Israel in the Babylonian Captivity. It was apparently disgust at the seemingly hopeless state of things in the mother country that induced Francisco da Sylva to emigrate to Brazil with his wife and son, then a little child. The emigrants, however, were not destined to find peace in their adopted country: Brazil was invaded by the Dutch, under Count Maurice of Nassau; they were generally victorious, and took possession of the greater part of the country; but subsequently in the Peace of 1660 the Dutch renounced all their claims. Meanwhile Francisco da Sylva took up his residence at Kio Janeiro, as the strongest position, and in due time placed his son André for his education at the Jesuit College in that city, where he made great progress both in the Classics, and in Philosophy. As he grew towards manhood, the young student determined on devoting himself to the Church, and wished to study Divinity and the Canon Law in the land of his birth. And accordingly he resolved, at the age of 20, on returning to Portugal, which was then (in 1650) enjoying its independence under a native King, John IV.

In the month of July young da Sylva embarked for Lisbon, on board a vessel belonging to a fleet of 22 sail. After a long and stormy passage, the voyagers, when they came in sight of Lisbon, and hoped their troubles and trials were over, experienced a great disappointment on finding their entrance into harbour barred by a hostile English fleet, under the celebrated Republican Admiral Blake. Charles I. had been beheaded : Cromwell reigned in his stead, and had ordered Blake to sail in pursuit of the unfortunate King's nephews, the Princes Palatine, Maurice and Rupert, who took refuge in the Tagus from his ships. Blake sent in a letter to John IV., requiring him to dismiss the Princes from their asylum, and threatening, in case of non-compliance, to burn the Portuguese ships. The King's Counsellors advised him to consent to Blake's proposal; representing to him, that in his precarious situation, on a throne scarcely yet firm, and engaged, as he was, in a serious war with Spain, it was too hazardous for him to make an enemy of so powerful a state as England. But the King was generous; he sympathised with the faithful adherents of fallen royalty, and being supported in his sentiments by his eldest son, Don Theodosius, in opposition to all the rest of his advisers he refused to molest the Palatine Princes. Expecting Blake's vengeance, the Portuguese made all necessary preparations for

defensive measures; batteries were erected on the Tagus, Regiments stationed along the coast, and 13 vessels of war were hastily equipped, under the command of Antonio Siqueyra Varajao, with whom the fugitive Princes united their ships. Blake weighed anchor, and put out to sea. Siqueyra sailed to the mouth of the Tagus, and remained there some days, but seeing nothing of the English, he returned to Lisbon, where he was received with loud murmurs, for not having pursued Blake and engaged him; he was removed from his command by the King, and was replaced by Don George de Melo. Siqueyra gave on this occasion a proof of magnanimity which deserves to be remembered. Instead of retiring in disgust, he went as a volunteer on board the ship he so lately commanded and served under his rival, to show that it was not from pusillanimity, but prudence that he had returned to port.

Some skirmishing, approaching and retreating, pursuing and fighting, now ensued between the English and Portuguese Armaments. Sur ces entre faites, the Brazilian fleet (which had treasure on board) came in sight; it was immediately attacked by Blake; a sanguinary engagement took place in which the English were victorious; they burned the Brazilian Admiral's ship, and captured a number of vessels, among which were several richly freighted merchantmen, in one of which was Andre Nunes da Sylva. The prisoners were carried to Cadiz by the conquerors: but an accommodation having taken place between John of Portugal and the English Government, the Portuguese were all set at liberty. Da Sylva, weary of seafaring, made his way by land, from Cadiz through Algarve to Lisbon; there he remained a while to recover from all he had endured on his voyage, and then repaired to Coimbra and entered upon his theological studies; and was admitted into Orders in 1656. He dedicated himself with zeal and sincerity to the duties of his office, and was esteemed as a pious man. But he did not forsake Belles Lettres: he lectured at the University on Tacitus, and on Camoens, and was universally admired, as a lecturer, for his splendid voice, correct elocution, and graceful action.

In 1684, when he had arrived at the age of 54, his strong religious feeling impelled him to enter the Cloister of the Theatine Monks, where, without taking the vows, however, he lived for 20 years in strict observance of the Rules of the Order.

In the course of his long life he witnessed many remarkable

events the protracted war between Spain and Portugal for the independence of the latter, which was carried on with great ferocity by the Spaniards, and with the utmost determination and bravery by the Portuguese, who displayed on many occasions the spirit of ancient chivalry; the death of Don Theodosius, heir to the throne (1653), as much beloved for his good qualities, as his next brother was hated for the opposite: the change in the character of John IV. from a hopeful king to an apathetic egotist; the accession of the ill conditioned Alfonso in 1656; the marriage of his sister, Catherine of Braganza with the English king, Charles II, the deposition of the weak and vicious Portuguese monarch, and the elevation of his brother, as Pedro II. and the marriage of the latter, by dispensation, with the divorced wife of Alfonso.

At the age of 74, Nunes da Sylva had an attack of Paralysis, which in four days proved fatal; he died May 3rd, 1705.

His writings were very numerous: among the principal are, Orations, Academical letters, Sermons, Essays on Rhetoric, Lizarda, a novel in Spanish, and great numbers of Sonnets, some of them secular, but the majority religious. His works, both printed and in MS. are preserved in the library of the Theatines in Lisbon.

We shall translate a sonnet of his, inspired by the recollection of the perils he endured in his unfortunate voyage from Rio Janeiro to Lisbon.

DEVOTIONAL SONNET.

