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And done such deeds of valour strong,
That neither history nor song
Can count them all ;
Then, on Ocaña's castled rock,
Death at his portal came to knock,
With sudden call,-
Saying, “Good Cavalier, prepare
To leave this world of toil and care
With joyful mien;
Let thy strong heart of steel this day
Put on its armour for the fray, -
The closing scene.
Since thou hast been, in battle-strife,
So prodigal of health and life,
For earthly fame,
Let virtue nerve thy heart again ;
Loud on the last stern battle-plain
They call thy name.
Think not the struggle that draws near
Too terrible for man,
To meet the foe;
Nor let thy noble spirit grieve,
Its life of glorious fame to leave
On earth below.
A life of honour and of worth
Has no eternity on earth,-
'Tis but a name ;
And yet its glory far exceeds
That base and sensual life, which leads
To want and shame.
The eternal life beyond the sky
Wealth cannot purchase, nor the high
And proud estate ;
The soul in dalliance laid, -the spirit
Corrupt with sin,-shall not inherit
A joy so great.
But the good monk, in cloistered cell,
Shall gain it by his book and bell,
and tears ;
And the brave knight, whose arm endures
Fierce battle, and against the Moors
His standard rears.
And thou, brave knight, whose hand has poured
The life-blood of the Pagan horde
O'er all the land,
In heaven shalt thou receive, at length,
The guerdon of thine earthly strength
And dauntless hand.
Cheered onward by this promise sure,
Strong in the faith entire and pure
Thou dost profess,
Depart, —thy hope is certainty, -
The third — the better life on high
Shalt thou possess.”
“O death, no more, no more delay ;
My spirit longs to flee away,
And be at rest ;
The will of Heaven my will shall be, -
I bow to the divine decree,
To God's behest.
My soul is ready to depart,
No thought rebels, the obedient heart
Breathes forth no sigh;
The wish on earth to linger still
Were vain, where 'tis God's sovereign will
That we shall die.
O Thou, that for our sins didst take
A human form, and humbly make
Thy home on earth;
Thou, that to thy divinity
A human nature didst ally
By mortal birth,
And in that form didst suffer here
Torment and agony and fear
So patiently ;
By thy redeeming grace alone,
And not for merits of my own,
Oh, pardon me !"
As thus the dying warrior prayed,
Without one gathering mist or shade
Upon his mind;
Encircled by his family,
Watched by affection's gentle eye
So soft and kind;
His soul to Him who gave it rose ;
God led it to its long repose,
Its glorious rest !
And, though the warrior's sun has set,
Its light shall linger round us yet,
Bright, radiant, blest.44
FROM THE SPANISH OF LOPE DE VEGA.
SHEPHERD ! that with thine amorous, sylvan song
Hast broken the slumber which encompassed me,-
That mad'st thy crook from the accursed tree
On which thy powerful arms were stretched so 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,
away these scarlet sins, for thou
Rejoicest at the contrite sinner's vow.
Oh, wait !— to thee my weary soul is crying, –
Wait for me! Yet why ask it, when I see,
With feet nailed to the cross, thou’rt waiting still for
FROM THE SPANISH OP LOPE DE VEGA.
LORD, what am I, that, with unceasing care,
Thou didst seek after me,—that thou didst wait,
Wet with unhealthy dews, before my gate,
And pass the gloomy nights of winter there?
Oh, strange delusion that I did not greet