Зображення сторінки
PDF
ePub

And glorified with tales of heavenly aid
By many a miracle made manifest;
Nor in the heroic annals of her fame

Doth she show forth a scene of more renown.
Then, save the hunter, drawn in keen pursuit
Beyond his wonted haunts, or shepherd's boy,
Following the pleasure of his straggling flock,
None knew the place.

Pelayo, when he saw

Those glittering sources and their sacred cave,
Took from his side the bugle silver-tipt,

And with a breath long drawn and slow expired
Sent forth that strain, which, echoing from the walls
Of Cangas, wont to tell his glad return

When from the chase he came.

At the first sound

Favila started in the cave, and cried,

My father's horn!—A sudden flame suffused
Hermesind's cheek, and she with quickened eye
Looked eager to her mother silently;

But Gaudiosa trembled and grew pale,
Doubting her sense deceived.

A second time

The bugle breathed its well-known notes abroad;
And Hermesind around her mother's neck
Threw her white arms, and earnestly exclaimed,
'Tis he!—But when a third and broader blast
Rung in the echoing archway, ne'er did wand,
With magic power endued, call up a sight
So strange, as sure in that wild solitude
It seemed, when from the bowels of the rock
The mother and her children hastened forth.
She in the sober charms and dignity
Of womanhood mature, nor verging yet
Upon decay in gesture like a queen,
Such inborn and habitual majesty

Ennobled all her steps,—or priestess, chosen
Because within such faultless work of heaven
Inspiring Deity might seem to make

Its habitation known.—Favila such

In form and stature as the Sea Nymph's son,
When that wise Centaur from his cave well-pleased
Behold the boy divine his growing strength
Against some shaggy lionet essay,

And fixing in the half-grown mane his hands,
Roll with him in fierce dalliance intertwined.

But like a creature of some higher sphere

His sister came; she scarcely touched the rock,
So light was Hermesind's aerial speed.

Beauty and grace and innocence in her

In heavenly union shone.

One who had held

The faith of elder Greece, would sure have thought
She was some glorious nymph of seed divine,
Oread or Dryad, of Diana's train

The youngest and the loveliest: yea she seemed
Angel, or soul beatified, from realms

Of bliss, on errand of parental love

To earth re-sent,--if tears and trembling limbs
With such celestial natures might consist.

Favila such

In form and stature as the Sea Nymph's son,

When that wise Centaur, &c.

Achilles, the son of Thetis, a sea nymph, was educated in Thessaly by Chiron the Centaur. Favila, the son and successor of Pelayo, is here compared with the young Achilles.

The faith of elder Greece. This religion has been described with considerable effect by Mr. Percival, an American poet.

RELIGION OF GREECE.

There was a time, when the o'erhanging sky,
And the fair earth with its variety,

Mountain and valley, continent and sea,
Were not alone the unmoving things that lie
Slumbering beneath the sun's unclouded eye;
But every fountain had its spirit then,
That held communion oft with holy men,
And frequent from the heavenward mountain came
Bright creatures, hovering round on wings of flame,
And some mysterious sybil darkly gave
Responses from the dim and hidden cave :
Voices were heard waking the silent air,
A solemn music echoed from the wood,
And often from the bosom of the flood
Came forth a sportive Naiad passing fair,
The clear drops twinkling in her braided hair;
And as the hunter through the forest strayed,
Quick-glancing beauty shot across the glade,

Her polished arrow levelled on her bow,
Ready to meet the fawn or bounding roe.

Each lonely spot was hallowed then—the oak
That o'er the village altar hung, would tell
Strange hidden things ;—the old remembered well,
How from its gloom a spirit often spoke.
There was not then a fountain or a cave,
But had its reverend oracle, and gave
Responses to the fearful crowd, who came
And called the indwelling deity by name;
Then every snowy peak, that lifted high
Its shadowy cone to meet the bending sky,
Stood like a heaven of loveliness and light
And as the gilt cloud rolled its glory by,

Chariots and steeds of flame stood harnessed there,
And gods came forth and seized the golden reins,
Shook the bright scourge, and through the boundless air
Rode over starry fields and azure plains.

