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If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Modern Poets and Poetry of Spain - -Author: James Kennedy - -Release Date: December 5, 2016 [EBook #53671] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MODERN POETS AND POETRY OF SPAIN *** - - - - -Produced by Josep Cols Canals and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - -Transcriber’s Note: There is a good deal of inconsistency with regard -to spelling, accents etc in the Spanish passages of this text. These -have been preserved as printed rather than attempting to correct or -standardise. - - - - - - MODERN POETS - AND - POETRY OF SPAIN. - - BY JAMES KENNEDY, ESQ., - - HER BRITANNIC MAJESTY’S JUDGE IN THE MIXED COURT - OF JUSTICE AT THE HAVANA. - - WILLIAMS AND NORGATE, - 14, HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN, LONDON; - AND - 20, SOUTH FREDERICK STREET, EDINBURGH. - 1860. - - - - -TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE GEORGE, EARL OF CARLISLE, _&c. &c._ - - -MY LORD, - -I have sought permission to inscribe your Lordship’s name on this page, -as a favour appropriate to my work, under the considerations in which -it originated. - -I began these translations, partly as a means of acquiring an accurate -knowledge of the Spanish language, and partly as a relaxation from -other studies and pursuits, about the time when your Lordship, in -the course of your statesmanlike visit to America, made, in 1842, a -lengthened stay in Cuba, studying the circumstances of those countries, -which are soon, perhaps, to take a yet more prominent place, than they -do at present, in the history of the world. - -The discussions I heard respecting that visit--for it was then -considered an extraordinary one--raised in my mind many suggestions, as -to the benefits that must accrue to the public from the observations of -individual travellers. Accordingly as each one might have his special -object in view, his sphere of action or opportunities of learning, -so the knowledge he acquired might be proportionately imparted. The -community at large had always evinced the greatest interest in the -accounts given by travellers of their visits to foreign countries, -as was shown by the favourable reception uniformly given to their -works. Of these many that were published were well deserving of the -popularity they obtained, especially as with regard to Spain there were -several that left little for any future writer to supply of ordinary -information. In one respect, however, all such works appeared to me to -be deficient, though their failure was almost unavoidable, in the case -of transient visitors, in their being unable to convey any adequate -idea of the state of mental culture among the people they visited. - -Yet this, to a philosophic reader, would be undoubtedly the truest test -of the state of civilization to which any nation had attained. Such a -reader would not be contented with merely a recital of the every-day -occurrences of travelling, nor yet with general or statistical -information respecting any people, obtained from ordinary sources. -He would rather seek to follow them into the occupations of private -life and into their favourite courses of thought and feeling, judging -of these by the studies of their better classes of society, in their -hours of relaxation or for domestic enjoyment. As the sagest of the -Roman emperors, M. Antoninus, observed, To know any people’s minds -and inclinations, we should examine their studies and pursuits,--τὰ -ἡγεμονικὰ αὐτῶν διάβλεπε, καὶ τοὺς Φρόνιμους, διὰ μέν Φεύγουσιν, διὰ δὲ -διώκουσιν. - -Few persons going abroad for a short period, or for a specific -purpose, could be expected to acquire such an intimate knowledge of -the literature of any country as to be able to render a satisfactory -account of it. Where, however, any one had the means and the leisure to -do so, that seemed to me the task most worthy for him to undertake. - -As a servant of the public, I considered this more peculiarly a duty; -and I therefore ventured, by extending my studies, to attempt giving -a comprehensive view of Modern Spanish Poetry, and so complete the -representations of Spanish society and manners given by other writers. -This I thought best to be done, first, by compiling some critical -and biographical notices of the principal modern poets; and, next, -by endeavouring to transfuse into English verse the most favourable -specimens of their productions, by which the English reader might in -some degree be enabled to judge of their merits. - -Such was the task I then set before me, the results of which I now -offer to the public as my contribution to the store of general -knowledge. For such a work there can be little merit claimed, except -that for patient industry. But as a naturalist or collector of works -of art patriotically endeavours to bring home the most valuable -productions or treasures of other countries, so I trust that this work -may also be favourably accepted, as a praiseworthy attempt to enrich -our English literature with what was most interesting in the Spanish. - -I have relied on your Lordship’s approval of the design, from your -well-known anxiety and constant efforts to improve the moral and social -condition of the people, by literary as well as by legislative means. -Sharing in the public respect for those efforts on their behalf, and -with much thankfulness for the sanction afforded me, I have the honour -to subscribe myself, - - Your Lordship’s - - Most obedient, - - Humble Servant, - - J. KENNEDY. - - London, - May 6, 1852. - - - - -INTRODUCTION. - - -Those writers are very much mistaken who suppose, that, consequent upon -the long domination of the Moors in Spain, there are to be found in -Spanish literature any of the exuberances of style which are considered -the principal characteristics of Eastern poetry. In all the Moorish -ballads that have been handed down to us, those characteristics, both -in thought and expression, abound as much as in the poems of more -Eastern nations. But in even the earliest Spanish ballads, contemporary -with the Moorish, a very decided difference is to be observed, as -they show, on the contrary, a simplicity of expression and propriety -of thought, which present an extraordinary contrast, not only to the -Moorish, but also to the early poetry of other European countries. This -favourable distinction has continued to the present day. The poetry -of the Northern nations of Europe has been marked by extravagances -throughout, as contrary to common sense as to good taste and nature. -That of the French school has been distinguished by an affectation, -a sentimentality and straining after effect, to say nothing of its -peculiar ribaldry and licentiousness, all equally removed from the -true feeling of poetry. Even the Italians, in their poetical works, -have indulged in strange absurdities, the more remarkable from the -good taste that has pervaded their other works of genius. It is only -in English literature that we can find writers imbued with the same -vigour of thought and depth of poetic feeling as the Spanish, and it is -therefore only with them that the latter can be classed in considering -the relative merits of the poetry of different modern nations. - -If the character of the poetry may be taken as the criterion by which -to judge of the degree of civilization to which any people had attained -in the earlier period of their history, Spain has a good right to -claim the first place among the nations of Europe, when emerging -from that period denominated the Dark Ages. While the popular poetry -of other nations at that period was almost entirely occupied with -childish stories of giants and supernatural beings, or in magnifying -the outrages of their heroes, and even of their outlaws, as if they -were honourable exploits, instead of merely murder and rapine, the -Spanish bards were engaged in celebrating the patriotism and prowess -of their Christian warriors in strains not unworthy of the deeds they -commemorated. Those strains have been made sufficiently well-known to -the English reader by the labours of Southey and Lockhart, for which -the student of Spanish literature must feel the utmost respect and -gratitude, as well as by those of Rodd, Bowring and others. From their -translations the character of those warriors will be found to have -been distinguished, differently from those of other nations in that -age, for the milder virtues combined with pure chivalrous enterprise. -If, as apparently was the case, the great champion, known as the -Cid, especially was deserving of the eminently honourable character -depicted for him by the poets, the popular feeling must have attained -something of the same tone when he was adopted as the first object -of national regard. Coming of a chivalrous race, engaged in a sacred -warfare, the Cid combined in his character all that was most noble in -human conduct, and gave to his countrymen a fame which they knew full -well how to appreciate. Thus the spirit which the ballads breathed in -recounting his exploits was one in unison with that of the people. Each -Spaniard of after-times, in listening to those recitals, felt he had no -need to connect himself with fabulous narratives. He could say, like -Diomede,--“Of this race and blood do I boast myself to be”-- - - Ταύτης τοι γενεῆς τε καὶ αἴματος εὕχομαι εἶναι, - -and so feeling could identify himself truly with his heroes. - -Formed originally of very different races, Celts and Goths, mixed -with the descendants of Romans and Phœnicians or Carthaginians, -the Spaniards had against the Moors become amalgamated into one -people, whose great bond of union was their religion more even than -their country. This holy cause ennobled their conduct, and gave -them higher aims and motives than any ordinary warfare could do; -so that acting constantly under the sense of such feelings, their -national character assumed the staid bearing, which has always since -so favourably distinguished it. Hence also the national literature, -even in its lightest productions, assumed the tone of high moral and -practical tendency which it has generally borne, far removed from the -comparatively trifling topics which formed the staple subjects of the -literature of neighbouring countries. - -There is another mistake into which some writers have fallen, in -supposing that Spain owed her civilization entirely to the Moors. The -Arab conquest undoubtedly entailed on her for many ages a succession -of enlightened as well as warlike rulers, who are justly to be -classed among the greatest patrons of literature and art; but they -fostered rather than founded the sciences that afterwards flourished -under their rule, and which they found preparing to burst forth in -the country they conquered. Though their forefathers might have come -from the seats of learning in the East, such as they then were, the -immediate conquerors of Spain were natives of the neighbouring parts -of Africa, where the sciences had not flourished in any remarkable -degree before the conquest, and where they did not rise subsequently -to any eminence. The learned Lampillas, who has given us a very able -Vindication of Spanish Literature, in answer to the attacks of some -Italian critics, might justly have gone further than he has done as -to its merits under the Moorish domination. Rather than as owing -her advances in learning and civilization to the Moors, it is more -probable that these were the remains of former civilization, existing -among the Roman colonies on the dissolution of the empire. At that -time Spain was essentially inhabited by descendants of Romans, as it -still continues to be, mainly, to the present day. Latin had become -the language of the country, and the best of the later Latin authors, -Seneca, Lucan, Martial, Quinctilian and others, were natives of the -Peninsula. The Romans had planted sixty-seven colonies there, and in -the time of Vespasian could enumerate 360 cities inhabited by them. -These would undoubtedly retain their municipal institutions, and were -perhaps more retentive of Roman manners than were even the towns of -Italy. The original inhabitants had been driven into the mountains -of Catalonia, Cantabria and Lusitania. They were of Celtic origin, -and their descendants in those provinces still show that origin by a -different pronunciation of the language imposed on the country by the -Romans; while the Castillians, being of purer descent from them, speak -even now a language little different from that in common colloquial use -under the Emperors. The lower orders, in fact, speak an idiom nearer -to it than do the educated classes, showing that the main race of the -people, in Madrid for instance, remains essentially Roman. In Betica or -Andalusia and the South of Spain, the descendants of Romans had become -incorporated with those of Phœnician or Carthaginian and a few Greek -colonists, forming together a race perhaps still more civilized than -the new-comers. Thus the Moors found the people they had conquered in a -high state of civilization, scarcely affected by former conquests, and -they had only the merit of accepting and continuing the mental culture -which they found there, and