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Heard by that shore, where Calpe's armed steep
Flings its long shadow o'er th' Herculean deep,
And Lucian glades, whose hoary poplars wave
In soft, sad murmurs over Inez' grave.(8)
They bless the call who dared the first withstand(9)
The Moslem wasters of their bleeding land,
When firm in faith, and red with slaughtered foes,
Thy spear-encircled crown, Asturia(10) rose,
Nor these alone; as loud the war-notes swell,
La Mancha's shepherd quits his cork-built cell;
Alhama's strength is there, and those who till
(A hardy race!) Morena's scorched hill;
And in rude arms through wide Gallicia's reign,
The swarthy vintage pours her vigorous train.
"Saw ye those tribes? not theirs the plumed
boast,

The sightly trappings of a marshalled host;
No weeping nations curse their deadly skill,
Expert in danger, and inured to kill:

|And weeping France her captive king(17) de-
plored,

And cursed the deathful point of Ebro's sword.
Now, nerved with hope, their night of slavery past,
Each heart beats high in freedom's buxom blast;
Lo! Conquest calls, and beck'ning from afar,
Uplifts his laurel wreath, and waves them on to

war.

-Wo to th' usurper then, who dares defy
The sturdy wrath of rustic loyalty!
Wo to the hireling bands, foredoomed to feel
How strong in labour's horny hand the steel!(18)
Behold e'en now, beneath yon Boetic skies
Another Pavia bids her trophies rise ;-
E'en now in base disguise and friendly night
Their robber-monarch speeds his secret flight;
And with new zeal the fiery Lusians rear,
(Roused by their neighbour's worth,) the long-ne-
glected spear.

But theirs the kindling eye, the strenuous arm;
Theirs the dark cheek, with patriot ardour warm,
Unblanched by sluggard ease, or slavish fear,
And proud and pure the blood that mantles there.
Theirs from the birth is toil;-o'er granite steep,
And heathy wild, to guard the wandering sheep;
To urge the labouring mule, or bend the spear
'Gainst the night-prowling wolf, or felon bear;
The bull's hoarse rage in dreadful sport to mock,
And meet with single sword his bellowing shock.
Each martial chant they know, each manly rhyme," Spirit," I cried, "dread teacher, yet declare,
Rude, ancient lays of Spain's heroic time.(11)
Of him in Xere's carnage fearless found,(12)
(His glittering brows with hostile spear-heads
bound ;)

"So when stern winter chills the April showers,
And iron frost forbids the timely flowers;
Oh! deem not thou the vigorous herb below
Is crushed and dead beneath the incumbent snow;
Such tardy suns shall wealthier harvests bring
Than all the early smiles of flattering spring."

Sweet as the martial trumpet's silver swell,
On my charmed sense th' unearthly accents fell;
Me wonder held, and joy chastised by fear,
As one who wished, yet hardly hoped to hear.

In that good fight, shall Albion's arm be there?
Can Albion, brave, and wise, and proud, refrain
To hail a kindred soul, and link her fate with
Spain?

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Of that chaste king whose hardy mountain Too long her sons, estranged from war and toil, train(13)

O'erthrew the knightly race of Charlemagne;
And chiefest him who reared his banner tall(14)
(Illustrious exile!) o'er Valencia's wall;
Ungraced by kings, whose Moorish title rose
The toil-earned homage of his wondering foes.
"Yes; every mould'ring tower and haunted
flood,

And the wild murmurs of the waving wood;
Each sandy waste, and orange-scented dell,
And red Buraba's field, and Lugo,(15) tell,

Have loathed the safety of the sea-girt isle;
And chid the waves which pent their fire within,
As the stalled war-horse woos the battle's din.
Oh, by this throbbing heart, this patriot glow,
Which, well I feel, each English breast shall
know;

Say, shall my country, roused from deadly sleep,
Crowd with her hardy sons yon western steep;
And shall once more the star of France grow
pale,

And dim its beams in Roncesvalles' vale?(19) How their brave fathers fought, how thick the in- Or shall foul sloth and timid doubt conspire

vaders fell.

