THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 THE 
 
 CONQUEST OF AMERICA, 
 
 X 
 
 AND 
 
 MINOR POEMS.
 
 DARLINGTON : 
 
 Printed by Isaac Coatet.
 
 THE 
 
 CONQUEST OF AMERICA, 
 
 MINOR POEMS, 
 
 JOHN HATTERSLEY. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 BALDWIN AND CRADOCK, 
 A.ND 
 
 ISAAC COATES, DARLINGTON, 
 
 MDCOCXXXI.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 IT is not without diffidence that the writer of the 
 following pages ventures to lay them before the public, 
 conscious as he is, that he can plead very small excuse 
 for adding another to a class of works already abun- 
 dantly numerous. Neither "the solicitations of friends" 
 nor his own conviction of any benefit the world might 
 derive from his labours, have been so urgent as to ren- 
 der such a measure needful : but if this little Volume 
 be found to contain a record of genuine feeling, how- 
 ever expressed a faithful though feeble delineation of
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 those pleasant thoughts that abound in the outset of 
 life, and grow dimmer and darker with the growth of 
 years if there be found any one to lay it down with 
 the conviction that the time spent in its perusal has 
 not been altogether lost, the aim of the writer is amply 
 attained. Content with the approbation of a few, he 
 seeks not the praise of the many, and would dread the 
 censure of the "good," far more earnestly than he craves 
 the applause of the "great." 
 $. > >x> HJU..- " -, ^ 
 
 1st Mo. 4* A, 1831.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page. 
 COLUMBUS 1 
 
 CORTEZ 41 
 
 PIZARRO 91 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 " Tempora mutantur et nos mutamur in illis". . 137 
 
 " Dulce dulce domum" 142 
 
 Stanzas 144 
 
 The last battle of Judas Maccabee.., 146
 
 Vlll CONTENTS. 
 
 The Slave .................................. 153 
 
 Stanzas .................................... 157 
 
 Belisarius .................................. l6l 
 
 To the Rose ............................... 166 
 
 " Memento mori" ........................... 168 
 
 Casimir Sobiesky to his Harp, (from the Latin) . . 173 
 
 On the taking of Jerusalem by Titus .......... 175 
 
 A Reverie. . ........ . .......... ............ 180 
 
 Evening Thoughts .......................... 185 
 
 The three mighty ones ....................... 188 
 
 Joshua .................................... 192 
 
 Paraphrase on the 38th, and part of the 3th 
 
 Chapters of Job ........ . ............... 14 
 
 The warning of Hezekiah .................... 202 
 
 To a Friend,.. . 204
 
 COLUMBUS. 
 
 THE parting sun across the Western main 
 Poured his last rays to bless the land of Spain, 
 And shepherds' songs along her valleys swell, 
 Bidding the glowing day a sweet farewell. 
 Still his last beams are lingering, soft and fair, 
 On Moorish mosque and Christian house of prayer ; 
 And many a dome for sterner uses built, 
 That told where hosts had met and blood was spilt, 
 Seemed like the warrior shade of other times,
 
 2 COLUMBUS. 
 
 That sat to weep for unrepented crimes. 
 Cool was the air, by many a sea breeze fanned, 
 And all seemed gladness in the lovely land. 
 
 Those were proud times and days of fame for thee, 
 Land of high hearts and fiery chivalry. 
 What though the tyrant Moslem's alien train 
 Wasted thy vine-clad realms, romantic Spain ; 
 Though thy proud sons the mountain deserts trod, 
 To hold unstained the worship of their God ; 
 Yet came they forth at length, that little band, 
 The stem avengers of their native land, 
 Till, gathering fast from hill and ocean coast, 
 The wild guerillas to one banded host, 
 Ten thousand hearts upon the embattled plain 
 Throbbed to the stirring cry "St. James for Spain ! " 
 Then paid thy wakening strength the dark arrears
 
 COLUMBUS. 3 
 
 Of many a lingering year of blood and teal's : 
 Then thine unconquered spirit tore in twain 
 The lengthened links that wove thy bitter chain, 
 Till not one badge of slavery might declare 
 A pagan lord had swayed the sceptre there. 
 
 Romantic Spain ! who would not mourn for thee, 
 Thou ancient dwelling of the brave and free ? 
 How strange a contrast now thy land affords, 
 Thy priest-led people and thy beggared lords ; 
 And they that vex thee with their tyrant rule, 
 A sickening interchange of knave and fool, 
 Whose crimes have stained the land that gave them 
 
 birth 
 
 With all the ills that plague the troubled earth. 
 Yet hast thou names that will not pass away, > 
 Though heroes' fame and tyrants' names decay ; 
 c2
 
 4 COLUMBUS. 
 
 Whose well-won honour and unbloody glory 
 
 May gild the darkest pages of thy story ; 
 
 Light the drear annals of thine ages past, 
 
 And hold their splendour while the world shall last. 
 
 Such names as these are few ; but there was one 
 
 Who watched that silent eve the setting sun, 
 
 Whose fame, unblazoned to the world as yet, 
 
 Once heard, the wondering world will ne'er forget. 
 
 And by him on his couch a sick man lay, 
 
 Who gazed intently on the parting day ; 
 
 For well he deemed the morrow's sun might rise 
 
 With unfelt lustre to his closed eyes. 
 
 Strange was the tale he told his youthful host, 
 
 Of many a wandering on a distant coast ; 
 
 How he had sailed on seas where never prow 
 
 Cast its broad shadow on the waves below ; 
 
 O'er the dark bosom of the Atlantic driven,
 
 COLUMBUS. 
 
 Chased by the howling waves and winds of heaven, 
 
 For many a weary day unceasing pressed 
 
 Still onward, onward, onward to the West, 
 
 Till he descried, amidst the breakers' roar, 
 
 A land no mortal's eye had seen before, 
 
 And longed to feast his ocean-wearied eyes 
 
 With visions of that isle of paradise : 
 
 But the unceasing waves were dark and strong, 
 
 The changing winds blew loud, and high, and long, 
 
 And they, worn down with ceaseless misery, 
 
 How might they wrestle with the mighty sea ? 
 
 The blissful island faint and fainter grew, 
 
 Till its last traces faded from their view, 
 
 And they, in all the anguish of despair, 
 
 Folded their arms and drove they recked not where : 
 
 Till he alone of all that wretched band, 
 
 Returned to perish on his native land.
 
 6 COLUMBUS. 
 
 Columbus heard in silence, but his breast 
 Heaved as he gazed upon the glowing West. 
 His speechless, listening look would fain implore 
 Some further story of that mystic shore. 
 But now the weary wanderer's gasping breath 
 Grew short and shorter in the pangs of death. 
 He might not waste in earthly thought or care 
 The few brief moments that remained for prayer. 
 His voice waxed faint, his closing eye grew dim, 
 He died, and his strange story died with him. 
 
 And many a day, and many a year hath fled, 
 Since young Columbus stood beside the dead 
 Years that have somewhat quenched his spirit's glow, 
 And gathered lines of thought across his brow. 
 And toil, and care, and many a changing clime, 
 Have planted wrinkles there before their time ;
 
 COLUMBUS. 7 
 
 But only graven deeper in his breast 
 That mystic longing to explore the West. 
 
 Nor age can cool, nor disappointment quell 
 
 . 
 That hope his soul hath nursed so long and well. 
 
 And disappointment was his lot in sooth, 
 From the bright morning of his ardent youth, 
 Even until now, when her relentless sway 
 Hath tinged his auburn locks untimely grey. 
 A wanderer in a world that ill could prize 
 His soaring spirit's fearless energies, 
 Unto what land soe'er his face he turned, 
 The aspiring thoughts that in his bosom burned, 
 Met with the cold neglect, the scornful frown 
 That oft have weighed the noblest spirit down. 
 Fain would he that his own fair land should reap 
 The golden fields he saw beyond the deep,
 
 8 COLUMBUS. 
 
 And for the brightest gem she e'er had won, 
 
 Thank the bold genius of her daring son. 
 
 But other cares were hers her land a prey 
 
 To all the woes that waste a land away, 
 
 The grievous wars her subject realms that tore 
 
 Had left her little wish to seek for more ; 
 
 And he must turn where fairer prospects spring 
 
 Of generous aid from Lusitania's king; 
 
 Whose barks for many a year had dared to brave 
 
 The untold terrors of the Southern wave; 
 
 Steered round the Cape of Storms, and led the way 
 
 To the fair limits of the rising day. 
 
 He, meanly crafty, deems to seize the prize, 
 
 Without that price his sordid soul denies, 
 
 And speeds, while specious words his guest detain, 
 
 A chosen pilot o'er the Atlantic main. 
 
 Fond thought ! to trust his spirit could fulfil
 
 COLUMBUS. 
 
 The deed that asks its founder's utmost skill, 
 
 Or work the purpose of that soul sublime, 
 
 N ursed by deep musings and matured by time. 
 
 Scared by the vastness of that shoreless sea, 
 
 The pilot turns from its immensity, 
 
 And for a cloak unto his fear, hath planned 
 
 "An evil story of the goodly land." 
 
 That sick at heart Columbus turns again 
 
 To seek for nobler souls in generous Spain. 
 
 'Twas the fair evening of a summer day, 
 When spent and weary with his toilsome way, 
 And yet more bowed beneath his spirit's weight, 
 He stood by La Rabida's convent gate. 
 The prior marked his bearing staid and high, 
 The soul that sparkled in his swarthy eye, 
 And reverence mingles with the thoughts that wake
 
 10 COLUMBUS. 
 
 His generous pity for the exile's sake. 
 
 Their spirits mingled in the tie that binds 
 
 The kindred energies of mighty minds, 
 
 And future years displayed by many a token, 
 
 That tie unmoved when other bonds were broken. 
 
 Monarchs may change and kings forget their faith, 
 
 But Juan Perez fails him not till death. 
 
 Seemed it that Heaven's own hand that friend hath 
 
 sent, 
 
 To aid the working of His high intent ; 
 For while the wanderer's burning words impart 
 The cherished visions of his ardent heart, 
 Across his hearer's kindling spirit came 
 The wakening flashes of an answering flame. 
 He bids Columbus count his home his own, 
 He brings the stranger to the monarch's throne,
 
 COLUMBUS. 
 
 And while the sire is spent with days of care, 
 
 Instructs his child his fearless steps to share. 
 
 AJJ+ ~ . _ ,-i 4 i- 
 
 And needs Columbus all his firmness then, 
 To brook with even soul the scorn of men, 
 Who, proud of fancied wisdom, scarce would bear 
 The noble suppliant's earnest words to hear. 
 With mingled scorn and mirth a later age 
 Will mark the reasoning of each solemn sage : 
 Their tale of climes where, dread and silently, 
 A dayless darkness slumbers on the sea : 
 Where wrapt in deep and everlasting gloom, 
 His bark would linger till the day of doom : 
 Of seas whose waves, beneath the summer's ire, 
 Flash to the tortured sight like liquid fire : 
 And lands, if lands there were those skies beneath, 
 Scorched to one silent waste of doom and death.
 
 12 COLUMBUS. 
 
 Strange tales i n sooth yet were they men of lore, 
 
 And learned in all the mouldering tomes of yore, 
 
 And shame it were, the pious king declares, 
 
 To match a wandering seaman's words with theirs. 
 
 The Moors were in his land, and needed all 
 
 His gold, his arms to free him from their thrall, 
 
 But when Granada's walls his sway shall own, 
 
 Then will he make his royal pleasure known. 
 
 Three lingering years the monarch's march he shared, 
 
 And oft his sword in Moorish war was bared ; 
 
 Most fitting school to nerve his soul to all 
 
 The weary days and nights that must befal. 
 
 Yet worse than days of toil or charging foes, 
 
 The heartless coldness that his monarch shows : 
 
 But for one friend that knew his sorrows well, 
 
 The monarch's bride, the gentle Isabel. 
 
 She sooths his anxious soul, his grief allays,
 
 COLUMBUS. 13 
 
 With many a flattering tale of future days, 
 And vows his bark shall seek the Western shore, 
 Soon as the Christian triumphs o'er the Moor. 
 
 That time is come Boabdil's power hath passed, 
 Strewn like the desert sand before the blast. 
 The cross is raised, the crescent's light is dim, 
 And in Granada's streets the Christians' hymn 
 Peals forth its solemn strains, where late arose 
 The "Allah akbar" of their pagan foes. 
 All hearts are glad, but one is gladder far 
 Than ever chieftain from victorious war. 
 Watching the foes that leave their conquered home, 
 He deems full surely that the day will come, 
 When in dark vengeance for his faith opprest, 
 The glittering treasures of the golden West 
 Shall win him hearts and hands for fierce Crusade,
 
 14 COLUMBUS. 
 
 In their own land the spoilers to invade. 
 
 Such was the tenor of his solemn vow, 
 
 And such the purpose that his proud words show 
 
 Unto the royal pair whose hand hath given 
 
 At length, the power to work the will of Heaven. 
 
 That joyous hour hath wiped his griefs away : 
 
 His little fleet is gathered in the bay, 
 
 And westward long with prospering breezes sweeps, 
 
 A thousand leagues across the trackless deeps. 
 
 'Twas dead of night, and soothing slumber threw 
 Her cheating visions o'er the weary crew : 
 Perchance they dreamed their burning cheeks were 
 
 fanned 
 
 By the cool breezes of their native land : 
 Perchance they thought to join the dance again, 
 With their own dark-eyed maids in sunny Spain.
 
 COLUMBUS. 15 
 
 But there was one whose thoughts were far too deep 
 
 To grant his wasted frame the boon of sleep. 
 
 That calm proud brow, that look that could controul 
 
 The fiercest passions of each meaner soul, 
 
 Are sadly changed long days of pain and care, 
 
 And nights of thought, have left their signet there. 
 
 For he had striven too long with painful art, 
 
 To mimic gladness with a sorrowing heart; 
 
 To sooth the fears that vexed his anxious crew, 
 
 Who, sad and troubled, wist not what to do. 
 
 Long had they gazed with mingled doubt and fear, 
 
 On the strange sights that marked their wild career; 
 
 For many a league their labouring vessel's speed 
 
 Was checked by tangled fields of floating weed ; 
 
 And many a tale hath Superstition told, 
 
 Of mighty realms that bloomed in days of old, 
 
 And found with all their sons a sudden grave,
 
 16 'COLUMBUS. 
 
 In the dark bosom of the avenging wave. 
 And some would tell how demon powers withstood 
 Unbidden wanderers o'er the Western flood, 
 Lest that the Christian faith should rend away 
 Those blooming isles that owned their tyrant sway. 
 And some would deem they heard their fearful cry, 
 As the loud storm-wind's wrath came sweeping by ; 
 And that their gathering bands the whirlwinds roll, 
 And turn the wandering needle from the pole. 
 If that should fail, what other power should be 
 Their faithful guide across the trackless sea ? 
 For this they swore, with murmurs loud and stern, 
 To force their gallant leader to return. 
 Single against a host, he could but crave 
 Yet for three days the opposing seas to brave, 
 And if the land appeared not e'er they ceased, 
 To turn his course once more unto the East.
 
 COLUMBUS* 17 
 
 The second day had passed, and on the prow 
 Columbus listened to the small wave's flow, 
 And watched the stars that, beautifully bright, 
 Spangle the darkness of a Western night. 
 Alas ! to him their beauty shone in vain; 
 They were not those that light the skies of Spain. 
 They were not those that decked the azure heaven, 
 Beneath whose light his plighted vows were given 
 To her who watched perchance e'en now their ray, 
 And thought of him, the loved one, far away. 
 It was no wonder that his home-sick mind 
 Turned to the dear ones he had left behind ; 
 It was no wonder that the waters' roll 
 Sounded most sadly to his weary soul. 
 But what beholds he ? o'er the billows glance 
 Sights that may rouse him from his troubled trance. 
 Amidst the lights that trembled on the sea, 
 c
 
 18 !. I Mill.-. 
 
 I 
 
 Rose one of deeper, steadier brilliancy, 
 And well he knows it is no wandering star, 
 Whose sudden beams shine out so clear and far. 
 He stays to ponder ; at his eager beck 
 Came one that watched beside him on the deck, 
 And still unqueuched before their wondering eyes, 
 The light moves steadily athwart the skies ; 
 And now 'tis darkened, now shines forth again, 
 And seems to mark the distant haunts of men. 
 Even as they gazed the cry of "land" rung back 
 From Pinzon's ship that led their silent track, 
 And each with fear depressed, with hope elate, 
 Longs for the morn to light their dubious fate. 
 
 And morn is come, and doubt hath passed away ; 
 Full in their sight a fair green island lay ; 
 And freshly blooming vallies met their view,
 
 COLUMBUS. 19 
 
 Where every tree and every flower was new ;oa w 
 And strange soft perfumes filled the floating air, 
 And comely youths and lovely maids were there, 
 And new sweet sounds they deemed were on the breeze, 
 To bid them welcome from the stormy seas. 
 How throbbed the Spaniards' hearts ! how glad the$r 
 
 raise 
 
 To Him that rules in Heaven, the song of praise ! 
 Yet sounds of woe amidst their joy were heard, 
 Beseeching pardon of their injured Lord:r.; 
 And every lip hath breathed the solemn vow ; 
 " Betide what may, we will not leave thee now. " 
 For half they deemed that unto him were given 
 Unearthly powers to work the will of Heaven. 
 
 And how felt he? his heaving bosom wrought ,.. , 
 With many a strange unutterable thought: .u^uii <uH 
 c2
 
 20 COLUMBUS. 
 
 He saw not those that knelt around him then ; 
 His thoughts were far above the thoughts of men. 
 His eyes were fixed on heaven, his heart was there, 
 And poured the wordless eloquence of prayer, 
 To Him whose power the spreading ocean spanned, 
 And hides it in the hollow of His hand ; 
 Whose breath had swept him o'er the fields of ocean, 
 Hushed the wild winds and stilled the waves' commo- 
 tion, 
 
 And led him on, in earth and hell's despite, 
 To bring a world from darkness unto light. 
 
 Perchance with these were mingled thoughts whose 
 
 birth 
 
 Was somewhat nearer to the things of earth. 
 Triumph o'er those whose sordid souls could deem 
 His mighty projects but a madman's dream;
 
 COLUMBUS. '21 
 
 Joy that his memory should not pass away, 
 
 When he was slumbering with his kindred clay. 
 
 O ! if it were a vanity to cherish 
 
 The inspiring thought, his name should never perish, 
 
 But in its unstained glory live sublime, 
 
 Above the oblivious power of passing time 
 
 Yet ere ye blame, the wisest and the best 
 
 May search the hidden thoughts that swell his breast, 
 
 And if he find no spark of pride therein, 
 
 Cast the first stone against his brother's sin. 
 
