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But with fresh victories he drew
“ Cheered onward by this promise sure, Each fading character anew
Strong in the faith entire and pure In his old age.
Thou dost profess,
Depart,-thy hope is certainty, By his unrivalled skill, by great
The third-the better life on high
Shalt thou possess."
"O Death! no more, no more delay : The proudest knight of chivalry,
My spirit longs to fee away, Knight of the Sword.
And be at rest;
The will of Heaven my will shall be, et som He found his cities and domains
I bow to the divine decree,
To God's behest.
My soul is ready to depart. -
No thought rebels, the obedient heart From every tower.
Breathes forth no sigh: 7
The wish on earth to linger still By the tried valour of his hand,
Were vain, when 'tis God's sovereign will is His monarch and his native land
That we shall die.
" Thou, that for our sins didst take And proud Castile, who shared the glory
A human form, and humbly make His arms deserved.
Thy home on earth;
Thou, that to thy divinity And when so oft, for weal or woe,
A human nature didst ally
By mortal birth.
And in that form didst suffer here
Torment an agony, and fear, His sovereign's erown;
By thy redeeming grace alone, And done such deeds of valour strong,
And not for merits of my own,
Oh, pardon me!"
As thus the dying warrior prayed,
Without one gathering mist or shade
hal With sudden call,
| Upon his mind:
Encircled by his family, Saying, “Good Cavalier, prepare
Watched by Affection's gentle eye To leave this world of toil and care
So soft and kind;
His soul to Him, who gave it, rose;
God lead it to its long repose, The closing scene.
Its glorious rest!
And, though the warrior's sun has set, "Since thou hast been, in battle-strife,
Its light shall linger round us yet,
Bright, radiant, blest.*
* This poem of Manrique is a great favourite They call thy name.
in Spain. No less than four poetic Glosses, or
running commentaries upon it, have been pub“Think not the struggle that draws near
lished; no one of which, however, possesses great Too terrible for man,
poetic merit. That of the Carthusian monk, To meet the foe;
Rodrigo de Valdepenas, is the best. It is known Nor let thy noble spirit grieve,
as Glosa del Cartujo. There is also a prose ComIts life of glorious fame to leave
mentary by Luis de Aranda. On earth below.
The following stanzas of the poem were found " A life of honour and of worth
in the author's pocket after his death on the llas no eternity on earth,
field of battle :'Tis but a name;
"O World! so few the years we live, And yet its glory far exceeds
Would that the life which thou dost give That base and sensual life, which leads
Were life indeed! To want and shame.
Alas! thy sorrow's fall so fast.
Our happiest hour is when at last “The eternal life, beyond the sky,
The soul is freed.
"Our days are covered o'er with grief,
And sorrows neither few nor brie
Veil all in gloom ;
Left desolate of real good.
Within this cheerless solitude “ But the good monk, the cloistered cell,
No pleasures bloom. Shall gain it by his book and bell,
Thy pilgrimage begins in tears, His prayers and tears;
And ends in bitter doubts and fears, And the brave knight, whose arm endures
Or dark despair; Fierce battle, and against the Moors
Midway so many toils appear, His standard rears.
That he who lingers longest here "And thou. brave knight. whose hand has knows most of care. poured
“Thy goods are bought with many a groan, The life-blood of the Pagan horde
By the hot sweat of toil alone, O'er all the land;
And weary hearts; In heaven shalt thou receive, at length,
Fleet.footed is the approach of woe, The guerdon of thine earthly strength
But with a lingering step and slow And dauntless hand.
Its form departs."
THE GOOD SHE PIERD.
THE BROOK. FROM THE SPANISH OF LOPA DE VEGA.
FROM THE SPANISH. SHEPHERD! that with thine amorous sylvan LAUGH of the mountain !-lyre of bird and tree! song
Pomp of the meadow! mirror of the morn! Hast broken the slumber which encompassed | The soul of April, unto whom are born me,
The rose and jessamine, leaps wild in thee! Thou mad'st thy crook from the accursed tree, Although, where'er thy devioits current strays, On which thy powerful arms were stretched so The lap of earth with gold and silver teems, long!
To me thy clear proceeding brighter seems Lead me to mercy's ever-flowing fountains ; Than golden sands, that charra each shepherd's For thou my shepherd, guard, and guide shalt
How without guile thy bosom, all transparent I will obey thy voice, and wait to see
As the pure crystal, lets the curious eye Thy feet all beautiful upon the mountains.
Thy secrets scan, thy smooth, round pebbles Hear, Shepherd ! thou who for thy flock art
How, without malice murmuring, glides thy Oh, wash away these scarlet sins, for thou
current! Rejoicest at the contrite sinner's vow.