Oh! virtue long forgot, or vainly tried,
To glut a bigot's zeal, or tyrant's pride;
Condemned in distant climes to bleed and die
'Mid the dank poisons of Tlascala's(16) sky;
Or when stern Austria stretched her lawless
reign,

And spent in northern fights the flower of Spain;
Or war's hoarse furies yelled on Ysell's shore,
And Alva's ruffian sword was drunk with gore.
Yet dared not then Tlascala's chiefs withstand
The lofty daring of Castilia's band;

To mar our zeal, and waste our manly fire?"

Still as I gazed, his lowering features spread,
High rose his form, and darkness veiled his head;
Fast from his eyes the ruddy lightning broke,
To heaven he reared his arm, and thus he spoke:
"Wo, trebly wo to their slow zeal who bore
Delusive comfort to Iberia's shore!

Who in mid conquest, vaunting, yet dismayed,
Now gave and now withdrew their laggard aid;
Who, when each bosom glowed, each heart beat
high,

Chilled the pure stream of England's energy,

And lost in courtly forms and blind delay
The loitered hours of glory's short-lived day.
"O peerless island, generous, bold, and free,
Lost, ruined Albion, Europe mourns for thee!
Hadst thou but known the hour in mercy given
To stay thy doom, and ward the ire of Heaven;
Bared in the cause of man thy warrior breast,
And crushed on yonder hills th' approaching pest,
Then had not murder sacked thy smiling plain,
And wealth, and worth, and wisdom, all been vain.
"Yet, yet awake! while fear and wonder wait,
On the poised balance, trembling still with fate!(20)
If aught their worth can plead, in battle tried,
Who tinged with slaughter Tajo's curdling tide;
(What time base truce the wheels of war could
stay,

And the weak victor flung his wreath away;)—
Or theirs, who, doled in scanty bands afar,
Waged without hope the disproportioned war,
And cheerly still, and patient of distress,
Led their forwasted files on numbers number-
less!(21)

"Yes, through the march of many a weary day,
As yon dark column toils its seaward way;
As bare, and shrinking from th' inclement sky,
The languid soldier bends him down to die;
As o'er those helpless limbs, by murder gored,
The base pursuer waves his weaker sword,
And, trod to earth, by trampling thousands pressed,
The horse-hoof glances from that mangled breast;
E'en in that hour his hope to England flies,
And fame and vengeance fire his closing eyes.

"Oh! if such hope can plead, or his, whose

bier

Drew from his conquering host their latest tear;
Whose skill, whose matchless valour, gilded flight;
Entombed in foreign dust, a hasty soldier's rite;-
Oh! rouse thee yet to conquer and to save,
And Wisdom guide the sword which Justice gave!
"And yet the end is not! from yonder towers
While one Saguntum(22) mocks the victor's

powers;

While one brave heart defies a servile chain,
And one true soldier wields a lance for Spain;
Trust not, vain tyrant, though thy spoiler band
In tenfold myriads darken half the land;
(Vast as that power, against whose impious lord
Bethulia's matron(23) shook the nightly sword;)
Though ruth and fear thy woundless soul defy,
And fatal genius fire thy martial eye;
Yet trust not here o'er yielding realms to roam,
Or cheaply bear a bloodless laurel home!
"No! by His viewless arm whose righteous

care

Defends the orphan's tear, the poor man's prayer; Who, Lord of nature, o'er this changeful ball Decrees the rise of empires, and the fall; Wondrous in all his ways, unseen, unknown,(24) Who treads the wine-press of the world alone;

And robed in darkness, and surrounding fears,
Speeds on their destined road the march of years!
No!-shall yon eagle, from the snare set free,
Stoop to thy wrist, or cower his wing for thee?
And shall it tame despair, thy strong control,
Or quench a nation's still reviving soul?—
Go, bid the force of countless bands conspire
To curb the wandering wind, or grasp the fire!
Cast thy vain fetters on the troublous sea!—
But Spain, the brave, the virtuous, shall be free."

NOTES.

Note 1, page 8, col. 1.

