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Here didst thou dwell, here schemes of plea- To horse! to horse! he quits, for ever quito
sure plan, A scene of peace, though soothing to his Bencath yon mountain's ever beauteous brow:
soul: But now, as if a thing unblest by Man, Again he rouses from his moping fits, Thy fairy dwelling is as lone as thou! But seeks not now the harlot and the bowl. Here giant weeds a passage scarce allow Onward he flies, nor fix'd as yet the goal To halls deserted, portals gaping wide : Where he shall rest him on his pilgrimage; Fresh lessons to the thinking bosom, how Andy'er him many changing scenes must Vain are the pleasaunces on earth supplied ;
roll Swept into wrecks anon by Time's ungentle Ere toil his thirst for travel can assuage,
perience sage. Behold the hall where chiefs were late con
Yet Mafra shall one moment claim delay, Oh! dome displeasing unto British eye! Where dwelt of yore the Lusian's luckless With diadem hight foolscap, lo! a fiend,
queen; A little fiend that scoffs incessantly, And church and court did mingle their array, There sits in parchment robe arrayed, and by And mass and revel were alternate seen; His side is hung a seal and sable scroll, Lordlings and freres-ill sorted fry I ween! Where blazon'd glare names known to chi- But here the Babylonian whore hath built
A dome, where flaunts she in such glorious And sandry signatures adorn the roll,
sheen, Whereat the Urchin points and laughs That men forget the blood which she hath with all his soul.
And bow the knee to Pomp that loves to Convention is the dwarfish demon styled
varnish guilt. That foil'd the knights in Marialva's dome: Of brains (if brains they had) he them be- O’er vales that teem with fruits, romantic guiled,
hills, And turned a nation's shallow joy to gloom. (Oh, that snch hills upheld a freeborn race!) Here Folly dash'd to earth the victor’s plume, Whereon to gaze the eye with joyaunce fills, And Policy regain'd what arins had lost: Childe Harold wends through many a pleaFor chiefs like ours in vain may laurels
sant place. bloom !
Though sluggards deem it but a foolish Woe to the conqu’ring, not the conquered
And marvel men should quit their easy chair, Since baffled Triumph droops on Lusita- The toilsome way, and long, long league nia's coast!
Oh! there is sweetness in the mountain air, And ever since that martial synod met, And life, that bloated Ease can never hope Britannia sickens, Cintra! at thy name ;
to share. And folks in office at the mention fret, And sain would blush, if blush they could, More bleak to view the hills at length recede,
And, less luxuriant, smoother vales extend : How will posterity the deed proclaim! Immense horizon-bounded plains succeed ! Will not our own and fellow-nations sneer, Far as the eye discerns, withouten end, To view these champions cheated of their Spain's realms appear whereon her shepherds fame,
tend By foes in fight o'erthrown, yet victors Flocks, whose rich fleece right well the tra here,
der knows Where Scorn her finger points through ma- Now must the pastor's arm his lambs defend :
ny a coming year? For Spain is compass'd by unyielding foes,
And all must shield their all, or share So decm'd the Childe, as o'er the mountains
Subjection's woes. he Did take his way in solitary guise :
Where Lusitania and her sister meet, Sweet was the scene, yet soon he thought to Deem ye what bounds the rival realms divide?
Or ere the jealous queens of nations greet, More restless than the swallow in the skies: Doth Tayo interpose his mighty tide ? Though here awhile he learn'd to moralize, Or dark Sierras rise in craggy pride ? Fór Meditation fix'd at times on him; Or fence of art, like China's vasty wall?And conscious Reason whisper'd to despise Ne barrier wall, ne river deep and wide, His early youth, miepent in maddest whim; Ne horrid crags, nor mountains dark and tall, But as he gazed on truth his aching eyes Rise like the rocks that part Hispania's land
But there between a silver streamlet glides, In every peal she calls—“Awake! arise ! ” And scarce a name distinguisheth the brook, Say, is her voice more feeble than of yore, Though rival kingdoms press its verdant When her war-song was heard on Andalusides.
sia's-shore ? flere leans the idle shepherd on his crook, And vacant on the rippling waves doth look, Hark! heard you not those hoofs of dreadful That peaceful still 'twixt bitterest foeme
Sounds not the clang of conflict on the heath? For proud each peasant as the noblest duke: Saw ye not whom the reeking sabre smote; Well doth the Spanish hind the difference Nor saved your brethren ere they sank beknow
neath 'Twist him and Lusian slave, the lowest of Tyrants and tyrants' slaves?- the fires of the low.
