YE LAUGHING STREAMLETS, SAY?
¿Fuentecillas que reis ?"
YE laughing streamlets, say,
Sporting with the sands, where do ye wend
From the flow'rets flying,
To rocks and caverns hieing:
When ye might sleep in calmness and peace,
Why hurry thus in wearying restlestness?
Obras. Amberes, 1663, p. 395.
SLUMBERING on earth's cold breast, serene beneath,
Youth (all its fire and glory dim) reposes,—
And this pale, peaceful monument discloses
Life's weakness, and the omnipotence of death!
Love sits with tearful eye upon the tomb,
And speeds his erring shafts,—his thoughtful care
(In memory of his sorrow and his gloom)
Hath raised this dear,-this sad memorial here.
He scarce had pass'd life's portals on the wing
Of youthful joy,-while hope expectant hung
Upon his talents and his silver tongue,—
Ere fate's dark mandate, fierce and threatening,
Tore him away,-and, reckless, with him tore
All that had taught us to bear woe before.
Obras. Zaragoza, 1651, p. 38.
"Tanto mañana y nunca ser mañana.”
DREAMING of a to-morrow, which to-morrow
Will be as distant then as 'tis to-day;
For Phoebus, who oft teazes man with sorrow,
Will never turn his car to light my way;
So that I'm certain now that morning's ray
Will never dawn; and Phillis thou mayst borrow
Some other phrase from language for to-morrow,
To-morrow, and to-morrow, but betray;
I call'd upon Dan Cupid,—(when I find
Sweet company, I never walk alone),
And said, come with me, an' you are inclin❜d;
Let's seek this maiden morrow, for I groan
Impatient: then I curse my eyes,-they're blind.
O no! I will not curse them,-they 're my own.
Rimas de T. Burguillos. Madrid, 1674, p. 38.
I'LL go to yon boat, my mother;
O yes! to yon boat I'll go;
I'll go with the mariner, mother,
And be a mariner too.
Mother, there's no withstanding;
For wheresoe'er I am driven
It is by the will of heaven,
Or the infant god's commanding;
He plays with my heart at will,
I feel it with love o'erflow;-
I'll go with the mariner, mother,
And be a mariner too.
Mother, 'tis vain complaining;
Omnipotence is his boast;
I feel that my soul is lost,
And nought but my body remaining:
The mariner's dying, mother-
He must not die-I'll goI'll go with the mariner, mother, And be a mariner too.
He's a tyrant without example!
This little usurping lord,
With a single look or word,
A king in the dust will trample:
If the mariner goes, my mother,
If the mariner's bent to go,
I'll go with the mariner, mother,
And be a mariner too.
Tell me, ye waves, if ever
A nymph so soft and fair
Sped o'er your waters there;
Tell me, ye waves! O, never!
'Tis nothing to me, my mother-
What love commands I'll do ;
I'll go with my mariner, mother,
And be a mariner too.
Obras. Lisboa, 1668, p. 341.
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