In Dresden's grove the dewy cool I sought. The opening lines of this poem were really composed in the situation (the Park of Dresden), and under the influence of the feelings, which they Frederic's campaign took away from the author attempt to describe. The disastrous issue of King all inclination to continue them, and they remained neglected till the hopes of Europe were again revived by the illustrious efforts of the Spanish people.

Note 2, page 8, col. 2.

Pratzen's hill.

The hill of Pratzen was the point most obstinately contested in the great battle which has taken its name from the neighbouring town of Austerlitz; and here the most dreadful slaughter

took place, both of French and Russians. The

author had, a few weeks before he wrote the above, visited every part of this celebrated field.

Note 3, page 8, col. 2.

And, red with slaughter, Freedom's humble crest. It is necessary perhaps to mention, that, by freedom, in this and in other passages of the present poem, political liberty is understood in opposition to the usurpation of any single European state. In the particular instance of Spain, however, it is a hope which the author has not yet seen reason to abandon, that a struggle so nobly maintained by popular energy, must terminate in the establishment not only of national independence, but of civil and religious liberty.

Note 4, page 9, col. 1.

Gallia's vaunting train.

The confidence and shameful luxury of the French nobles, during the seven years' war, are very sarcastically noticed by Templeman.

Note 5, page 9, col. 2.

Where youthful Lewis led.

Prince Lewis Ferdinand of Prussia, who fell gloriously with almost the whole of his regiment.

Note 6, page 9, col. 2.

By her whose charms, &c.

The Queen of Prussia; beautiful, unfortunate, and unsubdued by the severest reverses.

Note 7, page 9, col. 2.

The covering cherub, &c.

"Thou art the anointed cherub that coverest." Addressed to Tyre, by Ezekiel, xxviii. 14.

Note 8, page 11, col. 1.

Inez' grave.

cording to the Spanish romances, and the graver authority of Mariana, the whole force of Charlemagne and the twelve peers of France at Roncesvalles. Bertrand del Carpio, the son of Alonzo's sister, Ximena, was his general; and according to Don Quixote (no incompetent authority on such a subject) put the celebrated Ordando to the same death as Hercules inflicted on Antæus. His reason was, that the nephew of Charlemagne was enchanted, and like Achilles only vulnerable in the heel, to guard which he wore always iron shoes. See Mariana, l. vii. c. xi.; Don Quixote,

Inez de Castro, the beloved mistress of the Infant book i. c. I.; and the notes on Mr. Southey's Don Pedro, son of Alphonso IV. King of Portugal, Chronicle of the Cid; a work replete with powerand stabbed by the orders, and, according to Ca-ful description, and knowledge of ancient history moens, in the presence of that monarch. A foun- and manners, and which adds a new wreath to tain near Coimbra, the scene of their loves and one, who “nullum fere scribendi genus intactum misfortunes, is still pointed out by tradition, and reliquit, nullum quod tetigit non ornavit." called Amores.-De la Clede, Hist. de Portugalle, 4to. tom. i. page 282-7:-and Camoens' Lusiad, canto 3, stanza cxxxv.

Note 9, page 11, col 1.

Who dared the first withstand

The Moslem waters of their bleeding land.

The Asturians, who under Pelagius first opposed the career of Mahometan success.

Note 10, page 11, col. 1.

Thy spear-encircled crown, Asturia.

Note 14, page 11, col. 1.

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Chiefest him who reared his banner tall, &c. Rodrigo Diaz, of Bivar, surnamed the Cid by the Moors.-See Mr. Southey's Chronicle

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ledge.

"La couronne de fer de Dom Pélage,-cette British have since obtained a melancholy knowcouronne si simple mais si glorieuse, dont chaque fleuron este formé du fer d'une lance arrachée aux Chevaliers Maures que se heros avoit fait tomber sous ses coups."- Roman de Dom Ursino le Navarin, Tressan, tom. ix. 52.

Note 11, page 11, col. 1.

Rude ancient lays of Spain's heroic time.
See the two elegant specimens given by Bishop
Percy in his Reliques; and the more accurate
translations of Mr. Rodd in his Civil Wars of
Grenada.

Note 12, page 11, col. 1.

Him in Xeres' carnage fearless found.

