And not alone amid the flatteries
Of youth with thoughts of high ambition fed When all is sunshine, but through years of woe, When sorrow sanctified their use, upheld By honourable pride and earthly hopes. I thought I yet might nurse upon my knee Some young Theodofred, and see in him Thy father's image and thine own renewed, And love to think the little hand which there Played with the bauble, should in after days Wield the transmitted sceptre ;..that through him The ancient seed should be perpetuate, . . That precious seed revered so long, desired So dearly, and so wonderously preserved.
Nay, he replied, Heaven hath not with its bolts Scathed the proud summit of the tree, and left The trunk unflawed; ne'er shall it clothe its boughs Again, nor push again its scyons forth, Head, root, and branch, all mortified alike!.. Long ere these locks were shorn had I cut off The thoughts of royalty! Time might renew Their length, as for Manoah's captive son,
And I too on the miscreant race, like him,
Might prove my strength regenerate; but the hour, When in its second best nativity,
My soul was born again through grace, this heart Died to the world. Dreams such as thine Like evening clouds before me; if I think How beautiful they seem, 'tis but to feel
How soon they fade, how fast the night shuts in. But in that World to which my hopes look on,
Time enters not, nor Mutability;
Beauty and Goodness are unfading there; Whatever there is given us to enjoy,
That we enjoy for ever, still the same.
Much might Count Julian's sword atchieve for Spain And me; but more will his dear daughter's soul Effect in Heaven; and soon will she be there An Angel at the Throne of Grace, to plead In his behalf and mine.
She answered, and subdued the vain desire.
It was the World's last effort. Thou hast chosen The better part. Yea, Roderick, even on earth There is a praise above the monarch's fame,
A higher, holier, more enduring praise, And this will yet be thine!
Mother! he cried; nor let ambition take
That specious form to cheat us! What but this, Fallen as I am, have I to offer Heaven? The ancestral sceptre, public fame, content Of private life, the general good report, Power, reputation, happiness, . . whate'er The heart of man desires to constitute His earthly weal,.. unerring Justice claimed In forfeiture. I with submitted soul Bow to the righteous law and kiss the rod. Only while thus submitted, suffering thus,.. Only while offering up that name on earth, Perhaps in trial offered to my choice, Could I present myself before thy sight; Thus only could endure myself, or fix
My thoughts upon that fearful pass, where Death Stands in the Gate of Heaven!.. Time passes on, The healing work of sorrow is complete ;
All vain desires have long been weeded out, All vain regrets subdued; the heart is dead,
The soul is ripe and eager for her birth.
Bless me, my Mother! and come when it will The inevitable hour, we die in peace.
So saying, on her knees he bowed his head; She raised her hands to Heaven and blest her child; Then bending forward, as he rose, embraced
And claspt him to her heart, and cried, Once more, Theodofred, with pride behold thy son!
THE times are big with tidings; every hour
From east and west and south the breathless scouts Bring swift alarums in; the gathering foe, Advancing from all quarters to one point,
Close their wide crescent. Nor was aid of fear To magnify their numbers needed now: They came in myriads. Africa had poured Fresh shoals upon the coast of wretched Spain; Lured from their hungry deserts to the scene Of spoil, like vultures to the battle-field, Fierce, unrelenting, habited in crimes,
Like bidden guests the mirthful ruffians flock To that free feast which in their Prophet's name Rapine and Lust proclaimed. Nor were the chiefs Of victory less assured, by long success
Elate, and proud of that o'erwhelming strength,
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