The bale-fires flash on high :-from rock to But ere the mingling bounds have far been
Each volley tells that thousands cease to Dark Guadiana rolls his power along
breathe; In sullen billows, murm
rmuring and vast, Death rides upon the sulphury Siroc, So noted ancient roundelays among.
Red battle stamps his foot, and nations Whilome upon his banks did legions throng
feel the shock. Of Moor and knight, in mailed splendour
Lo! where the Giant on the mountain stands, Here ceased the swift their race, here sunk His blood-red tresses deep’ning in the sun,
With death-shot glowing in his fiery hands, The Paynim turban and the Christian crest And eye that scorcheth all it glares upon ; Mix'd on the bleeding stream, by floating Restless it rolls, now fix'd, and now anon
Flashing afar,- and at his iron feet
Destruction cowers to mark what deeds are Oh, lovely Spain! renown'd, romantic land!
done; Where is that standard which Pelagio bore, For on this morn three potent nations meet, When Cava's traitor-sire first called the band | To shed before his shrine the blood he That dyed thy mountain streams with Go
deems most sweet. thic gore? Where are those bloody banners which of By Heaven! it is a splendid sight to see
(For one who hath no friend, no brother Waved o'er thy sons, victorious to the gale,
there) And drove at last the spoilers to their shore? Their rival scarfs of mix'd embroidery, Red gleam'd the cross, and waned the cres- Their various arms that glitter in the air!
What gallant war-hounds rouse them from While Afric's echoes thrill'd with Moorish
their lair, matrons' wail And gnash their fangs, loud yelling for the Teems not each ditty with the glorious All join the chase, but few the trium share;
The Grave shall bear thechiefest prize away, Ah! such, alas! the hero's amplest fate! And Havoc scarce for joy can number their When granite moulders and when records
array. fail, A peasant's plaint prolongs his dubious date. Three hosts combine to offer sacrifice; Pride! bend thine eye from heaven to thine Three tongnes prefer strange orisons on high;
Three gaudy standards flout the pale blue See how the Mighty shrink into a song!
skies; Can Volame, Pillar, Pile .preserve thee The shouts are France, Spain, Albion, Vic
great ? Ormust thou trust Tradition's simple tongne, The foe, the victim, and the fond ally When Flattery sleeps with thee, and History That fights for all, but ever fights in vain,
does thee wrong? Are met—as if at home they could not die
To feed the crow on Talavera’s plain, Awake, ye sons of Spain! swake! advance! And fertilize the field that each pretends Lo! Chivalry, your ancient goddess, cries,
to gain. But wields not, as of old, her thirsty lance, Nor shakes her crimson plumage in the There shall they rot-Ambition's honour'd skies:
fools! Sow on the smoke of blazing bolts she flies, Yes, Honour decks the turf that wraps their And speaks in thunder through yon engine's
Vain Sophistry! in these behold the tools,
The broken tools, that tyrants cast away Not so the rustic-with his trembling mate By myriads, when they dare to pave their
way He lurks, nor casts his heavy eye afar, With human hearts-to what?-a dream Lest he should view his vineyard desolate,
Blasted below the dun hot breath of war. Can despots compass aught that bails their No more beneath soft Eve's consenting star
Fandango twirls his jocund castanet: Or call with truth one span of earth their own, Ah, monarchs! conld 'ye taste the mirth ye Save that wherein at last they crumble
bone by bone? Not in the toils of Glory would ye fret;
The hoarse dull drum would sleep, and Oh, Albuera! glorious field of grief!
Man be happy yet. As o'er 'thy plain the Pilgrim prick'd his
How carols now the lusty muleteer? Who could foresee thee, in a space so brief, of love, romance, devotion is his lay, A scene where mingling foes should boast As whilome he was wont the leagues to and bleed!
cheer, Peace to the perish'd ! may the warrior's meed His quick bells wildly jingling on the And tears of triumph their reward prolong! Till others fall where other chieftaius lead No! as he speeds, hechaunts: --Viva el Rey!” Thy name shall circle round the gaping And cheeks his song to execrate Godoy,
The royal wittol Charles, and curse the day And shine in worthless lays, the theme of When first Spain's queen beheld the blacktransient song!
And gore-faced Treason sprung from her Enough of Battle's minions! let them play
adulterate joy. T'heir game of lives, and barter breath for
On yon long, level plain, at distance crown'd Fame that will scarce reanimate theirelay, With crags, whereon those Moorish turrets Though thousands fall to deck some single
Wide scatter'd hoof-marks dint the wounded In sooth 'twere sad to thwart their noble aim
ground; Who strike, blest hirelings! for their coun- And, scathed by fire, the green sward's darktry's good,
en'd vest And die, that living might have proved her Tells that the foe was Andalusia’s guest:
Here was the camp, the watch-flame, and Perish'd, perchance, in some domestic fend,
the host, Or in a narrower sphere wild Rapine's path Here the bold peasant storm'd the dragon's pursued.
