Let tears or smiles be trusted! When thy king Who leaves a dying brother, and his eyes Were fill'd with tears like thine. No! not like thine: Sylv. These recollections? Seb. What now avail What! I have seen thee shrink, As a murderer from the eye of light, before me: I have earn'd (how dearly and how bitterly It matters not, but I have earn'd at last) Deep knowledge, fearful wisdom. Now, begone! Hence to thy guests, and fear not, though arraign'd E'en of Sebastian's friendship. Make his scorn (For he will scorn thee, as a crouching slave By all high hearts is scorn'd) thy right, thy charter Unto vile safety. Let the secret voice, Whose low upbraidings will not sleep within thee, Be as a sign, a token of thy claim To all such guerdons as are shower'd on traitors, When noble men are crush'd. And fear thou not:'Tis but the kingly cedar which the storm Hurls from his mountain throne:-th' ignoble shrub, Grovelling beneath, may live. Sylv. To tremble for thy life. Seb. VOL. III. - 24 It is thy part They that have look'd Upon a heart like thine, should know too well Sylv. And thou, if thou dost prize Thy safety, speed thee hence. [Exit SYLVEIRA. Seb. (alone.) And this is he Who was as mine own soul; whose image rose, Shadowing my dreams of glory with the thought That on the sick man's weary couch he lay, Pining to share my battles! Ye winds that sweep CHORUS. The conquer'd billows of the western deep, 'Midst the resplendent Indian heavens is born, Waft o'er bright isles, and glorious worlds, the fame Of the crown'd Spaniard's name: Till in each glowing zone Its might the nations own, And bow to him the vassal knee Whose sceptre shadows realms from sea to sea. Seb. Away-away! this is no place for him Whose name hath thus resounded, but is now A word of desolation. [Exit. ODE ON THE DEFEAT OF KING SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL, AND HIS ARMY, IN AFRICA. TRANSLATED FROM THE SPANISH OF HERRERA. FERDINAND DE HERRERA, surnamed the Divine, was a Spanish poet, who lived in the reign of Charles V., and is still considered by the Castilians as one of their classic writers. He aimed at the introduction of a new style into Spanish poetry, and his lyrics are distinguished by the sustained majesty of their language, the frequent recurrence of expressions and images, derived apparently from a fervent study of the prophetic books of Scripture, and the lofty tone of national pride maintained throughout, and justified indeed by the nature of the subjects to which some of these productions are devoted. This last characteristic is blended with a deep and enthusiastic feeling of religion, which rather exalts than tempers the haughty confidence of the poet in the high destinies of his country. Spain is to him what Judea was to the bards. who sang beneath the shadow of her palm-trees-the chosen and favoured land, whose people, severed from all others by the purity and devotedness of their faith, are peculiarly called to wreak the vengeance of Heaven upon the infidel. This triumphant conviction is powerfully expressed in his magnificent Ode on the Battle of Lepanto. The impression of deep solemnity left upon the mind of the Spanish reader, by another of Herrera's lyric compositions, will, it is feared, be very inadequately conveyed through the medium of the following translation. "Voz de dolor, y canto de gemido," &c. A VOICE of woe, a murmur of lament, She who hath seen her power, her fame expire, With grief and horror every realm o'ershade, To the far sea, in other hues array'd, Whose nations, haughty though subdued, behold Alas! for those that in embattled power, Elate in lofty dreams of victory, trode Given for the spoil; nor raised their eyes to God: It came, the hour of wrath, the hour of woe, Bursting upon the mighty and the proud Their crests the Eternal, in his anger, bow'd, Then was the sword let loose, the flaming sword Amidst that host, the pride, the flower, the crown And scatter'd, rushing as a torrent flood, 4 |