When on his voyage, fraught with toil and care,
The prudent Greek 'mid fearful quicksands pass'd
He clung, bound closely, to the sturdy mast,

That sav'd him from the syrens' fatal snare:
Thus I, as through this world's wild sea I fare,

Where tempters, rocks, and treach'rous shoals abound,
Thus, Saviour, have I safety ever found

Clasping thy Cross the refuge from despair.
In error's maze help me, Almighty Father!
Deliver me from blind delusion's power,

That I of this blest tree the fruit may gather-
And since a rude mast could in peril's hour
Ulysses succour, how much more should be
Of safety in Love's sacred sign for me!

We have inadvertently omitted to introduce in his proper place a poet who belonged to the early part of the 17th century, Manoel de Viega Tagarro a native of Evora, a fine town and Archipiscopal See in the province of Alentejo. Though passed over by Bouterwek and Sismondi, Viega merits some notice here, as being considered by Portuguese critics to have produced verses superior to the general style of his period. His

principal performance, which is called "Laura de Anfrisio, consists of four Eclogues and books of odes, connected by a slight thread; it has been commended as containing much erudition. and philosophy under a veil of poetie fictions expressed with elegance and propriety. The fragment we translate, we have selected for its pastoral simplicity, premising that in the original the versification is very pleasing.

THE BIRDS.

Birds! warblers blithe and free,
How merrily ye flit from tree to tree,

And in the green boughs swinging,
Your loving carols singing,
Fill the light breezes with your melody.
Amid the summer groves

Ne'er may your feathered loves
To your fond voice a strain as fond deny :
Ne'er may ye meet the hidden snare
That fowler's cruel hands prepare;
Never by fate untimely may ye die;

So let your hearts, sweet Birds,
Thrill to the accents of my love complaining;
List to my broken words,
[ing.

And hear my tuneless lyre without disdain-
Time was that with its tender sound

It charmed the winds that howl'd around.
Now, while with pitying ear
My mournful lays ye hear,
Pour forth a soft yet melancholy strain,
That with the minstrel-lover's sighs
In concord sweet may harmonize.
Sing with me e'en as though ye felt my pain;
That transient sympathy with grief will
give

Zest to the ceaseless joys in which ye live.

Francisco de Vasconcellos Coutinho, though born in the island of Madeira, of a family resident at Funchal, was sent to Portugal for his education, matriculated at the university of Coimbra, studied Canon law, and took a degree as Bachelor. But he loved poetry, notwithstanding; and composed with less affectation than the majority of his countrymen in the 17th century. Barbosa Machado in his Biblioteca Lusitana, lavishes extravagant praises on Vasconcellos, but in simple truth he may be commended for often writing fluent, graceful and thoughtful sonnets, generally free from the disfiguring conceits that were so prevalent in the decline of the Portuguese muse, and when led away by the taste of the era, he did err, it was not to so great a degree as was common among the Gongorists and Marinists. We translate one of his Portuguese sonnets in which he asserts his opinion, that a mourner suffers more from the sorrow of which he speaks, than from that which he buries in silence. Bouterwek considers the idea false, though pleasingly expressed, but we think the applicability of the sentiment depends on disposition; to some characters a pent up grief would be fatal, they need the relief of words.

SONNET.

Sorrow increases by complaint; but weak

And weaker grows when mute it doth remain:
And thus, since recollection doubles pain,

He suffers less who bears in silence meek.

Grief may forget while it forbears to speak,
For words prevent forgetfulness-beneath
The chain of silence sorrow loses breath,
But waxes strong when words to utterance break.
So, if remembrance but augmenteth woes,
And he who speaks awakens memory,

Pain is less keen when pent in close restraint,

For in the calm of silence is repose.

He gives grief power who leaves its current free,
Renew'd, and fed, and cherish'd by complaint.

But Vasconcellos could himself be influenced by the prevailing error of straining after far-fetched conceits; and there cannot be a greater proof of the degeneracy of Portuguese Poetry in his days. than the display of bad taste in the sonnets we are about to translate from the pen of one who is capable of writing so much better. In the sonnet on Phillis playing on the guitar, the ideas are bonâ fide disagreeable: the lady strikes her guitar, and the ill-used instrument wails aloud; and the poet draws a strange and outré comparison between himself and the guitar, as both being victims of the lady's cruelty. We have not ventured in our translation to render this somewhat coarse imagery as broadly as it is expressed in the original.

SONNET.

PHILLIS PLAYING ON THE GUITAR.

This lyre sonorous, whose sad melody

Holds in suspense th' enchanted soul and ear,
Is but an emblem of my doom severe,
For the same power hath smote both it and me,
Yea, stricken both-in dolour we agree,

From the same tyranny hath sprung our care;
This tender plaints doth breathe upon the air,
I, fetter'd to one thought, no more am free,
Phillis, thy pity do not still deny,

The rigour that condemns me mitigate,
For though alike in woe the lyre and I,

Far different is the tenor of our fate:
This, in its mournful utterance finds relief,
I, in my silence feel more deep my grief.

The companion sonnet is also in bad taste, but not so disagreeable as the foregoing: the subject, however, a nightingale perching on a guitar while a lady was playing, is utterly unnatural, and the allusions to "false notes" in the sixth line is an unworthy pun, and somewhat of a satire on the lady's music, vocal or instrumental.

SONNET.

TO PHILLIS.

On the arm of whose Guitar a Nightingale perched while she was playing.

See Phillis how this charmed Nightingale

The stricken chords sweet plaints thus following,

Perches npon the lyre to hear thee sing,

And with enchanted gaze thy beauty hail.

"Essa Lyra Sonora."