which they had not possessed in their -native deserts. - -The Goths and Vandals had swept like a hurricane over Spain; but -they passed over it without leaving any considerable traces of their -conquest. This is clear from the circumstance of so few Northern words -remaining in the language of the country. At the entrance of the Moors -into Spain, the dominant party there was certainly of Gothic descent; -but they had already lost their Northern idioms, and were immerged -in the mass of the people they had conquered, in the usual course of -such events, as the Scandinavians soon did in Normandy and the Normans -in England. When the races had begun to amalgamate in Spain, the -distinctive lines might have been longer discernible in the South, if -it had not been for the Moorish invasion. This soon repeated the events -of former conquests, in the extermination of the fighting men and the -enslaving of the other classes, who became feudatories or worse. Those -who escaped to the mountains of the North constituted a nucleus of -resistance, which was no doubt much strengthened in their subsequent -contests by the aid of the Christian population left of necessity -among the Moors, who thus became dangerous as internal enemies, though -they had been tolerated at first as valuable dependents. The war that -then arose in Spain, and continued for upwards of 600 years, was -imbued, on the part of the Christians, with all those ingredients of -religious as well as patriotic feeling that render wars remarkable -for desperate conflict. On the part of the Moors, it is but justice -toward them to say, that for chivalrous honour and bravery they proved -themselves in no respect inferior to their opponents, who, thus engaged -in generous rivalry, became distinguishable for the same virtues. - -The circumstances of the wars between the Christians and the Moors -were too near to the every-day experience of the people to allow of -any imaginary addition to the legends of the times, and they were too -engrossing in importance and interest to require any heightening. The -ballads founded upon them, therefore, assumed almost the matter-of-fact -air of history, and this seemed hence to become the characteristic -of all the subsequent literature of Spain. It is true that romances -abounded in which giants and other absurdities of knight-errantry -might be found, but they were principally of foreign origin, and did -not become incorporated in the national poetry. This national poetry -was always true to its mission, for it may be observed that the poets -of Spain have seldom or never gone beyond their own history for their -heroes; they have rather instinctively followed the maxim of the great -lyrist of old, not to select objects of admiration from strangers, but -to seek them at home,-- - - Οὐδ’ ἀλλοτρίων ἔρωτες - Ἀνδρὶ Φέρειν κρέσσονες, - Οἰκόθεν μάτευε. - -Thus also they were secure of the sympathy of their audience, and found -patriotism the best inspirer of poetry. - -None of the Spanish poets, of either former or present times, can be -said to have attained the highest rank; yet as they have always shown a -predilection for subjects of real incident and passion or feeling, they -have gained, in perhaps a greater degree than those of any other modern -nation, that hold upon the popular affections which arises from all -earnest participation in kindred sentiments. This might arise partly -from the national character developed, as before intimated, in the -Moorish wars, and partly from the personal tendencies of the respective -individuals. Whilst in other countries the poets were generally to -be found among the classes dependent upon the rich and powerful, in -Spain they were persons generally of the highest classes. Some were of -royal rank, others were eminent as statesmen, and others, if not of -the same high station, were yet equally engaged in military service -or the active business of life. Three of the most favourite poets, -Garcilasso de la Vega, Manrique, and Cadahalso, died the death of -soldiers from wounds received in warfare. Ercilla, author of the chief -poem in the Spanish language, which may be considered an Epic, was a -participant in the wars he so graphically describes. Cervantes received -three wounds at the battle of Lepanto, by one of which he lost an arm. -Calderon de la Barca passed many years of his life in the campaigns -in the Low Countries, where he gained great military reputation; and -Lope de Vega was one of the few adventurers in the “Invincible Armada” -who were fortunate enough to return to their native country. Such men -were not likely to indulge in dreamy idealities, or idle reveries, -and fantastic imaginations, the offspring of morbid temperaments and -sedentary habits. On the contrary, they were only calculated to adopt -that peculiar manliness of style and sentiment, which their successors, -from example, from national character, and from being placed in similar -circumstances of life, have continued. How far those circumstances -have affected the modern literature of Spain may be best seen from -the memoirs hereafter detailed of the principal poets individually. -Our present purpose in this Introduction is only to make general -observations to lead to the conclusions that may be deduced from them. - -Spain, as it has been already observed, cannot boast of having ever -produced a poet of the highest class, meaning by that term, one of -such high creative genius as to stamp his character, not only on -the literature of his own age and country, but also on that of all -successive ages within his possible influence. Of such poets the world -has only seen four or five at the utmost, with the exception of the -inspired writers, referring to Homer, Dante, Shakespeare, Milton, and -perhaps we may add, Byron. With these, Virgil and other imitators must -not be classed, however great the talents they may have displayed, -nor yet other writers of greater originality and even genius, who -have, however, confined themselves to minor works or those on less -important subjects. Of such writers of great original genius, who did -not aim at works of the highest order, Spanish literature may claim as -many as that of any other country. With them the English reader has -been made acquainted more fully than with the writers of most other -modern countries, by the works of Bouterwek and Sismondi, translated -respectively by Mrs. Ross and William Roscoe, and now by the more -comprehensive work of Mr. Ticknor (New York, 1849; London, 1850), -who has supplied the deficiencies the others had left in the course -of their inquiries. Of these works Sismondi’s is little more than a -repetition of Bouterwek’s, without the acknowledgement made which was -in justice due to his original. That however was in reality so jejune -in treating of the materials at the command of the writer, as almost to -warrant the use of his materials for a livelier production. Another -work has been lately published on Spanish literature by Mr. A. F. -Foster (Edinburgh, 1851), compiled in like manner from former writers, -which, for succinct and able treatment of the subject, may perhaps -be recommended as the one best suited to the general reader. But Mr. -Ticknor’s book must remain the great work of reference to the older -Spanish authors, as he has left little for future writers to supply -respecting them. Yet neither has he gone scarcely any further than -Bouterwek, who wrote at the beginning of this century, and since whose -time so many writers have arisen in Spain superior to any perhaps that -have preceded them. In such works we have more cause to congratulate -ourselves on having any one to undertake the labour of going over -so wide a field, than to complain of his stopping short at a point -where less was known of Spanish literature, and where it became so -much more interesting as connected with our own times. But as all the -compilers now mentioned have so confined their labours to works written -previously to the present century, it may be considered acceptable, -in continuation of them, that the present essay should be offered to -the public. This is, however, also undertaken on a more extended and -somewhat different plan; not merely giving short notices of the several -authors and their works, as in the nature of a catalogue or dictionary, -but taking only the principal poets for a particular account of their -history, and giving translations from their works most characteristic -of their genius or best suited for translation, for the purpose of -enabling the critical notices respecting them to be better understood. - -In treating of the literature of any country historically, it may -perhaps be considered necessary to give a catalogue of every person -who has published a book of any pretensions to notice, whatever the -different gradations of talent between the authors; but for the -general reader, the better course seems rather to be to pass by those -works which the nation had not accepted as to be incorporated in -the national literature, and to dwell extendedly on those which, by -repeated editions, were entitled to be considered of that character. -Bouterwek’s work on Spanish literature, which appears to have been -his own performance, and which certainly does great credit to his -industry, is an exemplification of the former course. The volume -on Portuguese literature, under his name, which he acknowledges to -have been the contribution of a friend, is not so liable to the same -objection, and may be considered written according to the other. It -is so difficult a task, and so enviable a lot for any one to attain -to excellence above his fellows, that beyond its being due to his -own merits, it is an advantage to others to show them by his example -the way to attain to the same eminence. Johnson, in his Lives of the -English Poets, has given us a work admirable for its criticisms as well -as for the other lessons it conveys for general conduct in life; but -those criticisms would have lost much of their effect, if they had not -had appended to them the works to which they referred. Biography, to -be worthy of study, should be something more than a mere enumeration -of those particulars of a man’s life which are of the common class of -every-day events, so as to be the reflex of every one’s in his station. -If any man’s life be at all more memorable than that of ordinary -mortals, the means by which he obtained his reputation alone merit a -lengthened consideration for an example for others. With authors those -claims must rest on their writings, which will speak for themselves; -but this cannot be the case with foreign authors, as few readers of -other nations can ever be expected to have acquired their language -so perfectly as to understand the essential beauty of their poetry. -To enable such readers therefore to understand their works, or even -the criticisms upon them, a translation is necessary, on which again -much depends, not only in respect of faithfulness but also of felicity -of transcript, to render the beauties of the original sufficiently -perceptible. - -Many rules have been given by critics for the benefit of translators -from the earliest times till now, to which it is not necessary here -to refer further than to state the plan upon which these translations -have been made. In a didactic or historical work, the more precisely -the translation is made according to the letter of the original, -the greater merit may it be considered to possess. But in works of -imagination, especially of poetry, it may be more important to attend -to the spirit of the original than to the literal construction. The -main thoughts contained in each passage should be as faithfully given -in the one case as in the other, though it may not be necessary, and -sometimes not even becoming, to have the same regard to details. With -poetry, the translator should make it his great aim to consider how his -author would have expressed the same thoughts if he had been writing -in English verse, and thus mould the original ideas into synonymous -poetical expressions, as far as the idioms of the two languages and -the requirements of metre will allow. It would be a poor vanity in a -translator to think of improving on his original, so far as to make any -alteration or addition merely for that purpose. But where any words -admit of synonyms with different shades of meaning, it is certainly -his right, if not his duty, to adopt the one he thinks most suitable. -Sometimes it may seem to him accordant with good taste to make a more -decided alteration, and in every language there are many expressions -sufficiently poetical and appropriate, which if construed literally -into another would appear otherwise. These the author, it may be -supposed, would have altered himself, under the same circumstances, -and the other, therefore, in so doing, would be only acting on his -presumed wishes. In all cases much must be left of necessity to the -translator’s judgement, and he, with every care he can take, must still -be content to share, with Pope and Dryden and the greatest masters of -rhyme, the consciousness of scarcely ever being able fully to convey -the conceptions of a foreign author. The shackles of rhyme also require -something