He found his cities and domains But, by fierce battle and blockade, By the tried valour of his hand, Let Portugal repeat the story, And proud Castile, who shared the glory And when so oft, for weal or woe, Had been cast down; When he had served, with patriot zeal, Beneath the banner of Castile, His sovereign's crown; And done such deeds of valour strong, That neither history nor song Can count them all; Then, on Ocaña's castle rock, Death at his portal came to knock, Saying, "Good Cavalier, prepare Let thy strong heart of steel this day "Since thou hast been, in battle-strife, So prodigal of health and life, For earthly fame, Let virtue nerve thy heart again; Loud on the last stern battle plain They call thy name. "Think not the struggle that draws near Too terrible for man,-nor fear To meet the foe; Nor let thy noble spirit grieve, "A life of honour and of worth And yet its glory far exceeds That base and sensual life, which leads "The eternal life, beyond the sky, The soul in dalliance laid,-the spirit "But the good monk, in cloistered cell, His prayers and tears; And the brave knight, whose arm endures His standard rears. "And thou, brave knight, whose hand has poured The life-blood of the Pagan horde O'er all the land, In heaven shalt thou receive, at length, "Cheered onward by this promise sure, Depart, thy hope is certainty, The third-the better life on high 66 "O Death, no more, no more delay, My spirit longs to flee away, And be at rest; The will of Heaven my will shall be, I bow to the divine decree, To God's behest. "My soul is ready to depart, No thought rebels, the obedient heart Breathes forth no sigh; The wish on earth to linger still Were vain, when 'tis God's sovereign will D "O thou, that for our sins didst take Thou, that to thy divinity "And in that form didst suffer here By thy redeeming grace alone, As thus the dying warrior prayed, Encircled by his family, Watched by affection's gentle eye His soul to Him, who gave it rose; God lead it to its long repose, Its glorious rest! And, though the warrior's sun has set, *This poem of Manrique is a great favourite in Spain. No less than four poetic Glosses, or running commentaries, upon it have been published, no one of which, however, possesses great poetic merit. That of the Carthusian monk, Rodrigo de Valdepeñas, is the best. It is known as the Glosa del Cartujo. There is also a prose Commentary by Luis de Aranda. The following stanzas of the poem were found in the author's pocket, after his death on the field of battle. THE GOOD SHEPHERD. FROM THE SPANISH OF LOPE DE VEGA. SHEPHERD! that with thine amorous, sylvan song For thou my shepherd, guard, and guide shalt be; Thy feet all beautiful upon the mountains. Hear, Shepherd!-thou who for thy flock art dying, Rejoicest at the contrite sinner's vow. O, wait!-to thee my weary soul is crying,- With feet nailed to the cross, thou'rt waiting still for me! TO-MORROW. FROM THE SPANISH OF LOPE DE VEGA. LORD, what am I, that, with unceasing care, Has chilled the bleeding wounds upon thy feet. "Soul. from thy casement look, and thou shalt see And when the morrow came I answered still, "To THE NATIVE LAND. FROM THE SPANISH OF FRANCISCO DE ALDANA. CLEAR fount of light! my native land on high, THE IMAGE OF GOD. FROM THE SPANISH OF FRANCISCO DE ALDANA. O LORD! that seest, from yon starry height, Shall meet that look of mercy from on high, As the reflected image in a glass Doth meet the look sf him who seeks it there; And owes its being to the gazer's eye. THE BROOK. FROM THE SPANISH. LAUGH of the mountain !-lyre of bird and tree! The rose and jessamine, leaps wild in thee! |