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Not so Ladurlad; he could trace,
Accordant to the melancholy wares.
Wondering, he stood awhile to gaze
Upon the works of elder days.
The brazen portals open stood,
Even as the fearful multitude
Had left them, when they fled
Before the rising flood.
High over-head, sublime,
The mighty gateway's storied roof was spreed,
Dwarfing the puny piles of younger time.
With the deeds of days of yore
That ample roof was sculptur'd o'er,
And many a godlike form there met bis eye,
And many an emblem dark of mystery.
Through these wide portals oft had Baly rode They perish where they have their birth;
Triumphant from his proud abode,
When, in his greatness, he bestrode
The Aullay, hugest of four-footed kind,
The Aullay-horse, that in his force,
With elephantine trunk, could biod
And lift the elephant, and on the wind
Whirl him away, with sway and swing,
Even like a pebble from the practis'd sliag.
Those streets which never, since the days of yore.
By human footstep had been visited;
Those streets which never more
A human foot shall tread,
Ladurlad trod. In sun-light, and sea-green,
The thousand palaces were seen
Of that proud city, whose superb abodes
Like things of Nature! the eternal rocks
Themselves not firmer. Neither hath the end Such was the talk they held upon their way, Drifted within their gates, and choak'd their doors Of him to whose old city they were bound; Nor slime defild their pavements and their foors And now, upon their journey, many a day
Did then the ocean wage
O thou fair city, that he spares thee thus?
Art thou Varounin's capital and court, Their golden summits, in the noon-day light,
Where all the sea-gods for delight resort, Shone o'er the dark green deep that rollid between; A place too godlike to be held by us, For domes, and pinnacles, and spires were seen The poor degenerate children of the earth! Peering above the sea,-a mournful sight!
So thought Ladurlad, as he look'd around, Well might the sad beholder ween from thence
Weening to hear the sound
Of Mermaid's shell, and song
Wherein the immortal powers, at festival,
Their high carousals keep. Of ocean, here and there, a rock-hewn fane
But all is silence dread, Resisted in its strength the surf and surge
Silence profound and dead,
The everlasting stillness of the deep.
Through many a solitary street,
And silent market-place, and lonely square,
Arm’d with the mighty curse, behold him fare. Hearing no voice save of the ocean flood,
And now his feet attain that royal fane
Where Baly held of old his awful reign.
What once had been the garden spread around, The lonely sound of winds, that moan around Fair garden, once which wore perpetual grees.
Where all sweet flowers through all the year were Upon a smooth and grassy plat below, found,
By Nature there as for an altar drest, [earth And all fair fruits were through all seasons seen; They joined their sister stream, which from the
A place of Paradise, where each device Welled silently. In such a scene rude man
Feeling a present Deity, and made
The Swerga-God himself, with envious eye, The arching rock disclosed above the springs
That e'er of old in forest of romance
Erect within the portal might have stood.
The broken stone allowed for band and foot
No difficult ascent, above the base
In height a tall man's stature, measured thrice.
Boasts in her wide extent, though all her realms
ould not spare,
Be with the noblest blood of martyrdom
In elder or in later days enriched,
By many a miracle made inanifest;
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,
None knew the place.
Pelayo, when he saw
Those glittering sources and their sacred cave, And now in open blossom spread,
Took from his side the bugle silver-tipt, Stretch'd like green anthers many a seeking head. And with a breath long drawn and slow expired And arborets of jointed stone were there,
Sent forth that strain, which, echoing from the walls
When from the chase he came. At the first sound
Favilia started in the cave, and cried,
Looked eager to her mother silently;
From human eyes, Ladurlad there espied, Doubting her sense deceived. A second time
And Hermesind around her mother's neck
When to their father's hall, at festival '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
It seemed, when from the bowels of the rock
The mother and her children hastened forth.
She in the sober charms and dignity
Ennobled all her steps, or priestess, chosen
Because within such faultless work of Heaven
Inspiring Deity might seem to make
Its habitation known-Favilia such
In form and stature as the Sea Nymph's son,
When that wise Centaur from his cave well-pleased
Against some shaggy lionet essay,
And fixing in the half-grown mane his hands,
Roll with him in fierce dalliance intertwined. Sent forth in loud defiance of the foe.