 Long were the tale his future steps to trace, 
 His devious wanderings o'er that new world's face ; 
 His longing search for lands that should unfold 
 The visioned gorgeous hoards of gems and gold ; 
 Or how the simple natives came to bless 
 His landing in those isles of happiness ;
 
 22 COLUMBUS. 
 
 And wondering youths and maids in crouds would run 
 
 To bow them to the children of the sun, 
 
 And press the mighty strangers to receive 
 
 Such simple welcome as kind hearts can give ; 
 
 Or shrink to watch the thunder and the fire 
 
 That marked the strangers' likeness to their sire. 
 
 Far to the South a lovely isle they show, 
 WUere yet more fair the cloudless summers glow, 
 And where the treasures of the precious ore 
 Are strewed like sand upon the ocean shore. 
 Thither he bends his course; fair Cuba now 
 Gleams in the noonday light before his prow, 
 And now, tar swept before the prosperous wind, 
 It sleeps in blue obscurity behind ; 
 And Espagnola's distant hills arise 
 Like a fair cloud upon the summer skies.
 
 COLUMBUS. 23 
 
 They near the coast : with watchings long oppressed, 
 
 Columbus closed his eyes in fevered rest. 
 
 The pilot's charge is left; a stripling guides 
 
 The vessel's course along the silent tides. 
 
 What fear was theirs from such a tranquil sea ? 
 
 But hark ! a crash sounds loud and heavily. 
 
 Before the readiest hand might ward the shock, 
 
 The ship is stranded on a hidden rock. 
 
 Vain seemed their hope from human aid or skill, 
 
 For every space the rushing waters fill. 
 
 The land is far away how glad they view 
 
 The approaching foam of many a swift canoe, 
 
 Which GuacaHagari's watchful kindness sends, 
 
 To greet the coming of his stranger friends. 
 
 With every care a generous heart can show, 
 
 He strives to bid his guests forget their woe. 
 
 Their choicest fruits his willing vassals bring,
 
 24 COLUMBUS. 
 
 The crystal waters of the coolest spring. 
 
 Their wants supplied, their wondering guests they 
 
 lead, 
 
 Where noble groves their soaring foliage spread. 
 The greenest vales to rest and joy invite, 
 In the soft brilliance of the evening light, 
 Till all so fair the scenes that round them rise 
 They deem that Eden's valleys greet their eyes : 
 And many a heart with wanderings sore oppressed, 
 Longs in those scenes of careless joy to rest, 
 With little hope or wish to tempt again 
 The thousand terrors of the unquiet main. 
 Beneath their hands the castle walls arose, 
 To guard the island chief from pirate foes, 
 Who oft marauding from the neighbouring isle, 
 Filled his sweet land with scenes of strife and spoil. 
 And glad he deems the strangers to oppose
 
 COLUMBUS. 25 
 
 Unto the ravage of his murderous foes. 
 Their comrades spread the sail, and many a tear 
 Marks with what pain they part from friends so dear ; 
 And long they watched the swift receding shore : 
 Alas ! they ne'er might see their faces more. 
 
 Borne on the breezes back, what thoughts must swell 
 Their joyous hearts ; what tales are theirs to tell ! 
 How listnening crowds will tremble and admire, 
 In the proud hall or round the winter's fire ! 
 But other scenes are near : the waters rise 
 In fearful cadence with the howling skies, 
 And thunder's roll and lightning's fitful gleam, 
 Too rudely wake them from their pleasing dream. 
 That watery waste o'er which their bark is driven 
 Seems like the gulf that severs hell from heaven, 
 And little hope as theirs that linger there,
 
 20 COLUMBUS. 
 
 Shines o'er the midnight gloom of their despair. 
 And he whose daring hand had drawn aside 
 The clouds that slumbered o'er that mystic tide, 
 And won from dark oblivion's grasping sway 
 Half the broad realms that hail the lord of day; 
 Perchance his corpse on desert island thrown, 
 His toils all spent in vain, his deeds unknown, 
 The giant projects of his soul sublime 
 Branded as maniac dreams to latest time 
 Well might the clouds of sorrow and distress 
 O'ercloud his mind with tenfold bitterness. 
 One chance is left the polling waves may sweep 
 His glory's record o'er the stormy deep. 
 His grave the sea, his canopy the sky, 
 That glorious epitaph may time defy, 
 And stamp his memory with a fairer fame 
 Than ever shone on king or conqueror's name.
 
 COLUMBUS. 27 
 
 But Heaven had mightier deeds in store for thee, 
 Thoxi fearless wanderer o'er the untried sea ! 
 Hushed at His beck the waters own his will, 
 The storm hath spent his wrath, the winds are still, 
 And Palos' bay that watched thy parting sail 
 Pours forth her sons thy safe return to hail, 
 And friend and kinsman g?eet in gladsome strain 
 Those whom they never hoped to meet again. 
 
 -:.; .H/>w/!j r *rfi4>f;-..'ii l.yn-a' >;! ; :; u.-n i-.B 
 
 I need not tell what welcome looks were shown, 
 When he returned to bow before the throne, 
 And wealth and beauty cast their choicest smiles 
 On the great Admiral of the Western Isles. 
 How changed since last he stood before them ! Then 
 He seemed but one amongst a thousand men, 
 Or if they marked him from the vulgar train, 
 'Twas for the dreams they deemed had turned his brain.
 
 28 COLUMBUS.' 
 
 But now the proudest hearts felt far behind 
 The simple grandeur of that master mind, 
 And e'en the mightiest felt their fame was dim, 
 To that renown that lay in store for him. 
 
 The scene is changed Columbus stands again 
 By the rude dwellings of those island men, 
 But not in peace ; for strife and blood and wrath 
 Had marked the proud invaders' onward path. 
 Sons of the sun ! they spread where'er they came 
 Their murderous rapine and the wasting flame, 
 Till the whole land was gathered to oppose 
 The demon madness of their Christian foe. 
 
 Vain was the contest they whose spear and bow 
 Had slaughtered nought but forest beasts till now, 
 With all their valour little might avail
 
 COLUMBUS. 29 
 
 Against the opposers clad in iron mail. 
 
 The cannon thunders ranks on ranks are riven 
 
 By the swift shot that mocks the bolts of Heaven. 
 
 And vain their flight and vain their panting speed : 
 
 The dark avenger spurs his fiery steed, 
 
 And close and loud behind their footsteps swell 
 
 The dismal bursts of the hot bloodhound's yell. 
 
 Rest there is none, for every sword is bared, 
 
 And reaps the remnant that the shot has spared, 
 
 Till faint and breathless at the close of day, 
 
 The weary murderer's arm refused to slay. 
 
 Where was Columbus in that iron time ? 
 Those fearful days of blood and woe and crime ? 
 How can the friend of man and nature bring 
 His gentle soul to that accursed thing ? 
 Yet pitying truth must wail the hapless lot
 
 3(1 COLUMBUS. 
 
 That stained his honoured name with such a blot, 
 And mercy's hand in more enlightened days, 
 Must veil those actions which she cannot praise, 
 And the stern spirit of the times must plead 
 His best excuse for many a fearful deed : 
 The unaided captain of a haughty band, 
 Chosen from the fiercest spirits of the land, 
 His single voice but feebly might restrain 
 The dark excesses of that bloody train ; 
 He could but sorrow o'er the fearful wreck, 
 And weep for evils that he might not check. 
 
 Yet lacked not fair pretence the deed to gloss, 
 With many a specious tale of harm and loss, 
 Their troop had suffered at the Indians' hand ; 
 The fearful slaughter of that little band 
 Left by their chief on Espagnola'tt coast,
 
 COLUMBUS. 31 
 
 By Caonabo and his Carib host, 
 
 Had waked (as after days but told too well) 
 
 That thirst of vengeance that their blood must quell. 
 
 Loosed from the terrors of his princely sway, 
 
 While steered his bark to regions fer away, 
 
 In ceaseless searches for the golden land, 
 
 To Cuba's shores and fair Jamaica's strand, 
 
 His troops had spread the flames of war and spoil 
 
 Through the fair plains of Espagnola's isle. 
 
 Their freedom lost, their kingdom rent away, 
 
 Their little all the heartless stranger's prey, 
 
 Their once proud rulers bowed unto the dust, 
 
 Their wives, their daughters victims to their lust, 
 
 Even as the hunted deer will turn at length, 
 
 So had the islesmen gathered all their strength. 
 
 My song hath told how ill their valour sped, 
 
 To heap more misery on their doomed head.
 
 32 COLUMBUS. 
 
 And the fierce strife their galling chains to sever, 
 But bound their links nore firmly and for ever. 
 
 Laden with golden spoils he speeds again 
 His homeward course to rest in lovely Spain, 
 And many a chieftain of that simple race 
 In captive chains his proud return shall grace, 
 And one more stern than all, whose sullen eye 
 Spake but of glories past, and power gone by : 
 And well it were had but Columbus known 
 How well his fortune shadowed forth his own. 
 " Lord of the golden house" his fame had spread 
 Through the green isles in notes of fear and dread, 
 Fearless and matchless as the vulture shrouds 
 His lonely nest amid the mountain clouds, 
 Forth from the caverns of his craggy hold, 
 O'er the rich plains beneath his might had rolled,
 
 COLUMBUS*- 33 
 
 And many a day in haught and tameless pride 
 
 The scattered squadrons of his foes defied. 
 
 The spoiler came amid his sated rest, 
 
 The eagle's pinions shade his bloody nest, 
 
 And fiercely grappling with his startled prey, 
 
 Ojeda bore the island chief away. 
 
 But chained and fettered, yet it may not be 
 
 The insulting crowd shall vent their mirth on thee, 
 
 Or hail thee trophy of the finished war, 
 
 A bleeding captive at thy conqueror's car. 
 
 Thy broken heart and fleeting life will spare 
 
 That bitter cup thy island brethren share. 
 
 Weary with gazing o'er the silent sea, 
 
 For the blue hills where once unchecked and free, 
 
 His hunter steps unceasingly would roam, 
 
 The clouds his shelter, the wide land his home ; 
 
 Pent like the forest monarch in his 
 
 D
 
 34 COLUMBUS. 
 
 No kindly heart his mournings to assuage, 
 Or whisper words of hope his heart to raise, 
 To brighter visions of untroubled days, 
 Untended all save by his warrior bride, 
 'Twas thus the fallen Caonabo died. 
 
 The scene is changed, once more the breezes sweep 
 The heroic wanderer eastward on the deep. 
 But oh ! how changed in heart and fate was he 
 Since last his vessel crossed the Western sea. 
 That high unbending soul, too stern and proud 
 To court the favour of the changeful crowd, 
 Had vexed full many a heart that ill could bear 
 To look on glories which it might not share. 
 And slander's tale and envy's blasting tongue, 
 Strove at Fernando' court his fame to wrong ; 
 Nor strove in vain for weary of the debt
 
 COLUMBUS. 35 
 
 He cannot cancel but would fain forget, 
 
 The darkest murmurs of that sordid crew 
 
 Came to a heart that wished it all were true. 
 
 And foes were round him Espagnola's isle 
 
 Holds many a heart, that, lured by fortune's smile, 
 
 Had left their country for that Ophir land, 
 
 Where gold they deemed lacked but the gatherer's hand. 
 
 Alas ! before their wandering steps return, 
 
 A bitter lesson was it theirs to learn ! 
 
 His spirit sunk in gloom his body worn, 
 
 With toil his proud hands had but seldom borne, 
 
 The young Hidalgo breathed his latest sigh 
 
 To curse the chief that brought him there and die. 
 
 And oft in later days the wanderer deems, 
 
 When fitfully through clouds the pale moon gleams, 
 
 Dim forms come gliding through the saddening gloom 
 
 From the mossed vault of many an ancient tomb,
 
 36 COLUMBUS. 
 
 Restless as when their homesick hearts on earth 
 Throbbed for the lovely land that gave them birth. 
 And sick and sad, of every hope bereft, 
 Burst for the quiet joys so lightly left. 
 Yet lived there those whose rebel wrath might shed 
 Its gathered fury on the admiral's head. 
 Needs but a chief whose venturous hand shall dare 
 The traitor sword against that head to bare 
 And such was Roldan quick of heart and hand, 
 But little pleased to brook or bear command, 
 His factious spirit and unyielding pride 
 His lord's best strength for many a day defied, 
 And yields his fierce pretentious but to share 
 A power his giddy spirit ill could bear. 
 His zealous partisans were swift to bring 
 Tidings of evil to their partial king, 
 And step by step to cold oblivion fell 
 :.< ,/ * 
 
 *
 
 COLUMBUS. 37 
 
 The mighty fame Columbus earned so well, 
 Till scarce one trophy of his deeds remains, 
 Save a bowed spirit and a load of chains. 
 
 Yes ! chains were all thy thankless lord could pay 
 For the proud realms thou gavest unto his sway '. 
 O Spain, for many an age that blot will cling 
 To the dark memory of thy sordid king. 
 Cold, faithless tyrant ! it is all in vain 
 That thou wouldst sooth his wounded soul again 
 In vain the hand that smote would strive to heal 
 The indignant sharne that his proud heart must feel. 
 In vain the indignant people's groans proclaim 
 Their stern abhorrence of that deed of shame. 
 His day is waning fast though yet once more 
 He steers his bark along that distant shore, 
 'Twas but to see his brightest visions fade,
 
 38 COLUMBUS. 
 
 To mourn his waning fortunes gathering shade. 
 
 Pent ort Veragua's coast his forces rent 
 
 By factious rage or secret discontent, 
 
 His vessel wrecked, while the fair land he gave 
 
 Denies him aid to bear him o'er the wave, 
 
 What marvel when at length by shame was wrung 
 
 The boon that niggard hand refused so long ; 
 
 From that drear coast he turns him to depart, 
 
 With all the anguish of a weary heart. 
 
 That heart is broken he whose soul till now, 
 
 Anguish and toil and trouble could not bow, 
 
 Now sick of earth and panting for release, 
 
 Longs for the hour to bid him part in peace, 
 
 And feels that nought on earth a joy can give, 
 
 To make his wounded spirit long to live. 
 
 Ungrateful Spain ! thy noblest son is laid
 
 COLUMBUS. 39 
 
 Where thou canst ne'er disturb his narrow bed ; 
 
 And thou, fond thought, a gorgeous pile wouldst raise, 
 
 His bones to cumber with unheeded praise, 
 
 As if the charm of adulation's breath 
 
 Could sooth his injured heart that sleeps beneath. 
 
 But thou mayest spare the monumental stone 
 
 Sufficient monument his name alone, 
 
 And that to many a coming age shall tell 
 
 His glory and his country's shame too well.

 
 CORTEZ. 
 
 HARP of the West ! I did not think again 
 So soon to wake thy wildly sounding strain. 
 I deemed thy strings should long have silent hung 
 In the still shade where their first notes were sung. 
 But like the fiery hearts whose blame or praise 
 I fain would sound in mine adventurous lays, 
 Once on my path gone forth I may not say, 
 "Here will I cease and here my course shall stay." 
 No ! though the battle shout, the savage yell,
 
 42 CORTEZ. 
 
 The groans of murdered hosts my notes must swell, 
 
 Still must I onward till the tale be told, 
 
 How fiery zeal and fierier thirst for gold, 
 
 Led the fierce captain and his fearless band 
 
 Through the thick dangers of a hostile land, 
 
 Till the free spirit of her sons was broke, 
 
 And myriads bowed them to the strangers' yoke. 
 
 Shade of Columbus ! peaceful is tky rest 
 And hushed the troubles of thy anxious breast. 
 Yes ! though thy sun of life hath set in gloom, 
 And some may mourn thine all unworthy doom, 
 Yet couldst thou lift awhile thy closed eye 
 From the meek dwelling where thine ashes lie, 
 And mark the land thou foundest, darkly red 
 With all the blood thy followers' hands have shed, 
 How would thy gentle soul His judgments praise,
 
 CORTEZ. 43 
 
 Whose mercy took thee from the evil days. 
 Though hours of woe were thine, for hands imbrued 
 In thy defenceless brethren's guiltless blood, 
 Yet He who chasteneth but in mercy, knew 
 Thy heart approved not what thine hands must do ; 
 Blood hath a voice, and loud and fearfully 
 Its cry hath rung to Heaven for wrath on thee, 
 Proud Hernan Cortez ! though thy haughty soul, 
 Thy dark eye's glance, the mightiest may controul, 
 Yet on thy heart is blood's abiding stain, 
 On thy dark forehead is the brand of Cain. 
 Yes ! speed thee onward on thy brilliant track 
 The curse of blood hath weight to drag thee back. 
 And let thy spirit pant for glory's praise 
 The curse of blood will cloud thy brightest days, 
 Deepen the darkness of thine hours of gloom, 
 And wave in bitter triumph o'er thy tomb.
 
 44 CORTEZ. 
 
 I 
 
 Not such thy thoughts when first, at noon of day, 
 Before thine eyes the island city lay, 
 Rich in such gorgeous splendour as might seem 
 The strange creation of a wildered dream, 
 Or like the scene some mighty spirit's hand 
 Hath conjured up in realms of fairy land. 
 Temple and tower and palace, silvery white, 
 Flung on the waters back reflection bright, 
 Broke by the ripples that the breezes wake 
 In the still surface of the quiet lake. 
 It was a sight might win the darkest mood 
 To pause a moment from its thoughts of blood : 
 And as the Spaniards on the mountain stand, 
 To look on scenes so like their native land, 
 Tears show how fervently their bosoms feel, 
 The rush of thoughts that tell of fair Castile 
 But for a moment was that silent stay ;
 
 CORTEZ. 45 
 
 Those dreams of better hours are passed away, 
 And they in their remorseless course must on, 
 Restless and pitiless till all be won. 
 
 The march goes onward : loud and louder come 
 The rising accents of the people's hum. 
 The mighty city, throned amidst the waters, 
 Pours forth the myriads of her sons and daughters, 
 In gay attire their mighty guests to meet, 
 And bow their foreheads at their godlike feet. 
 
 O 
 
 Pennon and plume are waving on the blast, 
 
 And feathered canopies their shadow cast, 
 
 Above the mighty Montezuma's head. 
 
