Yet three days more and hope more eager now,
Sure of the signs of land,-weed-shoals, and birds
Who flocked the main, and gentle airs which breathed,
Or seemed to breathe, fresh fragrance from the shore.
On the last evening, a long shadowy line

Skirted the sea;-how fast the night closed in!
I stood upon the deck and watched till dawn.
But who can tell what feelings filled my heart,
When, like a cloud, the distant land arose,
Gray from the ocean,-when we left the ship,
And cleft, with rapid oars, the shallow wave,
And stood triumphant on another world!

MOUNT MERU3.

From THE CURSE OF KEHAMA.

SWIFT through the sky the vessel of the Suras*
Sails up the fields of ether like an angel.
Rich is the freight, O vessel, that thou bearest!
Beauty and Virtue,

Fatherly cares and filial veneration,

Hearts which are proved and strengthened by affliction,
Manly resentment, fortitude, and action,
Womanly goodness;

All with which Nature halloweth her daughters,
Tenderness, truth, and purity, and meekness,
Piety, patience, faith, and resignation,
Love and devotement.

Ship of the gods! how richly art thou laden!
Proud of the charge, thou voyagest rejoicing;
Clouds float around to honour thee, and evening
Lingers in heaven.

A stream descends on Meru mountain;
None hath seen its secret fountain;
It had its birth, so sages say,

Upon the memorable day
When Parvati presumed to lay,
In wanton play,

Her hands, too venturous goddess, in her mirth,

3 Meru. In the Hindoo Mythology, a species of paradise is supposed to exist in the northern hemisphere, which they call Mount Meru. 4 Suras, angelic beings.

5

a stream; the Ganges, which the Hindoos regard as a holy river, and relate extraordinary fables respecting its origin.

6 Parvati, a Hindoo goddess.

On Seeva's eyes, the light and life of earth.
Thereat the heart of the universe stood still;
The elements ceased their influences; the hours
Stopt on the eternal round; motion and breath,
Time, change, and life and death,

In sudden trance opprest, forgot their powers.
A moment, and the dread ecclipse was ended;
But, at the thought of nature thus suspended,
The sweat on Seeva's forehead stood,

And Ganges thence upon the world descended,
The holy river, the redeeming flood.
None hath seen its secret fountain;
But on the top of Meru mountain,
Which rises o'er the hills of earth,
In light and clouds, it hath its mortal birth.
Earth seems that pinnacle to rear
Sublime above this worldly sphere,
Its cradle, and its altar, and its throne,
And there a new-born river lies,
Outspread beneath its native skies,
As if it there would love to dwell
Alone and unapproachable.
Soon flowing forward and resigned
To the will of the creating Mind,
It springs at once, with sudden leap,
Down from the immeasurable steep.

From rock to rock, with shivering force rebounding,
The mighty cataract rushes; heaven around,
Like thunder, with the incessant roar resounding,
And Meru's summit shaking with the sound,
Wide spreads the snowy foam, the sparkling spray
Dances aloft; and ever there, at morning,
The earliest sun-beams haste to wing their way,
With rainbow-wreaths the holy flood adorning;
And duly the adorning moon at night
Sheds her white glory there,
And in the watery air

Suspends her halo-crowns of silver light.

A mountain-valley, in its blessed breast, Receives the stream which there delights to lie, Untroubled and at rest,

Beneath the untainted sky.

There in a lovely lake, it seems to sleep,

7 Seeva, a Hindoo god.

And thence through many a channel, dark and deep,
Their secret way the holy waters wind,

Till, rising underneath the root
Of the tree of life on Hemakoot,
Majestic forth they flow to purify mankind.

THE DOG.

From RODERICK, THE LAST OF THE GOTHS.

WHILE thus Florinda spake, the dog, who lay
Before Rusilla's 10 feet, eyeing him long
And wistfully, had recognised at length,
Changed as he was, and in those sordid weeds,
His royal master. And he rose and licked
His withered hand, and earnestly looked up
With eyes whose human meaning did not need
The aid of speech, and moaned as if at once
To court and chide the long-withheld caress.
A feeling uncommixed with sense of guilt
Or shame, yet painfullest, thrilled through the king;
But he, to self-control now long inured,
Represt his rising heart, nor other tears,
Full as his struggling bosom was, let fall
Than seemed to follow on Florinda's words.
Looking toward her then, yet so that still
He shunned the meeting of her eye, he said,
Virtuous and pious as thou art, and ripe
For Heaven, O lady! I will think the man
Hath not, by his good angel, been cast off
For whom thy supplications rise. The Power
Whose justice doth, in its unerring course,
Visit the children for the sire's offence,
Shall He not, in his boundless mercy, hear
The daughter's prayer, and for her sake restore
The guilty parent? My soul shall with thine
In earnest and continual duty join;-
How deeply, how devoutly, He will know
To whom the cry is raised! Thus having said,

