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And saw, with eye of boding gloom, the land reced
“ Blow, blow ye winds, and waft us from Xeres' glo
rious plain, Then be ye calm, while I pronounce a Moor's curse
“Thou did'st bow, Spain, for ages, beneath a Moorish
yoke, And save Asturia's mountain sons, there were none
to strike a stroke; On mountain top and lowland plain, thy fate was still
Thy soldiers drew dull scymitars, and the crescent
" The days, which saw our martial deeds, are fled to
come no more ; A warrior monarch rules thee now, and we give the
battle o'er; Abencarrage wakes not, when the battle trumpets call, And Abderame sleeps in death, beside th’ Alhambra's
“I leave to thee, my curse, proud Spain! a curse
upon thy clime; Thou shalt be the land of dastard souls, a nursery of
crime; And yet, as if to mock her sons, and make their dark
Noland shall boast more glorious skies, than the lovely
land I curse.
“Thy kings shall wear no royal type, save a diadem
alone, And their sovereignty by cruelty and a withering eye
be known. 'T were waste of time to speak my curse; for, Spain,
thy sons shall see, That magic can invoke no fiend, worse than thy kings
" And that blind faith, thou holdest from the Prophet
of the Cross, A faith thy children have profaned, and its better
doctrines lost; By the lords that faith shall give thee, not less shalt
thou be gored, Because they grasp a crucifix, instead of spear and
“Bright eyes are in thy land, Spain, and thy virgins
want no charms, But thou art cursed to know no truth in either heart
or arms ; Their bosoms shall no pillow be, for aught is kind or
brave, But lull in mere illicit love, the sensual priest and slave.
“Thy sway shall reach to distant lands, shall yield
thee gold and gem,
But a burning and a bloody sword, shall thy sceptre
be o'er them, Till vengeance meet the murderous bands, from thine
accursed shore, And give them of the land they seek,
,-a grave of clotted gore.”
The Guadalquiver's banks shall be divested of their
pride, The castles of our valiant race deck no more the
mountain side, And Ruin's mouldering hand shall sweep to Spain's
remotest shore, And all her fertile regions weep the exile of the Moor.
THE SEA DIVER.
My way is on the bright blue sea,
My sleep upon its rocking tide ;
Where billows clasp the worn sea-side.
My plumage bears the crimson blush,
When ocean by the sun is kissed !
My dark wing cleaves the silver mist.
Full many a fathom down beneath
The bright arch of the splendid deep, My ear has heard the sea shell breathe
O'er living myriads in their sleep.
They rested by the coral throne,
And by the pearly diadem, Where the pale sea-grape had o'ergrown
The glorious dwellings made for them.
At night upon my storm-drenched wing,
I poised above a helmless bark, And soon I saw the shattered thing
Had passed away and left no mark.
And when the wind and storm had done,
A ship, that had rode out the gale, Sunk down—without a signal gun,
And none was left to tell the tale.
I saw the pomp of day depart,
The cloud resign its golden crown, When to the ocean's beating heart,
The sailor's wasted corse went down.
Peace be to those whose graves are made
Beneath the bright and silver sea ! Peace that their relics there were laid With no vain pride and pageantry.
SARDANAPALUS AT THE TEMPLE OF BELUS.
This spacious mausoleum holds
Proud dust in many a worshipped shrine ;
The Founder of our line.
I never c
To bui I bade th
Watch Through With a h
I bade n
Yes, here are sleeping side by side
The gods, Assyrian queens have borne ;
And tyrants overthrown.
Throu And bad
A fear Sardana
I have unto my people been
A father, brother and a friend! Go to the Western Island-men
Go eastward to mine empire's end; If there be one hath
me, Him, fourfold recompense shall see.
I loved the glittering javelin not
I did not love war's bloody suit ;
To listen to the lute;
And she Who