English

BOOK III.

Now twenty years these children of the skies
Beheld their gradual growing empire rise.
They ruled with rigid but with generous care,
Diffused their arts and sooth'd the rage of war,
Bade yon tall temple grace their favorite isle,
The mines unfold, the cultured vallies smile,
Those broad foundations bend their arches high
And rear imperial Cusco to the sky;
Wealth, wisdom, force consolidate the reign
From the rude Andes to the western main.
But frequent inroads from the savage bands

BOOK II.

High o'er his world as thus Columbus gazed
And Hesper still the changing scene emblazed,
Round all the realms increasing lustre flew
And raised new wonders to the Patriarch's view.
He saw at once, as far as eye could rove,
Like scattering herds, the swarthy people move
In tribes innumerable; all the waste,
Wide as their walks, a varying shadow cast.
As airy shapes, beneath the moon's pale eye,
People the clouds that sail the midnight sky,
Dance thro the grove and flit along the glade

BOOK I.

I sing the Mariner who first unfurl'd
An eastern banner o'er the western world,
And taught mankind where future empires lay
In these fair confines of descending day;
Who sway'd a moment, with vicarious power,
Iberia's sceptre on the new found shore,
Then saw the paths his virtuous steps had trod
Pursued by avarice and defiled with blood,
The tribes he foster'd with paternal toil
Snatcht from his hand, and slaughter'd for their spoil.
Slaves, kings, adventurers, envious of his name,

CANTO III.

The days grow short; but tho' the falling sun
To the glad swain proclaims his day's work done,
Night's pleasing shades his various task prolong,
And yield new subjects to my various song.
For now, the corn-house fill'd, the harvest home,
Th' invited neighbours to the Husking come;
A frolic scene, where work, and mirth, and play,
Unite their charms, to chace the hours away.
Where the huge heap lies center'd in the hall,
The lamp suspended from the cheerful wall,
Brown corn-fed nymphs, and strong hard-handed beaux,

CANTO II.

To mix the food by vicious rules of art,
To kill the stomach and to sink the heart,
To make mankind, to social virtue sour,
Cram o'er each dish, and be what they devour;
For this the kitchen Muse first framed her book,
Commanding sweats to stream from every cook;
Children no more their antic gambols tried,
And friends to physic wonder'd why they died.
Not so the Yankey — his abundant feast,
With simples furnished, and with plainness drest,

CANTO I.

Ye Alps audacious, thro' the Heavens that rise,
To cramp the day and hide me from the skies;
Ye Gallic flags, that o'er their heights unfurl'd,
Bear death to kings, and freedom to the world,
I sing not you. A softer theme I chuse,
A virgin theme, unconscious of the Muse,
But fruitful, rich, well suited to inspire
The purest frenzy of poetic fire.

Despise it not, ye Bards to terror steel'd,
Who hurl'd your thunders round the epic field;
Nor ye who strain your midnight throats to sing

CANTO I.

Y E Alps audacious, thro' the Heavens that rise,
To cramp the day and hide me from the skies;
Ye Gallic flags, that o'er their heights unfurl'd,
Bear death to kings, and freedom to the world,
I sing not you. A softer theme I chuse,
A virgin theme, unconscious of the Muse,
But fruitful, rich, well suited to inspire
The purest frenzy of poetic fire.

Despise it not, ye Bards to terror steel'd,
Who hurl'd your thunders round the epic field;

SCENE XV

A Barren Moor. — Night — Mist and fog.

Enter F IRMILIAN .

T HEY'RE hot upon my traces! Through the mist
I hear their call and answer — and but now,
As I was crouching 'neath a hawthorn bush,
A dark Familiar swiftly glided by,
His keen eyes glittering with the lust of death.
If I am ta'en, the faggot and the pile
Await me! Horror! Rather would I dare,
Like rash Empedocles, the Etna gulf,
Than writhe before the slaves of bigotry.

SCENE XIV

A Garden — F IRMILIAN . M ARIANA .

FIRMILIAN .

M Y Mariana!

MARIANA

O my beautiful!
My seraph love — my panther of the wild —
My moon-eyed leopard — my voluptuous lord!
O, I am sunk within a sea of bliss,
And find no soundings!

FIRMILIAN .

Shall I answer back?
As the great Earth lies silent all the night,

SCENE XIII

Among the Mountains.

Enter F IRMILIAN .

Why should I strive to comprehend the charm
Of savage nature, or to fill my mind
With thoughts of desolation, meanly filched
From those rude rocks, and chasms, and cataracts?
Why, none but fools affect to seek them now
For the mere sense of grandeur. To a painter,
Yon crag might seem magnificent indeed,
With its bold outline. A geologist
Would but regard it as a pillar left