ALONSO DE BONILLA.

LET'S HOLD SWEET CONVERSE.

"Quieres hoy conversacion."

"LET's hold sweet converse ere we part,
Beloved fair!" ""Tis sweet to be

With thee, the husband of my heart."
"I'll in the garden wait for thee."
“When?” “At the sacred vesper-bell.”
"That is the hour in which I dwell
Within the souls I love, and there

Fill the pure shrine with praise and prayer." "But if, when dawns the vesper hour,

I should be absent" "Nay, my soul! Lose not the holy, hallowing power

Of evening's serene control.”

"I'll come ;—that hour shall not depart Without thy smile who hold'st my heart!" "I'll in the garden wait for thee."

"When ?" "At the sacred vesper-bell." "Yes! come, O come !-my breast shall be A garden of fair flowers for thee,

Where thou the fairest flowers shalt cull."

M

"And wilt thou give a flower to me?"
"Yes! flowers more bright, more beautiful,
Than ever in earth's gardens grew,

If thou wilt trust and love me too."

"Yes! I will trust and love thee well ;” "I'll in the garden wait for thee.” "When?" "At the sacred vesper-bell."

Pensamientos peregrinos, Baeza, 1614, p. 117.

FRANCISCO DE BORJA,

PRINCE OF ESQUILACHE.

SILVIA'S SMILE.

"Si alegres y risueñas."

WHEN bright and gay the waters roll
In crystal rivers to the sea,

'Midst shining pearls, they take, my soul!
Their sweetest, loveliest smile from thee;
And when their dimpling currents flow,
They imitate thy laughing brow.

When morning from its dusky bed
Awakes with cold and slumbering eye,

Ere yet he wears his tints of red,

He looks to see if thou art nigh,

To offer thee a diadem

Of every ruby,-every gem.

When spring leads on the joyous sun,
He brightens on thy eyes, and takes

A nobler lustre,-when the dun
And darksome April first awakes,

And gives his better smiles to May,
He keeps for thee his fairest day.

There are some idle bards who dream
That they have seen, with raptured eyes,
The smiling field, the dimpled stream,-
And, (strange deceit !) the laughing skies.
My Silvia! field,—nor stream,—nor sky
E'er smiled, but when thy smile was nigh.

Tyrants there are:-but when they slay
They smile not. O, my Silvia! thou
Art far more cruel, far than they.

The Aurora, on the mountain's brow,
When it destroys the dying night,
Mourns o'er its tomb in tears of light.

But thou canst smile, and yet destroy:
And oft within thy eyes
I see

A radiant throne of love and joy,

Which is, but cruel mockery.

That smile, which such fair dimples wears,

Is for my thoughts a fount of tears,

Obras en verso, Amberes, 1663, p. 288.

WHITHER IS SHE GOING?

"La Zagala mas bella de nuestro lugar."

WHITHER is she going?-whither is she going? Sweetest maid of sweetest maidens,-she, our village

pride,

Fresher than the day-break,-lighter than the day,— Whither is she going?

O she is gone to the greenest meadow's side,

Where the sweet flow'rets are growing.

She gathers and she scatters sweet flow'rets on her way: Look! how the flow'rets are blowing.

"Tis the day of Saint John,-th' Evangelist's day,Whither is she going?

Romancero, Zaragoza, 1651, p. 503.