Soon will his legions sweep through these their way; The West must own the Scourger of the world. Ah, Spain! how sad will be thy reckoning-day, When soars Gaul's Vulture, with his wings unfurl'd, And thou shalt view thy sons in crowds to Hades hurl'd. LIII. And must they fall? the young, the proud, the brave, The Veteran's skill, Youth's fire, and Manhood's heart of steel? LIV. Is it for this the Spanish maid, aroused, Hangs on the willow her unstrung guitar, And, all unsex'd, the anlace hath espoused, Sung the loud song, and dared the deed of war? And she, whom once the semblance of a scar Appall'd, an owlet's larum chill'd with dread, Now views the column-scattering bayonet jar, The falchion flash, and o'er the yet warm dead Stalks with Minerva's step where Mars might quake to tread. LV. Ye who shall marvel when you hear her tale, Oh! had you known her in her softer hour, Mark'd her black eye that mocks her coal-black veil, Thin the closed ranks, and lead in Glory's fearful chase. LVI. Her lover sinks-she sheds no ill-timed tear; What maid retrieve when man's flush'd hope is lost? LVII. Yet are Spain's maids no race of Amazons, Remoter females, famed for sickening prate; LVIII. The seal Love's dimpling finger hath impress'd Denotes how soft that chin which bears his touch: Her lips, whose kisses pout to leave their nest, Bid man be valiant ere he merit such: Her glance, how wildly beautiful! how much Hath Phoebus woo'd in vain to spoil her cheek, Which glows yet smoother from his amorous clutch! Who round the North for paler dames would seek? How poor their forms appear! how languid, wan, and weak! LIX. Match me, ye climes! which poet's love to laud; I strike my strain, far distant, to applaud Match me those houris, whom ye scarce allow There your wise Prophet's paradise we find, His black-eyed maids of Heaven, angelically kind. LX. O thou, Parnassus! whom I now survey, But soaring snow-clad through thy native sky, The humblest of thy pilgrims passing by Would gladly woo thine Echoes with his string, Though from thy heights no more one Muse will wave her wing. LXI. Oft have I dream'd of thee! whose glorious name In silent joy to think at last I look on thee! LXII. Happier in this than mightiest bards have been, Whose fate to distant homes confined their lot, Shall I unmoved behold the hallow'd scene, Which others rave of, though they know it not? Though here no more Apollo haunts his grot, And thou, the Muses' seat, art now their grave, Some gentle spirit still pervades the spot, Sighs in the gale, keeps silence in the cave, And glides with glassy foot o'er yon melodious wave. LXIII. Of thee hereafter.-Even amidst my strain LXIV. But ne'er didst thou, fair Mount! when Greece was young, See round thy giant base a brighter choir, Nor e'er did Delphi, when her priestess sung The song of love than Andalusia's maids, Ah! that to these were given such peaceful shades As Greece can still bestow, though Glory fly her glades. LXV. Fair is proud Seville; let her country boast Her strength, her wealth, her site of ancient days; But Cadiz, rising on the distant coast, Calls forth a sweeter, though ignoble praise. A Cherub-hydra round us dost thou gape, LXVI. When Paphos fell by Time-accursèd Time! The Queen who conquers all must yield to thee→→→→ The Pleasures fled, but sought as warm a clime; And Venus, constant to her native sea, To nought else constant, hither deign'd to flee; LXVII. From morn till night, from night till startled Morn, Peeps blushing on the revel's laughing crew, And love and prayer unite, or rule the hour by turns. LXVIII. The Sabbath comes, a day of blessed rest; Hark! heard you not the forest monarch's roar? LXIX. prayer: The seventh day this; the jubilee of man. London! right well thou know'st the day of Then thy spruce citizen, wash'd artisan, And smug apprentice gulp their weekly air: Thy coach of hackney, whiskey, one-horse chair, And humblest gig through sundry suburbs whirl; To Hampstead, Brentford, Harrow, make repair; Till the tired jade the wheel forgets to hurl, Provoking envious gibe from each pedestrian churl. C |