 The warning voice hath through the city sped, 
 
 And as his brightness passes, long and low 
 
 The shouting crowd their humble heads must bow, 
 
 As all unworthy that their fearful eye
 
 40 CORTEZ. 
 
 Should lift its gaze to his proud majesty. 
 The chiefs approach such pair as never yet 
 In such a guise, and such strange greeting met. 
 And oh ! how many of that joyous train 
 Will sleep in dust before they part again. 
 Kind was the greeting of the Indian king 
 And rich the gifts his thousand followers bring, 
 And bright the stores of gold his hand displays, 
 Unto the wondering strangers' eager gaze. 
 Unto his proudest domes the guests are led 
 Their richest robes for their tired limbs are spread. 
 What dreams of dazzling splendour well might rise, 
 On that strange night to glad their sleeping eyes : 
 And they but woke to feast their joyous view 
 On scenes that proved their gorgeous visions true. 
 
 So passed untroubled many a summer day,
 
 CORTEZ. 47 
 
 And wide and wider spreads the strangers' sway. 
 Their arms gleam on the walls their cannon frown 
 In fearful darkness o'er the subject town, 
 And the meek ensign of the cross arose 
 Where once the Indian saw his Gods repose. 
 This might not last the vain and fickle crowd 
 Had all too long beneath their tyrants bowed, 
 And many a sign hath been that might display 
 The godlike strangers were but things of clay. 
 Too well the Captain's eager eye might mark 
 Unwelcome looks and whispers low and dark, 
 And in the inmost temple was displayed, 
 In triumph raised, a gashed and bearded head. 
 So told Marina, and too soon he knew 
 The fearful tale was but too sadly true. 
 Where Vera Cruz looks out upon the sea, 
 The storm had gathered dark and gloomily.
 
 48 CORTEZ. 
 
 The haughty tribes that flank the rising town, 
 Had torn their monarch's dragon banner down, 
 And marched to meet his host upon the plain, 
 Backed by the mailed and horseman sons of Spain, 
 Theirs was the victory, but the field of strife 
 Was dearly purchased with their leader's life; 
 Young Escalante ! many a heart shall weep 
 Of those who smiled o'er thine unwaking sleep, 
 And loud and deep thy funeral wail shall be, 
 From those that little thought to mourn for thee. 
 Cortez hath heard thy fate, and once thy doom 
 Had called his bitter tears o'er thy young tomb, 
 But darker grief his bosom now must steel, 
 To all the thoughts that other hearts may feel, 
 And grim and ghastly was the joyless smile, 
 That told how bright should blaze thy funeral pile. 
 The night came on, but brought him little rest;
 
 CORTEZ. 49 
 
 Not once his form the couch of slumber pressed, 
 And sad and slow his pensive footsteps fall 
 As he paced slowly through the noble hall. 
 He pauses now his thought is fixed at last ; 
 Come life or death the final chance is cast. 
 Pent like the hunted lion in his lair, 
 His thoughts were far too fiery for despair : 
 Right well he felt that all his gallant band 
 Looked for their shelter from his heart and hand, 
 And the next morn shall bless or blast a plan 
 As strange and bold as e'er was formed by man. 
 
 The morn is come and rising from their sleep 
 Strict watch and ward the bands of Cortez keep, 
 Along the city streets ; with belted steel, 
 And saddled steed, lance reared and spur on heel, 
 The horsemen wait a deed is to be done
 
 50 CORTEZ. 
 
 May ask their arm to aid, e'er set of sun. 
 
 And one by one and two by two are come 
 
 The Spanish chiefs, to Montezuma's home, 
 
 And long their converse held* as gay and free 
 
 As in the days gone by 'twas wont to be. 
 
 But oft the monarch's eye was turned askance, 
 
 Fearful, he knew not why, of t hat dark glance 
 
 That in the Captain's gloomy visage showed, 
 
 Like the first flashes of a thunder cloud. 
 
 The storm bursts forth at length, and fierce and long 
 
 Was Hernan Cortez' tale of fraud and wrong 
 
 Done to his vassals. Treason's blade was bared, 
 
 To smite those hearts the battle's rage had spared, 
 
 ** And" (looking on him stern and steadily,) 
 
 " Monarch ! they swear the deed was done for t hee. 
 
 " Not mine the ear such story might deceive; 
 
 " Not mine the heart could ought so foul believe.
 
 CORTEZ. 51 
 
 " Thine open hand and opener bosom show 
 
 " Thou couldst not call one Spanish warrior foe. 
 
 " Yet were it well thy love should stand avowed 
 
 " In plainer guise unto the changing crowd, 
 
 " And that the Western king should deign to come 
 
 " To grace awhile his humble servants' dome, 
 
 " Till he whose arts our friendship would divide, 
 
 " Has paid the forfeit of his fraud and pride. 
 
 " Thy vassal's doom is fixed, but fear not thou : 
 
 " Such homage thine as to our king we show, 
 
 " And if thy fearful heart our proffer shuns, 
 
 " Spain may demand of thee her slaughtered sons." 
 
 It might be fear, or shame, or guilt that threw 
 O'er Montezuma's face that sallow hue, 
 As Cortez' mystic speech all darkly showed, 
 He deemed him partner in the scene of blood. 
 
 E2
 
 52 CORTEZ. 
 
 But when the haughty stranger dared demand, 
 That he should yield him to their grasping hand, 
 That they the king of kings should dare detain, 
 Half tool, half captive, in their vagrant train, 
 Full soon his burning cheek and flashing eye 
 Spake to the proud request as proud reply. 
 " The gallant sires that left me throne and crown, 
 " Were little wont a stranger's might to own, 
 " Nor shall the son who wears their ensigns now, 
 " Be the first slave, beneath the yoke to bow. 
 " Ask what ye will of gems and plumes and gold, 
 " Yours are the countless hoards my stores unfold. 
 " Ask for the rebel's life his forfeit head 
 " Shall pay the blood his felon hand hath shed. 
 " But ask ye not too much even could I bow 
 " To such strange mandates as ye bid me now, 
 Think ye my vassals' hearts would tamely bear
 
 CORTEZ. 
 
 " To see their king the yoke of slavery wear ? 
 
 " When but one stone from every hand were sent, 
 
 " 'Twould whelm you with a mountain monument." 
 
 Long was their speech, and waxing hot and high, 
 Indignant answer wakes more proud reply, 
 But ill the king might bear that dark'ning frown 
 That weighed his spirit's rising fierceness down. 
 Till young Velasquez stayed the long debate, 
 Crying, "why tarry till it is too late ? 
 Are ye Castilians ? in your might arise, 
 And take by force the gift his will denies ! 
 And if he dare deny our suit again, 
 'Tis but one stab : -he will not beard us then." 
 Fearful and troubled Montezuma shook 
 At the tierce language of the stripling's look, 
 And pale and paler waxed his cheek's deep hue,
 
 54 CORTEZ. 
 
 When the dark import of his speech he knew. 
 
 He strives no longer, but with heavy heart, 
 
 111 hid by smiles, prepares him to depart, 
 
 And, half foreboding of his coming doom, 
 
 Is to the fortress borne, his prison and his tomb. 
 
 
 
 Deemed he his bitter cup was finished now ? 
 Alas ! the draught of woe must overflow. 
 All that with keenest grief and shame might wring 
 The humbled spirit of the haughty king, 
 Is heaped upon him : in the streets they raise 
 A pile of weapons framed in other days, 
 When happier monarchs held their wide command, 
 To guard the bulwarks of their native land : 
 And they whose fiery hearts would yet oppose 
 A stronger barrier to their ocean foes ; 
 They who yet sighed their country's chains to see,
 
 CORTEZ. 55 
 
 The last sad remnant of the brave and free, 
 
 They are the victims faithful to the last, 
 
 No weak confession on the monarch cast 
 
 The blame of deeds his words alone hath done, 
 
 Yet he betrays them now, the strangers' wrath to shun. 
 
 And how felt he ? Could his high spirit brook, 
 
 Unmoved upon that fearful scene to look ? 
 
 That pain was spared him. He alas ! must groan 
 
 O'er others' woes, but deeper o'er his own. 
 
 The last indignity that yet remains, 
 
 To see his limbs defiled with servile chains, 
 
 Must tame the spirit that would fain have broke 
 
 From the oppressed land the foreign yoke. 
 
 The scene is over *m the burning blast, 
 
 From the stained land the warrior's spirit passed : 
 
 The monarch's chains officious hands remove, 
 
 With fawning words and feigned looks of love ;
 
 56 CORTEZ. 
 
 But a far heavier chain remains behind, 
 
 No hand can break, the bondage of the mind, 
 
 And sinks the generous thoughts that harboured there, 
 
 To the calm level of unmoved despair. 
 
 And slept Heaven's thunder in that guilty hour 
 Of wrath and wrong and most abused power ? 
 And shall the oppressor hush the cry of blood, 
 By the strange plea that all is done for God ? 
 That he but leadeth to the narrow way, 
 The erring flocks whose steps have gone astray. 
 Nay ! mark ye but his face when none is nigh, 
 To watch the burst of long pressed agony : 
 The restless eye the haggard brow of care, 
 Half bowed by grief, half maddened by despair ; 
 For dark and darker every hour are come, 
 The dread presages of his threatening doom.
 
 CORTEZ. 57 
 
 Strange tidings from the coast the couriers show ; 
 
 The sea is dark with many a stranger prow, 
 
 And every doubt that in his heart arose, 
 
 Is cleared too soon the strangers are his foes. 
 
 Velasquez, lord of Cuba's sunny isle, 
 
 Who long had strove in vain by fraud or guile 
 
 To check his onward passage, deems at length 
 
 To crush his rival with o'erwhelming strength, 
 
 And Narvaez must tear the dear earned crown 
 
 From Cortez' brows to wreath around his own. 
 
 Not Hernan Cortez had the heart to bear 
 
 That those who sowed not, should the harvest share ; 
 
 Not his the soul to bend to Fortune's frown, 
 
 Though matched with hosts that numbered twice his 
 
 own. 
 
 Yet now, when foes arise on every side, 
 Perplex his councils and his force divide,
 
 58 CORTEZ. 
 
 'Twere but the useless bravery of despair 
 A new opponent to the field to dare. 
 Not such his purpose ; many a hidden hoard 
 Is searched for arms more potent than the sword, 
 And the rich spoils of Mexico are sent 
 By secret spies 'midst Narvaez' armament. 
 But this he knows not, and he hears w ith scorn 
 The opener messuage by Olmedo borne, 
 That the two chiefs in peaceful guise decide 
 The growing discords that their ranks divide, 
 And if no cause of strife their search shall show, 
 Turn their joint strength upon the common foe. 
 
 Bitter the glance of mingled wrath and pride, 
 In Narvaez' vissage as he thus replied : 
 " Thinks Hernan Cortez I would deign to share 
 ' With his rude hosts the dangers of the war ?
 
 tORTEZ. 59 
 
 " Thinks he, the robber chief, whose lawless band 
 " So long hath plundered this defenceless land, 
 " When he hath wound him in the hunter's toils, 
 " To buy his freedom with his ill won spoils ? 
 " No ! if he meet me, be it hand to hand, 
 " To try the fortune of the sharpest brand, 
 " And God I trust, the judge of fight, will show 
 " Which of us two is most his country's foe." 
 
 " Amen ! " Olmedo said ; but lurked below, 
 Far deeper meaning than his words would show. 
 " Sir knight, " he spake at length, " thy speech is fair, 
 " Yet deign for once an humble monk to hear. 
 " True, it was ne'er my lot, in knightly pride, 
 " With helmed brows and couched lance to ride, 
 " Yet have I looked on scenes of red affray 
 " To which thy hottest fields were children's play.
 
 60 CORTEZ. 
 
 " And hadst thou seen that robber chieftain then, 
 
 " First in the charging ranks of mighty men, 
 
 " Bend on the savage troops that thronged him round, 
 
 " As the young lion spurns the baying hound, 
 
 " Methinks the sight had taught thee to array 
 
 " Thy taunting speech in fairer guise to day. 
 
 * I need not tell thee of Tabasco's field, 
 
 " Where Indian axe first smote Castilian shield : 
 
 " I need not tell how Zempoalla's lord 
 
 " Craved for protection of the Spanish sword, 
 
 " And how the walls of Vera Cruz arose, 
 
 " To shield our friends and frown upon our foes. 
 
 " There Cortez laid aside the power you gave; 
 
 " No more Velasquez' vassal nor his slave, 
 
 " And the whole army's voice proclaimed that he 
 
 " Should rule free captain of the bold and free. 
 
 " It was no idle post our path was rife
 
 CORTEZ. 01 
 
 " With daily, hourly scenes of war and strife. 
 
 " Tlaxcalla's walls, our further path to bar, 
 
 " Poured forth her myriad armies to the war, 
 
 " And well our captain proved, with heart and hand, 
 
 " His soul was worthy of his high command. 
 
 " Theirs were no naked bands our swords might sweep 
 
 " As the loud north wind clears the foamy deep : 
 
 " Bright plume and shield and cotton corselet white 
 
 " Gleamed in the burning sun's unclouded light 
 
 " Far as the eye could reach : their haughty eyes 
 
 " Glance o'er our band, as if they but despise 
 
 " A foe so feeble. In their fierce disdain 
 
 " They held their hosts inactive on the plain, 
 
 " And bade two thousand chosen warriors rise, 
 
 " And drag us living to the sacrifice. 
 
 " Long fought we foot to foot and hand to hand, 
 
 " Till ceaseless slaughter clogged the blunted brand,
 
 62 CORTEZ. 
 
 " But still unchecked, the morrow brought a train 
 
 " Of spreading troops that whitened all the plain. 
 
 " Right worthy they of bravest warrior's steel, 
 
 " That ever waved the sword for proud Castile. 
 
 " Rings o'er the field the Christians' battle strain, 
 
 " ' Ho Santiago ! Fight for God and Spain '.' 
 
 " By many a couched lance their hosts are riven, 
 
 " Ranks dashed to earth or helpless backward driven, 
 
 " But long the fight : with ceaseless struggles sptnit, 
 
 " Our little band like the grim lion pent 
 
 " By huntsman bands, fought faint and wearily : 
 
 " Then rose our fearless captain's cheering cry : 
 
 " ' Ho Spaniards onward ! fear not harm nor loss, 
 
 " Press on behind the banner of the cross.' 
 
 " On with new might we rushed, and thick and fast 
 
 " Our thronging foes on the red field were cast. 
 
 ** Their host is turned to flight ; but many a day
 
 CORTEZ. 63 
 
 " Returned their squadrons to the desperate fray, 
 
 " Till tamed by adverse fate they crave to share 
 
 " Against the common foe the common war. 
 
 " These are our allies now : their watchful wrath 
 
 " Will little speed thee on thy hostile path, 
 
 " And troops like ours, that long such foes have known, 
 
 " May well o'ermatch the mightiest of thy own. 
 
 " No coward's hope have they, the fight to flee; 
 
 " Their broken barks are strewed beside the sea : 
 
 But huntsman as thou art, I need not say 
 
 " Stride not too rashly on the stag at bay ; 
 
 " And if ye win or lose, for every one 
 
 " That falls, or friend or foe, Spain mourns a son.' r 
 
 " Thanks for thy counsel friend ! thy peaceful soul 
 " Suits to a marvel with thy gown and cowl. 
 M 'Twere most uncourteous thought to deem that feair
 
 64 CORTEZ. 
 
 * 
 
 " Hath moved thy master's heart to send thee here, 
 " But ill hath Cortez of my spirit guessed, 
 " To think I fear to stir a hornet's nest. 
 " Back to thy chief and bid him to await 
 " My further answer at the city gate." 
 
 Scarce might Olmedo's lips restrain a sneer, 
 The senseless boast of that proud chief to hear. 
 And oh ! how bitter was the look of scorn, 
 When Narvaez' mandate was to Cortez borne. 
 " Thanks for his courteous proffer : it may chance 
 " We spare his journey by our swift advance. 
 " Ho ! to your weapons ! Alvarado thou 
 " Must here keep watch upon the city foe, 
 " And ye who fear not for a boaster's words, 
 " For right and freedom draw your ready swords, 
 " And follow me." They brooked no longer stay,
 
 CORTEZ. 65 
 
 But sped in silent march their dangerous way. 
 
 Night o'er the scene her sable mantle threw, 
 E'er the opposers' camp had met their view. 
 Close on its outposts and across their way, 
 A swift and tempest-swollen torrent lay ; 
 They plunge regardless of the torrent's speed, 
 That washed the broad breast of their leader's steed, 
 But ere they landed, through the camp had passed 
 News of their coming ; breathless and aghast, 
 And scarce escaped the chasing foeman's hold, 
 A panting messenger the tale had told. 
 Narvaez but deemed a dream had chafed his brain, 
 And bade him turn himself to sleep again. 
 But hark ! their war-shout through the encampment 
 
 rings ; 
 Forth from his couch the impetuous captain springs, 
 
 F
 
 66 CORTEZ. 
 
 To rouse his soldiers, but a lance's thrust, 
 Bleeding and senseless dashed him in the dust. 
 Short was the after contest; fear and flight 
 Marked the long hours of that disastrous night. 
 The darkness baffles every erring blow, 
 And hides the scanty number of the foe, 
 And through the gloom the fire-fly's spark appears 
 The match-light of advancing musqueteers. 
 Some fly in terror, some their weapons yield, 
 And Cortez looks upon a conquered field. 
 Yet from the temple's battlements there ring 
 Shouts; " For Velasquez onward and the king !" 
 Olid would grant them peace, they hear him not ; 
 A plainer message bore the crashing shot ; 
 And two who mocked his errand's peaceful strain, 
 Shall never scoff at friend or foe again. 
 The rest surrender, and from headlong flight
 
 CORTEZ. 07 
 
 Gather the remnants of the scattered fight. 
 Lured by the scenes that Cortez' words unfold, 
 By thirst of conquest in those realms of gold, 
 They swore to wield for him the willing sword 
 So little honoured by their fallen lord. 
 Him brought they fettered forth ; adversity 
 Hath little tamed his bearing haught and high. 
 " Captain! full proud thy triumph well may be, 
 " Thy sword hath vanquished warrior such as me." 
 " Sir knight" spake Cortez with contemptuous frown, 
 " Ne'er have I done a deed of less renown." 
 