The Gothic monarchy in Spain was overthrown by the Mussulmans at the battle of Xeres, the Christian army being defeated with dreadful slaughter, and the death of their King, the unhappy and licentious Roderigo. Pelagius assembled the small band of those fugitives who despised submission, amid the mountains of the Asturias, under the name of King of Oviedo.

Note 13, page, 11, col. 1.

Of that chaste king, &c.

Note 16, page 11, col. 1.

Tlascala.

An extensive district of Mexico; its inhabitants were the first Indians who submitted to the Spaniards under Cortez.

Note 17, page 11, col. 2.

Her captive king.

Francis I. taken prisoner at the battle of Pavia.

Note 18, page 11, col. 2.

Yon Baotic skies.

Andalusia forms a part of the ancient Hispania Boetica.

Note 18, page 11, col. 2.

Roncesvalles' vale.

See the former note on Alonso the Chaste.

Note 20, page 12, col. I.

The poised balance trembling still with fate. This line is imitated from one of Mr. Roscoe's Alonso, surnamed the Chaste, with ample rea-spirited verses on the commencement of the French son, if we believe his historians; who defeated, ac- revolution.

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The ancient siege of Saguntum has been now

Note 23, page 12, col. 1.

Bethulia's matron.

Note 24, page 12, col. 1.

Who treads the wine-press of the world alone.

"I have trodden the wine-press alone, and of rivalled by Zaragoza. The author is happy to the people there was none with me, for I will tread refer his readers to the interesting narrative of his them in mine anger, and trample them in my friend Mr. Vaughan. fury."-Isaiah Ixiii. 3.

Hymns

WRITTEN FOR THE WEEKLY CHURCH SERVICE

OF THE YEAR.

Several of these hymns were originally published in the Christian Observer, in the years 1811 and 1812, and were then accompanied by the following prefatory notice, which it is thought due to the author, should be here preserved.

"The following Hymns are part of an intended series, appropriate to the Sundays, and principal holidays of the year; connected in some degree with their particular Collects and Gospels, and designed to be sung between the Nicene Creed and the Sermon. The effect of an arrangement of this kind, though only partially adopted, is very striking in the Romish liturgy; and its place should seem to be imperfectly supplied by a few verses of a Psalm, entirely unconnected with the peculiar devotions of the day, and selected at the discretion of a clerk or organist. On the merits of the present imperfect, essays, the author is unaffectedly diffident; and as his labours are intended for the use of his own congregation, he will be thankful for any suggestion which may advance or correct them. In one respect, at least, he hopes the following poems will not be found reprehensible;-no fulsome or indecorous language has been knowingly adopted: no erotic addresses to him whom no unclean lip can approach, no allegory ill understood, and worse applied. It is not enough, in his opinion, to object to such expressions that they are fanatical; they are positively profane. When our Saviour was on earth and in great humility conversant with mankind; when he sat at the tables, and washed the feet, and healed the diseases of his creatures; yet did not his disciples give him any more farni liar name than Master or Lord. And now at the right hand of his Father's majesty, shall we address him with ditties of embraces and passion, or language which it would be disgraceful in an earthly sovereign to endure? Such expressions, it is said, are taken from Scripture; but even if the original application, which is often doubtful, were clearly and unequivocally ascertained, yet, though the collective Christian church may very properly be personified as the spouse of Christ, an application of such language to individual believers is as dangerous as it is absurd and unauthorized. Nor is it going too far to assert, that the brutalities of a common swearer can hardly bring religion into more sure contempt, or more scandalously profane the Name which is above every name in heaven and earth, than certain epithets applied to Christ in our popular collections of religious poetry,"

Bishop Heber subsequently arranged these hymns, with some others by various writers, in a regular series adapted to the services of the Church of England throughout the year, and it was his intention to publish them soon after his arrival

in India; but the arduous duties of his station left little time, during the short life there allotted to him, for any employment not immediately connected with his diocese. This arrangement of them has been published in England since his death, and republished in this country.

ADVENT SUNDAY.
MATT. XXI.

HOSANNA to the living Lord!
Hosanna to the incarnate Word!
To Christ, Creator, Saviour, King,
Let earth, let heaven, Hosanna sing!
Hosanna! Lord! Hosanna in the highest!

