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IV
White towns and cities that recall old Spain,
As if the Moor and Cid were come again,
By stony roads approached on every side,
Where mule trains toil and caballeros ride;
Tall stone cathedrals, huts of reeds and clay,
Like priests that rule 'mid humble folk that pay:
A crude republic, rogues and patriots blent
With the great mass to both indifferent.
The soldier patient, rascally, and brave,
The peasant abject, but not quite a slave:
A furtive race, dark, superstitious, slow.
Skilled in old arts, is that of Mexico.