to be sacrificed to them, so as of themselves alone to -prevent any exact copy being given in verse. Yet still acting on the -above considerations, and by rejecting expletives in some cases and -adding a few in others, in following up the train of ideas suggested -by the original, we may hope to succeed perhaps not only in giving the -meaning, but something also of the spirit even of foreign authors. - -It is fortunate for any writer to have his works sent forth to the -world in any language of more than usual ascendency, such as the Latin -or English, whereby to obtain for himself, if he can claim it, the -most extended reputation. But it is more fortunate for a translator -under similar circumstances, because languages of such a character -are almost of necessity mixed languages, acquiring from that cause -an extraordinary nerve and richness, which render translations into -them to be made more easily and satisfactorily than from them into a -poorer. The English is essentially suited for such a purpose, as, being -compounded of the French and German languages, it becomes a double -one, combining the nerve of the one with the facility of expression -of the other, and the copiousness arising from the union of both. The -Latin is still more a mixed language, the roots of which are yet to -be developed, notwithstanding all the labours of philologists, who -have erred in wandering after imaginary extinct languages for its -derivations, instead of looking into those yet existing. Considering -the Spanish to be the direct descendant of the Latin, it may be a -matter of surprise that, though a very sonorous language, it cannot -be termed a rich one. Abounding in long words (sesquipedalia verba), -it loses in precision and strength what is gained in sound, and -thus the ideas are encumbered when simplification was required. The -comparatively monosyllabic character of the English language has in -this respect an immense advantage for the translator, as it enables him -to give the sentiments of the original more concisely than one from -it into another. Having also more synonyms with different shades of -meaning, a greater precision may be lost or gained, according to the -circumstances and the judgement applied to them. Thus a translation -may sometimes be even superior to the original, from its giving the -ideas more distinctly, and as it is the test of good writing to find -how it reads in another language, so with really superior authors it -may be a matter of little importance in what version their thoughts are -expressed. “Words are the daughters of earth, but thoughts are the sons -of heaven.” It is not presumed hereby that the following translations -all come under this consideration, but with the advantages above -expressed, it may be hoped that, as exotics in a greenhouse, these -flowers of Spanish poetry may be found pleasing representations of what -they were in their native soil, even if they cannot be made entirely -denizens of our own. - -Differing entirely from those writers who suppose that the best days -of Spanish literature have gone by, and believing, on the contrary, -that it never has been more truly original and flourishing than -during the present and preceding ages, it might be justly considered -presumptuous in any new author to present such opinions to the world -without showing the grounds on which they were founded. Bouterwek and -his copyist, Sismondi, together with their criticisms on the several -Spanish poets, contented themselves with giving merely a few lines -from the more favoured ones in their original language, without any -translation whereby to enable those ignorant of it to judge even of the -thoughts they contained. They thus resemble the wiseacre in Hierocles -(the Σχολαστικὸς, which word Johnson has strangely translated ‘pedant,’ -taking the primary for the intended meaning), who brought a stone as -a description of a building. In so doing, they have seldom given even -favourable specimens; but if they had, there are few authors who can be -rightly estimated by isolated passages, or even by any one short poem. -Almost all authors are unequal in their productions, and many seem, by -an accidental felicity, to have produced some one effusion to which -none of their other efforts could ever approach. As instances of this, -we may note Heber’s ‘Palestine;’ Pringle’s lines, ‘Afar in the Desert,’ -and Leyden’s ‘Ode to an Indian Gold Coin,’ which Colton has pronounced, -in his opinion, “to come as near to perfection as the sublunary Muse -can arrive at.” - -It is only by several well-sustained efforts that any author has a -right to be placed among poets, and it would not be just, therefore, to -judge of any without such a consideration of their productions. In all -the translations here given, the most characteristic specimens of the -style of each writer have been sought, particularly those containing -what seemed to be his favourite course of thought, while selecting -entire, though generally short, poems for that purpose. With the -exception of the Duke de Rivas, the poets enumerated in this work have -not published poems of any great length, and therefore the plan adopted -may be considered altogether appropriate to the object in view. - -With regard to the metres chosen, no rule has been attempted of taking -the original strictly for a guide, where the style of verse, in a -different language, would not admit of it easily. Perhaps the truest -definition of Poetry may be given in the words of our great poet-- - - “Thoughts that voluntary move - Harmonious numbers--” - -for it may be observed, that the finest passages are generally the -easiest for translation and for rhyme. Thus keeping the original -constantly in view as the guide, the verse has been adopted as the -thoughts seemed to indicate the metre most appropriate. - -With the disadvantage of rhyme, in a foreign language, no apology is -requisite for the ruggedness of any lines which the critic may point -out. I differ totally from those writers, Coleridge and others, who -affect a contempt for finished versification, and rely entirely on -the brilliancy of their ideas. Whatever is worth doing at all is -worth doing well, according to the writer’s best capability, and the -reader’s ear ought surely to be as much consulted as his mind is -sought to be engaged. Those who have had to write “nonsense verses” at -school or college, have no right to excuse themselves from labouring -to make their lines run smoothly. If, therefore, any of the following -translations are not so rendered, it will occasion the writer much -regret that his best efforts for that purpose have been unsuccessful. - -Another complaint may be anticipated, that this work does not -comprehend authors either in prose or the drama. The fault, if it be -one, must be admitted, with the observation, that the task undertaken -was felt sufficient of itself to require the best exertions of the -writer. According to the plan laid down of giving only entire pieces, -in the case of including either prose or dramatic writers, the work -would have been increased to an inordinate extent, or the plan must -have been adopted of giving extracts, which would be contrary to the -opinion expressed of the best course to be pursued. If this attempt -should meet with public approbation, some one else may be induced to -continue the further service. If it should not, the labour expended on -a larger work would be so much more given in vain. In the one case, the -failure might be ascribed to having attempted too much; in the other, -the approbation might not have been gained but for the efforts having -been directed undividedly to what was thus only within the reach of -accomplishment. - -In sequence of the remark before made, of the manly style of thought, -feeling and expression which had characterized the older Spanish -writers, from their having been persons generally who had engaged in -the active affairs of life, the reader may perhaps feel interested -in tracing how the same causes have produced the same effects with -their successors. From the memoirs hereafter detailed, it may be seen -that no fewer than six out of the twelve had to suffer the evils of -exile for public or private opinions, of whom three so died unhappily -in foreign countries. Three others, though not actually exiled, were -subjected to long and cruel imprisonment for the same causes, while -two out of the remaining three had to take their share of burdens in -the public service during the troubled state of the country. Such men -could have no mawkish sentiments to develope, and no fantastic feelings -to indulge. What they felt, they felt deeply; what they observed, they -observed distinctly, and thus were enabled to give their thoughts and -feelings clearly and strongly. - -But in addition to the causes assigned for the superior character -of modern Spanish poetry in particular, there is one other to be -suggested, the association of which may perhaps occasion some surprise, -though it may not be for that the less indubitable. This is the -fact of the later Spanish writers having, perhaps unconsciously, -but unmistakenly, taken better models than their predecessors by -preferring the study of English literature to that of the French. -This fact, though without the full inference that might have been -drawn from it, has been observed by a German author, F. J. Wolf, of -the Imperial Library at Vienna, who has published a collection of -modern Spanish poetry, with biographical notices, Paris, 1837, in two -volumes--‘Floresta de Rimas Modernas Castellanas.’ It is an interesting -collection, but being all given in the Spanish language, is only -available to those who are acquainted with it. In the introduction to -this work, Wolf treats of the “efforts of Melendez and the Salamanca -school to give a new splendour to Spanish poetry, partly by the study -and imitation of the ancient and good Spanish writers, taking advantage -of the national forms, and partly by making it more profound and -substantial, imitating not only and exclusively the French, but also -and especially the English.” (Page 15.) - -During the early part of the last century, consequent upon the -accession of the Bourbons to the throne, the writers of verse in Spain, -who obtained most favour among their contemporaries, formed their style -avowedly upon the model of what was called the French school, and thus -taking examples unworthy of imitation, became still more wretched as -copyists. Towards the end of the century, however, a feeling arose, on -the other side, in favour of the study of English literature, which has -led to the happiest results. Of the twelve poets whose lives and poems -it is the purpose of this work to delineate, no fewer than ten may be -observed acquainted in no inconsiderable degree with the best English -authors and proficient in the English language. Two only, Breton de los -Herreros and Zorrilla, seem not to have extended their studies so far. -With the peculiar humorous vein of the former, perhaps the deficiency -may not be considered as leaving any merit to be supplied. But it does -seem a matter of regret that a person of Zorrilla’s exalted genius -should have confined his studies so much to French writers, and so have -deprived himself of the expansion necessary for the highest flights -of poetry. France has never produced a great painter or a great poet. -The very language, so monotonous and unmusical, in having the accent -almost invariably on the last syllable of the words, seems opposed to -rhythmical cadence, and not to admit of the highest excellence either -in oratory or poetry. Whatever may be the cause, it is evident that -such excellence has not been attained in the language, and therefore -the best works in it cannot be models for imitation when they are only -themselves of an inferior value. - -Beyond the writers enumerated hereafter, whose memoirs and writings are -to be considered worthy of fuller notice, there are several others who, -as especially coming under the consideration above suggested, may here -be noticed in further corroboration of the statements we have made. - -1. Juan de Escoiquiz, tutor to Ferdinand VII., one of the most upright, -if not most successful, public men of his time, published, in 1798, -an epic poem ‘On the Conquest of Mexico,’ which showed considerable -poetical ability, though it did not obtain much popular favour. In -1797 he published a translation of Young’s ‘Night Thoughts,’ from the -English into Spanish verse, and in 1814 a translation of Milton’s -‘Paradise Lost.’ Of the former, a translation in prose had been -previously published by Cristoval Caldera. Escoiquiz died in 1814. - -2. Josè de Cadalso or Cadahalso, born 1741, was a person of rank and -fortune, who had travelled much in his youth, and become proficient -in various foreign languages and literatures, especially the English. -He wrote several works, both in prose and verse, which were received -with great favour at the time, and have been republished frequently -since his death. The last edition was in 1818, in three volumes, under -the editorship of the late learned Navarrete, who appended to them an -interesting biography of the author. Among the miscellanies are several -translations from the English, which language, we are informed, Cadalso -not only studied himself assiduously, but induced Melendez Valdes to -adopt for peculiar study also. This eminent poet was in early life -so assisted by Cadalso as to have been pronounced his “best work,” -and he, as may be seen hereafter, seems sedulously to have followed -the good counsels and example given him by his friend. Cadalso, -like so many other of the principal poets of Spain, had embraced a -military career, in which, having been ordered with his regiment to -the siege of Gibraltar, he there received a wound of which he died a -few days after, the 27th February, 1782. His death was a great loss to -Spanish literature, and it was equally lamented by the English in the -besieged fortress, by whom he was much esteemed from previous friendly -communications. - -3. The Conde de Noronia, born 1760, died 1816, another poetical writer -of considerable reputation, was also engaged in military service, in -which he attained high rank, and with the division of the Spanish army -under his command, gained the victory at the battle of San Payo over -the French. He was appointed ambassador successively at Berne and St. -Petersburgh, and was celebrated as a diplomatist for his knowledge of -English and other languages. Notwithstanding an active life in the -public service, he found leisure for literary pursuits, and in 1800 -published a collection of poems in two volumes. Among these are to -be observed several translations from the English, of which one of -Dryden’s celebrated ‘Ode for St. Cecilia’s Day,’ rendered into Spanish -verse with much spirit, deserves particular mention. The best of his -poems seems an ‘Ode on the Death of Cadalso,’ by whose side he was -present when he received his wound. The Conde further attempted an -epic, in twelve cantos, entitled ‘Ommiada,’ detailing the events in the -reign of Abderaman, the last of the Ommiades, which poem was published -in two volumes in 1816. For the purpose of assisting him in this work, -he had translated several pieces from the Arabic and other eastern -languages into Spanish verse, published since at Paris in 1833. - -4. Juan Maria Maury, who died in 1846, was another writer of -considerable talent. He was sent early in life to France, and completed -his education in England, becoming thereby well acquainted with the -language and literature of both countries. His principal work is a poem -entitled, ‘Esvero y Almedora,’ in twelve cantos, published at Paris -in 1840. It is founded on the adventures of a passage-at-arms, held -against all comers, in 1434, at the bridge of Orbiza, near Leon, and -contains several interesting scenes spiritedly described. His earliest -work was a poem he called ‘British Aggression,’ published in 1806, the -sentiments of which he seems afterwards to have considerably modified. -Maury appears to have been a person of very amiable character, and -much esteemed by all who knew him, judging by the manner in which Del -Rio and others write respecting him. In his latter years he resided -almost entirely at Paris, and gained for himself the extraordinary -merit of being esteemed also a correct writer of French verse, by his -translations of the principal Spanish poets into that language. This -work, published in two volumes at Paris in 1826, entitled, ‘Espagne -Poétique, Choix de Poésies Castellanes depuis Charles Quint jusqu’à nos -jours,’ is, as the name imports, a selection of Spanish poetry with -critical and biographical notices, made with much taste and judgement, -and forming altogether a very interesting work for the French student -of Spanish literature. It is dedicated to his friends Arriaza and -Quintana, in a poetical epistle, from which the following extract may -be considered acceptable in corroboration of the previous remarks:-- - - “Sans doute, Emmanuel, aux champs de Tamise - Triomphe une vertu qu’ailleurs tu crus permise, - Et qui là fier génie a ravi le trident. - Jeune j’y respirai l’orgueil indépendant; - Là, j’admirai l’accord, merveille alors unique, - Qui règle et garantit, sur le sol britannique - Au trône ses splendeurs, aux grands l’autorité, - Aux citoyens leurs droits, qu’on nomma liberté, - Et le temps destructeur y consacre, y conserve - Le plus beau monument élevé par Minerve.” - -5. Josè Joaquin Mora, born at Cadiz, 1783, and yet happily surviving, -is another modern poet of great merit. When the French invaded Spain, -he entered a regiment of dragoons in the national cause, and was made -prisoner in 1809, in consequence of which he was detained in France six -years. He took advantage of this residence in that country to pursue -his studies, and on the return of peace he undertook the editorship -of the ‘Scientific and Literary Chronicle of Madrid,’ which, in 1820, -he converted into ‘The Constitutional.’ In 1823 he had to emigrate -to London, where he wrote and published several periodical and other -works, under the auspices of Messrs. Ackerman, besides various -translations. He afterwards went to Buenos Ayres, Chili and Bolivia, -from which last republic he returned to London as Consul-General, and -published, in 1840, his principal work, entitled ‘Spanish Legends.’ -This work, which is highly praised by Ochoa, gives, as the title -imports, descriptive accounts of various events in the history of -Spain, according to what seems to be the favourite formula of modern -Spanish poetry. Another work he published, in 1826, entitled ‘Poetical -Meditations,’ is founded principally on Blair’s celebrated poem, ‘The -Grave.’ Wolf pronounces him excelling in his satirical essays, which, -he says, are full of grace and ease. - -In addition to the writers mentioned above, and those whose works form -the main purpose of this work hereafter in detail, many others have -appeared, both during the latter part of the last century and during -the present, who have shown much talent, and have been deservedly -received with much favour by their countrymen. It will be sufficient -for us here to give the names of Cienfuegos, Tapia, Lista, Gallego, S. -Bermudez de Castro, Garcia Gutierrez and Pastor Diaz among them; and -to meet any observation that may be suggested on account of no fuller -notice being taken of them, it may be allowed me to state, that I have -notwithstanding read and examined carefully all their works, and those -of many others whose names it is needless to recapitulate. I would -further add, that in so doing, although there was certainly much in -them to admire, yet there was nothing in them, in my judgement, suited -for translation to interest English readers, whose tastes it was my -duty principally to consult. Some of those just mentioned and others -omitted, I have personally known and appreciated in private life, but -in all the selections and criticisms made or repeated, I have allowed -no consideration to weigh with me, except the respect due to superior -merit alone. So much of this superior merit seemed to me to exist in -modern Spanish literature, that I ventured to think the English public -would receive favourably this attempt to make them acquainted with it. -If it should fail, the blame must attach to the translator; if it be -received favourably, there is yet a rich mine of intellectual wealth in -store to reward the labours of those who choose to undertake it. - -The student who wishes to follow in the same course, will find the -way much prepared for him in the various collections of ancient and -modern poetry lately published. Those by Maury and Wolf have been -already mentioned. Quintana has, in the late edition of his great -work, brought down the series of national poets to the beginning of -this century; and Ochoa has, lastly, given a very valuable addition to -his other labours of criticisms and compilation, in his Notices for a -Library of contemporary Spanish writers;--‘Apuntes para una Biblioteca -de Escritores Españoles contemporaneos,’ in two volumes, Paris, 1847. -Ferrer del Rio has also conferred a great service on the national -literature, by giving a series of biographical sketches, ably written, -of the principal Spanish writers of the present day, ‘Galeria de la -Literatura Española,’ published by Mellado, at Madrid, 1846. From these -works, when no other authority is mentioned as of distinct character, -the notices in this work have been compiled, except in a few instances, -which will be found also generally stated when they have been obtained -from private information. The facts, of necessity, could not but be -learned from such sources, and the translator is only answerable for -the selection of those he thought worthy of being repeated, and the -arrangement, in addition to the criticisms that coincided with his own -judgement, for his adoption. - -In conclusion of these introductory remarks, it now only remains -necessary further to observe, that the rules of Spanish versification -are very similar to the English, being dependent upon accents, -according to the rhythm adopted on certain syllables of each line, -whether alternately or further removed. The rule as to rhyme is also -the same, admitting of single or double rhymes, used in one case or -the other, according as the accent is on the last syllable of the -final word or the penultimate. The latter, however, is more common in -Spanish than in English, where it seems only suited for the livelier -strains of verse. - -But in addition to the usual method of using rhymes, dependent -in English and most other languages upon the consonants rather -than the vowels, the Spaniards have a form of verse of which the -rhyme is dependent on the vowel only, and the consonants may be -entirely dissimilar. This form of verse they call Asonantes, in -contradistinction to the other, which they call Consonantes, or -full and perfect rhyme. Thus in the first stanza of the ‘Alcazar of -Seville,’ the words _prolijas_ and _cornisas_ are Consonantes or -full rhymes, but in the following verses _miran_ and _distintas_ are -Asonantes, as also _risa_ and _evitan_. The Spaniards conceive the -Asonantes to be a form peculiar to themselves, but it is one common -to many other nations, in the earlier stages of poetical composition. -In the earliest Spanish poems, asonants and consonants were used -together promiscuously, as may be observed particularly in the early -poems in the Galician dialect; and it is curious to trace in this -respect, as well as in many of their words, vestiges of their Celtic -descent, this same form being also one of the prominent features of -Celtic versification. In their modern asonante verse, the Spanish -poets usually exclude consonantes, and that form continues in much -favour, probably on account of the words in their language, as in the -Latin, having generally so much the same sound as to make a variation -pleasing to the ear, to break the monotonous effect of a too frequent -recurrence of similar terminations. For this reason, no doubt, it was -that the Latin poets did not adopt the system of rhymes, and for the -same also it is common now in Spanish poems to have lines occasionally -to which no other line presents a rhyme, giving thereby a pleasing -effect to the whole. In our language, on the contrary, where, from the -ruggedness of its character, the terminations vary so exceedingly as to -make them often even difficult to be found for the purposes of rhyme, -the recurrence of rhyme gives a more pleasing sound to the ear from -the degree of surprise that is thus occasioned. In Spanish they might -easily be made of one vowel termination for a long poem, so that the -difficulty in it is to avoid the too frequent recurrence of the same -sound. - -Martinez de la Rosa has boasted of the variety of rhymes in Spanish; -but he refers to double as well as single rhymes, and in this and -in other respects is carried away by his ardour, in admiration of -his country’s language, much further than the facts will be found to -support him. Thus he also praises the number and variety of metres used -in it as extraordinary, when in fact they are no more, so than any -other neighbouring language could present. It may be justly conceded, -that poetry has been cultivated lately in Spain with much assiduity -and success; but there is no peculiarity in the language to give it -an advantage over others in respect to metres. The strict censorship -which has weighed down the energies of the country, with regard to most -subjects of public discussion, has had the effect of directing talent -to the cultivation of poetry, as almost the only road to literary -reputation. This it is, combined with the sensitive character of the -nation, that has made their poets attain the eminence we are bound in -justice to award them; and it is fortunate for them that they have in -their language so admirable an exponent of their genius, as it must in -fairness be allowed, though the merit still remains peculiarly their -own. - -The following is a summary list of the principal Modern Spanish -Poets whose memoirs and writings it is the object of this work more -particularly to make known to the English public, given with a -statement of dates respecting their lives, for the purpose of enabling -the reader to compare more easily the periods in which they flourished. -They