"Immortal, yet shut out from joy Too lenient for the crime by half." All said that Love had suffered wrong, And well that wrong should be repaid; Then weighed the public interest long, And long the party's interest weighed. And thus decreed the court above: "Since Love is blind from Folly's blow, Let Folly be the guide of Love, Where'er the boy may choose to go." THE SIESTA. FROM THE SPANISH. Vientecico murmurador, Que lo gozas y andas todo, etc. AIRS, that wander and murmur round, While my lady sleeps in the shade below. Lighten and lengthen her noonday rest, Till the heat of the noonday sun is o'er. Sweet be her slumbers! though in my breast The pain she has waked may slumber no more. 4 Breathing soft from the blue profound, While my lady sleeps in the shade below. Airs! that over the bending boughs, And under the shade of pendent leaves, Or the secret sighs my bosom heaves- While my lady sleeps in the shade below. THE ALCAYDE OF MOLINA. FROM THE SPANISH. To the town of Atienza, Molina's brave Alcayde, That one in love with peace should have loved a man of blood! Ah, thoughtless and unhappy! that I should fail to see These eyes shall not recall thee, though they meet no more thine own, Though they weep that thou art absent, and that I am all alone " She ceased, and turning from him her flushed and angry cheek, Shut the door of her balcony before the Moor could speak. THE DEATH OF ALIATAR. FROM THE SPANISH. Tis not with gilded sabres That gleam in baldricks blue, Nor nodding plumes in caps of Fez, But, habited in mourning weeds, The afflicted warriors come, The banner of the Phoenix, The flag that loved the sky, That scarce the wind dared wanton with, As mournfully and slowly The afflicted warriors come, To the deep wail of the trumpet, And beat of muffled drum. Brave Aliatar led forward A hundred Moors to go To where his brother held Motril Against the leaguering foe. On horseback went the gallant Moor, That gallant band to lead; And now his bier is at the gate, From which he pricked his steed. While mournfully and slowly The afflicted warriors come, To the deep wail of the trumpet, 0 |