 Short breathing time is theirs : the morrow's sun, 
 Must see their march to Mexico begun ; 
 For Quetlavaca's hand hath seized the sway, 
 His kinsman's coward heart had cast away, 
 And hosts of foes in wakened vengeance pour 
 
 F2
 
 68 CORTEZ. 
 
 Their hot defiance on the Spanish tower. 
 A day delayed, the troops had come too late 
 To stay the crisis of their comrades' fate 
 Peace for awhile they bring. 'Tis but the sleep 
 Of the dark whirlwind on the treacherous deep, 
 And wakes as fiercely : on the leaguered wall 
 Spear, arrow, stone and brand, incessant fall. 
 The fight grows bloodier : weary day by day, 
 In ceaseless scenes of slaughter wears away. 
 Vain to contend with that unnumbered swarm 
 That fill their place who bow beneath the storm. 
 Though many a tale in after ages showed 
 A spectre horseman in the battle rode ; 
 White was his waving robe, his head was bare, 
 Save for the ringlets of his raven hair, 
 Yet as from coat of steel their arrows glance ; 
 The battle cowers beneath his fiery lance :
 
 CORTEZ. 69 
 
 St. James the Knight of Spain they deemed was he, 
 Whose track so oft had led to victory, 
 But led them now no longer : who might hope 
 With that o'erwhelming host of foes to cope ? 
 Sorrowing and sad they mark one chance alone, 
 To save a prize so dear, so hardly won. 
 Unto the frowning battlements they bring, 
 Clad in his royal robes, the captive king. 
 In his right hand the wand of peace he rears, 
 At his waved arm sank clashing swords and spears, 
 And silence for a space as deep as death 
 Hushed the hot tumult that had roared beneath. 
 Poor captive wretch ! his wounded spirit's pride 
 Must stoop to speech his swelling heart belied, 
 And bid them sheathe the sword their erring hand 
 Had drawn against the stranger's gallant band, 
 " It was but love for them prolonged his stay
 
 70 CORTEZ. 
 
 " In the proud fortress where they held their sway : 
 " They were his friends." The crowd might hear no 
 
 more: 
 
 His words fell idle in the sullen roar 
 Of rising wrath : the cries of rage and wonder 
 Rise like the rattling of approaching thunder : 
 And ere the Spanish shields might fence him round, 
 A heavy weapon smote him to the ground. 
 It was no mortal wound, but grief, remorse, 
 Lent all the blow had lacked of deadly force. 
 His freedom lost, his land the spoiler's prey, 
 A weary load upon his bosom lay, 
 And ere the morrow's sun at eve grew dim, 
 The woes, the joys of earth had ceased to him. 
 
 Nought but retreat is left : yet ere they fly, 
 A fiercer conflict must their valour try.
 
 CORTEZ. 71 
 
 Close to the path o'er which their journey lay, 
 A hostile temple frowned across their way. 
 To Escobar the dangerous post is given 
 To see the opposers from the fortress driven; 
 Thrice up the steps he rushed, and thrice o'erthrown, 
 Swords, darts, and crashing beams, have driven him 
 
 down. 
 
 This Cortez marked, and anger, doubt and shame, 
 In mingled tumult o'er his bosom came. 
 Though spent and feeble with a maiming wound, 
 He bids his buckler on his arm be bound, 
 And sword in hand he clears his desperate way, 
 With strength no force of theirs avails to stay. 
 He gains the platform : two his coming greet 
 With arms reversed, and bow before his feet ; 
 But ere his eye their hidden guile might tra-ce, 
 Their arms have wound him in a fierce embrace,
 
 72 CORTEX. 
 
 And deemed they from the dizzy turret thrown, 
 To seal their foe's destruction with their own. 
 One burst of giant strength the captive freed ; 
 His foemen's lives have paid the gallant deed ; 
 And left the Eternal's instrument to run 
 His course of strife and death till all was done. 
 
 The night hath closed around them clear and bright 
 Glance the broad waters in the moon's pale light, 
 And many a sigh and longing look are cast 
 O'er the fair scene of joys and glories past. 
 The march goes onward silence dark and deep 
 Hath spread her mantle o'er the city's sleep, 
 Not long to last a larum loud and dread, 
 Woke every Indian warrior from his bed, 
 And thousand plashing oars around awake 
 The rippling waters of the silent lake.
 
 CORTEZ. 73 
 
 Glares the red torch light flashing on the water 
 
 Whose beams too soon shall light a scene of slaughter. 
 
 O'er the first chasm the Spanish bands have passed; 
 
 The trampling steeds have wedged the drawbridge fast; 
 
 A second barrier yawns across their way : 
 
 Then came the fearful turmoil of the fray. 
 
 Sword clashing sounds on shield the splashing flood 
 
 Is red with slain : the torches hiss in blood. 
 
 The growing tumult of the midnight strife, 
 
 The swimmer's desperate strokes for death or life, 
 
 The drowner's gurgling scream, the hopeless cry 
 
 That speaks the captive's fearful agony, 
 
 And loud o'er all, the opposers' demon yell, 
 
 Made that wild scene less like to earth than hell. 
 
 Needed but little moon or torch's light, 
 
 To guide the whirling weapon where to smite. 
 
 In one dense mass the foemen pour amain;
 
 74 CORTEZ. 
 
 Strike as they will, they cannot strike in vain, 
 Till the broad chasm is filled the flyers sped 
 Across a heaped and slippery bridge of dead. 
 
 Sadly to them the morning's sun arose, 
 To light the carnage of that " night of woes."* 
 Hearts that a day ago throbbed high and brave, 
 Now slept untombed beneath the silent wave, 
 Or but reserved to feel a darker doom, 
 Found in those demon feasts a living tomb. 
 While Cortez' quivering lips his orders speak, 
 The tears gushed streaming down his noble cheek ; 
 But he must nerve his soul to sterner mood : 
 Fierce as the slot hound on the scent of blood, 
 
 * " La noche triste" the sad night, is the name still given 
 to this event in Spanish America.
 
 CORTEZ. 75 
 
 The Indians dog their path their burning way 
 Through herbless plains and wasted deserts lay ; 
 So scant the fruits those barren fields afford, 
 That famine slays them faster than the sword. 
 Six weary days had passed. From that proud height 
 What scene of wonder meets their dazzled sight ? 
 Camped in the plain below, assembled wait 
 Their foemen's legion troops, to seal their fate. 
 Ask ye what thousands there might gathered be ? 
 Go tell the sands that skirt the boiling sea, 
 Or count the stars that deck the heavens, and then 
 Ask ye the number of those savage men. 
 Time was the chief had shunned the fight, but now 
 Their reckless misery feared no earthly foe. 
 Death was the worst the battle's eve could bring, 
 And they, what recked they for the tyrant's sting ? 
 For every joy that sweetened life had passed,
 
 76 CORTEZ. 
 
 As the sear leaf before the autumn blast : 
 They would but share the dreamless sleep of those 
 Kind, fiery hearts that shared their joy and woes. 
 Fearful and fierce the battle's meeting shock, 
 As the loud ocean-tempest scales the rock, 
 And long the Spaniards' band in vain had striven, 
 And loud their cry for help was raised to heaven ; 
 Till Cortez saw where waving bright and fair, 
 The empire's standard floated on the air, 
 And well he knew if that were overthrown, 
 Glory and life and victory were their own. 
 He turned unto his troop, and bade them note 
 Where the rich banner's folds so brightly float. 
 " Stay ye and combat here I swear that 1 
 Will ne'er return unless with victory : 
 If the green banner vanish in the fray, 
 Yours is the fortune of the dubious day,
 
 CORTEZ. 77 
 
 But if my life amid the strife be lost, 
 
 Thou Sandoval wilt lead my wasted host, 
 
 And prayer and masses for my soul be said." 
 
 He spoke no more, his lance in rest he laid, 
 
 Plunged the sharp rowels in his panting steed, 
 
 And urged him o'er the plain with headlong speed. 
 
 The firmest seat might all in vain assay. 
 
 To wait that desperate knight's resistless sway. 
 
 Noble and slave, where'er his courser past, 
 
 Bent like the poplar in the autumn blast. 
 
 One bound the charger gave, his lance one thrust 
 
 Standard and standardbearer roll in dust. 
 
 Another blow and the green earth hath drunk 
 
 The life blood gushing from the headless trunk. 
 
 His course is backward bent, and far behind 
 
 Streams the proud trophy waving on the wind ; 
 
 And the thronged ranks that marked his onward way,
 
 78 CORTEX. 
 
 Like dust before the whirlwind, where are they ? 
 Hopeless and nerveless fled they from the foe, 
 Soon as they saw the empire's banner low, 
 And all the exulting victors' after toil, 
 To strip the fallen of their gorgeous spoil. 
 
 What will the chieftain now ? that troubled breast 
 Is surely tamed at length to thoughts of rest. 
 Nay ! bid the whirlwind hush, the waves be still, 
 Or think to turn the wild winds at thy will, 
 Or deem the tempest at thy beck will cease, 
 But hope not from that heart one thought of peace. 
 The venturous soul no danger could subdue, 
 Pants atill untamed those dangers to renew. 
 For this, while friendly aid Tlaxcalla yields, 
 His bands roam conquering o'er the hostile fields. 
 for this his spirit's mighty powers are bent,
 
 CORTEZ. 7 
 
 To foster hope or banish discontent. 
 
 For many a heart, long sick of toil and pain, 
 
 Pants to behold his quiet home again. 
 
 Treason is round him. Villefagna's art 
 
 Hath linked against him many a wavering heart, 
 
 And in their dark assembly 'tis decreed, 
 
 Tomorrow's eve must see the victim bleed. 
 
 But one that marked them when they deemed it not, 
 
 At eve revealed to Cortez' ear the plot. 
 
 Night brought the trial : ere the burning noon, 
 
 The traitor's corpse swung blackening in the sun. 
 
 He perished singly, for that troubled time 
 
 Forebade to mark who shared the secret crime, 
 
 And many a noble deed in future day 
 
 Shall wash the stain of treason's blot away. 
 
 Nor lacks occasion : trusty hands must guard 
 
 The stores the chief's unwearied care prepared,
 
 80 CORTEZ. 
 
 Once more the fortune of the assault to try, 
 
 And wring in fortune's spite unwilling victory. 
 
 Beneath Tezeuca's conquered ramparts flow 
 
 The widened waters, dark with many a prow, 
 
 That speeds its course to rule the subject lake, 
 
 And guard the conquests that their bands may make. 
 
 Vainly the arrow shower, the firebrand flew, 
 
 And vain to stay their path the light canoe. 
 
 Onward they pass beneath their giant sweep 
 
 The feebler barks fly shattered o'er the deep ; 
 
 Olid and Sandoval's supreme command, 
 
 And Alvarado lead the assault by land, 
 
 And long the struggle of that dubious war, 
 
 For what the day hath gained the night must mar. 
 
 The " night of woe" had taught the chief too well 
 
 To trust his squadrons where so late they fell. 
 
 The strife seemed endless Guatimozin pours
 
 COETEZ. &1 
 
 His untamed warriors from the city's towers, 
 And if the Christians see the walls o'erthrown, 
 'Twill be by combat furious as their own. 
 The crisis waits the Spaniards' fierce attack 
 Speeds, rushing on they may not turn them back, 
 Though every Indian brand that glittered there, 
 Fell with the desperate fierceness of despair. 
 Redder and deadlier hath the battle grown ; 
 Its onward course sweeps wall and rampart down: 
 But just when victory smiles on every blow, 
 One fatal chance hath worked their overthrow. 
 'Twas Alderete's task to guard their rear, 
 If flight were theirs, the backward path to clear; 
 But he who little brooked with idle hand, 
 Unmoved spectator of the fight to stand, 
 Scorned in that fameless post his band to stay, 
 And led them on to join the maddening fray. 
 
 6
 
 82 CORTEZ. 
 
 This Guatimozin marked a mighty mass 
 
 Of chosen warriors marched to guard the pass : 
 
 By land and water is the chasm beset, 
 
 And bars all prospect of their foes' retreat. 
 
 Then pealed the gong that loud and awful strain, 
 
 That never smote on Indian ear in vain. 
 
 On swept they in that wild and roused mood, 
 
 As the mad tigress tracks her ravished brood, 
 
 And vain the forest of opposing spears : 
 
 Their weight resistless every foe o'erbears. 
 
 Horsemen and steed reel plunging in the water, 
 
 Till the dark wave rolls crimson with their slaughter. 
 
 And all too happy they that perished then 
 
 Rings on the ear the cry of doomed men, 
 
 Whose life is spared to pour in guise more fell, 
 
 A hideous offering to the powers of Hell. 
 
 Their hearts yet throbbing from their bosoms rent,
 
 Their gashed and mangled heads in triumph sent 
 Round to the chiefs, with promise they shall see, 
 Ere pass eight suns, their country's victory. 
 Within the camp the Spanish bands await 
 The day, so vainly hoped to seal their fate : 
 And with its last faint rays for aye is flown 
 All the fond hope the doomed land hath known. 
 
 One struggle more, and thou shalt cease to be, 
 Thou ocean mother of the fierce and free. 
 One fearful pang and thy proud glory falls 
 Already frown around thy tottering walls 
 The traitor troops that in thy land have grown, 
 Whose fierce contentions hurled thine empire down. 
 Sadly thy children watch thy sure decay, 
 Yet inch by inch they yield their foes a way. 
 'Tis all in vain their progress sure and slow,
 
 84 CORTEZ. 
 
 The latest bulwark soon must overthrow. 
 
 Their galleys scour the lake Tlaxcalla's band 
 
 Guards every path that leads unto the land : 
 
 The sword had done its worst, and famine now 
 
 Fills up the measure of the cup of woe. 
 
 Long as a hope remains, the monarch stands, 
 
 The last stern bulwark of his wasted lands ; 
 
 But now the carnage of protracted strife 
 
 Were but a useless waste of human life. 
 
 He yields him to the faithful hearts that crave 
 
 Their sovereign's life from death and chains to save. 
 
 Already o'er the rippling waters flew, 
 
 In silent course the monarch's swift canoe : 
 
 But hark ! behind, the chase is fierce and hot : 
 
 The splashing waters dimple to the shot : 
 
 Blazed for a deadlier stroke the flaring brand ; 
 
 A cry for mercy stayed the lifted hand.
 
 CORTEZ. 85 
 
 Unto the victor's tent the prince is led, 
 
 His manly bearing spoke nor rage nor dread. 
 
 " I have done all an earthly hand may do 
 
 " Heaven and your swords have turned the fight for 
 
 you; 
 
 " Beneath thy dagger let my heart's blood flow, 
 " And end a useless life, a load of woe." 
 
 His life was spared, but avarice and hate 
 Have doomed their victim to a darker fate. 
 Mad that no guiding trace was left behind, 
 Of the rich treasure they had hoped to find, 
 They deem the fiery torture's pangs may wring 
 The precious secret from the fallen king. 
 Stretched in red anguish by his patron's side, 
 His favourite strove, with mingled love and pride, 
 To hide his pain at length his failing eye
 
 86 CORTEZ. 
 
 Turned on his lord the prayer of agony. 
 
 His lips compressed the monarch calm uncloses 
 
 " Deem'st thou I slumber on a bed of roses ?" 
 
 And silent turned the warrior, till the last 
 
 Faint sigh proclamed his soul from earth had past. 
 
 Cortez ! all loudly as unholy fame 
 May peal the praises of thy mighty name, 
 The leprous stain of that unhallowed deed, 
 A blast, a curse, shall o'er thy glory spread. 
 What boots it that thy niggard mercies gave 
 That life the noble soul disdained to crave. 
 Thou didst but spare awhile thy victim's breath, 
 To taste once more the bitterness of death. 
 Some feigned revolt, some struggles to be free, 
 Some panting for their ancient liberty, 
 Was pretext fair the guiltless blood to shed,
 
 CORTEZ. 87 
 
 And load the gibbet with the glorious dead. 
 
 So Tepeaca's and Tezeuco's sway, 
 
 And Mexico's proud rule have passed away. 
 
 The stern upholders of their power and pride, 
 
 Like branded slaves, unmourned, untombed have died, 
 
 And left the lands that owned their rule to bear 
 
 The bitter load of slavery and despair. 
 
 Short were the tale and mournful, that displays 
 The darkened scene of Cortez' closing days. 
 Even when his earnest prayer the boon had wrung, 
 Asked at his monarch's hand in vain so long, 
 That he might hold as vassal of Castile, 
 The kingdoms won so dearly by his steel, 
 Yet envy whispered, all his hand had done, 
 That vast dominion had too cheaply won : 
 And meddling minister and secret spy
 
 88 CORTEZ. 
 
 Must check the power they dared not to deny. 
 Still glowed his quenchless ardour to explore 
 The unknown regions of the Eastern shore, 
 And prove the tales that many a tongue had told, 
 Of mighty regions rich with gems and gold. 
 Alas ! his wanderings reaped hut little spoil, 
 Save a sick heart, a frame worn down with toil, 
 Till in the lovely land that gave him birth, 
 His bones were mingled with their parent earth. 
 
 So fadeth human glory power and sway, 
 All that delights the heart must pass away. 
 O ! who would toil for flowers so quickly faded ? 
 Who pant for joy so soon, so darkly shaded ? 
 Sure he who wrote that bitterness of spirit 
 Is all that man from earth may e'er inherit, 
 Spake with yet bitterer more disdainful frown
 
 CORTEZ. 
 
 Of the frail emptiness of man's renown. 
 Rest to thy spirit ! fain our hearts would trust 
 Heaven's peace is granted to thy silent dust ; 
 That life's repentant evening might atone 
 For the dark deeds thine earlier days had done, 
 And He to whom all power on earth is given, 
 Had made atonement for thy soul to heaven.
 
 PIZARRO. 
 
 LONG had the storm that darkened in the West 
 Left the rich kingdoms of the East at rest : 
 But nought those vulture eyes may long elude 
 The invaders' wakened thirst for gain and blood. 
 From Heaven's tribunal the decree was sent, 
 " Thy throne is shaken and thy kingdom rent : 
 "Thy land is given unto a stranger's sway, 
 " Thy power o'erthrown thy glory passed away."
 
 92 PIZARRO. 
 
 'Tis strange, most strange, to mark how Heaven's 
 
 command, 
 
 Calls forth the scourge of some devoted land. 
 Not to the mighty oft his will is shown, 
 When his just wrath would hurl the mighty down. 
 Some giant mind whose energies have bowed 
 To crushing toil and poverty's dark cloud, 
 Starts from his nameless dwelling, darkly great, 
 To sway with unchecked might the course of fate. 
 Even like the flashing of the burning leven, 
 That lights the darkness of the Autumnal heaven: 
 No eye may mark where first its light arose, 
 No eye may mark its brief and brilliant close, 
 But the seared pine and shivered oak can tell 
 The fated spot where last its flashes fell. 
 
 Such was Pizarro on the wide world thrown,
 
 PIZARRO. i. 
 