are, it will be observed, twelve in number, and the list has been -divided into two parts, as marking an evidently distinctive character -of the poetry in the former and latter part of the epoch which they -have rendered memorable. - - PART I. - - I. Jovellanos Born 1744. Died 1811. Age 67. - - II. Iriarte Born 1750. Died 1791. Age 41. - - III. Melendez Valdes Born 1754. Died 1817. Age 63. - - IV. Leandro Moratin Born 1760. Died 1828. Age 68. - - V. Arriaza Born 1770. Died 1837. Age 67. - - VI. Quintana Born 1772. Living 1851. Age 79. - - PART II. - - VII. Martinez de la Rosa Born 1789. Living 1851. Age 62. - - VIII. The Duke de Rivas Born 1791. Living 1851. Age 60. - - IX. Breton de los Herreros Born 1796. Living 1851. Age 55. - - X. Heredia Born 1803. Died 1839. Age 35. - - XI. Espronceda Born 1810. Died 1842. Age 32. - - XII. Zorrilla Born 1817. Living 1851. Age 34. - - - - -PRELIMINARY NOTE. - - -For readers unacquainted with the Spanish language, it may be perhaps -most advisable, in this place, to affix a few short instructions for -the proper pronunciation of such names and words as are to be found in -the following pages. - -1. The vowels in Spanish have each invariably their peculiar sound; -not as in English, where each has two or more sounds, making them in -fact so distinct as strictly requiring to be designated by different -characters, or after the manner of the Hebrew points. Thus _a_ has -always the broad open sound found in the English words _arm_, _arrack_. - -_e_, long or short, as in the English words _ere_, _ever_. - -_i_ and _y_, as in _machine_, _syntax_. - -_o_, long or short, as in _ore_, _host_, _hostage_. - -_u_ has uniformly the sound of _oo_ in _food_. The Celtic sound of this -vowel, preserved in France and Portugal, is unknown in Spain, and also -in the Basque or Biscayan language. - -2. Of the consonants, _b_ has a softer sound than in English, and -approaches to _v_, which again is made to sound like _b_. Thus the city -of the Havana is, in Spanish spelling, La Habana, and the river Bidasoa -is written Vidasoa. - -_c_, before _a_, _o_, _u_, is to be pronounced hard, as in English; -before _e_ or _i_, it is to be sounded like _th_ in _thin_, though -in the provinces this pronunciation is giving way to the French and -English mode of sounding the letter. Thus the name of the great Roman -orator is pronounced Thithero. _ch_ has always the soft sound it -usually has in English, as in _chat_, _check_, _chin_, _choke_, _chum_. - -_d_, at the end of a word, is generally pronounced like _th_: thus -Madrid is Madrith; _ciudad_, a city, is pronounced _thiudath_; -otherwise, both _d_ and _t_ are spoken as in English, or slightly more -dentally. - -_f_ has the same sound as in English. - -_g_ is an aspirate, like our _h_, more or less guttural, according to -the word. The soft sound of this letter, as in _gem_, left by the Celts -in Italy and Portugal, is unknown in Spain, as is also the soft sound -of the letter _j_. - -_h_ may be said to be invariably a silent letter, and seems only -used to prevent two vowels running into each other, so as to form a -diphthong. - -_j_ is a very harsh guttural, like the Hebrew _Cheth_. Thus Juan (John) -is to be pronounced strongly, Hwan; Josè (Joseph) also strongly, Hosè. - -The letters _k_, _l_, _m_, _n_, _p_, are the same as in English. - -_q_ or _qu_ has the sound of our _k_: thus _que_ (that) is the same as -the Italian _che_. - -_r_, _s_, _t_ have the same sounds as in English, except that the first -has one somewhat rougher, especially when two come together. - -_x_ is a strong guttural, for which _j_ is now generally used, as Don -Quijote. - -_z_ is pronounced as _th_: thus Cadiz is sounded Cadith. - -The Spaniards consider their _ll_ and _ñ_, or _n_ with a circumflex, -distinct letters, but they are in fact only the letters _l_ or _n_ -with the sound of _i_ after them, as in the English words _million_, -_minion_, being the same sound that the French and Italians express by -_gn_, or _gl_. Several names may be found in the body of this work -altered according to our mode of spelling, though in the headings -retained as in the original, as Padillia instead of Padilla. For -the sake of preserving the sound free from constant explanation or -confusion, the like course has been sometimes adopted with regard to -other words, as, for instance, the name of the river Genil or Xenil, -represented in English as Henil. - -Two or more vowels coming together are enunciated so as to form -one syllable generally in Spanish, and especially in poetry, yet -nevertheless so as to allow of each vowel to be sounded distinctly, as -each syllable is also. - -With regard to accents, the general rule is, that it should be placed -on the penultimate syllable. There are many exceptions, but in print -these are always marked by the accent (´) on the vowel indicated, -except in words of two syllables, which, if ending in a consonant, have -generally the accent on the last syllable, if ending in a vowel, on the -first, without being notified. - -From these notices it may be observed, that the Spanish language -is remarkable for two sounds, the guttural and the predominating -_th_, which distinguish it from the two sister dialects of Italy and -Portugal, while it is deficient in the soft sound of _g_ and _j_, -found so frequently used in the latter. These two assimilate so much -to each other that natives of either country understand those of the -other readily, while they cannot those of Spain, showing that the -influence of the Gothic and Moorish invaders was impressed there on the -pronunciation of the common language, though it was not extended to -altering materially the language itself. - -Besides the soft sound of the _g_, there are two other sounds unknown -in Spanish, though common in Portugal and France, left by their -former Celtic inhabitants, those of the _sh_ or French _j_, and the -disagreeable nasal pronunciation of the letter _n_. The latter is -very slightly given in _Don_, and a few other words, but the other -is unknown. In Portuguese it is so prevalent that they even use it -for Latin words which it would be difficult to recognize at first -as the originals from which the others were derived; thus the words -_pluvia_, _plorare_, transformed in Spanish into _lluvia_, _lorar_, -are in Portuguese further transformed into _chuva_ (_shuva_), _chorar_ -(_shorar_). The natives of Galicia speak a dialect more allied to -Portuguese than the Spanish, being of more decided Celtic descent, -like the Portuguese, than the rest of the people of the Peninsula. -The natives of Catalonia speak a dialect half French, half Spanish, -which may be considered the representative of the ancient Provencal or -Limoisin. It is very guttural as well as nasal. The Basque or Biscayan -language is entirely distinct from the modern Spanish, and also from -the Latin, the Celtic, or that of any neighbouring country, and is well -deserving of study. It has no harsh or disagreeable sounds in it, and -abounds in vowels, many words having not a single consonant in them. - - - - -ERRATA. - - - Page xxii line 30, _instead of_ association, _read_ assertion. - -- 11, -- 18, ---- “make it a well,” _read_ - “use it for a well.” - -- 60, -- 7, ---- suffice _read_ suffices. - -- 66, -- 11, ---- sensibly _read_ sensitively. - -- 157, -- 23, ---- sage _read_ shade. - -- 271, -- 29, ---- nineteen _read_ eighteen. - -- 301, -- 12, ---- “of Lord Byron’s,” _read_ - “in Lord Byron’s.” - -Page 145, line 4, “has been announced,” &c. This statement is -erroneous, the reference having been made to Mr. J. Russell’s Life of -Gonzalo de Còrdova, translated from Quintana’s first volume, London, -1851. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - Page - - DEDICATION iii - - INTRODUCTION. On the character of Spanish Poetry, Ancient and - Modern.--Causes affecting it suggested from considerations - of Roman civilization, Moorish wars, and personal history - of the principal Poets.--Works on Spanish literature: - Remarks on translation and language.--References to other - modern Poets.--Spanish metres and versification vii - - PRELIMINARY NOTE. On the pronunciation of Spanish names - and words xxxiii - - PART I. - - I. GASPAR MELCHOR DE JOVELLANOS. - - Memoir of 3 - - Epistle to Cean Bermudez, on the Vain Desires and - Studies of Men 18 - - To Galatea’s Bird 30 - - To Enarda.--I. 32 - - To Enarda.--II. 33 - - II. TOMAS DE IRIARTE. - - Memoir of 37 - - Epistle to Don Domingo de Iriarte, on his - Travelling to various Foreign Courts 46 - - The Bear, the Monkey and the Hog 53 - - The Ass and the Flute 55 - - The Two Rabbits 56 - - The Lamb and his Two Advisers 58 - - The Flint and the Steel 59 - - III. JUAN MELENDEZ VALDES. - - Memoir of 61 - - Juvenilities 77 - - The Timid Lover 79 - - My Village Life 81 - - Remembrances of Youth 84 - - Of the Sciences 87 - - The Disdainful Shepherdess 90 - - IV. LEANDRO FERNANDEZ MORATIN. - - Memoir of 95 - - Dedication of the Mogigata to the Prince of the Peace 106 - - Epistle to Don Gaspar de Jovellanos, sent from Rome 108 - - V. JUAN BAUTISTA DE ARRIAZA. - - Memoir of 113 - - Tempest and War, or the Battle of Trafalgar 123 - - The Parting 132 - - VI. MANUEL JOSÈ QUINTANA. - - Memoir of 141 - - To the Spanish Expedition for the Promotion of - Vaccination in America, under Don Francisco - Balmis 152 - - On the Battle of Trafalgar 158 - - PART II. - - VII. FRANCISCO MARTINEZ DE LA ROSA. - - Memoir of 169 - - Remembrance of Spain, written in London in 1811 183 - - Return to Granada, October 27, 1831 185 - - Epistle to the Duque de Frias, on the Death of the - Duquesa 190 - - Anacreontic 199 - - Bacchanalian 200 - - VIII. ANGEL DE SAAVEDRA, DUKE DE RIVAS. - - Memoir of 203 - - The Alcazar of Seville 224 - - IX. MANUEL BRETON DE LOS HERREROS. - - Memoir of 249 - - Satirical Letrillias.--III. 258 - - Satirical Letrillias.--IV. 260 - - Satirical Letrillias.--VII. 262 - - X. JOSÈ MARIA HEREDIA. - - Memoir of 265 - - Sonnet. Dedication of the Second Edition of his - Poems, to his Wife 275 - - To his Horse 276 - - The Season of the Northers 277 - - Poesy, an Ode 280 - - Ode to Night 285 - - XI. JOSÈ DE ESPRONCEDA. - - Memoir of 291 - - To Spain, an Elegy. London, 1829 305 - - The Condemned to Die 308 - - The Song of the Pirate 314 - - To Harifa, in an Orgy 318 - - XII. JOSÈ ZORRILLA. - - Memoir of 323 - - The Christian Lady and the Moor 336 - - Romance, The Waking 339 - - Oriental Romance, Boabdil 343 - - The Captive 345 - - The Tower of Munion 347 - - The Warning 350 - - Meditation 352 - - NOTES 357 - - - - -MODERN POETS AND POETRY OF SPAIN. - - - - -PART I. - - - - -I. - -GASPAR MELCHOR DE JOVELLANOS. - - -An able and distinguished writer in the Madrid Review has observed, -that if the question were asked as to which is the first great -name in modern Spanish literature, the answer must unquestionably -be--Jovellanos. It seems, therefore, only a just deference to his -merits, though it is but a fortuitous coincidence in the order of -dates, that we have to place his name first in the series of modern -Spanish poets. It is, however, to his State Papers and his writings on -Political Economy that he principally owes his reputation; though it is -a proud consideration for Spanish literature, that, as regards him, as -well as Martinez de la Rosa and the Duke de Rivas, she has to place the -names of eminent statesmen among her principal poets. - -Jovellanos was born the 5th of January, 1744, at Gijon, a town -in the Asturias, of which his father was Regidor or one of the -chief Magistrates. His family connections were of the class called -Nobles, answering to the Noblesse of France, and were moreover -very influential and sufficiently wealthy. To take advantage of the -preferments these offered him, he was destined in early youth, being -a younger son, for the church, in which he entered into the first -orders for the purpose of holding several benefices that were given -him. He studied consecutively at Oviedo, Avila and Osma, where he -distinguished himself so much to the satisfaction of those interested -in his fortunes, that he was removed, in 1764, to the University of -Alcalà de Henares, and shortly afterwards to Madrid to study law. -His friends and relatives, having become aware of his great talents, -had now induced him to abandon the clerical profession and engage in -secular pursuits. A person of his rank in those days was not at liberty -to practise as an advocate, though the young Noble, under court favour, -might administer the law; and thus he was, in 1767, when only in his -twenty-fourth year, appointed judge of criminal cases at Seville. In -this office he conducted himself with great ability and humanity, -appearing to have been the first to abandon the employment of torture -for obtaining confessions, which system has scarcely yet been discarded -on the Continent. As characteristic of him, it may here be added, -that he is reported to have been the first of the higher magistrates -in Spain who gave up the use of the official wig; so that his unusual -dress, combined with his youth, made him on the bench more observed -than perhaps even his talents would at first have rendered him. - -Whatever objections might have been made, if cause could be found, he -seems, after having served nearly ten years as judge in the criminal -courts, to have been advanced, with the approbation of all parties, -to the office of judge in civil cases, also at Seville. This was an -office much more agreeable to his inclinations, though the salary -was no higher than what he had previously enjoyed. He had, however, -other duties also entrusted to him of minor character, though of -proportionate emolument, and thereupon he resigned his benefices in -the church, which he had held till then, and to the duties of which he -had strictly attended. Beyond this act of disinterestedness, he seems -to have given his brother magistrates no inconsiderable inquietude -at the same time by refusing some emoluments of office to which they -considered themselves entitled. But their minds were soon relieved -from the apprehensions his conduct might occasion them, as at the end -of four years he was, in 1778, appointed judge of criminal cases at -Madrid; an office generally considered of eminent promotion, but which -he accepted with regret. - -In after times, every letter and every notice of Jovellanos that could -be found was eagerly sought and treasured up; and from these and his -own memorandums, it appears he had good reason to consider the years -he passed at Seville as the happiest of his life. Honoured in his -public capacity and beloved in his social circle, he passed whatever -time he could spare from his official or private duties in literary -pursuits. It was then he wrote or prepared most of the lighter works -which entitle him to be ranked among the poets of the age; the tragedy -of “Pelayo,” and comedy of “The Honourable Delinquent,” both which were -highly esteemed by his countrymen, as well as most of his minor poems. -He did not however confine himself to such recreations, but at the same -time entered on graver studies for the public service, on which his -fame was eventually established. - -Shortly after Jovellanos joined the courts at Seville, he had for one -of his colleagues Don Luis Ignacio Aguirre, a person of high literary -attainments, who had travelled much, and brought with him, as stated -by Bermudez, many works in English on Political Economy. To understand -these, Jovellanos immediately, under Aguirre’s guidance, proceeded -to learn the English language, of which he soon obtained a competent -knowledge. He then studied the science, then newly dawning, from the -works his friend afforded him, and made himself a master of it, so -as to give him a name among the most eminent of its professors. Not -contented with these pursuits, his active mind was still further -engaged in whatever could tend to the benefit of society in the place -of his labours. He seems indeed to have always had before him the -consideration of what might be the fullest duties his station imposed -on him, beyond the mere routine of official services. Not confining -himself to these, much less giving himself up to passive enjoyments, -however harmless or honourable in themselves, he seemed then and -through life as ever acting under the sense of a great responsibility, -as of the requirements of Him “who gave his servants authority, and -to every man his work.” Thus he instituted a school at Seville for -children, reformed the course of practice at the hospitals, attended -to the keeping of the public walks and grounds in good order, and -was foremost in every case where charity called or good services -were required. Artists and men of genius found in him a friend, who, -by advice and other aid, was always ready to their call; and it was -observed that his only passion was for the purchase of books and -pictures, of which respectively he formed good collections. - -On giving up his duties at Seville, Jovellanos travelled through -Andalusia, and, as was his custom in all the places he visited, made -notes of whatever useful information he could obtain respecting them, -many of which were afterwards published in a topographical work he -assisted in bringing forward. On arriving at Madrid, where his fame had -preceded him, he was at once chosen member of the different learned -societies, to several of which he rendered valuable services. At -Seville he had already prepared a sketch of his great work, entitled -“Agrarian Law,” in which he treated of the law and tenure of land, -its cultivation, and other topics connected with it. This work he -then published in an extended form, in which it has been reprinted -several times, separately as well as in his collected works. In the -several societies he also read many papers, one of which, “On Public -Diversions,” deserves to be named particularly, as containing much -curious information, as well as many excellent suggestions for public -advantage, on points which statesmen would do well to remember more -frequently than they are in the habit of doing. - -On leaving Seville, Jovellanos regretted that he had to engage again in -criminal cases, for which he had a natural aversion. After fulfilling -these duties at Madrid a year and a half, he therefore sought another -appointment, and obtained one in the Council of Military Orders, more -agreeable to his inclinations. In this office it was his duty to attend -to the affairs of the four military orders of Spain, and in his visits -to their properties and other places on their behalf, he was entrusted -with various commissions, which he fulfilled with his accustomed zeal. -In those visits he had to go much to his native province, and he took -advantage of his influence to make roads, which were much needed there, -and the benefits of which he lived to see appreciated. He incited the -members of the Patriotic Society of Oviedo, and others connected with -the Asturias, to explore the mineral wealth of the country, rich in -mines of coal and iron, then scarcely known. For the study of such -pursuits he founded the Asturian Institute, and raised subscriptions -to have two young men educated abroad in mathematics and mining, who -were afterwards to teach those sciences at the Institute. Every day of -his life indeed seems to have been employed on some object of public -utility, or in studies connected with such objects; following the -ancient maxim to do nothing trifling or imperfectly:--Μηδὲν ἐνέργημα -εἰκῆ, μηδὲν ἄλλως ἢ κατὰ θεωρήμα συμπληρωτικὸν τῆς τέχνης ἐνεργεῖθω. - -Though exact in the fulfilment of his official duties, and other -various commissions entrusted to him by the government to report on the -state of the provinces, it is wonderful to consider the industry with -which he followed other pursuits. He studied botany and architecture, -on which he wrote several treatises; and though each of those subjects -would have been a sufficient task for ordinary men, to him they were -only relaxations from his favourite science of political economy. - -Bent on the promotion of law and other reforms in the state, he became -connected with the Conde de Cabarrus, who, though a Frenchman by -birth, had obtained high employments in Spain, and who, as a person of -superior talent and discernment, was also convinced of the necessity of -such measures. As too often is the case with able and honest statesmen, -the Conde de Cabarrus fell, while attempting to effect these reforms, -under the intrigues of his enemies, and Jovellanos became involved -in his disgrace. He had been sent, in 1790, into the provinces in -fulfilment of the duties of his office; when, having heard on the road -of his friend’s ill fortune, he returned at once to offer him whatever -assistance he might have in his power. He had, however, no sooner -arrived in Madrid, where the Conde was under arrest, than, without -being allowed to communicate with him, Jovellanos received a royal -order to return immediately to his province. - -The terms in which this order was conveyed convinced Jovellanos that -he was to share in the disgrace of his friend, and to consider himself -banished from court. He therefore proceeded philosophically to settle -himself in his paternal abode with his brother, their father being now -deceased, with his books and effects, and engaged in the improvement -of their family estates. His expectations proved correct, as in this -honourable exile he had to pass seven years, though not altogether -unemployed, as he had several commissions entrusted to him similar -to those he had previously discharged. But still Jovellanos, unbowed -by political reverses, continued the same ardent promoter of public -improvement. For the Asturian Institute, which he had founded for the -purpose of teaching principally mineralogy and metallurgy, and which -he personally superintended, he wrote his very able work on Public -Instruction, and compiled elementary grammars of the French and English -languages, in which he showed himself proficient to a degree truly -astonishing. - -In his official duties, having to go carefully in inspection over the -Asturias and other neighbouring provinces, he noted his observations -in diaries, which have been fortunately preserved, and which contain -much valuable information. In these he has gathered all he could learn -relative to the productions of the provinces, and the state in which -he found them and the people, as embodied in his reports thereon to -the government, with an account of the ancient remains and public -buildings, making copies of whatever he found most interesting in the -archives of the several convents, cathedrals and corporations. Some of -these copies now possess a peculiar value, from the damages that have -since accrued to many of the originals from time and the events of the -subsequent wars. - -If it were not for the disparagement of being considered in banishment, -Jovellanos could have felt himself contented. He had not only -honourable employment, as before stated, but he also received several -notices of approbation from the government, especially as regarded -the Institute, to which notices he perhaps paid a higher regard than -they deserved. He seems himself to have felt this; for in one of his -letters he writes--“I will not deny that I desire some public mark of -appreciation by the government, to gain by it that kind of sanction -which merit needs in the opinion of some weak minds. But I see that -this is a vain suggestion, and that posterity will not judge me by my -titles, but by my works.” - -This was written on a rumour having reached Gijon of the probability of -his being soon restored to favour at court. Those under whose intrigues -he had fallen had now passed away in their turn: a favourite of a more -powerful grade was in the ascendant, Godoy, the Prince of the Peace, to -whose mind had been suggested the advisability of gathering round him -persons of acknowledged probity and knowledge, for the support of his -government. Jovellanos had returned home, in October 1797, from one of -his journeys of inspection, when he found the whole town in a state of -rejoicing. On inquiring the cause, he was told it was because news had -been received of his nomination as ambassador to Russia. A few days -afterwards the rejoicings were renewed, on the further intelligence of -his being nominated a member of the government itself, as Minister of -Grace and Justice. - -In this office it might have been hoped that a happier career was -before him; but evil fortune on the contrary now followed him, and -more fatally than ever. His former banishment from court was owing to -the endeavours he had made to remove those abuses into which all human -institutions have a tendency to fall, rendering frequently necessary -a correction of those abuses, to preserve what was most valuable in -the institutions themselves. His next misfortune arose from personal -differences with the reigning favourite, whose greater influence it -was his error not to have perceived. Jovellanos had been restored to -favour at the instance of Godoy; but as this was without his seeking, -he felt himself under no obligation to maintain him as the head of the -government, for which he was totally unfit. Jovellanos joined in an -opposition to him, which for a short time succeeded in depriving Godoy -of office. But his influence at court continued, and thus Jovellanos -was in his turn dismissed, after holding the office of minister only -about eight months, and ordered to return to Gijon. - -Unhappily the favourite carried his resentment further; and Jovellanos -was, on the 13th of March, 1801, arrested in his bed at an early -hour of the morning, and sent as a prisoner through the country to -Barcelona, thence to Mallorca, where first in the Carthusian convent, -and afterwards in the castle of Bellver more strictly, he was closely -confined, without any regard paid to his demands to know the accusation -against him. Here his health was severely affected, as well as his -feelings outraged, by the unjust treatment to which he was subjected. -Still he was not one to sink under such evils. He was rather one of -those “who, going through the valley of misery, make it a well.” He -turned accordingly to the resources of literature, and employed himself -in writing and translating from Latin and French several valuable -treatises on architecture, and other works, on the history of the -island, and of the convent, besides several