O sweet simplicity of days gone by! Oh, wait!-to thee my weary soul is crying, Thou shun'st the haunts of man, to dwell in Wait for me!-Yet why ask it, when I see,
THE CELESTIAL PILOT.
FROM DANTE. PURGATORIA, 11. FROM THE SPANISH OF LOPA DE VEGA.
AND now, behold! as at the approach of mornLORD, what am I, that, with unceasing care,
ing Thou didst seek after me,-that thou didst wait,
Through the gross vapours, Mars grows fiery
rect Wet with unhealthy dews, before my gate, And pass the gloomy nights of winter there?
Down in the west upon the ocean floor, O strange delusions--that I did not greet
Appeared to me,-may I again behold it! Thy blest approach, and oh, to Heaven how A light along the sea, so swiftly coming, lost,
Its motion by no flight of wing is equalled. If my ingratitude's unkindly frost Has chilled the bleeding wounds upon thy feet.
And when therefrom I had withdrawn a little How oft my guardian angel gently cried,
Mine eres, that I might question my conductor, * Soul, from thy casement look, and thou shalt
Again I saw it brighter grown and larger, see
Thereafter, on all sides of it, appeared llow he persists to knock and wait for thee!” I knew not of white, and underneath, And, oh! how often to that voice of sorrow,
Little by little, there came forth another.
While the first brightness into wings unfolded;
But, when he clearly recognised the pilot,
He cried aloud: "Quick, quick, and bow the FROM THE SPANISH OF FRANCISCO DE ALDANA.
knee! CLEAR fount of light! my native land on high,
Behold the Angel of God! fold up thy hands! Bright with a glory that shall never fade!
Henceforward shalt thou see such officers! Mansion of truth! without a veil or shade,
" See, how he scorns all human arguments, Thy holy quiet meets the spirit's eye.
So that no oar he wants, nor other sail There dwells the soul in its ethereal essence, Than his own wings, between so distant shores! Gasping no longer for life's feeble breath: But, sentineled in heaven, its glorious presence
"See, how he holds them, pointed straight to With pitying eye beholds. yet fears not leath.
heaven, Beloved country! banished from thy shore,
Fanning the air with the eternal pinions, A stranger in his prison-house of clas,
That do not moult themselves like mortal bair!" The exiled spirit sighs and weeps for thee!
And then, as nearer and more near us came Heavenward the bright perfections I adore
The Bird of Heaven, more glorious he appeared, Direct, and the sure promise cheers the way,
So that the eye could not sustain his presence, That whither love aspires, there shall my dwelling be.
But down I cast it; and he came to shore
So that the water swallowed nonght thereof
Upon the stern stood the Celestial Pilot! FROM THE SPANISH OF FRANCISCO DE ALDANA.
Beatitude seemed written in his face! O LORD! that seest, from yon starry height, And more than a hundred spirits sat within. Centred in one the future and the past,
" In erilu Israel out of Egypt!" Fashioned in thine own image, see how fast The world obscures: in me what once was
Thus sang they all together in one voice, bright!
With whatso in that Psalm is after written. Eternal Sun! the warmth which thou hast
Then made he sign of holy rood upon them, given,
Whereat all cast themselves upon the shore, To cheer life's flowery April, fast decays;
And he departed swiftly as he came.
TIE TERRESTRIAL PARADISE. Before my spirit, and an image fair
FROM DANTE. PURGATORIO, XXVIII.
LONGING already to search in and round
| Which to the eyes tempered the new-born day.
Withouten more delay I left the bank,
Even such I was, without a sigh or teat', Crossing the level country slowly, slowly,
Before the song of those who chime for ever Over the soil, that everywhere breathed fra After the chiming of the eternal spheres; grance.
But, when I heard in those sweet melodies A gently-breathing air, that no mutation
Compassion for me, more than they had said, Had in itself, smote me upon the forehead,
"O wherefore, lady, dost thou thus consume No heavier blow, than of a pleasant breeze.
him?" Whereat the tremulous branches readily
The ice, that was about my heart congealed. Did all of them bow downward towards that To air and water changed, and, in my anguish, side
Through lips and eyes came gushing from my Where its first shadow casts the Iloly Moun
breast, tain; Yet not from their upright direction bent
Confusion and dismay, together mingled, So that tlie little birds upon their tops
Forced such a feeble Yes!" out of my mouth, Should ccase the practice of their tuneful art; To understand it one had need of sight. But with full-throated joy, the hours of prime Even as a cross-bow breaks, when 'tis disSinging received they in the midst of foliage
charged, That made monotonous burden to their rhymes, Too tensely drawn the bow-string and the bow, Even as from branch to branch it gathering
And with less force the arrow hits the mark; swells,
So I gave way under this heavy burden, Through the pine forests on the shore of Chiassi, Gushing forth into bitter tears and sighs, When Æolus unlooses the Sirocco.
