled 
others, of vigorous feats and daring exploits, which served to enliven my 
melancholy views. “ Here,” I mentally exclaimed—“ in this sacred 
spot, with mighty efforts of heroism, was commenced that series of 
valorous achievements, destined in process of time to rescue the mother 
country from the usurping grasp of her invading Mahomedan foes. In 
these wild and awful solitudes—fit emblems of the spirit of liberty and 
independence !—slavery and oppression could never take firm root ; the 
soil was unpropitious to its growth ; the mountain-air proved too strong 
for the sickly parasitical tribe. . It was here, indeed, that the renowned 
Prince Pelagius checked the overwhelming and victorious career of the 
Moors. Yes! on this hallowed spot was the first little semblance of a nation 
instituted—a nation which, insignificant in its origin, became, in after- 
times, like the Roman, warlike and powerful, not unworthy to contend 
with the ancient mistress of the world.” 
These thoughts awakened a thousand others of congenial nature ; and, 
insensibly, I fell into a profound reverie, more delicious to intellectual 
consciousness than even the softest slumber. ‘Then the shadows of heroes 