 A foundling wretch whom none would deign to own 
 
 All his inheritance from his proud sire, 
 
 A double portion of his spirit's fire ; 
 
 His mother's blessing, and the blot of shame, 
 
 Unlawful love had branded on his name. 
 
 But want and shame were powerless to controul 
 
 The soaring energies of that proud soul. 
 
 Sick of the niggard boon his father gave, 
 
 He seeks for brighter hopes beyond the wave, 
 
 And long his patient steps pursued from far, 
 
 The brilliant lustre of her guiding star. 
 
 Needs not to track the course that all may guess, 
 Of the high spirit's quenchless mightiness : 
 The soul that will not rest, but urgeth on 
 Its torrent course till all be lost or won. 
 That spirit born his fellows to command,
 
 94 PIZARRO. 
 
 Could not be hid amidst the subject band, 
 But in the darkest weariest scene of strife, 
 With every pain and every danger rife, 
 There laid Pizarro his unceasing claim, 
 To rank and victory, and deathless fame ; 
 Till as his conquering banner onward flew, 
 It waved at length o'er Chili and Peru. 
 It was no easy task to lead so far 
 The wasting progress of the Spanish war : 
 Twice had his barks surveyed the Eastern coast, 
 And twice opposing fates his hopes had crossed. 
 Wond'rous are Heaven's decrees and how may man 
 Presume the Eternal's mystic art to scan ? 
 Could but the chief have landed there when first 
 His panting heart the venturous project nursed, 
 The mightiest forces of the untroubled land 
 Had tried the valour of his little band.
 
 PIZARRO 1 
 
 But now, their throne unsound, their kingdom rent, 
 Their empire's force in civil quarrel spent, 
 Their foe but needs to watch the doubtful fray, 
 And seize the enfeebled victor for his prey. 
 
 This tale and more, a suppliant train had told, 
 Who came with gorgeous gifts, and stores of go.'d, 
 To crave the stranger chief his force would bring, 
 And stretch his arm of might to aid their king. 
 They told how erst a wild and lawless crew, 
 Wasted the blooming plains of fair Peru ; 
 Rude as the wild beast that was wont to share, 
 In barbarous fellowship, their savage fare. 
 Till on their land a wond'rous pair were seen, 
 He with a monarch's grace, and she the queen 
 To rule their wandering tribes. 'Twere all in vain 
 To ask what land sent forth that godlike twain,
 
 96 PIZARRO. 
 
 But long the world their gentle sway shall bless, 
 
 When prouder names are sunk in nothingness. 
 
 He taught the youth the axe, the spade to wield, 
 
 And drive the plough across the furrowed field ; 
 
 While she unto her weaker sex imparts 
 
 The gentler knowledge of domestic arts : 
 
 To weave the white robe floating light and free, 
 
 From the soft fibres of the cotton tree : 
 
 The bloodless meal to their tired mates to bring ; 
 
 Fruits of the earth and waters of the spring, 
 
 And win the warrior's heart from blood and spoil, 
 
 To the calm scene of glad and peaceful toil. 
 
 Long ruled the pair, and when their reign was done, 
 
 The sceptre passed in peace from son to son ; 
 
 And nought for many an age their rest might mar, 
 
 Till widening empire waked the fire of war. 
 
 The mighty realms of conquered Quito lay,
 
 PIZARRO. 97 
 
 Beneath Huana Capac's victor sway. 
 
 Within its walls his empire's seat was laid ; 
 
 Its monarch's daughter shared the conqueror's bed, 
 
 And Athualpa from their union came, 
 
 The brand whose fire should set the land in flame. 
 
 Ill brooked Huascar that an alien's son 
 
 Should rule the lands his father's sword had won; 
 
 And they whose youth had shared one father's care, 
 
 Stood front to front in unforgiving war. 
 
 The rebel triumphed. Death, or chains or flight 
 
 Scattered the squadrons of Huascar's might, 
 
 And if his blood stained not his brother's brand, 
 
 'Twas aught but mercy that withheld his hand. 
 
 Ill might Pizarro's brow his joy conceal, 
 At the strange tale these messengers reveal. 
 He deems the jarring land will but oppose 
 
 H
 
 98 PIZARRO. 
 
 A feeble barrier to their stranger foes, 
 And feasts his grasping heart on spoils more fair, 
 Than all the gifts that shone so brightly there. 
 His spirit spake not in his answering words ; 
 " For right and truth alone we draw our swords, 
 And our proud banners soon shall be displayed, 
 On his behalf who best deserves our aid." 
 
 All unsuspecting that that courteous smile 
 Concealed a spirit fraught with fraud and guile, 
 The trusting train withdrew. Pizarro calls 
 His troops to march to Caxamalca's walls, 
 Where on the throne his rebel sword had gained, 
 O'er juster claims, the victor Inca reign'd. 
 Soto and Ferdinand Pizarro bring 
 Their leader's greeting to the mighty king ; 
 Their arms they told should guard him on his throne,
 
 PIZARRO. 9d 
 
 And stand his country's bulwark and his own. 
 His unsuspecting spirit could not guess 
 The stranger chieftain's trait'rous hollowness ; 
 In fearless trust he promised to repay 
 Their courteous visit on the coming day, 
 In the fair guise in which it was most meet, 
 That Quito's king the mighty chief should greet. 
 
 Oh how the heart must sicken as it reads 
 The darkening record of Pizarro's deeds ! 
 Well did the bard of old his heart express, 
 " Full of deceit and desperate wickedness." 
 Lured by the endless stores of wealth that threw 
 Their startling splendour on his dazzled view, 
 Even while the words of hollow friendship hung, 
 In traitor accents on his guileful tongue ; 
 Even while the monarch's unsuspecting breast 
 H2
 
 100 PIZARRO. 
 
 Pants but to heap new honours on his guest, 
 Plots he with chains his generous deed to pay, 
 His wealth to plunder and usurp his sway ; 
 Perchance e'en then his mandate had decreed, 
 The captive prince beneath his power should bleed. 
 
 And calm as if the deed had nought of crime, 
 Came the destroyer, with the matin chime, 
 To breathe the prayer of feigned lips to God, 
 And crave His blessing on the scene of blood. 
 Then were his projects told, his plans displayed, 
 And all prepared his desperate deed to aid. 
 Long stayed the monarch boding guilt would fear 
 Its black intent had reached the victim's ear. 
 No thought of this was his he would display 
 His brightest splendour on the festive day ; 
 And long had westward sunk the noonday sun,
 
 PIZARRO. 101 
 
 Before his gay and gorgeous march begun. 
 The king and captain meet their greetings show 
 One kind warm heart and one that seemed but so. 
 Valverde speaks their mission, that they come 
 To teach the unlearned and bring the wanderers home. 
 To bid their demon rites for ever cease, 
 And turn their worship to the Lord of peace. 
 Nor this alone, but one to whom was given 
 All power on earth as Christ hath power in Heaven, 
 Had given the lands that bloom amid the West, 
 To the high king whose sway their bands confest, 
 And it were meet the Inca's might should bend, 
 To him who deigned to prove at once his lord and 
 friend. 
 
 Marvelled in sooth the Indian king that they 
 Should deem he e'er would bear a stranger's sway,
 
 102 PIZARRO. 
 
 Or that a stranger priest should dare bestow 
 Lands that his sires had ruled long years ago. 
 " Glad would I learn," he said, "for dark thy speech, 
 " Where thou hast found the wonders thou wouldst 
 
 teach?" 
 
 " Here, in the pages of this holy book." 
 The precious gift the doubting monarch took : 
 " Ye do but mock me, for my listening ear 
 " Can find no sound to give me answer here;" 
 And in a mood of mingled rage and mirth, 
 He cast the book disdainful on the earth. 
 
 "To arms ! to arms !" the fiery churchman cried ; 
 Your priest insulted and your God defied." 
 Upon no idle ears his accents fell : 
 Their gathered ranks the shout of battle swell ; 
 Forth on his eager steed the horseman springs ;
 
 PIZARRO. 108 
 
 O'er the wide plain the cannon signal rings: 
 
 Vain was resistance from that naked band, 
 
 To the fell sweep of the opposers' brand, 
 
 As vain was flight, and little hope was there, 
 
 From hearts whose bigot wrath disdained to spare. 
 
 Pizarro seeks the Inca's train, but long 
 
 Is stayed his progress by the faithful throng : 
 
 All weaponless and naked they oppose 
 
 Nought but their breasts unto the advancing foe ; 
 
 Each deems his life blood paid too dear and well, 
 
 To save has monarch while himself he fell. 
 
 Vain was the noble rampart for the last 
 
 Of the proud band unto the earth is cast ; 
 
 That tiger grasp is on their hapless lord, 
 
 O'er his doomed head is flashed the spoiler's sword, 
 
 And if his life was spared, 'twas when despair 
 
 Told that his life was hardly worth the prayer.
 
 104 PIZARRO. 
 
 Stunned by the shock of strange events, that seem 
 The sudden, fleeting pictures of a dream, 
 'Tis long before the monarch's woes oppress 
 His torpid soul with all their wretchedness : 
 Till one by one the thoughts of grief and pain 
 Came like a flash of fire across his brain. 
 One feeble hope to cheer his heart remains, 
 That gold might free him from Pizarro's chains : 
 For this from every land his subjects bring 
 The mighty ransom of their captive king ; 
 High as his hand might reach his cell they fill, 
 But ah ! his jailor's wish grasped higher still ; 
 Swelled with proud hopes the captive bids him now 
 Fulfil the tenor of his solemn vow : 
 But vow or oath alike was weak to bind 
 The careless mood of that ungodly mind. 
 The monarch's doom is fixed on charge so frail
 
 PIKARRO. 105 
 
 That they whose lips had told, despised the tale. 
 For that his hand had dared to raise the sword, 
 In rebel wrath against his foreign lord, 
 Squander his treasures and profane his faith, 
 For this they lead him to a felon's death. 
 The plea of right, the tears of woe were vain 
 To fly that bitter death of shame and pain ; 
 All that they granted to his fervent prayer, 
 Was but some portion of his pain to spare, 
 Would he but bow his heart and bend his knee, 
 To Him who shed his blood on Calvary. 
 The pile is raised ; the mystic rites begin, 
 To cleanse the erring soul from stain of sin : 
 His brother's blood, the darkest load that lay 
 Upon his soul, those rites would wash away, 
 And he, so told they, ransomed and forgiven, 
 Pass from an earthly crown to one in Heaven.
 
 106 P1ZARRO. 
 
 " Vengeance is mine," the God of Heaven hath said; 
 " The murderer's blood shall pay the blood he shed." 
 And such Pizarro's fate. From that dark hour 
 Treason and strife and hate around him lower. 
 What boots it that imperial Cuzco's towers 
 Received the banners of his conquering powers ? 
 What boots that at his word in power upsprings 
 Lima, the gorgeous "city of the kings?" 
 That Alvarado and Benalcazar 
 Aid with their band the cause they deemed to mar ? 
 Both fain would share in vanquished Quito's spoil : 
 But spent by tedious march and storm and toil, 
 Each saw too well his valour's prize might be 
 Bloody defeat or bootless victory. 
 And each has yielded his adventurous band 
 Beneath a wiser leader's high command. 
 But darker storms were gathering Cuzco's throne
 
 PIZAREO. 107 
 
 Had found a chief worthy to sit thereon, 
 Who longed with all the energy of hate, 
 To take dark vengeance for his brother's fate, 
 And free his country by one noble stroke, 
 From the mean burden of the stranger's yoke. 
 Fortune smiles on him from his jailors fled, 
 His troops once more behold him at their head ; 
 Needed but this the smothered flame to raise 
 And high and fearful burst the sudden blaze : 
 Round Cuzca's walls and Lima's towers it burns; 
 The tide of war against the invaders turns : 
 Taught by long use the Spanish arms to wield, 
 The Indian met them in more equal field. 
 From Indian ranks the musket's thunder rings ; 
 On the tamed steed the Indian warrior springs ; 
 And Manco Capac waits his foes' advance, 
 Or meets their squadrons with his couched lance.
 
 108 PIZARRO. 
 
 Juan Pizarro falls, and tears proclaim 
 
 His worth more truly than the voice of fame : 
 
 Most loved was he of all the brother band, 
 
 That swayed with power combined the chief command, 
 
 And many a sunken heart and clouded brow, 
 
 Proclaimed how much they missed his guidance now. 
 
 The tears that fell above their leader's tomb, 
 Were but the twilight of a darker gloom. 
 Almagro's troops that long had sought in vain 
 A fruitless tract of barren land to gain, 
 From the rude tribes that wandered fierce and free, 
 O'er the uncultured fields of wide Chili, 
 Beheld their proud ally with small regret 
 By gathering bands of hostile hosts beset. 
 Too oft his careless policy had shown, 
 He deemed their interest second to his own,
 
 PIZARRO. 109 
 
 For them to show the thoughts they could not feel, 
 
 Grief for his loss, or gladness for his weal. 
 
 Pizarro's treason and Almagro's wrong, 
 
 Had nursed the fire of smothered vengeance long, 
 
 Since first Pizarro's grasping heart had broken, 
 
 The solemn vow his guileful lips had spoken, 
 
 That the two chiefs the conquered realms should share, 
 
 Won by their mutual arms in common war ; 
 
 And though Pizarro fain his friend would soothe, 
 
 By promise fair and words of little truth, 
 
 'Twas but the calm of ocean's cloudy breast 
 
 That wakes more fiercely from his transient rest. 
 
 " Visions of glory" and dominion rise, 
 
 And fair revenge before Almagro's eyes. 
 
 In his own den the spoiler will he brave, 
 
 Assert the power his sovereign's mandate gave ; 
 
 Proud Cuzco's walls to his dominion bend,
 
 110 PIZARRO. 
 
 And hurl destruction on his treacherous friend. 
 
 Prompt to his spirit's call, no slow delay 
 Might bar Almagro's march, his progress stay, 
 Till under Cuzco's walls his banners met 
 The Indian squadrons that her walls beset. 
 Short was the strife with them : dispersed, o'erthrown, 
 The Spanish knights have borne their myriads down ; 
 The leaguered walls from Indian foes are free, 
 But joyed the prisoners in their liberty ? 
 In sooth small cause was theirs; too well they know, 
 A fiercer enemy awaits them now. 
 Stayed not Almagro for the Indian spoil ; 
 Their steps must onward to renewed toil : 
 Short were the tale that time of blood to tell; 
 Gonsalve and Ferdinand Pizzaro fell : 
 The captive's chains have bound them o'er the plain
 
 PIZARRO. Ill 
 
 Like scattered sheep are fled the routed train- 
 The field is Almagro's his banners crown 
 The walls he longed so oft to call his own. 
 
 Marvels Orgognez that his lord detains 
 So long the captive chieftains in his chains. 
 He, nursed in Bourbon's school of reckless strife, 
 Had little reverence for a foeman's life ; 
 " Why spare the lives that yet may work thee loss, 
 " Defeat thy plans, thy path of glory cross ? 
 " Who yet may head thy foes, and it may be, 
 " Pay with thy blood the life preserved by thee ?" 
 Though time must be when Almagro should know, 
 The truth of all these boding warnings show, 
 The honest bluntness of his generous soul, 
 Scorned now to stoop unto a deed so foul. 
 He had too little of the demon leaven
 
 112 PIZARRO. 
 
 That makes the proud one scoff at earth and heaven, 
 And warned full oft by many a baffled wile 
 Still fell the victim of Pizarro's guile. 
 
 It might have quailed a weaker heart to hear, 
 The news that met Pizarro's wondering ear : 
 His troops dispersed the imperial city lost 
 His brothers prisoners in the adverse host. 
 But 'twas not his to bend when fortune lowers ; 
 Her frown but wakes his spirit's proudest powers. 
 By many a pretext studious to delay 
 Almagro's progress and victorious sway, 
 Till Gonzalo and Alvarado fly, 
 Escaped unransomed from captivity, 
 And all the hostage for Pizarro's faith, 
 Dread that his hostile arms might haste his brother's 
 death.
 
 PIZARRO. 113 
 
 That fear removed, he breaks with little pain 
 The bond of oaths so often sworn in vain, 
 And draws the sword once more the chance to try, 
 Of fresh defeat or favouring victory. 
 
 One chance has turned the day. Pizarro's train 
 Holds many a fresh recruit from warlike Spain, 
 Sent by their king to quell the war that grew, 
 Betwixt his struggling host and fierce Peru. 
 But ill Almagro's veteran warriors bear 
 The galling onset of the musqueteer: 
 Their chief too old the battle blade to wield, 
 Watched from afar the fortune of the field : 
 They yield, they fly; the voice of stern despair 
 Speaks to the leader's heart " what dost thou here ? 
 " On to the field ! It is not yet too late, 
 " By one bold rush to turn the tide of fate, 
 i
 
 114 PIZARRO. 
 
 " And meet, if vain thy force the flight to stem, 
 " A nobler death than thou wilt meet from them, 
 " The victor chiefs. " Alas ! the thought is vain ; 
 Already round him clanks the victors' chain, 
 Sure prelude of a fate they but delay, 
 Till none who loved him once their hand may stay. 
 His blood but deeper dyes the the murderous stain, 
 That calls to Heaven for wrath, nor calls in vain. 
 
 Leave we the tale of battle for a space, 
 Less bloody scenes, but not less wild, to trace. 
 The eternal hills are round it. Lake and flood, 
 The untrodden mazes of the mighty wood, 
 Where nought disturbs the echo's silent sway, 
 Save the grim boa, and his crashing prey. 
 Where it might be no foot of man had trod, 
 Since first the green earth heard the call- of God.
 
 PiZARRO. 115 
 
 But many a tale that cheating fame had told, 
 Of regions rich with boundless hoards of gold, 
 And valleys green and meadows wide and fair, 
 Had lured the Spanish warriors' footsteps there. 
 Toils such as even their hearts had never known, 
 And darker scenes than battle e'er had shown. 
 Are round their footsteps but their bosoms pant 
 With hope no toil can quench, no peril daunt. 
 A torrent rolls before them deep and dark 
 Its waters dash round Orellana's bark. 
 His comrades follow on the winding shore 
 His course, whose face they shall hehold no more. 
 Borne by the giant river's rapid roll, 
 And the yet fiercer torrent of his soul, 
 He speeds his reckless course with little care 
 
 For those he left to perish in despair, 
 
 i 
 And trusts his vessel in adventurous quest 
 
 i2
 
 116 PIZARRO. 
 
 Of the rich realms that glittered in the East. 
 And many an after bard in glowing strains, 
 Hath sung his tale of El Dorado's plains, 
 Of Amazonian hosts that wandered there, 
 And left the distaff to assume the spear. 
 Tales such as now the gravest might beguile 
 But to the tribute of a passing smile : 
 But then, when every coming day showed forth 
 Some farther wonder in that distant earth, 
 To fill the astounded ear of age and youth, 
 , The fiction scarce seemed stranger than the truth, 
 And leagued bands the gorgeous land have sought, 
 That bloomed but in the wanderer's glowing thought. 
 A fearful lot was theirs his treason left, 
 Of every every help and every hope bereft : 
 Famine and misery mark their toilsome track, 
 And even the bravest longed to turn them back.
 