And the voice, fainting, flagged upon its passage. Already my slow steps had led me on Into the ancient wood so far, that I
SPRING. Could see no more the place where I had
FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES D'ORLEANS XV. entered.
CENTURY. And lo! my farther course cut off a river,
GENTLE Spring!-in sunshine clad, Which, towards the left hand, with its little Well dost thou thy power display! waves,
For Winter maketh the light heart sad, Bent down the grass that on its margin sprang. And thou--thou makest the sad heart gay. All waters that on earth most limpid are,
lle sees thee, and calls to his gloomy train. Would seem to have within themselves some
The sleet, and the snow, and the wind, and the mixture,
rain ; Compared with that, which nothing doth con
And they shrink away, and they fice in fear, ceal.
When thy merry step draws near. Although it moves on with a brown, brown
Winter giveth the fields and the trees, so old, current,
Their beards of icicles and snow: Under the shade perpetual, that never
And the rain, it raineth so fast and cold,
We must cower over the embers low;
Mope like birds that are changing feather.
But the storm retires, and the sky grows clear,
Winter maketh the sun in the gloomy sky Shall rise up quickened, cach one from his Wrap him round with a mantle of cloud; grave,
But, Heaven be praised, thy step is nigh ; Wearing again the garments of the flesh,
Thou tearest away the mournful shroud, So, upon that celestial chariot,
And the earth looks bright, and Winter surly,
Who has toiled for nought both late and early A hundred rose ad vocem tanti senis,
Is banished afar by the new-born year,
When thy merry step draws near.
TIE CHILD ASLEEP.
FROM THE FRENCH. The orient sky all stained with roseate hues, SWEET babe! true portrait of thy father's face, And the other heaven with light serene adorned, Sleep on the bosom, that thy lips have And the sun's face uprising, overshadowed,
pressed! So that, by temperate influence of vapours,
Sleep, little one; and closely, gently place The eye sustained his aspect for long while;
Thy drowsy eyelid on thy mother's breast. Thus in the bosom of a cloud of flowers,
Upon that tender eye, my little friend, Which from those hands angelic were thrown
Soft sleep shall come, that cometh not to me! I watch to see thee, nourish thee, defend,
'Tis sweet to watch for thee,-alone for thee! And down descended inside and without, With crown of olive o'er a snow-white veil,
Ilis arms fall down; sleep sits upon his brow; Appeared a lady, under a green mantle,
His eye is closed; he sleeps, nor dreams of
harm. Vested in colours of the living flame.
Wore not his cheek the apple's ruddy glow,
Would you not say he slept on Death's cold Even as the snow, among the living rafters
arm. Upon the back ot Italy, congeals,
Awake, my boy!-I tremble with affright! Blown on and beaten by Sclavonian winds,
Awake, and chase this fatal thought ?-UnAnd then, dissolving, filters through itself,
close Whene'er the land, that loses shadow, breathes, Thine eye but for one moment on the light! Like as a taper melts before a fire,
| Even at the price of thine, give me repose!
Mom snugly-hwer over't so fast and
own on back of itanong the
Sweet error!-he but slept,-I breathe again :
Thy murky sky! Come, gentle dreams, the hour of sleep be- | From Denmark, thunders Tordenskiol', guile!
Let each to Heaven commend his soul, Oh! when shall he, for whom I sigh in vain,
And fly! Beside me watch to see thy waking smile?
Path of the Dane to fame and might!
Receive thy friend, who, scorning flight,
Goes to meet danger with despite,
Proudly as thon the tempest's might,
And amid pleasures and alarms,
And war and victory, be thinc arms
THE HAPPIEST LAND.
FRAGMENT OF A MODERN BALLAD, FRON TIIE
THERE sat one day in quiet,
By an alehouse on the Rhine,
Four hale and hearty fellows,
And drank the precious wine.
The landlord's daughter filled their cups,
Around the rustic board;
Then sat they all so calm and still,
And spake not one rude word.
But when the maid departed,
A Swabian raised his hand,
And cried, all hot and flushed with wine,
"Long live the Swabian land!
“ The greatest kingdom upon earth
Cannot with that compare ;
With all the stout and hardy men
And the nut-brown maidens there."