poems, among which the -Epistle to Bermudez, his biographer, deserves particular notice. - -Another work he then wrote is no less deserving of mention, showing -the attention he had paid to English affairs, entitled “A Letter on -English Architecture, and that called Gothic,” in which he treated of -English architecture from the time of the Druids, dividing it into the -Saxon, Gothic and modern periods. He describes the buildings according -to the epochs, especially St. Paul’s and others of the seventeenth -century, coming down to the picturesque style of gardening then adopted -in England, with notices of the different sculptors, painters and -engravers, as well as architects, and also of the authors who had -written on the Fine Arts in England. This work has not been published, -but Bermudez states he had the manuscript. - -After being seven years a prisoner, Jovellanos was in 1808 released -on the abdication of Charles IV. and the consequent fall of Godoy. -This release was announced to him in terms of official brevity, and -he replied by an earnest demand to be subjected to a trial, for the -purpose of having the cause of his imprisonment made manifest. Before, -however, an answer could be returned, Ferdinand had, under Napoleon’s -dictation, also ceased to reign, and Jovellanos was called upon to take -a prominent place in the intrusive government of king Joseph. This he -could not be supposed from his antecedent character to be willing to -accept. On the contrary, being chosen by the National party a member of -the Central Junta, he engaged with his accustomed energy on the other -side until the Regency was formed, principally under his influence, to -carry on the struggles for independence. - -On this being effected, Jovellanos wished to retire to his native city -apart from public affairs. At his advanced age, with cataracts formed -in his eyes, and after his laborious life and painful imprisonment, -rest was necessary for him; but he could not attain it. One of his -first efforts in the Central Junta was to draw up a paper on the form -of government to be adopted, and this he strongly recommended to be -founded as nearly as possible on the model of the English constitution. -But he was far too enlightened for the race of men with whom he had -to act, and his prepossessions for English institutions were made a -reproach against him, observes the editor of the last edition of his -works, even by those who were striving to introduce the principles of -the Constituent Assembly into Spain. - -The miserable intrigues and jealousies of the leading members of the -National party caused Jovellanos much anxiety. But he had fulfilled his -duties as a Deputy, and those having ceased, he left Cadiz in February, -1810, to return to the Asturias, in a small sailing vessel. After a -long and dangerous passage, during which they were in great danger of -shipwreck, they arrived at Muros in Galicia, in which province he had -to remain more than a year, in consequence of the Asturias being in the -possession of the French, to whom he had now become doubly obnoxious. - -In July, 1811, however, the French having left that part of Spain, -Jovellanos was enabled to return to his native city, where he was again -received as he always had been with every token of popular respect. He -seems to have been always looked upon there with undeviating favour -and gratitude, as their most honourable citizen and public benefactor. -No one knew of his coming, says his biographer, but he was observed -to enter the church, and kneel before the altar near his family -burying-place, when the whole town was roused simultaneously, and a -spontaneous illumination of the houses took place, with other tokens of -public congratulations and rejoicing. - -Here he now hoped to have a peaceful asylum for his latter years, -engaged in the objects of public utility for which he had formerly -laboured. But those labours were to be begun again. His favourite -“Asturian Institute,” which he truly said, in one of his discourses, -was identified with his existence, had been totally dismantled and used -for barracks by the French. Having obtained authority from the Regency -to do so, he began to put the building again into repair, and collect -together the teachers and scholars. Having done this, he announced by -circulars that it would be reopened the 20th of November following, -when the news of the French returning compelled him again to fly on -the 6th of that month. He set sail in a miserable coasting vessel -for Ribadeo, where a ship was ready to take him to Cadiz or England -as he might desire, in virtue of instructions given by the Regency, -and in accordance with the English government. But further misfortunes -only awaited him. The vessel in which he had to take refuge was cast -on shore in a storm near the small port of Vega, on the confines of -Asturias; and there, worn out with fatigue, and under a pulmonary -affection, brought on by exposure to the weather, he died the 27th of -November, 1811, a few days after his landing. - -The news of his death was spread rapidly through Spain, notwithstanding -the interrupted state of communications, and was everywhere received -with regret as a national calamity. Those who had opposed his views -did justice to the uprightness of his motives and character; and the -Cortes, now assembled, passed a decree, by which in favour of his -patriotism and public services, he was declared Benemerito de la -Patria. This beautiful and classical acknowledgement of his worth was -then also remarkable as a novelty, though it has been since rendered -less honourable, by being awarded to others little deserving of -peculiar distinction. - -The life of Jovellanos, as intimately connected with the history of -his country, is well deserving of extended study. But our province -is rather to consider him as a poet. Eminent as a statesman for -unimpeachable integrity and for wise administration of justice, he -carried prudent reforms into every department under his control, in -which, though subjected to many attacks, he proved himself, by a memoir -published shortly before his death, in justification of his public -conduct, to have been fully warranted. This memoir, for heartfelt -eloquence, deserves to be ranked with Burke’s Letter to the Duke of -Bedford. Jovellanos has been compared by his countrymen to Cicero. A -writer in the Foreign Quarterly Review has instituted an ingenious -parallel between him and Montesquieu. With either, or with Burke, he -may be observed to have possessed the philosophy and feeling, which -give eloquence its chief value and effect. - -As a prose writer, Jovellanos, for elegance of style and depth of -thought, may be pronounced without a rival in Spanish literature. As a -dramatist, he only gave the public a tragedy and comedy, both of which -continue in much favour with the public. The latter, “The Honourable -Delinquent” is particularly esteemed; but it is a melodrame rather -than a comedy, according to our conceptions. It turns on the principal -character having been forced into fighting a duel, and who, having -killed his opponent, is sentenced to die; but after the usual suspenses -receives a pardon from the king. There are several interesting scenes -and much good writing in the piece; but no particular delineation of -character, to bring it any more than the other into the higher class -of dramatic art. It has, however, been observed, that it only needs to -have been written in verse to make it a perfect performance, and this -alone shows the hold it must have on the Spanish reader. - -As a poet, Jovellanos is chiefly to be commemorated for his Satires. -Two of these, in which he lashes the vices and follies of society at -Madrid,--“girt with the silent crimes of capitals,”--are pronounced by -the critic in the Madrid Review to be “highly finished” compositions. -They were, in fact, the only poems he himself published, and those -anonymously. With the strength of Juvenal, they have also his faults, -and abound too much in local allusions to be suited for translation. In -somewhat the same style were several epistles he addressed to different -friends, of which the one written to his friend and biographer Bermudez -has been chosen for this work, as most characteristic of the author. -Like his other Satires, it is written in blank verse; which style, -though not entirely unknown in Spain, he had the merit of first -bringing into favour. He probably gained his predilection for it from -his study of Milton, for whose works he had great admiration, and of -whose Paradise Lost he translated the first book into Spanish verse. - -The Epistle to Bermudez is remarkable as written with much earnestness, -in censure not only of the common vices and follies of mankind, but in -also going beyond ordinary satirists into the sphere of the moralist, -to censure the faults of the learned. What our great modern preacher -Dr. Chalmers has termed the “practical atheism” of the learned, was -indeed the subject of rebuke from many English writers, as Young -and Cowper, but may be looked for in vain in the works of others. -Jovellanos had no doubt read the former, at least in the translation -of his friend Escoiquiz, and meditated on the sentiment,--“An undevout -astronomer is mad,” even if not in the original. It can scarcely be -supposed that he was so well acquainted with English literature as to -have read Cowper; but there are several passages in his Epistles of -similar sentiments. The praise of wisdom especially, in the one to -Bermudez,--by which we may understand, was meant the wisdom urged by -the kingly preacher of Jerusalem, or the rule of conduct founded on -right principles, in opposition to mere learning,--is also that of our -Christian poet:-- - - Knowledge and wisdom, far from being one, - Have ofttimes no connexion. Knowledge dwells - In heads replete with thoughts of other men; - Wisdom in minds attentive to their own. - -In his hours of leisure, Jovellanos employed himself in composing -occasional verses at times, for the amusement of the society in which -he lived, without thinking of their being ever sought for publication. -These, however, have been lately gathered together with much industry -and exactness in the last edition of his collected works, published -by Mellado at Madrid in five volumes, 1845. As the last and fullest, -it is also the best collection of them, four other editions of them -previously published having been comparatively very deficient with -regard to them. Besides those, there were various reprints of several -others of his works, which were all received with much favour, both in -Spain and abroad. - -Jovellanos was never married, and in private life seems to have -considered himself under the obligations of the profession for which -he was originally intended. His character altogether is one to which -it would be difficult to find a parallel, and is an honour to Spain -as well as to Spanish literature. His virtues are now unreservedly -admitted by all parties of his countrymen, who scarcely ever name -him except with the epithet of the illustrious Jovellanos, to which -designation he is indeed justly entitled, no less for his writings, -than for his many public and private virtues and services to his -country. These may be forgotten in the claims of other generations and -succeeding statesmen; but his writings must ever remain to carry his -memory wherever genius and worth can be duly appreciated. - -The charge of writing a memoir of Jovellanos was entrusted by the -Historical Society of Madrid to Cean Bermudez, who fulfilled it with -affectionate zeal, Madrid, 1814; several other notices of his life have -appeared in Spain, including that by Quintana, which has been copied -by Wolf. The English reader will find an excellent one in the Foreign -Quarterly Review, No. 10, February, 1830; and the Spanish scholar a -further very eloquent encomium on his talents and merits in Quintana’s -second Introduction to his collection of Spanish Poetry. - - -JOVELLANOS. - - -EPISTLE TO CEAN BERMUDEZ, ON THE VAIN DESIRES AND STUDIES OF MEN. - - Arise, Bermudo, bid thy soul beware: - Thee raging Fortune watches to ensnare; - And, lulling others’ hopes in dreams supine, - A fell assault she meditates on thine. - The cruel blow which suffer’d from her rage - Thy poor estate will not her wrath assuage, - Till from thy breast her fury may depose - The blissful calm to innocence it owes. - Such is her nature, that she loathes the sight - Of happiness for man in her despite. - Thus to thine eyes insidious she presents - The phantasies of good, with which she paints - The road to favour, and would fain employ - Her arts thy holds of virtue to destroy. - Ah! heed her not. See her to rob thee stand - Ev’n of the happiness now in thy hand. - ’Tis not of her; she cannot it bestow: - She makes men fortunate;--but happy? No. - Thou think’st it strange! Dost thou the names confound - Of Fortune with felicity as bound? - Like the poor idiots, who so foolish gaze - On the vain gifts and joys which she displays, - So cunning to exchange for real good. - O cheat of human wisdom! say withstood, - What does she promise, but what beings born - To our high destiny should hold in scorn? - In