The enemy in shriller sounds returned
The horsemen lowered their spears, the infantry
Deliberately with slow and steady step (hissed,
Conflicting: shield struck shield, and sword and
Armour was riven, and wounds were interchanged,
And many a spirit from its mortal hold
Of Julian's army in that hour support
Enhanced his former praise; and by his side,
Rejoicing like a bridegroom in the strife,
Alphonso through the host of infidels
There widest slaughter and dismay, where, proud
Of his recovered lord, Orelio plunged
The Moors divide and fly. What man is this,
Replete with power he is, and terrible,
Have drank of Kaf's dark fountain, and he comes
They said, this is no human foe!-Nor less
And slaughter in his path. Behold, cries one, Then said, if I have done ye service here,
With what command and knightly ease he sits Help me, I pray you, to a Spanish sword!
The intrepid steed, and deals from side to side The trustiest blade that e'er in Bilbilis
His dreadful blows! Not Roderick in his power
Bestrode with such command and majesty
Is he who in that garb of peace affronts
Whole hosts, and sees them scatter where he turns!
Auspicious Heaven beholds us, and some saint
THE HOLLY TREE.
O Reader! hast thou ever stood to see
The Holly Tree? Count Julian's sword, he fitted round his wrist
eye that contemplates it well perceives The chain, and eyeing the elaborate steel
Its glossy leaves With stern regard of joy, the African
Order'd by an intelligence so wise,
As might confound the atheist's sophistries.
Below, a circling fence, its leaves are seen
Wrinkled and keen;
No grazing cattle through their prickly round From man to man, and rank to rank it past,
Can reach to wound;
But as they grow where nothing is to fear,
It matters not,
Vengeance was the word;
AF 0 Pa WE EPITAPH.
I love to view these things with curious eyes, Sharing their hopes, and with a breathless joy And moralize:
Whose expectation touch'd the verge of pain, = And in this wisdom of the Holly Tree
Following their dangerous fortunes? If such lore Can emblems see
Hath ever thrill'd thy bosom, thou wilt tread, Wherewith perchance to make a pleasant rhyme, As with a pilgrim's reverential thoughts, One which may profit in the after-time.
The groves of Penshurst. Sidney here was born,
Sidney, than whom no gentler, braver man
His own delightful genius ever feign'd,
Illustrating the vales of Arcady
With courteous courage and with loyal loves. Reserved and rude,
Upon his natal day the acorn here Gentle at home amid my friends I'd be
Was planted. It grew up a stately oak, Like the bigh leaves upon the Holly Tree.
And in the beauty of its strength it stood
And flourish'd, when his perishable part
Had moulder'd dust to dust. That stately oak = All vain asperities I day by day
Itself hath moulder'd now, but Sidney's faine Would wear away,
Endureth in his own immortal works. = Till the smooth temper of my age should be Like the high leaves upon the Holly Tree.
This to a mother's sacred memory And as when all the summer trees are seen
Her son hath hallow'd. Absent many a year So bright and green,
Far over sea, his sweetest dreams were still The Holly leaves their fadeless hues display Of that dear voice which sooth'd his infancy: Less bright than they;
And after many a fight against the Moor But when the bare and wintry woods we see, And Malabar, or that fierce cavalry What then so cheerful as the Holly Tree?
Which he had seen covering the boundless plain
Even to the utmost limits where the eye So serious should my youth appear among
Could pierce the far horizon,-his first thought The thoughtless throng,
In safety was of her, who when she heard
The tale of that day's danger, would retire
And pour her pious gratitude to Heaven
In prayers and tears of joy. The lingering hour As the green winter of the Holly Tree.
Of his return, long-look'd for, came at length,
Vain hope that puts its trust in human life!
For ere he came the number of her days
How unendurable its weight, if they
Old friend! why you seem bent on parish duty, Often reclined; watching the silent flow
Breaking the highway stones,—and 'tis a task Of this perspicuous rivulet, that steals
Somewhat too hard methinks for age like yours! Along its verdant course,-till all around
Why yes! for one with such a weight of years A happier, better man. Stranger! perchance,
Upon his back—I've lived here, man and boy,
In this same parish, well nigh the full age
Of man, being hard upon threescore and ten.
I can remember sixty years ago
The beautifying of this mansion here,
Came to the estate.
Stranger. O reader? Hast thou let the midnight hour
Why then you have outlasted Pass unperceived, whilst thou in fancy lived All his improvements, for you see they're making With high-born beauties and enamour'd chiefs, Great alterations here.
IN A FOREST.
THE OLD MANSION-HOUSE.
FOR A TABLET AT PENSHURST,
They've set about it
Aye, Master! fine old trees !
Ah! so the new Squire thinks,
No, sir, not I.
It did one good
You're a snger here.
It don't look well.,
These alterations, sir! I'm an old man,
And love the good old fashions; we don't find