So, in the dark, disastrous hour, Brothers and bondsmen of his power His hand sustained. After high deeds, not left untold,, In the stern warfare, which of old "I was his to share, Such noble leagues he made, that more And fairer regions, than before, These are the records, half effaced, Which, with the hand of youth, he traced On history's page; But with fresh victories he drew By his unrivalled skill, by great He stood, in his high dignity, He found his cities and domains But, by fierce battle and blockade, By the tried valor of his hand, His monarch and his native land Were nobly served; Let Portugal repeat the story, And proud Castile, who shared the glory His arms deserved. On which thy powerful arms were stretched so Celestial King! O let thy presence pass long! Lead me to mercy's ever-flowing fountains; For thou my shepherd, guard, and guide shalt be: I will obey thy voice, and wait to see Thy feet all-beautiful upon the mountains. Hear, Shepherd! thou who for thy flock art dying, O, wash away these scarlet sins, for thou O, wait! to thee my weary soul is crying, THE NATIVE LAND. FROM THE SPANISH OF FRANCISCO DE ALDANA. CLEAR fount of light! my native land on high, A stranger in this prison-house of clay, THE IMAGE OF GOD. FROM THE SPANISH OF FRANCISCO DE ALDANA. O LORD! who seest, from yon starry height, Centred in one the future and the past, Fashioned in thine own image, see how fast The world obscures in me what once bright! was Before my spirit, and an image fair Shall meet that look of mercy from on high, As the reflected image in a glass Doth meet the look of him who seeks it there, And owes its being to the gazer's eye. AND now, behold! as at the approach of morning, Through the gross vapors, Mars grows fiery red Down in the west upon the ocean floor, Appeared to me, may I again behold it! A light along the sea, so swiftly coming, I knew not what of white, and underneath, While the first whiteness into wings unfolded; Behold the Angel of God! fold up thy hands! Henceforward shalt thou see such officers! See, how he scorns all human arguments, So that no oar he wants, nor other sail Than his own wings, between so distant shores! See, how he holds them, pointed straight to heaven, Fanning the air with the eternal pinions, That do not moult themselves like mortal hair!" And then, as nearer and more near us came peared, So that the eye could not sustain his presence, Eternal Sun! the warmth which thou hast given, Upon the stern stood the Celestial Pilot! To cheer life's flowery April, fast decays; Yet, in the hoary winter of my days. Forever green shall be my trust in Heaven. Beatitude seemed written in his face! And more than a hundred spirits sat within. "In exitu Israel de Egypto !" 24 THE TERRESTRIAL PARADISE.-THE CHILD ASLEEP. Thus sang they all together in one voice, With whatso in that Psalm is after written. Then made he sign of holy rood upon them, Whereat all cast themselves upon the shore, And he departed swiftly as he came. LONGING already to search in and round The heavenly forest, dense and living-green, Crossing the level country, slowly, slowly, A gently-breathing air, that no mutation Had in itself, smote me upon the forehead, No heavier blow, than of a pleasant breeze, Whereat the tremulous branches readily Did all of them bow downward towards that side Where its first shadow casts the Holy Moun tain; Yet not from their upright direction bent So that the little birds upon their tops Through the pine forests on the shore of When Eolus unlooses the Sirocco. Into the ancient wood so far, that I Could see no more the place where I had en- And lo! my further course cut off a river, waves, Bent down the grass, that on its margin sprang All waters that on earth most limpid are, Would seem to have within themselves some mixture, Compared with that, which nothing doth conceal, Although it moves on with a brown, brown cur- Under the shade perpetual, that never FROM DANTE. BEATRICE. PURGATORIO, XXX., XXXI. EVEN as the Blessed, at the final summons, A hundred rose ad vocem tanti senis, Oft have I seen, at the approach of day, The orient sky all stained with roseate hues, So that, by temperate influence of vapors, Thus in the bosom of a cloud of flowers, And down descended inside and without, Even as the snow, among the living rafters The ice, that was about my heart congealed, breast. Confusion and dismay, together mingled, Forced such a feeble "Yes!" out of my mouth, SPRING. FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES D'ORLEANS. XV. CENTURY. GENTLE Spring! in sunshine clad, Well dost thou thy power display! And thou, thou makest the sad heart gay. rain; And they shrink away, and they flee in fear, Winter giveth the fields and the trees, so old, And the rain, it raineth so fast and cold, Winter maketh the sun in the gloomy sky Thou tearest away the mournful shroud, THE CHILD ASLEEP. FROM THE FRENCH. SWEET babe! true portrait of thy father's face, |