 PIZARRO. 117 
 
 E'en Gonzalo's impetuous soul must bow, 
 
 To the dark fate that lowers around him now. 
 
 Sadly and slow their footsteps they retrace, 
 
 No trophy spoils their mournful march to grace, 
 
 No treasured hoards their wanderings to repay, 
 
 For toil and life profusely cast away ; 
 
 And sad the tale that Gonzalo must bear 
 
 Unto Pizarro's disappointed ear. 
 
 That fear was needless now; for joy or woe 
 
 Pizarro's spirit never more can know. 
 
 The bloody herald of the Eternal's wrath 
 
 Had run, through doom and death, his destined path ; 
 
 His cup was full, his days on earth were numbered, 
 
 And with his victims' dust his spirit slumbered. 
 
 There lacked not many a tongue the tale to tell, 
 Unto Gonsalvo, how his brother fell.
 
 118 PIZARRO. 
 
 It was no sudden burst of hostile hate, 
 That closed in blood the veteran's changeful fate. 
 In oft repeated deeds of crime and wrong, 
 The twilight of his doom had gathered long. 
 Since Cuzco fell, and Almagro had paid 
 Ambition's tribute by his forfeit head ; 
 Freed from the foe that held him long in awe, 
 His nod was right, his will the only law ; 
 The soul's dark thoughts that he must long repress, 
 Blazed forth at length in all their hatefulness. 
 All that had held to Almagro their faith, 
 Sustained his cause in life or mourned his death : 
 All whose proud hearts proclaimed they scorned to own 
 A heartless tyrant on the conquered throne, 
 His vengeance marked ; until oppression wrung 
 The cry of rage and wrath from every tongue. 
 His doom is fixed their wakened spirits need
 
 PIZARRO. 119 
 
 / 
 
 Nought but a heart to guide them to the deed, 
 And that was found them ; from Almagro's tomb 
 Came the dark herald of his murderer's doom. 
 At sultry noon from young Almagro's hall, 
 Rushed they in wrath to bid the oppressor fall ; 
 And thousand shouts repeat their angry cry, 
 " Long lire the king but let the tyrant die. " 
 They found no willing victim : long and well 
 The desperate veteran battled ere he fell. 
 Even as the wolf tracked to his forest den, 
 Upon the spear that smote him turns again, 
 Grimly the hoary warrior stands at bay, 
 Till cold in death his few defenders lay, 
 And the dark fate that closed his course of sin, 
 Was unrepentant as his life had been. 
 
 Short space the murderers triumphed in their crime ;
 
 120 PIZARRO. 
 
 The uncertain spirit of that changing time, 
 Roused many a heart for vengeance on his fall, 
 Whose death they fondly deemed was hailed by all, . 
 As the bright morning of a better day. 
 Too soon that fond deceit hath passed away : 
 Ring shouts of war, and hostile banners stream, 
 And wake them rudely from their glorious dream. 
 De Castro brings from Spain his king's command 
 Rest to restore unto the troubled land ; 
 And proffers terms of peace. But proud and stern, 
 The impetuous youth and his fierce followers spurn 
 The offered treaty. In a ruder strain 
 Sounded his errand when it spake again. 
 Chupaz beholds the meeting hosts and red 
 Her field is cumbered with unnumbered dead. 
 To his sire's fame, his own proud spirit true, 
 Almagro did all that man's hand may do.
 
 PIZARRO. 121 
 
 Pizarro's murderers urge their mad career, 
 On the opposing lance and clustering spear, 
 To meet in fairer shape the death that none, 
 Even if he fly the field, may hope to shun. 
 
 Staid not the carnage with the battle's close; 
 The morrow's sun on darker scenes arose. 
 'Twas the red reckoning for long years of guilt; 
 For blood in other days unheeded spilt, 
 And many a heart that long had vexed the land, 
 Throbbed its last pulse beneath the headsman's hand. 
 It was a fearfnl sight that scene to mark : 
 The pallid cheek, the brow unmoved and dark, 
 That told too well, hopeless and unforgiyen, 
 The sinner passed to hear the doom of Heaven. 
 All were not such the quick convulsive quiver 
 Of faultering lips that soon must close for ev er,
 
 122 PIZARRO. 
 
 Told that the slumbering conscience, woke at length, 
 Was on their spirit with a tenfold strength. 
 Amidst them stands Almagro well they knew 
 That eye of fire, that cheek's unchanging hue : 
 The calm proud language of that fearless brow, 
 Might grace a brighter fate than waits him now. 
 Though far and sadly had his spirit strayed, 
 By evil counsels and false friends betrayed, 
 Yet in his face is that which speaks too well, 
 A noble spirit perished when he fell. 
 Much as they needed judgment stern and strong, 
 To check the license that had reigned so long, 
 Yet with impatient eye the nation saw, 
 Their wild hearts fettered by too strict a law. 
 Nor was the viceroy that their monarch sent, 
 One who might sooth their gathering discontent. 
 For Nugnez Vela had but little skill
 
 PIZARRO. 123 
 
 To bend by gentle arts the stubborn will. 
 
 His harsh fulfilment of his king's behest, 
 
 Aroused the sleeping wrath of many a breast. 
 
 The treasure won on many a bloody day, 
 
 Most wildly gained and wildly cast away ; 
 
 The captive bands that groaned beneath their chains, 
 
 Swelled their proud pomp or tilled their smiling plains, 
 
 The wealth a chosen few in power and pride, 
 
 Wrung from the wants of all the 1 world beside, 
 
 Raised thoughts the monarch's power would fain 
 
 control, 
 
 The unbridled pride of many a haughty soul. 
 Their stores invaded and their slaves restored, 
 Till scarce one Indian owned a Spanish Lord, 
 He deemed might tame the rebel hearts that thought 
 To set their monarch's distant powers at naught. 
 Ill judged the Spanish king he little knew
 
 124 PIZARRO. 
 
 What hearts like theirs when once aroused could do. 
 So long the land a changing rule had known, 
 'Twas but another step to dare his own, 
 And in rebellious arms their host array, 
 With little fear from one so far away. 
 
 Needs but a leader now, nor needed long ; 
 One name alone is heard from every tongue. 
 Last of the race whose dauntless might o'erthrew, 
 In bloody strife the realms of rich Peru, 
 Was Gonzalo Pizarro. One by one 
 His brethren from the scene of strife had gone. 
 Juan had fallen in fight Francisco paid 
 To traitorous swords the blood his treason shed, 
 And Ferdinando sighs for right in vain, 
 A fettered captive in the land of Spain. 
 He, the last pillar of a house o'erthrown,
 
 PIZARRO. 125 
 
 May yet retrieve their honour and his own ; 
 
 And write in lines of blood his country's prayer, 
 
 Whose gentler voice their monarch scorned to hear. 
 
 And yet he wavered long. It was not fear, 
 
 That checked the madness of his wild career, 
 
 Too many a year of war his life had known, 
 
 To prize another's safety or his own ; 
 
 Yet lingered still that early rooted awe, 
 
 That marked as holy things his king and law ; 
 
 Before his spirit came in fearful gloom, 
 
 The worse than death that marks the traitor's doom. 
 
 By one rash deed he were most loath to shade, 
 
 The light of glory that a life had made, 
 
 And leave a name branded with shame and crimes, 
 
 The scoffer's byword to succeeding times. 
 
 He yields at length the people's cry hath weight, 
 
 To drag him onward to his dreaded fate,
 
 126 PIZARRO. 
 
 And close the course his father's house had run, 
 As darkly ended as 'twas well begun. 
 
 Long did the guiding star whose beams had shed, 
 Such glorious lustre o'er his brother's head, 
 Flash on their plumed crests and lead the way, 
 To fields of victory and extended sway, 
 Numez, unbending in his darkest hour, 
 Showed soul as proud as in his noon of power ; - 
 Scorning alike the opposers' smile and threat, 
 With all his force a mightier hath he met: 
 True to the last unto his sovereign's trust, 
 He will not yield, till gasping in the dust, 
 That loyal soul that none might lead astray, 
 Passed from the cares and joys of life away : 
 And deems the insulting victor's rising soul, 
 No power is left his daring to control :
 
 PIZARRO. 127 
 
 That he may bid the sounds of contest cease, 
 And what he won by guilt, possess in peace. 
 
 Yet 'mid the quiet of his fancied rest, 
 The storm came on him whence he feared it least. 
 The herald of his monarch's wrath appears, 
 With little that may wake the rebel's fears. 
 No chieftain famed for feats of arms was he, 
 Whose helm had shone the star of victory, 
 Long had the cross his only weapon been, 
 His only war against the powers of sin, 
 And little used for many a year to dwell, 
 Beyond the limits of his humble cell : 
 Yet was there hid beneath his gown and cowl, 
 The sleeping energy of that strong soul, 
 That, greatest oft when least its power is shown, 
 Hath strength to tear its proud opposer down,
 
 128 PIZARRO. 
 
 And like the cloud that bears the Almighty's ire, 
 Flash from its dark recess resistless fire. 
 
 His winning speech, his gesture calm and bland, 
 That seemed far more pursuasion than command ; 
 The generous pardon by his sovereign shown, 
 To all who lay their rebel weapons down ; 
 By slow degrees its potent influence spreads : 
 A host, may match with that Pizarro leads, 
 Has gathered round him. Flushed from recent fight 
 Where fierce Centino cowered unto his might, 
 Pizarro comes his sovereign's host to dare : 
 Glanced the bright sun on vesture rich and fair : 
 The spoil of many a year, in splendid boast, 
 Bedecks the veterans of Pizarro's host. 
 Less proud the garb their stern opponents wear, 
 But hearts as high and hands as strong were there.
 
 PIZARRO. 129 
 
 And each may feel his fiercest valour tried, 
 Ere Hight or death the meeting foes divide. 
 Less bloody scene awaits them ere they join, 
 Forth spurs a chieftain from Pizarro's line, 
 And leads behind a train of subject spears 
 To where its folds De Gasca's banner rears. 
 'Twas Garcillasso who the first betrayed, 
 The failing cause he swore so oft to aid. 
 Cepeda follows learned in courtly wile, 
 Oft had his skill upheld his patron's guile, 
 But little cared to share the coming blow, 
 Of the rude fate that hung around him now. 
 The crowd soon followed what their chiefs begun, 
 Till of that mighty host scarce stayed there one, 
 Of all that fawned upon his power and pride, 
 To share his flight or perish by his side. 
 True to the last Carvajal fails him not : 
 
 K
 
 130 PIZARRO. 
 
 In weal or woe he shared his changing lot, 
 And bids him now his gathered foes defy, 
 Rush on their spears, and like a Roman die. 
 The time had been Pizarro did not need 
 Counsel from friend or foe for such a deed ; 
 But age and grief had done their worst to tame 
 The waning splendour of his spirit's flame ; 
 And to De Gasco's victor hand he yields, 
 The sword that triumphed in a hundred fields. 
 He guessed all falsely if he thought to save 
 His forfeit honour from a traitor's grave : 
 And short the space his conquering foes can spare, 
 For the last hours of penitence and prayer. 
 The scaifold frowns : the sable pall is spread : 
 The priest's last solemn offices are sped : 
 The headsman's axe gleams bright and fearfully : 
 The victim's changing cheek and restless eye
 
 PIZARRO. 131 
 
 V 
 
 Tell of some thoughts his tongue would fain display, 
 Before his spirit speeds from earth away. 
 And thus his pale and quivering lips speak forth 
 The latest words that they may speak on earth. 
 
 " It is not that I murmur at the doom, 
 " That gives my troubled life a bloody tomb : 
 " And little fear the thought of death can yield, 
 " So often dared red handed in the field : 
 " Yet though my doom be just, I were most fain 
 " It came by other hands than those of Spain : 
 " For well ye know how much that land may trace, 
 " Of wealth and glory, from our fated race. 
 " I do not curse the land that cuts away 
 " The twilight moments of a stormy day ; 
 " Earth hath but little that may claim a sigh, 
 "Save the fond thought of joys for aye gone by. 
 K2
 
 132 PIZARRO. 
 
 " Yet well content my darkest wish might be, 
 
 " To think what bitter days await on thee, 
 
 " Land of my birth ! I see thy story rise, 
 
 " In mystic vision to my closing eyes. 
 
 " Proud is thy power but oh ! thy power shall fade : 
 
 " Bright is thy fame but years thy fame shall shade: 
 
 " The treasured store thy subject kingdoms bring, 
 
 " A mildew blight across thy realms shall fling. 
 
 " Tyrants shall be upon thee thou shalt bow 
 
 " To things thine eye would scorn to look on now. 
 
 " Thy nobles beggars on the blooming shore, 
 
 " That their sires' valour wrested from the Moor ; 
 
 " Thy wretched people trembling at the nod 
 
 " Of slaves whose lips profane the word of God ; 
 
 " Thy king a puppet for his power to sway, 
 
 " Sprung from the dust the monarch of a day, 
 
 " Shall speak how deep the wealth that blood hath given,
 
 PiZARRO. 133 
 
 " Is laden with the stern dark curse of Heaven. 
 
 " Then in thy misery's saddest darkest hour, 
 
 " Think of the proud souls crushed beneath thy power, 
 
 " And the high hearts thy thankless scorn hath broke;" 
 
 And as he spake he bowed him to the stroke. 
 
 No sign of hope, no word of uttered prayer, 
 
 Lighted that hour of darkness and despair, 
 
 When, like the evening of a troubled day, 
 
 The last Pizarro passed from earth away. 
 
 And rest thou with him, my recording song ! 
 Thy notes have been of death and doom too long. 
 My heart is weary of the sickening story, 
 The utter emptiness of human glory. 
 Yet may the tale a fearful lesson teach, 
 In louder strains than ought that man can preach, 
 How the oppressed nation's wailing cry,
 
 134 PIZARRO. 
 
 Though scorned by man, is registered on high : 
 How slumbering vengeance many a year delayed, 
 Is poured at length upon the sinner's head : 
 How God, the jealous God, His right arm bareth 
 To smite the high heart that his anger dareth, 
 And to the trembling nations' eyes shews forth, 
 That He is God, and He will reign on earth.
 
 "TEMPORA MUTANTUR ET NOS 
 MUTAMUR IN ILLIS." 
 
 " THE times are changed !" Too true, sweet bard, 
 
 The tale thy pensive measures tell : 
 They speak of many a fond regard 
 
 To scenes long past but cherished well 
 To days of joy and love and youth, 
 When all seemed confidence and truth.
 
 138 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Thy times were changed thy failing eyes 
 
 Had looked on many an altered scene ; 
 Had seen a stranger race arise 
 
 Where thy youth's fondest friends had been, 
 Whose cheering smile and partial praise 
 Lighted the morning of thy days. 
 
 The immortal music of thy song 
 
 Survives the heart that gave it birth, 
 For that hath slumbered well and long, 
 Though sepulchred in foreign earth ; 
 And hosts have conquered, armies bled, 
 Unheeded, o'er thy narrow bed. 
 
 And she is changed thine own fair land : 
 
 Thou wouldst not know thy cherished home : 
 The Goth hath laid his conquering hand 
 
 Upon the once unconquered Rome ; 
 And through her broken gates have trod 
 The stern hosts of " the Scourge of God. "
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 139 
 
 The Roman's spirit is not now, 
 
 As in thy days, free, fierce and brave ; 
 His servile back hath learned to bow 
 
 Unto the veriest despot's slave : 
 Nor frowns he as he bends beneath 
 Those stripes that once were worse than death. 
 
 Yet once the times were changed well 
 The Olympian sire whose fabled nod 
 Ruled the stern powers of earth and hell, 
 Was vanquished by the incarnate God. 
 Still reigns His word thy land within, 
 But now 'tis mixed with shame and sin. 
 
 Turn we from these what need to range 
 
 To other days and distant clime, 
 To learn of time's incessant change, 
 
 And man's unceasing change with time ? 
 For wintry age and sunny youth 
 All tell the same unvaried truth.
 
 140 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 The child looks forth to scenes of joy 
 
 Whose fancied light no care can dim, 
 And smiles are on the ardent boy, 
 
 From those whose smiles are all to him 
 Before the down hath left his cheek, 
 In altered tones the world will speak. 
 
 Those scenes which fancy's hand hath given, 
 
 In rainbow colours to his view, 
 Are even as that fair arch of Heaven, 
 
 As beauteous and as baseless too : 
 And far are those whose smiles might bless 
 The wide world's opening wilderness. 
 
 'Tis but a momentary sadness 
 
 Young hope is high and ardent still : 
 Still the fair forms of joy and gladness 
 
 His visions of the future fill; 
 But they have lost that cloudless blaze, 
 That brightened all his earlier days.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 When years, as years will pass, have flown, 
 
 And left him in a busy strife, 
 And oft their changing course hath shown 
 
 The toil, the vanity of life, 
 Perchance he views the long left scene, 
 Where all his brightest days have been : 
 
 And marking, round the social hearth, 
 
 The lapse of many a wasting year, 
 And how the spoiler of the earth 
 
 Hath done his fearful office there, 
 Oh ! thou mayest feel, but not express, 
 His spirit's rising bitterness. 
 
 I lay my song aside in sooth 
 
 At best 'tis but a mournful theme, 
 I would not damp the joy of youth, 
 
 Nor mar young hope's delightful dream, 
 Though all of earth he can inherit 
 May prove but bitterness of spirit.
 
 142 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 "DULCE DULCE DOMUM. 
 
 1 love to see the sunbeams dance 
 
 On the wavelets of the river : 
 I love to watch his bright rays glance, 
 
 When the morning dew drops quiver. 
 
 And I love to look on the bright green earth, 
 When the primrose flowers are springing, 
 
 And the birds of heaven in fairy mirth, 
 Their innocent songs are singing.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 143 
 
 And I love to watch on summer nights, 
 
 The spring-tide's heavy roll, 
 When the moon is high and the clear blue sky 
 
 Sheds quiet o'er the soul. 
 
