English

Between St. Felix and the regal seat
Of Abdalaziz, ancient Cordoba,
Lay many a long day's journey interposed;
And many a mountain range hath Roderick cross'd,
And many a lovely vale, ere he beheld
Where Betis, winding through the unbounded plain,
Roll'd his majestic waters. There, at eve,
Entering an inn, he took his humble seat
With other travellers round the crackling hearth,
Where heath and cistus gave their fragrant flame.
That flame no longer, as in other times,
Lit up the countenance of easy mirth

Thus long had Roderick heard her powerful words
In silence, awed before her; but his heart
Was fill'd the while with swelling sympathy,
And now with impulse not to be restrain'd
The feeling overpower'd him. Hear me too,
Auria, and Spain, and Heaven! he cried; and thou
Who risest thus above mortality,
Sufferer and patriot, saint and heroine,
The servant and the chosen of the Lord, —
For surely such thou art, — receive in me
The first-fruits of thy calling. Kneeling then,
And placing, as he spake, his hand in hers,

'Twas now the earliest morning; soon the Sun,
Rising above Albardos, pour'd his light
Amid the forest, and with ray aslant
Entering its depth, illumed the branchless pines,
Brighten'd their bark, tinged with a redder hue
Its rusty stains, and cast along the floor
Long lines of shadow, where they rose erect
Like pillars of the temple. With slow foot
Roderick pursued his way; for penitence,
Remorse which gave no respite, and the long
And painful conflict of his troubled soul,
Had worn him down. Now, brighter thoughts arose,

Twelve months they sojourn'd in their solitude,
And then beneath the burden of old age
Romano sunk. No brethren were there here
To spread the sackcloth, and with ashes strow
That penitential bed, and gather round
To sing his requiem, and with prayer and psalm
Assist him in his hour of agony.
He lay on the bare earth, which long had been
His only couch; beside him Roderick knelt,
Moisten'd from time to time his blacken'd lips,
Received a blessing with his latest breath,
Then closed his eyes, and by the nameless grave

Long had the crimes of Spain cried out to Heaven:
At length the measure of offence was full.
Count Julian call'd the invaders; not because
Inhuman priests with unoffending blood
Had stain'd their country; not because a yoke
Of iron servitude oppress'd and gall'd
The children of the soil: a private wrong
Roused the remorseless Baron. Mad to wreak
His vengeance, for his violated child,
On Roderick's head, in evil hour for Spain,
For that unhappy daughter, and himself, —
Desperate apostate! — on the Moors he call'd;

You have all of you heard of St. James for Spain
As one of the Champions Seven,
Who, having been good Knights on Earth
Became Hermits, and Saints in Heaven.

Their history once was in good repute
And so it ought to be still;
Little friends, I dare say you have read it
And if not, why, I hope you will.

Of this St. James that book proclaims
Great actions manifold;
But more amazing are the things

" TELL us a story, old Robin Gray!
This merry Christmas time;
We are all in our glory; so tell us a story,
Either in prose or in rhyme.

" Open your budget, old Robin Gray!
We very well know it is full:
Come! out with a murder, — a Goblin, — a Ghost
Or a tale of a Cock and a Bull! "

" I have no tale of a Cock and a Bull,
My good little women and men;
But 'twill do as well, perhaps, if I tell

T HAT was a memorable day for Spain,
When on Pamplona's towers, so basely won,
The Frenchmen stood, and saw upon the plain
Their long-expected succors hastening on:
Exultingly they mark'd the brave array,
And deem'd their leader should his purpose gain,
Though Wellington and England barr'd the way.
Anon the bayonets glitter'd in the sun,

TO EDITH MAY SOUTHEY.

1.

Edith! ten years are number'd, since the day,
Which ushers in the cheerful month of May,
To us by thy dear birth, my daughter dear,
Was blest. Thou therefore didst the name partake
Of that sweet month, the sweetest of the year,
But fitlier was it given thee for the sake
Of a good man, thy father's friend sincere,
Who at the font made answer in thy name.
Thy love and reverence rightly may he claim,
For closely hath he been with me allied
In friendship's holy bonds, from that first hour

PART IV .

Oh piety audacious!
Oh boldness of belief!
Oh sacrilegious force of faith,
That then inspired the thief!
Oh wonderful extent of love,
That Saints enthroned in bliss above
Should bear such profanation,
And not by some immediate act,
Striking the offender in the fact,
Prevent the perpetration!

But sure the Saint that impulse
Himself from Heaven had sent,
In mercy predetermining
The marvellous event;
So inconceivable a thought,
Seeming with such irreverence fraught,