" Ha!” cried a Saxon, laughing,
And dashed his beard with wine;
"I had rather live in Lapland,
Than that Swabian land of thine!
“ The goodliest land on all this earth,
It is the Saxon land!
There have I as many maidens
As fingers on this hand!”
"Hold your tongues ! both Swabian and Saxon!" How that house plcaseth theo
A bold bohemian cries;
“If there's a heaven upon this earth,
In Bohemia it lies.
"There the tailor blows the flute,
And the cobbler blows the horn,
Over mountain gorge and bourn."
And then the landlord's daughter
Up to heaven raised her hand,
And said, “Ye may no more contend, -
There lies the happiest land!"
FROM THE GERMAN OF TIEDGE. In mist and smoke.
“ WHITHER, thou turbid wave? "Fly!" shouted they, " fly, he who can!
Whither, with so much haste,
As if a thief wert thou?".
"1 am the Wave of Life, Nils Juel gave heed to the tempest's roar,
Stained with my margin's dust; Now is the hour!
From the struggle and the strife, He hoisted his blood-red flag once more,
Of the narrow stream I fly And smote upon the foe full sore,
To the Sea's immensity, And shouted loud through the tempest's roar,
To wash from me the slime
Of the muddy banks of Time."
* Nils Juel was a celebrated Danish Admiral,
and Peder Wessel, a Vice-Admiral, who for his North Sea! a glimpse of Wessel rent
great prowess received the popular title of TorThy murky sky!
denskiel, or Thunder-shield. In childhood, he was Then champions to thine arms were sent,
a tailor's apprentice, and rose to his high rank Terror and Death glared where he went;
before the age of twenty-eight, when he was From the waves was heard a wail that rent killed in a duel
Is this the way I was going ?
Whither, o brooklet, say!
Thou hast, with thy soft murmur,
Murmured my senses away.
What do I say of a murmur?
That can no murmur be;
'Tis the water-nymphs, that are singing How they so softly rest,
Their roundelays under me.
Let them sing, my friend, let them murmur,
And wander merrily near:
The wheels of a mill are going
In every brooklet clear.
FROM THE GERMAN.
I Know a maiden fair to sce,
She can both false and friendly be,
Trust her not, “The rivers rush into the sea,
She is fooling thee! By castle and town they go;
She has two cyes, so soft and brown, The winds behind them merrily
Take care! Their noisy trumpets blow.
She gives a side-glance and looks down, “The clouds are passing far and high,
Beware! Beware! We little birds in them play:
Trust her not, And everything that can sing and fly
She is fooling thee! Goes with us, and far away.
And she has hair of a golden hue, "I greet thee, bonny boat! Whither, or whence,
Take care! With thy fluttering golden band?"
And what she says, it is not true, “I greet thee, little bird! to the wide sca
Beware! Beware! I haste from the narrow land.
Trust her not,
She is fooling thee! " Full and swollen is every sail; I see no longer a hill,
She has a bosom as white as snow, I have trusted all to the sounding gale,
She knows how much it is best to show, And it will not let me stand still.
Beware! Beware! "And wilt thou, little bird, go with us?
Trust her not,
She is fooling thee!
She gives thee a garland woven fair,
Take care! “I need not and seek not company,
It is a fool's cap for thee to wcar, Bonny boat, I can sing all alone;
Beware! Beware! For the mainmast tall too heavy am I,
Trust her not, Bonny boat, I have wings of my own.
She is fooling thee! "High over the the sails, high over the mast,
Who shall gainsay these joys?
SONG OF THE BELL.
FROM THE GERMAX. " Who neither may rest, nor listen may, God bless them every one!
BELL! thou soundest merrily, I dart away, in the bright blue day,
When the bridal party And the golden fields of the sun.
To the church doth hie;
Bell! thou sonndest solemnuly "Thus do I sing my weary song,
When on Sabbath morning,
Fields deserted lic!
Bell! thou soundest merrily;
Bell! thou sonndest mournfully;
Tellest thou the bitter
Parting hath gone by!
Say! how canst thon mourn ?
How canst thou rejoice?
Thou art but inetal dull!
And yet all our sorrowings, I know not what came o'er me,
And all our rejoicings, Nor who the counsel gave;
Thou dost feel them all! But I must hasten downward,
God hath wonders many, All with my pilgrim stave;
Which we cannot fathom, Downward, and ever farther,
Placed within thy form! And ever the brook beside;
When the heart is sinking, And ever fresher murmured,
Thou alone canst raise it, And ever clearer, the tide,
Prembling in the storm!