 But more than the broad moonlighted sea, 
 
 Or the sparkling of the stream, 
 Or the spring bird's wildest minstrelsy, 
 Would I love for a moment to look on thee, 
 
 Scene of my childhood's careless dream ! 
 Where I was wont in joy to roam, 
 And think of nought but home, sweet home.
 
 144 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 He had walked in the light of eastern lands, 
 He had bent before the fire-wind's blast ; 
 
 And now with swelling heart he stands, 
 While all his boyhood's days had passed. 
 
 When last he saw that lovely scene, 
 
 His hopes were high, his heart was young ; 
 
 But now, o'er joys that once had been, 
 Sorrow a withering blast had flung.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 145 
 
 I 
 
 'Twas but a few short years had fled, 
 Since there he gazed in boyish gladness, 
 
 But he that sorroweth for the dead, 
 
 Mourns much in one short year of sadness. 
 
 As memory glanced those bright days o'er, 
 He thought of those that sweetly slept : 
 
 He felt his heart was young no more, 
 And sad he turned aside and wept.
 
 146 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 THE 
 LAST BATTLE OF JUDAS MACCABEE. 
 
 IN silence went that little band, 
 Save the still voice of prayer, 
 But brazen shield and flashing brand 
 
 Were shining brightly there. 
 Their leader was a man of might ; 
 
 His name filled many a land ; 
 And they that never turned in fight 
 
 Had quailed beneath his hand. 
 And fearless must the champion be 
 That copes with Judas Maccabee.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 147 
 
 His hand was ever first in war, 
 
 His voice the first in prayer ; 
 And where his sword shone like a star, 
 
 The mighty gathered there 
 But sadder now his prayer arose, 
 
 And grief was on his brow : 
 The Lord that conquered all their foes, 
 
 Was not among them now. 
 They left the God of Judah's land, 
 To league them with a pagan band. 
 
 " Now gallant ones stand firm and fast : 
 
 "The Syrian host is near 
 " Their banners waver on the blast 
 
 " And glitter shield and spear." 
 A hymn of impious praise they sing 
 
 Unto their battle god, 
 And trumpets roar and cymbals ring, 
 
 And promise scenes of blood ;
 
 148 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 And loud their shouts of blasphemy, 
 Against the God that rules on high. 
 
 But boldly Israel's war cry rung, 
 
 Above their empty boasts ; 
 " O ! who, your demon gods among, 
 
 Is like the Lord of Hosts ?"* 
 There were pale faces in the host, 
 
 As that proud war shout passed, 
 As they that on a desert coast 
 
 List to the storm-wind's blast. 
 That name had been of fearful power, 
 Amid the darkest battle hour. 
 
 But craven doubts and coward fear 
 Through Israel's land had spread, 
 
 *The name of the Maccabees was formed from the iuitial 
 letters of the Hebrew sentence, "Who is like thee 0! Lord, 
 among the Gods. "
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 149 
 
 And but a remnant gathered there, 
 
 Of those he once had led. 
 Of twice four hundred was the band, 
 
 An army scant and few, 
 But every one was strong of hand, 
 
 A gallant heart and true 
 Yet they, as with the voice of one, 
 Prayed that their chief the fight would shun. 
 
 " But no, " so spake their leader forth, 
 
 " I will not stain my name : 
 " Better to die a death of worth, 
 
 " Than live a life of shame : 
 " Fly ye or stay as thinks you best, 
 
 " My heart is fixed and firm ; 
 " Though all depart, my single breast 
 
 " Shall brave the approaching storm, 
 " And offer to the Lord of Heaven, 
 The life his bounteous hand hath given."
 
 150 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 " Now God do so and more to us," 
 
 His gallant followers cry, 
 " Had we the hearts to leave thee thus, 
 
 " Alone, unwept, to die. " 
 And closer knit in heart and hand, 
 
 That little fearless throng, 
 Against the wasters of their land 
 
 They march in wrath along ; 
 And calm their hopeless steps they urge, 
 Like the stern rolling of the surge. 
 
 The dark mass of the ocean wave 
 
 Is dashed to foam and spray, 
 And so that band of warriors brave 
 
 Sinks man by man away. 
 Grimly and silently they passed 
 
 Each to his bloody rest : 
 That single sob, the longest, last, 
 
 That shook the bleeding breast,
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 151 
 
 Rose for no sorrows of their own, 
 But for their God's insulted throne. 
 
 Amidst the slain a warrior lay, 
 
 Untended and alone, 
 But well was shown no light affray 
 
 His might had overthrown 
 Hewn from his helm his plumy crest, 
 
 His battle blade all shivered : 
 The mail that bound his silent breast, 
 
 With many a sword stroke severed : 
 And torn and soiled waved o'er him free 
 The banner of the Maccabee. 
 
 Though every fearful sign had failed, 
 
 The warrior's name to tell, 
 That kirgly brow, by death unquailed, 
 
 Had marked him all too well. 
 He sleepeth in the silent cave, 
 
 His proud forefathers' dwelling,
 
 152 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 And sounds of woe above his grave, 
 
 A nation's wail, are swelling : 
 " Wail for the dead, whose heart and hand 
 " Saved and avenged his fathers' land."
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 153 
 
 THE SLAVE. 
 
 HE was a captive in the land, but his glance was stern 
 
 and free, 
 As he looked upon the rolling breast of the everlasting 
 
 sea. 
 The thoughts of many an hour of pride came with the 
 
 swelling wave, 
 And while he looked on it, he could not deem himself 
 
 a slave.
 
 154 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 But he gazed npon the fettered arms, that chainless 
 once and strong, 
 
 Had wantoned in the pride of youth the ocean waves 
 along; 
 
 And he looked upon the stranger land where his cheer- 
 less lot was cast, 
 
 And the tears that torture could not wring, flowed 
 bitterly and fast. 
 
 They were the deepest and the last his eyes should ever 
 
 shed, 
 For what hath he to do with tears whose every hope is 
 
 fled? 
 They should but flow from eyes, that look by turns on 
 
 joy and care, 
 But all the future of his life is dull and dark despair.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 155 
 
 But the pleadings of a broken heart, by anguish gnawed 
 
 and riven, 
 Though heeded by no ear on earth, arise in might to 
 
 Heaven ; 
 The Western Isles, the fairest lands that bloom beneath 
 
 the sun, 
 Do groan beneath the fearful deeds, their children's 
 
 hand hath done. 
 
 The breath of the avenging God, the whirlwind of his 
 
 wrath, 
 Pursues in stern and wasting might its unresisted 
 
 path : 
 
 Or sweepeth in its silent strength the pestilential blast, 
 The burning of his fiery wrath, o'er many a spirit 
 
 cast.
 
 156 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 And surely shall his warnings sound until the land 
 
 awake, 
 And they that have so sore oppressed, the chains of 
 
 bondage break, 
 And the bowed necks on which so long the tyrant foot 
 
 hath trod, 
 Shall only bow before the throne of their Father, and 
 
 their God.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 157 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 WHEN midnight's silent star ascends 
 
 To hush the din of day, 
 How sweet to think of cherished friends 
 
 That slumber far away. 
 
 How fondly memory's hand pourtrays 
 Each well remembered grace : 
 
 The look of love, the smile that plays 
 Across a kindred face.
 
 158 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 And when thy spirit, sore and sick, 
 
 But little peace can find ; 
 When grief hath stung thee to the quick, 
 
 And left its sting behind ; 
 
 When cold contempt and words of scorn, 
 And altered friendship's frown, 
 
 And things yet harder to be borne, 
 Have weighed thy spirit down ; 
 
 'Tis sweet on kindlier thoughts to dwell, 
 And gentler hearts to know ; 
 
 They that have loved thee long and well, 
 And will not foil thee now. 
 
 Whose stedfast faith, through good or ill, 
 
 Let weal or woe betide, 
 No false and fickle thoughts can chill, 
 
 Nor ought save death divide.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 159 
 
 And oh ! when many a year hath passed, 
 
 Through scenes of joy or pain, . 
 And thou hast turned thy steps at last, 
 
 To see their face again ; 
 
 Thy thoughts how fast and fervently 
 
 Across thy breast they come : 
 Thy heart at every step throbs high 
 
 That brings thee nearer home. 
 
 And then to see that friendly face 
 
 Thou hast not seen for years 
 Its silent eloquence to trace, 
 
 That speaks in smiles or tears. 
 
 To feel thy very heart-strings thrill 
 
 To that sweet voice's tone, 
 Whose power thy darkest thoughts to still, 
 
 Thou hast full often known
 
 160 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 To feel thy swelling heart so full, 
 That thou couldst almost deem, 
 
 That o'er thy wandering thoughts had stole 
 Some brief, delightful dream. 
 
 O ! earth may vaunt her varied joys, 
 
 Her brightest hours of bliss, 
 But hath she e'er a joy so fair, 
 
 That thou wouldst change with this ?
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 161 
 
 BELISARIUS. 
 
 ROOM for the peerless conqueror, the proudest son 
 
 of Rome ! 
 " Lo ! waving on the joyous winds his victor banners 
 
 come ; 
 " O'er the Eastern City's royal walls they are floating 
 
 gorgeously, 
 " And the shout of a delivered race ariseth unto thee." 
 
 M
 
 162 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 What marvel that thy heart was moved as rose that 
 cheering cry, 
 
 The proudest monarch's proudest praise, the gathered 
 nation's joy ? 
 
 What marvel that thy swelling breast unuttered trans- 
 port feels, 
 
 As the city pours her thousands forth to meet thy cha- 
 riot wheels ? 
 
 As the gathering shout of the multitude before his face 
 
 went forth, 
 His rising ^pride had half forgot he was but a son of 
 
 earth. 
 But a sternly mournful voice came o'er his soul's 
 
 festivity : 
 " Vanity of vanities ! yea all on earth is vanity. " 

 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 163 
 
 So spake the captive Vandal king, whom the fierce 
 Roman's pride, 
 
 Led forth to swell the gaudy pomp and grace his con- 
 queror's side. 
 
 But his proud spirit yet looked forth in gesture haught 
 and high, 
 
 And gazing on the passing train his lip curled bitterly. 
 
 The words came o'er the conqueror's soul with strange 
 
 and fearful might, 
 As the rushing wind that scattereth the pleasant dreams 
 
 of night : 
 And he deemed the time might be at hand, his own 
 
 proud head should be, 
 Like Gelimer's, a gazing stock for a nation's mockery. 
 
 M2
 
 164 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 And the thing he feared hath come to pass his laurel 
 
 wreath is faded 
 
 The glory of his mighty deeds by evil hearts is shaded ; 
 And he whose arm erewhile had set a trembling empir* 
 
 free, 
 Was bound unto a desert rock in bleeding agony. 
 
 There came a friendly hand, and smote the fetters from 
 his limb, 
 
 But Belisarius knew him not, for his spirit's light was 
 dim ; 
 
 But a voice that he had known right well, kindly and 
 pityingly 
 
 Cried : " Vanity of vanities ! yea all on earth is van- 
 ity."
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 165 
 
 And folded in each others arms, with feelings none 
 
 could speak, 
 Each sobbed upon his rival's breast as if his heart 
 
 would break. 
 It was a teaching sight I trow, for proudest king to 
 
 see 
 The monarch in his hermit garb and the mighty one 
 
 in misery.
 
 166 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 TO THE ROSE. , 
 
 SWEET flowret of summer, I love thy appearing, 
 The stem where thou hangest in beauty adorning ; 
 
 In the pride of thy verdure thy blossom uprearing, 
 Or hanging all wet with the dews of the morning. 
 
 I love thee, oh rose ! but thy beauty is fleeting ; 
 
 Thou fadest away like the sons of the earth ; 
 Thy soft breathing odours the mild zephyrs greeting, 
 
 Shall die on the breezes that laughed at thy birth.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 167 
 
 Thou wilt fade, lovely flowret, but mourn not at this, 
 Our days of existence full swiftly they fly, 
 
 And thousands there are that might envy thy bliss, 
 Unstained, in their life's purest spring time to die.
 
 168 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 "MEMENTO MORI 
 
 O ! YE are awful words, and well 
 Ye suit the sad and silent scene, 
 
 Inscribed upon his narrow cell 
 
 Whose deeds in other days have been. 
 
 But is there nought that speaks our doom, 
 
 Save the stern language of the tomb ? 
 
 Yes ! on our fairest pleasures stand 
 The warning words that none may flee, 
 
 Traced plain as by the spectre hand 
 That marred the Assyrian's revelry, 
 
 And told him that his lordly sway, 
 
 His throne, his life must pass away.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 169 
 
 1 need not tell of beauty's blight, 
 
 Of clouds that shade the fairest morn ; 
 
 The early quenching of the light 
 
 That young and lovely eyes have worn ; 
 
 For few in earthly mansions dwell, 
 
 That have not known such change too well. 
 
 I need not tell of ancient days, 
 
 Of realms and nations passed away, 
 Whose remnants claim our wondering praise, 
 
 And protidly wrestle with decay. 
 The fairest works their art hath lent 
 Are but their glory's monument. 
 
 We list in rapture to the lay \ 
 
 Poured from a heart yonng, warm and free, 
 
 And marvel that a child of clay 
 
 Should frame such wond'rous melody. 
 
 Even while the enchanting strain we hear, 
 
 That heart hath ceased to hope or fear.
 
 170 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 The giant ones of old, whose might 
 Through all the paths of science ran ; 
 
 Who soared to such a fearful flight 
 As seems not in the reach of man ; 
 
 And measured, with their piercing view, 
 
 The depths of human wisdom through ; 
 
 They too are gone the faded page 
 
 O'er which the midnight student pores, 
 
 Tells by its dimness, of an age 
 
 Though short, yet longer far than ours 
 
 Their works may long resist decay : 
 
 The hands that penned them where are they ? 
 
 The chosen friend of early years, 
 Whose face we fondly gaze upon ; 
 
 Whose steps with ours, through joy and tears, 
 So long upon our path have gone, 
 
 That earth's best scenes were dull and drear 
 
 If his loved image were not there;
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 171 
 
 Must he depart ? Too surely yes ! 
 
 The doom no child of Adam shuns : 
 Even though ye shared one mother's kiss : 
 
 Though ye were both one father's sons ; 
 Though every feeling of thy heart 
 Should rise to say " We cannot part." 
 
 And yet 'tis well ! Though hearts be riven, 
 So dearly joined they seemed but one, 
 
 Yet shall they shine as lights from Heaven, 
 To lead our lingering footsteps on. 
 
 Else even earth hath joys so fair, 
 
 That we might wish to linger there. 
 
 Then like the sage* who fain would wreak 
 
 On Israel's host an alien's wrath, 
 And found that all his spells were weak, 
 
 Against the Lord of Sabaoth, 
 Whose counsel had of old decreed, 
 No harm should rest on Jacob's seed : 
 
 * Balaam.
 
 172 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 He saw their tents o'er Moab spread, 
 Their banners waving proud and fair ; 
 
 Remorse for many an evil deed 
 
 Wrung from his soul an ardent prayer : 
 
 So let our prayer ascend on high : 
 
 " Lord ! let me like the righteous die."
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 173 
 
 CASIMIR SOBIESKY TO HIS HARP, 
 
 FROM THE LATIN. 
 
 SWEET child of the music moving strings, 
 
 From the trunk of the sounding box-tree made, 
 Thou shalt hang in the lofty poplar's shade, 
 
 While the gentle gales through its leaflets fly, 
 
 And soft is the air and clear the sky, 
 
 And the breeze of the East wind orer thee rings.
 
 174 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 While I on the green bank stilly musing, 
 
 Where the murmuring rivulet softly flows, 
 
 And the flow'ret of summer gaily blows, 
 My thoughts in visions of rapture losing, 
 
 May think on the stories of times gone by. 
 But alas ! the clouds from the North are driven 
 
 And blacken the vault of the clear blue sky ; 
 
 We must haste away for a storm is nigh. 
 Such and so short is human glory, 
 
 And thus are all pleasures from mortals riven ; 
 For the best of our blessings are transitory, 
 
 And nothing is fixed but the will of Heaven.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 175 
 
 ON THE TAKING OF JERUSALEM, 
 BY TITUS. 
 
 WHENCE comes that flame? what venerable dome 
 Hath fallen ? It is the temple, Israel's pride. 
 
 Titus against them led the hosts of Rome, 
 
 And his red hands in Judah's blood hath dyed. 
 
 That temple where their holy ruler deigned 
 To shew his glory to the sons of earth 
 
 That temple where the King of angels reigned, 
 Reechoes with the conqueror's noisy mirth.
 
 176 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 For Salem is no more ! Her captive sons 
 Must bear the iron yoke of slavery 
 
 Even now I hear the last expiring groans 
 Of her faint warriors who unhonoured die. 
 
 O ! city once the terror of thy foes, 
 
 Thy nerveless arm hath lost its wonted might. 
 A fearful deluge of o'erwhelming woes 
 
 Hath quenched thy glory in eternal night. 
 
 For once the God of Jacob was thy king : 
 
 The Lord of Hosts did lead thee, and thy son* 
 
 A place of refuge found beneath his wing : 
 Thy children, Salem ! were his chosen ones. 
 
 But didst thou well repay thy bounteous Lord ? 
 
 Thy children turned aside and left the path 
 Of God. Their pride despised his holy word 
 
 And drew upon their heads his fearful wrath.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 17 
 
 O thou backslider! would not this suffice? 
 
 And must thou more provoke thy righteous God ? 
 Must thou his holy, only Son despise, 
 
 And satiate thy vengeance with his blood ? 
 
 Thou slewest him, madly crying; " Let his life 
 " Be asked at our hands : amongst our deeds 
 
 " Be counted this one too, and let our strife 
 " Against the Nazarene be on our heads." 
 
 Thy wish, O ! Salem, it was not denied; 
 
 The Lord of Hosts, he heard thy prayer arise : 
 Even on the mountain where thy Saviour died, 
 
 The Roman eagle first appalled thine eyes. 
 
 Mocking thy misery, on that hill of death 
 
 Rose the proud ensigns of the conqueror's pride; 
 
 And where He blessed thee with his dying breath, 
 The writhing captive gnashed his teeth and died.
 
 178 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 But did thy fate come on thee unawares ? 
 
 Nay ! earth and Heaven alike had found a tongue 
 To tell thy destiny : amongst the stars 
 
 For many a night the boding comet hung. 
 
 In the blue air conflicting hosts were seen, 
 In fearful turmoil hurrying to and fro 
 
 Fierce stalked their steeds and horrid was their mien : 
 So trod the coursers of thy haughty foe. 
 
 In the fair dome that now in ruin lies, 
 When Salem's sons assembled at the call 
 
 Of Pentecost, a voice of warning cries : 
 
 " Depart from hence, for soon this pile must fall." 
 