It was a beautiful and glorious dream,

Such as would kindle high the soul of song.

All seemed one bright enchantment then ;—but now
Since the long sought for goal of truth is won,
Nature stands forth unveiled with cloudless brow,
On earth One Spirit Of Life, in heaven One.

HEAVENLY LOVE.

They sin who tell us Love can die.
With life all other passions fly,
All others are but vanity.
In heaven Ambition cannot dwell,
Nor avarice in the vaults of hell;
Earthly these passions of the earth,
They perish where they have their birth:
But Love is indestructible.

Its holy flame for ever burneth,

From heaven it came, to heaven returneth;
Too oft on earth a troubled guest,
At times deceived at times opprest,
It here is tried and purified,
Then hath in heaven its perfect rest;

It soweth here with toil and care,
But the harvest time of Love is there.

SOUTHEY,

LORD BYRON.

George Gordon, Lord Byron, was an English nobleman, descended from Commodore Byron, the celebrated navigator. Lord Byron died at Missolonghi in Greece, April, 1824, at the age of thirty-seven. He was distinguished at an early period of life for his poetical talents, and his genius, if it has not made men better, has opened a source of pleasure to the readers of poetry, which once enjoyed is never forgotten.

The passages of Lord Byron's poetry which immediately succeed, have as much life as sentiment, and on that account they are best adapted to the comprehension and sympathies of young persons. Two only, Night at Corinth, and Turkey, are purely descriptive.

NIGHT AT CORINTH.

In 1715, Corinth, situated on the Isthmus of that name, being in possession of the Venetians, was besieged by the Turks. Lord Byron describes the delicious nights of that fine climate in his poem, the Siege of Corinth. The night described is that previous to the taking of Corinth, while the Turkish army surrounded its walls.

"'Tis midnight on the mountains brown
The cold round moon shines deeply down;
Blue roll the waters, blue the sky
Spread like an ocean hung on high,
Bespangled with those isles of light,*
So wildly, spiritually bright;
Who ever gazed upon them shining,
And turned to earth without repining,
Nor wish'd for wings to flee away,
And mix with their eternal ray 1
The waves on either shore lay there
Calm, clear, and azure as the air;
And scarce their foam the pebbles shook,
But murmured meekly as the brook.
The winds were pillowed on the waves;

*The stars.

The banners drooped along their staves,
And, as they fell around them furling,
Above them shone the crescent curling;
And that deep silence was unbroke,
Save where the watch his signal spoke,
Save where the steed neighed oft and shrill,
And echo answered from the hill,

And the wild hum of that wild host
Rustled like leaves from coast to coast,
As rose the Muezzin's voice in air

In midnight call to wonted prayer."

The Muezzin's voice. The Turks do not use bells to summon the religious to their devotions. They have an appointed person, whose function it is to send forth to the extent of his voice, the call to wonted prayer.

DECAPITATION OF HUGO.

The Marquis of Este, the sovereign of Ferrara in Italy, had a son named Hugo, and a beautiful young wife called Parasina.— This lady loved Hugo better than his father, and was equally beloved by the young man. When the marquis was fully convinced of this fact, he ordered Hugo and Parasina to be beheaded, and the sentence was executed, according to Lord Byron's authority, about 1405. The execution of Hugo is described in the poem of Parasina.

"The Convent bells are ringing,
But mournfully and slow;
In the gray square turret swinging,
With a deep sound, to and fro.
Heavily to the heart they go!

Hark! the hymn is singing—

The song for the dead below,

Or the living who shortly shall be so!

For a departing being's soul

The death-hymn peals and the hollow-bells knoll;

He is near his mortal goal

Kneeling at the Friar's knee;

Sad to hear—and piteous to see;

Kneeling on the bare cold ground,

With the block before and the guards around

« НазадПродовжити »