Ӧ

8 Hemakoot, a fabulous mountain.

9 Roderick, the last of the Gothic monarchs of Spain, having injured Florinda, the daughter of Count Julian, that powerful nobleman invited the Moors to invade his native country. The Goths were completely defeated, and Roderick most probably slain. In

the poem, Roderick is supposed to have survived the engagement, and obtained pardon for his sins by a long course of penitence. In the extract, he is engaged in an attempt to restore the independence of Spain, though resolved never again to wear its crown.

10 Rusilla, Roderick's mother.

Deliberately, in self-possession still
Himself, from that most painful interview
Dispeeding he withdrew. The watchful dog
Followed his footsteps close. But he retired
Into the thickest grove; there yielding way
To his o'erburthened nature, from all eyes
Apart, he cast himself upon the ground,
And threw his arms around the dog, and cried,

While tears streamed down, Thou, Theron, then hast known
Thy poor lost master, Theron, none but thou!

THE VALE OF COVADONGA.

From RODERICK, THE LAST OF THE GOTHS,

THERE was a stirring in the air, the sun
Prevailed, and gradually the brightening mist
Began to rise and melt. A jutting crag
Upon the right projected o'er the stream,
Not farther from the cave than a strong hand
Expert, with deadly aim, might cast the spear,
Or a strong voice, pitched to full compass, make
Its clear articulation heard distinct.

A venturous dalesman, once ascending there
To rob the eagle's nest, had fallen, and hung
Among the heather, wondrously preserved:
Therefore had he with pious gratitude
Placed on that overhanging brow a Cross,
Tall as the mast of some light fisher's skiff,
And from the vale conspicuous. As the Moors
Advanced, the Chieftain in the van was seen,
Known by his arms, and from the crag a voice
Pronounced his name,-Alcahman, hoa! look up,
Alcahman! As the floating mist drew up,
It had divided there, and opened round
The Cross: part clinging to the rock beneath,
Hovering and waving part in fleecy folds,
A canopy of silver light condensed

To shape and substance. In the midst there stood
A female form, one hand upon the Cross,

The other raised in menacing act: below

Loose flowed her raiment, but her breast was armed
And helmeted her head. The Moor turned pale,
For on the walls of Auria he had seen

That well-known figure, and had well believed
She rested with the dead. What hoa! she cried

Alcahman! In the name of all who fell
At Auria in the massacre, this hour

I summon thee before the throne of God,

To answer for the innocent blood! This hour,
Moor, Miscreant, Murderer, Child of Hell, this hour,
I summon thee to judgment !-In the name

Of God! for Spain and Vengeance !

Thus she closed
Her speech; for taking from the Primate's hand
That oaken cross which at the sacring rites
Had served for crosier, at the cavern's mouth
Pelayo lifted it and gave the word.

From voice to voice on either side it past
With rapid repetition-In the name

Of God! for Spain and Vengeance! and forthwith
On either side along the whole defile

The Asturians, shouting in the name of God,

Set the whole ruin loose! huge trunks and stones,
And loosened crags, down, down they rolled with rush,
And bound, and thundering force. Such was the fall,
As when some city by the labouring earth
Heaved from its strong foundations is cast down,
And all its dwellings, towers, and palaces,
In one wide desolation prostrated.

From end to end of that long strait, the crash
Was heard continuous, and commixt with sounds
More dreadful, shrieks of horror and despair,
And death,-the wild and agonizing cry

Of that whole host in one destruction whelmed.
Vain was all valour there, all martial skill;
The valiant arm is helpless now; the feet
Swift in the race avail not now to save;
They perish, all their thousands perish there",
Horsemen and infantry, they perish all,—

The outward armour and the bones within

Broken and bruised and crushed. Echo prolonged

The long uproar: a silence then ensued,

Through which the sound of Deva's stream was heard,
A lonely voice of waters, wild and sweet;

The lingering groan, the faintly-uttered prayer,

11 The battle of Covadonga is one of the great miracles of Spanish history. It was asserted for many centuries without contradiction, and it is still believed by the people, that when the Moors attacked Pelayo in the cave,

their weapons were turned back upon themselves; that the Virgin Mary appeared in the clouds; and that part of a mountain fell upon the Infidels, and crushed those who were flying from the destruction.