 And one who bore thy murdered Saviour's name, 
 In thundering sounds against thy city spoke : 
 
 To thine assemblies and thy feasts he came, 
 And thus his awful voice the silence broke.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 179 
 
 " Woe to the city ! to the bloody land ! 
 
 " Woe to thy sous who slay the priests of God ! 
 " Woe to thy people who, with daring hand, 
 
 " Pollute the temple of the Lord with blood." 
 
 " Woe unto me !" the fated prophet cried, 
 
 And scarce the words were spoken when he fell ; 
 
 A Roman arrow smote him, that he died, 
 Sealing his fearful prophecy too well. 
 
 But since these warnings dread could nought avail, 
 To turn thy people to their God again, 
 
 He scattered them as when the passing gale, 
 Scatters the flying dust upon the plain. 
 
 So were thy children driven through every clime 
 
 Inhabited by man, the butt of scorn 
 And proud contempt, until the end of time 
 
 Shall sweep the world away, a banished race forlorn. 
 
 N2
 
 180 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 A REVERIE. 
 
 BESIDE a grey and aged dome 
 
 A careless infant played : 
 The turrets of his noble home 
 
 Were darkening in the shade. 
 Looked on the hills the laughing boy, 
 
 And on the glancing river, 
 And deemed he that his dream of joy 
 
 Should hold its light for ever.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 181 
 
 That time is past the joyous child, 
 
 To comely manhood grown, 
 Hath sped to realms remote and wild 
 
 To win him fair renown. 
 And fierce and high his spirit burns, 
 
 And wide his footsteps roam, 
 But oft and fervently he turns 
 
 His thoughts unto his home. 
 
 He standeth by that home again, 
 
 But oh ! how changed now ! 
 Though flowers as iair are on the plain, 
 
 As bright the waters flow. 
 The leaf may bide the autumn blast, 
 
 To bloom in spring once more, 
 But man's first hours of gladness past, 
 
 What spring can e'er restore ?
 
 182 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 He sought his mother's smile she lay 
 
 By friend and foe forgot ; 
 And he that held his father's sway, 
 
 His brother, knew him not. 
 His sister sped, a joyous bride, 
 
 Across the southern wave ; 
 And one, more loved than all beside, 
 
 Slept in a virgin grave. 
 
 Then o'er his ardent spirit came 
 
 That stunning weight of pain, 
 Broke but by thoughts that flash like flame 
 
 Across the torpid brain. 
 Till weary with his ceaseless woe, 
 
 The earth's fair face grew dim, 
 And all of joy or grief below 
 
 Hath grown alike to him.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 183 
 
 He sleeps at length where all his race 
 
 Long years before had gone, 
 And by his silent resting place 
 
 That glancing stream flows on. 
 As green a shade the wood displays, 
 
 The hills look forth as blue, 
 To tell a tale to future days, 
 
 As gladsome, and as true. 
 
 And ye will tell me that .ye fail 
 
 My story's sense to guess : 
 Ye call my wildly wandering tale 
 
 Too dark and purposeless. 
 Ye tell me that my gloomy muse 
 
 Too sad a scene hath shown, 
 For hearts long used to sunnier views, 
 
 Its dreary truths to own.
 
 184 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 But when the weight of sated mirth, 
 
 In sickening emptiness, 
 Whispers that all the things of earth 
 
 Have little power to bless ; 
 Then look upon the baseless joys, 
 
 The fleeting hopes of men, 
 And tell me if my warning voice 
 
 Sound forth too sadly then.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 185 
 
 EVENING THOUGHTS. 
 
 VISIONS of joys gone past! 
 
 Your light is sweet to me, 
 Like the last rays at summer sunset cast 
 Over the waveless bosom of the sea. 
 
 There may be thoughts of sadness 
 
 Upon the pensive breast, 
 When the fair orb that lit a day of gladness 
 Sinks to his chamber in the glowing West :
 
 186 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 But on an eve like this, 
 
 Fading so soft and slowly, 
 
 How couldst thou sigh for earth's supremest bliss, 
 To chase that hour of soothing melancholy ? 
 
 And so when memory brings, 
 
 In mixed and motley train, 
 The imaged visions of delightful things, 
 That ne'er perchance may glad the heart again ; 
 
 The face of friends beloved, 
 When heart and soul were young, 
 And the warm bosom had but little proved 
 The frailty of the joys that fancy sung : 
 
 The words fair lips have spoken, 
 
 Sweet speech or sweeter song, 
 
 Whose notes, too like the thoughts that they betoken, 
 Were far too exquisite to linger long ;
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 187 
 
 The moments we have spent 
 
 In dreamlike happiness, 
 
 When youth and mirth and kindred spirits lent 
 Their power combined the fleeting hours to bless ; 
 
 All rise in softened light, 
 
 Stripped of that brilliant glare, 
 Whose beams in other days were far too bright 
 For the o'ergladdened spirit long to bear. 
 
 x 
 
 Yes ! let the gay world spurn 
 
 The thoughts of parted pleasure : 
 For me, could all mine hours of bliss return, 
 ' Twould scarce outbalance memory's cherished treasure.
 
 Jfc 
 
 188 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 THE THREE MIGHTY ONES. 
 
 THE king sat in Adullam's cave, his nobles sat around, 
 And the Philistines, a locust host, lay dark upon the 
 
 ground : 
 And their unholy bands defiled the place of Jesse's 
 
 stem; 
 The Dagon-worshippers had pitched their camp in 
 
 Bethlehem.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 189 
 
 ' 
 
 The king was faint and sore athirst, for the sun shone 
 like flame, 
 
 And fiercer yet the burning thoughts that o'er his spi- 
 rit came, 
 
 And he cried unto the tried and true that round about 
 him sat, 
 
 " Who will bring me of the gushing fount that springs 
 by Bethlehem gate?" 
 
 And all unmarked by king or slave three mighty ones 
 
 arose: 
 They drew their swords in silence forth, and looked 
 
 upon their foes : 
 Their foemen were ten thousand strong and they were 
 
 three alone, 
 Yet forth as on the whirlwind's wings the mighty three 
 
 are gone.
 
 190 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 There is shouting in the heathens' camp, the fearful 
 noise of strife, 
 
 And fast and fiercely clash their blades, they fight for 
 more than life : 
 
 Behold one stoopeth at the fount ; theirs is the vic- 
 tory : 
 
 Now champions spur your eager steeds, 'tis for your 
 lives ye flee. 
 
 One warrior rideth in the midst, he stoops his bare 
 
 head low ; 
 The helm that holds the monarch's draught is at his 
 
 saddle bow ; 
 And two before him hold their shields, and faint and 
 
 breathless reel 
 The foes that fain would bar their path, beneath the 
 
 whirling steel.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 191 
 
 They sped them forth with ardent brow, they came all 
 
 spent and pale, 
 Their bloody swords hung idly down, and dinted was 
 
 their mail, 
 And loud that proud heart's heavy throb told of a 
 
 scene of toil, 
 As he laid before the monarch's feet the battle's hard 
 
 earned spoil. 
 
 The king looked on the mighty ones, and cried, " it 
 
 may not be, 
 " That I should drink the blood of them who risked 
 
 their lives for me. 
 " To Him to whom their life belongs the precious gift 
 
 be given;" 
 And he poured it out in sacrifice unto the Lord of 
 
 Heaven.
 
 192 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 JOSHUA. 
 
 HE stood not as in days gone by, 
 
 With humbled head and bended knee : 
 
 Erect and stern his eagle eye 
 Glanced on the sky's immensity. 
 
 The hour of prayer had gone before, 
 And in the might his God had given, 
 
 The leader spake the words of power, 
 
 Whose sound might stay the hosts of Heaven.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 193 
 
 Sun ! stay thy light on Gibeon's hill, 
 
 " Until thy Maker's will be done, 
 " And thou, fair moon ! thy course be still, 
 
 " Over the vale of Ajalon." 
 
 And terror o'er the nations passed, 
 
 To watch the broad sun's lengthened reign, 
 
 But when his brightness sank at last, 
 They never saw his light again.
 
 104 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 OH THE 
 
 \.\\\ 111, AND PART OF THE XXXIX, CHAPTERS 
 OF JOB. 
 
 FROM the dark bosom of the whirlwind came 
 The voice of the Eternal, as he spake 
 In fearful accents to his erring servant. 
 " I heard thy words and they were vanity. 
 " Call now thy mightiness of soul about thee, 
 " And gird thee to the contest I will ask, 
 " And thou shalt answer me. Say where wert thou, 
 " When the foundations of the world were laid ? 
 " Sawest thou the hand that laid the corner stone, 
 " And meted out its vastness ? Did thy voice
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 195 
 
 " Swell the proud anthem of the morning stars, 
 
 " When all the sons of God shouted for joy ? 
 
 " Who rolled a veil of clouds around the ocean, 
 
 " And hollowed out its mighty bed, and curbed 
 
 " Its swelling waters, when their unchained course 
 
 " Was poured around the new created earth ? 
 
 " Cometh the early morning at thy call, 
 
 " From her fair dwelling in the golden East, 
 
 " To spread her brightness o'er the smiling earth ? 
 
 "Or grasp the corners of the world, and shake 
 
 " The erring souls that know not of their God ? 
 
 " Was it thy plastic hand that formed the clay 
 
 " Into the noble shape of living man ? 
 
 " Rolledst thou the darkness round the heathen land ? 
 
 "Or doth thine iron rod in might descend 
 
 " To break the arm of the untamed oppressor ? 
 
 " Hast thou beheld the fountains of the deep, 
 
 o2
 
 196 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 " Or walked in the paths of the abyss, 
 
 "Or stood before the fearful gates of death, 
 
 " And bid its portals tremble ? Hath thy hand 
 
 " Spanned the blue firmament's immensity ? 
 
 " Or hast thou sailed upon the wings of thought 
 
 " Unto light's utmost bourne, where its lust rays 
 
 " Conflict with shrouding darkness ? Hast thou seen 
 
 " The mighty magazines of snow and hail ? 
 
 " Or are their frozen stores laid up for thee, 
 
 " When thou shalt battle with thine enemies, 
 
 " That thou mayest hurl resistless vengeance on them? 
 
 " Who shed the orient light upon the earth, 
 
 " And bade the East wind search its farthest borders, 
 
 " And scattered the fresh rain upon its bosom 
 
 " Mid the far flashing lightning ; making all 
 
 " Its desolate and undwelt wildernesses 
 
 " Green with the blessing of their forming God ?
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 197 
 
 " Who formed the rain, and treasured up the dew, 
 
 " And gave an icy hardness to the flood ? 
 
 " Or spread the hoary frost in wintry whiteness 
 
 " O'er the crisp verdure of the crackling field ? 
 
 "Or bound, as with a chain of adamant, 
 
 " The waveless waters ? When the Pleiads glitter 
 
 " In the blue heavens, wilt thou restrain their course, 
 
 " Or shroud their soft and blessing brilliancy ? 
 
 " And as Orion glareth in the sky 
 
 " Above his circling brethren, will thine hand 
 
 " Unbelt the star-girt giant ? Wilt thou rule 
 
 " The measured course of Mazzaroth, or guide 
 
 " Arcturus with his subject constellation ? 
 
 " Knowest thou the motions of the host of heaven ? 
 
 " The ever shifting tide of earthly things ? 
 
 " Canst thou call forth the overshadowing cloud, 
 
 " Or bid the broad and sheeted lightning haste
 
 198 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 " Forth with the thunder on its lurid wing ? 
 
 ** Who hath put wisdom in the heart, or given 
 
 " The light of understanding ? Who hath numbered 
 
 " The shadowy clouds, and arched the sphered heaven, 
 
 And bound the dust of the firm world together? 
 
 " Who catereth for the lion's whelps, when loud 
 
 " Their hungry wail ariseth in the desert? 
 
 Who feeds the dragon's brood that lurk in darkness ? 
 " And when the unfledged ravens' clamorous cry 
 " Ascendeth to the heavens, wilt thou provide 
 " For their loud wants, and still their ceaseless craving? 
 " When the young mountain goat and bounding fawn 
 " Sport in the freshness of new life, dost thou 
 " Watch with a guardian's fondness o'er their joy, 
 " And send them forth to pasture on the mountains ? 
 " Who hath sent forth the wild ass free, unbound, 
 " Owning no master, scorning all controul ?
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 199 
 
 " His place have I appointed in the desert, 
 
 " His dwelling in the waste and desolate ground : 
 
 " There doth he range and seeketh for his pasture. 
 
 " Spurning in fast and tameless speed the earth, 
 
 " Free as the winds of heaven, he laughs to scorn, \ 
 
 " The baffled multitude of his pursuers. 
 
 " Will the wild unicorn bow down to thee, 
 
 " Or come in fawning suppliance to thy manger, 
 
 " And bend his broad neck to the yoke, and draw 
 
 " The harrow o'er thy furrows ? Wilt thpu trust 
 
 " His giant might, that he shall do thy work 
 
 " In willing servitude, and bring thy corn, 
 
 " And the fat produce of the land he laboured, 
 
 " Into thy teeming garners ? Who hath formed 
 
 " The peacock's golden train, that proudly spreads 
 
 " Its gorgeous glories to the burning sun ? 
 
 " Who fledged the giant pinions of the pstrich?
 
 200 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 " That maketh in the dust her nest, and leaves 
 " Her eggs unguarded from the careless foot 
 " Of passing traveller or prowling brute, 
 " As if they were not hers ? for God hath hardened 
 " Her heart, nor given unto her understanding : 
 " And when she skims along the pathless waste, 
 " In untamed speed careering o'er the desert, 
 " She laughs to scorn the horseman and the steed. 
 " Hast thou given strength unto the horse, and clothed 
 " His arching neck with thunder, and girt round 
 " His swelling chest the panoply of war ? 
 " How proudly from his snorting nostril streameth 
 " The breath of his pent wrath ! and pawing fiercely 
 " He neigheth in the valley, and goes forth 
 " In fearless pride to meet the armed men. 
 " He laugheth at the mailed host, nor turns 
 " Aside from the bare sword, and bears his breast
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 201 
 
 " Fearless against the couched lance. His eyes 
 
 " Gaze with most earnest greediness upon 
 
 " The space that parts him from the field of war, 
 
 " As he would swallow up the ground between : 
 
 " And when the tardy trumpet greets his ear, 
 
 " ' Aha ! ' he cries, and smelleth from afar 
 
 " The gathering battle ; and his heart rejoices 
 
 " In the loud shouting and the leaping chariots." 
 
 " Is it thy wisdom which doth guide the hawk, 
 " Sailing on tireless wing unto the North ? 
 " Or doth the eagle wheel at thy command 
 " Her cloudy flight, and build her nest on high, 
 " Among the craggy cliff's, whence peering forth 
 " She marks from far her destined prey ? Her brood 
 " Follow their mother's path to blood and death ; 
 " And where the slain are gathered, there is she."
 
 202 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 THE WARNING OF HEZEKIAH. 
 
 MONARCH ! the doom of the Highest is o'er thee; 
 
 Fixed is thy fate and thy moments are numbered : 
 Soon shalt thou sleep with the mighty before thee : 
 Long shalt thou rest where thy fathers have slumbered. 
 
 Look on the scenes that have smiled on thy gladness ; 
 
 Gaze on the mountain, the plain and the river : 
 Gaze, for the grave hath no light in its sadness ; 
 
 View them once more ere they vanish for ever. 

 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 203 
 
 Call for thy kindred, the kindest and nearest, 
 Bid them farewell for tomorrow ye part : 
 
 Press to thy bosom the friend that is dearest ; 
 Yet may he share the last throb of thy heart. 
 
 Hast thou a sin unconfessed and unknown ? 
 
 Pray to thy God that thy sin be forgiven. 
 Set thou in order thy house and thy throne ; 
 
 Thine be the seat at the footstool of Heaven.
 
 204 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 TO A FRIEND. 
 
 \ 
 
 " When ' humble grave is green, 
 
 " And all unknown her lowly lot, 
 " Her path upon the earth unseen, 
 
 " Her lyre unstrung, her name forgot 
 " Her ashes shall as sweetly rest, 
 
 " As if her strains were their delight ; 
 " Her soul, if blest, shall be AS blest 
 
 "As if ten thousand mourned its flight." 
 
 I WOULD not thou shouldst weave again 
 So mournful yet so sweet a strain : 
 Far gladlier would I see thee smile, 
 
 And cast thine anxious cares away, 
 And learn at least a little while, 
 
 To bid thy pensive heart be gay ;
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 205 
 
 And weave a lay of brighter hue, 
 More cheering, and perchance as true. 
 
 It is not that I falsely deem 
 
 That life is all a fairy dream : 
 
 It is not that I do not know 
 
 That earth hath many a scene of woe ; ; .,;Y 
 
 That its fair pleasures, false as fair, 
 
 Are baseless as the floating air ; 
 
 And much that seems our hopes to bless 
 
 Is cold and heartless emptiness. 
 
 Even so the summer heaven of blue 
 
 Hath many a cloud of darker hue ; 
 
 Yet who would look on these alone, 
 
 And turn him from the glorious sun, 
 
 Whose brightness gilds the laughing sky 
 
 With proud and quenchless brilliancy. 
 
 . . ' . ' ; < i J ;. ."' 
 
 O who hath marked thy joyous hour, 
 Or listened to thy joyous strain,
 
 206 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Nor longed with all his spirit's power 
 
 To gaze, to hear, to feel again ? 
 O that those hours, those strains should be 
 
 But as those precious spots of green, 
 That grace the burning deserts' sea, 
 
 Where wastes unblest are stretched between. 
 Though in the infant days of Time 
 The earth was marked with blood and crime, 
 It hath not lost the guardian care 
 Of Him who made it good and fair, 
 And chequered much with scenes of ill, 
 The world hath much to glad thee still. 
 
 Cold were the heart that ever feared 
 Thy path on earth should rest unseen, 
 
 For many a plant thy hand hath reared 
 Shall bloom and make it brightly green. 
 
 And though thy lyre should be unstrung, 
 And known to few thy " lowly lot,"
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 207 
 
 By those who loved the strains she sung, 
 
 The minstrel will not be forgot. 
 The strain for parted friends that mourneth 
 
 May well thy own memorial be, 
 And when thy dust to dust returneth, 
 
 Fond hearts and true shall weep for thee. 
 
 THE END.
 
 DARLINGTON: 
 
 PRINTED BY UAAC COATE8.
 
 This book is DUE on the last 
 date stamped below 
 
 lOm-ll, '50 (2555)470 
 
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