Classic Poem

SPAIN

Your steel-clad hosts, eager to conquer spheres,
O'er Flemish snows and desert sands unfurled
The banner of Spain, tattered and torn and curled,
Floating in glory through unnumbered years.

Your look was flame, your very name bred fears;
Within your hand trembled the shackled world,
And Europe's chaos by your will was hurled
Back into symmetry with a thousand spears.

Statesman and conqueror, soldier, prince, we own
That you were born to curb, command and crush,
But when I summon you, to my mind alone,
One glorious act of yours will ever rush,
When, with great Titian, heedless of your throne,
You knelt to pick up his immortal brush.