Still does he mark it with triumphant boast, Full swiftly Harold wends his lonely way And points to yonder cliffs, which oft were Where proud Sevilla triumphs unsubdued :
won and lost. Yet is she free-the spoiler's wishd-for prey! Soon, soon shall Conquest's fiery foot intrude, And whomsoe’er along the path you meet Blackening her lovely domes with traces Bears in his cap the badge of crimson hue,
Which tells you whom to shun and whom to Inevitable hour! "Gainst fate to strive
greet: Where Desolation plants her famished brood Woe to the man that walks in public view Is vain, or Ilion, Tyre might yet survive, Without of loyalty this token true: And Virtue vanquish all, and Murder cease Sharp is the knife, and sudden is the stroke;
And sorely would the Gallic foeman rue,
If subtle poniards, wrapt beneath the cloke, But all unconscious of the coming doom, Could blunt the sabre's edge, or clear the The feast, she song, the revel here abounds;
cannon's smoke. Strange modes of merriment the hours con
At every turn Morena's dusky height Nor bleed these patriots with their country's Sustains aloft the battery's iron load;
And, far as mortal eye can compass sight, Not here War's clarion, but Love's rebeck The mountain-howitzer, the broken road,
The bristling palisade, the fosse o'er-flowd, Here Folly still his votaries enthralls; The station'd bands, the never-vacant watch, And young-eyed Lewdness walks her mid- The magazine in rocky durance stow'd,
night rounds: The holster'd steed beneath the shed of Girt with the silent crimes of Capitals,
thatch, Still to the last kind Vice clings to the The ball-piled pyramid, the ever-blazing tott'ring walls.
Portend the deeds to come:—but he whose nod | Yet are Spain's maids no race of Amazons, Has tumbled feebler despots from their sway But form’d for all the witching arts of love: A moment pauseth ere he lifts the rod; Though thus in arms they emulate her sons, A little moment deigneth to delay:
And in the horrid phalanx dare to move, Soon will his legions sweep through these 'Tis but the tender fierceness of the dove their way;
Pecking the hand that hovers o'er her mate: The West must own the Scourger of the In softness as in firmness far above world.
Remoter females, famed for sickening prate; Ah,Spain! how sad will be thy reckoning-day, Her mind is nobler sure, her charms perWhen soars Gaul's Vulture, with his wings
chance as great. unfurl'a, And thou shalt view thy sons in crowds to The seal Love's dimpling finger hath imHades hurl'd.
Denotes how soft that chin which bears his And must they fall ? the young, the proud,
touch: the brave,
Her lips, whose kisses pout to leave their nest, To swell one bloated Chief's unwholesome Bid man be valiant ere he merit such: reign?
Her glance how wildly beautiful! how much No step between submission and a grave? Hath Phoebus wood in vain to spoil her The rise of rapine and the fall of Spain?
cheek, And doth the Power that man adores ordain which glows yet smoother from his amorous Their doom, nor heed the suppliant's appeal?
clutch! Is all that desperate Valour acts in vain? Who round the North for paler dames would And Counsel sage, and patriotic Zeal,
seek? The Veteran's skill, Youth's fire, and Man- How poor their forms appear! how languid, hood's heart of steel ?
wan, and weak!
Is it for this the Spanish maid, aroused, Match me,yeclimes! which poets love to laud; Hangs on the willow her unstrung guitar, Match me, ye harams of the land, where now And, all unser'd, the Anlace hath espoused, I strike my strain, far distant, to applaud Sung the loud song, and dared the deed of Beauties that ev’n a cynic must avow;
Match me those Houries, whom ye scarce And she, whom once the semblance of a scar
allow Appallid, an owlet's larum chill'd with dread, To taste the gale lest Love should ride the Now views the column-scattering bay’netjar,
wind, The falchion flash, and o'er the yet warm With Spain's dark - glancing daughters— dead
deign to know, Stalks with Minerva's step where Mars might There your wise Prophet's paradise we find, quake to tread. His black-eyed maids of Heaven, angelic
ally kind. Ye who shall marvel when you hear her tale, Oh! had you known her in her softer hour, Oh, thou Parnassus! whom I now survey, Mark'd her black eye that mocks her coal- Not in the phrenzy of a dreamer's eye, black veil,
Not in the fabled landscape of a lay, Heard her light,lively tones in Lady's bower, But soaring snow-clad Through thy native Seen her long locks that foil the painter's
In the wild pomp of mountain-majesty! Her fairy form, with more than female grace, What marvel if I thus essay to sing? Scarce would you deem that Saragoza's tower The humblest of thy pilgrims passing by Beheld her smile in Danger's Gorgon face, Would gladly woo thine Echoes with his Thin the closed ranks, and lead in Glory's
string, fearful chase. Though from thy heights no more one Muse
will wave her wing. Her lover sinks—she sheds no ill-timed tear; Her chief is slain-she fills his fatal post; Oft have I dream'd of Thee! whose glorious Her fellows flee—she checks their base career;
Who knows not, knows not man's divinest The foe retires--she heads the sallying host:
lore: Who can appease like her a lover's ghost ? And now I view thee, 'tis, alas! with shame Who can avenge so well a leader's fall ? That I in feeblest accents must adore. What maid retrieve when man's flush'd hope When I recount thy worshippers of yore
I tremble, and can only bend the knee; Who hang so fiercely on the flying Gaul, Nor raise my voice, nor vainly dare to soar, Foil'd by a woman's hand, before a batter'd But gaze beneath thy cloudy canopy wall? In silent joy to think at last I look on Thee!