Hosanna, Lord! thine angels cry;
Hosanna, Lord! thy saints reply;
Above, beneath us, and around,
The dead and living swell the sound;
Hosanna! Lord! Hosanna in the highest!

Oh, Saviour! with protecting care,
Return to this thy house of prayer!
Assembled in thy sacred name,
Where we thy parting promise claim
Hosanna! Lord! Hosanna in the highest!

But chiefest, in our cleansed breast,
Eternal! bid thy spirit rest,

And make our secret soul to be
A temple pure, and worthy thee!
Hosanna! Lord! Hosanna in the highest!

So, in the last and dreadful day,
When earth and heaven shall melt away,
Thy flock, redeemed from sinful stain,
Shall swell the sound of praise again,
Hosanna! Lord! Hosanna in the highest!

SECOND SUNDAY IN ADVENT.

JOHN I.

THE Lord will come! the earth shall quake,
The hills their fixed seat forsake;
And, withering, from the vault of night
The stars withdraw their feeble light.

The Lord will come! but not the same
As once in lowly form he came,
A silent lamb to slaughter led,
The bruised, the suffering, and the dead.

The Lord will come! a dreadful form,
With wreath of flame, and robe of storm,
On cherub wings, and wings of wind,
Anointed Judge of human-kind!

Can this be Thee who wont to stray
A pilgrim on the world's highway;
By power oppressed and mocked by pride?
Oh, God! is this the crucified?

Go, tyrants! to the rocks complain!
Go, seek the mountain's cleft in vain!
But faith, victorious o'er the tomb,
Shall sing for joy-the Lord is come!

SECOND SUNDAY IN ADVENT.
LUKE XXI.

In the sun and moon and stars
Signs and wonders there shall be;
Earth shall quake with inward wars,
Nations with perplexity.

Soon shall ocean's hoary deep,

Tossed with stronger tempests, rise:
Darker storms the mountain sweep,
Redder lightning rend the skies.
Evil thoughts shall shake the proud,
Racking doubt and restless fear;
And amid the thunder cloud

Shall the Judge of men appear.
But though from that awful face
Heaven shall fade and earth shall fly,
Fear not ye, his chosen race,
Your redemption draweth nigh!

Come, Jesus! come! return again;

With brighter beam thy servants bless, Who long to feel thy perfect reign, And share thy kingdom's happiness!

A feeble race, by passion driven,

In darkness and in doubt we roam, And lift our anxious eyes to Heaven,

Our hope, our harbour, and our home! Yet mid the wild and wint'ry gale, When Death rides darkly o'er the sea, And strength and earthly daring fail, Our prayers, Redeemer! rest on Thee! Come, Jesus! come! and, as of yore The prophet went to clear thy way, A harbinger thy feet before,

A dawning to thy brighter day:

So now my grace with heavenly shower
Our stony hearts for truth prepare ;.
Sow in our souls the seed of power,

Then come and reap thy harvest there!

THE FOURTH SUNDAY IN ADVENT. THE world is grown old, and her pleasures are past;

The world is grown old, and her form may not last;
The world is grown old, and trembles for fear;
For sorrows abound and judgment is near!
The sun in the heaven is languid and pale;
And feeble and few are the fruits of the vale;
And the hearts of the nations fail them for fear,
For the world is grown old, and judgment is near!
The king on his throne, the bride in her bower,
The children of pleasure all feel the sad hour;
The roses are faded, and tasteless the cheer,
For the world is grown old, and judgment is near!
The world is grown old!-but should we complain,
Who have tried her and know that her promise is
vain?

Our heart is in heaven, our home is not here,
And we look for our crown when judgment is
near!

THIRD SUNDAY IN ADVENT. MATT. XI.

OH, Saviour, is thy promise fled?

No longer might thy grace endure, To heal the sick and raise the dead, And preach thy gospel to the poor?

CHRISTMAS DAY.

OH, Saviour, whom this holy morn
Gave to our world below;
To mortal want and labour born,
And more than mortal wo!

Incarnate Word! by every grief,
By each temptation tried,
Who lived to yield our ills relief,
And to redeem us died!

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