Happier in this than mightiest bards have From morn till night, from night till startbeen,
led Morn Whose fate to distant homes confined their Peeps blushing on the Revel's laughing crew,
The song is heard, the rosy garland worn, Shall I unmoved behold the hallow'd scene, Devices quaint, and frolics ever new, Which others rave of, though they know it Tread on each others kibes. A long adieu
He bids to sober joy that here sojourns : Though here no more Apollo haunts his grot, Nought interrupts the riot, though in lieu And thou, the Muses'seat, art now their grave, of true devotion monkish incense burns, Some gentle Spirit still pervades the spot, And Love and Prayer unite, or rule the hour Sighs in the gale, keeps silence in the cave,
by turns. And glides with glassy foot o'er yon melo
dious wave. The Sabbath comes, a day of blessed rest;
What hallows it upon this Christian shore? Of thee hereafter.-Even amidst
strain Lo! it is sacred to a solemn feast: I turn'd aside to pay my homage here; Hark! heard you not the forest-monarch's Forgot the land, the sons, the maids of Spain,
roar? Her fate, to every freeborn bosom dear, Crashing the lance, he snuffs the spouting And hail'd thee, not perchance without a tear.
göre Now to my theme-but from thy holy haunt Of man and steed, o'erthrown beneath his Let me some remnant, some memorial bear;
horn; Yield me one leaf of Daphne’s deathless plant, The throng’d Arena shakes with shouts for Nor let thy votary's hope be deem'd an idle
Yells the mad crowd o’er entrails freshly torn,
Nor shrinks the female eye, nor ev'n affects But ne'er didst thou,fair Mount! when Greece
to mourn. was young, See round thy giant base a brighter choir, The seventh day this; the jubilee of man. Nor e'er did Delphi, when her priestess sung London! right well thou know'st the day of The Pythian hymn with more than mortal
Then thy spruce citizen, wash'd artizan, Behold a train more fitting to inspire And smug apprentice gulp their weekly air: The song of love, than Andalusia's maids, Thy coach of hackney, whiskey, one-horse Nurst in the glowing lap of soft desire :
chair, Ah! that to these were given such peaceful And humblest gig through sundry suburba shades
whirl, As Greece can still bestow, though Glory fly To Hampstead, Brentford, Harrow mako her glades.
Till the tired jade the wheel forgets to hurl, Fair is proud Seville; let her country boast Provoking envious gibe from each pedestrian Her strength, her wealth, her site of ancient
Churl. days; But Cadiz, rising on the distant coast, Some o'er thy Thamis row the ribbond fair, Calls forth a sweeter, though ignoble praise. Others along the safer Turnpike fly; Ah, Vice! how soft are thy voluptuous ways! Some Richmond-hill ascend, some scud to While boyish blood is mantling who can
And many to the steep of Highgate hie.
sworn, When Paphos fell by Time-accursed Time! And consecrate the oath with draught, and The queen who conquers all must yield to
dance till morn. theeThe Pleasures fled, but sought as warm a All have their fooleries—not alike are thine,
Fair Cadiz, rising o'er the dark blue sea! And Venue, constant to her native sea, Soon as the matin-bell proclaimeth nine, To nought else constant,hither deign'd to flee; Thy saint adorers count the rosary: And fix'd her shrine within these walls of Much is the Virgin teazed to shrive them free
(Well do I ween the only virgin there) Though not to one dome circumscribeth she From crimes as numerous as her beadsmen be; Her worship, but, devoted to her rite, Then to the crowded circus forth they fare, A thousand altars rise, for ever blazing Young, old, high, low, at once the same bright.