reason’s balance her best offers weigh, - And see what worthless lightness they betray. - - There are who, burning in the track of fame, - Wear themselves ruthless for a sounding name. - Buy it with blood, and fire, and ruin wide; - And if with horrid arm is death descried, - Waving his pennon as from some high tower, - Their hearts swell proud, and trampling fierce they scour - The field o’er brothers’ bodies as of foes! - Then sing a triumph, while in secret flows - The tear they shed as from an anguish’d heart. - - Less lofty, but more cunning on his part, - Another sighs for ill-secure command: - With flatteries solicitously plann’d, - Follows the air of favour, and his pride - In adulation vile he serves to hide, - To exalt himself; and if he gain his end - His brow on all beneath will haughty bend; - And sleep, and joy, and inward peace, the price - To splendour of command, will sacrifice: - Yet fears the while, uncertain in his joy, - Lest should some turn of Fortune’s wheel destroy - His power in deep oblivion overthrown. - - Another seeks, with equal ardour shown, - For lands, and gold in store. Ah! lands and gold, - With tears how water’d, gain’d with toils untold! - His thirst unquench’d, he hoards, invests, acquires; - But with his wealth increased are his desires; - And so much more he gains, for more will long: - Thus, key in hand, his coffers full among; - Yet poor he thinks himself, and learns to know - His state is poor, because he thinks it so. - - Another like illusion his to roam - From wife and friends, who flying light and home, - To dedicate his vigils the long night - In secret haunts of play makes his delight, - With vile companions. Betwixt hope and fear - His anxious breast is fluctuating drear. - See, with a throbbing heart and trembling hand, - There he has placed his fortune, all to stand - Upon the turning of a die! ’Tis done: - The lot is cast; what is it? has he won? - Increased is his anxiety and care! - But if reverse, O Heaven! in deep despair, - O’erwhelm’d in ruin, he is doom’d to know - A life of infamy, or death of woe. - - And is he happier, who distracted lies - A slave beneath the light of beauty’s eyes? - Who fascinated watches, haunts, and prays, - And at the cost of troubles vast essays, - ’Mid doubts and fears, a fleeting joy to gain? - Love leads him not: his breast could ne’er profane - Admit Love’s purer flame; ’tis passion’s fire - Alone that draws him, and in wild desire - He blindly headlong follows in pursuit: - And what for all his toils can he compute? - If gain’d at length, he only finds the prize - Bring death and misery ev’n in pleasure’s guise. - - Then look on him, abandon’d all to sloth, - Who vacant sees the hours pass long and loth - O’er his so useless life. He thinks them slow, - Alas! and wishes they would faster go. - He knows not how to employ them; in and out - He comes, and goes, and smokes, and strolls about, - To gossip; turns, returns, with constant stress - Wearying himself to fly from weariness. - But now retired, sleep half his life employs, - And fain would all the day, whose light annoys. - Fool! wouldst thou know the sweetness of repose? - Seek it in work. The soul fastidious grows - Ever in sloth, self-gnawing and oppress’d, - And finds its torment even in its rest. - - But if to Bacchus and to Ceres given, - Before his table laid, from morn to even, - At ease he fills himself, as held in stall: - See him his stomach make his god, his all! - Nor earth nor sea suffice his appetite; - Ill-tongued and gluttonous the like unite: - With such he passes his vain days along, - In drunken routs obscene, with toast and song, - And jests and dissolute delights; his aim - To gorge unmeasured, riot without shame. - But soon with these begins to blunt and lose - Stomach and appetite: he finds refuse - Offended Nature, as insipid food, - The savours others delicacies view’d. - Vainly from either India he seeks - For stimulants; in vain from art bespeaks - Fresh sauces, which his palate will reject; - His longings heighten’d, but life’s vigour wreck’d; - And thus worn out in mid career the cost, - Before life ends he finds his senses lost. - - O bitter pleasures! O, what madness sore - Is theirs who covet them, and such implore - Humbly before a lying deity! - How the perfidious goddess to agree - But mocks them! Though perhaps at first she smile, - Exempt from pain and misery the long while - She never leaves them, and in place of joy - Gives what they ask, with weariness to cloy. - If trusted, soon is found experience taught - What ill-foreseen condition they have sought. - Niggard their wishes ever to fulfil, - Fickle in favour, vacillating still, - Inconstant, cruel, she afflicts today, - And casts down headlong to distress a prey, - Whom yesterday she flatter’d to upraise: - And now another from the mire she sways - Exalted to the clouds; but raised in vain, - With louder noise to cast him down again. - Seest thou not there a countless multitude, - Thronging her temple round, and oft renew’d, - Seeking admittance, and to offer fraught - With horrid incense, for their idol brought? - Fly from her; let not the contagion find - The base example enter in thy mind. - Fly, and in virtue thy asylum seek - To make thee happy: trust the words I speak. - There is no purer happiness to gain - Than the sweet calm the just from her attain. - If in prosperity their fortunes glide, - She makes them free from arrogance and pride; - In mid estate be tranquil and content; - In adverse be resign’d whate’er the event: - Implacable, if Envy’s hurricane - O’erwhelm them in misfortunes, even then - She hastes to save them, and its rage control; - With lofty fortitude the nobler soul - Enduing faithful; and if raised to sight, - At length they find the just reward requite, - Say is there aught to hope for prize so great - As the immortal crown for which they wait? - - But is this feeling then, I hear thee cry, - That elevates my soul to virtue high, - This anxious wish to investigate and know, - Is it blameworthy as those passions low? - Why not to that for happiness repair? - Wilt thou condemn it? No, who would so dare, - That right would learn his origin and end? - Knowledge and Virtue, sisters like, descend - From heaven to perfect man in nobleness; - And far removing him, Bermudo, yes! - From vice and error, they will make him free, - Approaching even to the Deity. - But seek them not, in that false path to go - Which cunning Fortune will to others show. - Where then? to Wisdom’s temple only haste; - There thou wilt find them. Her invoke; and traced, - See how she smiles! press forward; learn to use - The intercession of the kindly Muse - To make her be propitious. But beware, - That in her favour thou escape the snare, - The worship, which the vain adorer pays. - She never him propitiously surveys, - Who insolently seeking wealth or fame, - Burns impure incense on her altar’s flame. - Dost thou not see how many turn aside - From her of learning void, but full of pride? - Alas for him, who seeking truth, for aid - Embraces only a delusive shade! - In self conceit who venturing to confide, - Nor virtue gain’d, nor reason for his guide, - Leaves the right path, precipitate to stray - Where error’s glittering phantoms lead the way! - Can then the wise hope happiness to feel - In the chimæras sought with so much zeal? - Ah, no! they all are vanities and cheats! - See him, whom anxious still the morning greets, - Measuring the heavens, and of the stars that fly - The shining orbits! With a sleepless eye, - Hasty the night he reckons, and complains - Of the day’s light his labour that detains; - Again admires night’s wonders, but reflects - Ne’er on the hand that fashion’d and directs. - Beyond the moons of Uranus he bends - His gaze; beyond the Ship, the Bear, ascends: - But after all this, nothing more feels he: - He measures, calculates, but does not see - The heavens obeying their great Author’s will, - Whirling around all silent; robbing still - The hours from life, ungratefully so gone, - Till one to undeceive him soon draws on. - - Another, careless of the stars, descries - The humble dust, to scan and analyse. - His microscope he grasps, and sets, and falls - On some poor atom; and a triumph calls, - If should the fool the magic instrument - Of life or motion slightest sign present, - Its form to notice, in the glass to pore, - What his deluded fancy saw before; - Yields to the cheat, and gives to matter base - The power, forgot the Lord of all to trace. - Thus raves the ingrate. - Another the meanwhile - To scrutinize pretends, in learning’s style, - The innate essence of the soul sublime. - How he dissects it, regulates in time! - As if it were a subtile fluid, known - To him its action, functions, strength and tone; - But his own weakness shows in this alone. - - ’Twas given to man to view the heavens on high, - But not in them the mysteries of the sky; - Yet boldly dares his reason penetrate - The darksome chaos, o’er it to dilate. - With staggering step, thus scorning heavenly light, - In error’s paths he wanders, lost in night. - Confused, but not made wise, he pores about, - Betwixt opinion wavering and doubt. - Seeking for light, and shadows doom’d to feel, - He ponders, studies, labours to unseal - The secret, and at length finds his advance; - The more he learns, how great his ignorance. - Of matter, form, or motion, or the soul, - Or moments that away incessant roll, - Or the unfathomable sea of space, - Without a sky, without a shore to trace, - Nothing he reaches, nothing comprehends, - Nor finds its origin, nor where it tends; - But only sinking, all absorb’d may see - In the abysses of eternity. - - Perhaps, thence stepping more disorder’d yet, - He rushes his presumptuous flight to set - Ev’n to the throne of God! with his dim eyes - The Great Inscrutable to scrutinize; - Sounding the gulf immense, that circles round - The Deity, he ventures o’er its bound. - What can he gain in such a pathless course - But endless doubts, his ignorance the source? - He seeks, proposes, argues, thinking vain. - The ignorance that knew to raise, must fain - Be able to resolve them. Hast thou seen - Attempts that e’er have more audacious been? - What! shall an atom such as he excel - To comprehend the Incomprehensible? - Without more light than reason him assign’d, - The limits of immensity to find? - Infinity’s beginning, middle, end? - Dost Thou, Eternal Lord, then condescend - To admit man to Thy councils, or to be - With his poor reason in Thy sanctuary? - A task so great as this dost Thou confide - To his weak soul? ’Tis not so, be relied, - My friend. To know God in His works above, - To adore Him, melt in gratitude and love; - The blessings o’er thee lavish’d to confess, - To sing His glory, and His name to bless;-- - Such be thy study, duty and employ; - And of thy life and reason such the joy. - Such is the course that should the wise essay, - While only fools will from it turn away. - Wouldst thou attain it? easy the emprise; - Perfect thy being, and thou wilt be wise: - Inform thy reason, that its aid impart - Thee truth eternal: purify thy heart, - To love and follow it: thy study make - Thyself, but seek thy Maker’s light to take: - There is high Wisdom’s fountain found alone: - There thou thy origin wilt find thee shown; - There in His glorious work to find the place - ’Tis thine to occupy: there thou mayst trace - Thy lofty destiny, the crown declared - Of endless life, for virtue that’s prepared. - - Bermudo, there ascend: there seek to find - That truth and virtue in the heavenly mind, - Which from His love and wisdom ever flow. - If elsewhere thou dost seek to find them, know, - That darkness only thou wilt have succeed, - In ignorance and error to mislead. - Thou of this love and wisdom mayst the rays - Discern in all His works, His power and praise - That tell around us, in the wondrous scale - Of high perfection which they all detail; - The order which they follow in the laws, - That bind and keep them, and that show their cause, - The ends of love and pity in their frame: - These their Creator’s goodness all proclaim. - Be this thy learning, this thy glory’s view; - If virtuous, thou art wise and happy too. - Virtue and truth are one, and in them bound - Alone may ever happiness be found. - And they can only, with a conscience pure, - Give to thy soul to enjoy it, peace secure; - True liberty in moderate desires, - And joy in all to do thy work requires; - To do well in content, and calmly free: - All else is wind and misery, vanity. - - -TO GALATEA’S BIRD. - - O silly little bird! who now - On Galatea’s lap hast got, - My unrequited love allow - To envy thee thy lot. - - Of the same lovely mistress both - Alike the captives bound are we; - But thou for thy misfortune loth, - Whilst I am willingly. - - Thou restless in thy prison art, - Complaining ever of thy pains; - While I would kisses, on my part, - Ev’n lavish on my chains. - - But, ah! how different treating us, - Has scornful Fate the lot assign’d! - With me she’s always tyrannous, - But with thee just as kind. - - A thousand nights of torment borne, - A thousand days of martyrdom, - By thousand toils and pains, her scorn - I cannot overcome. - - Inestimable happiness, - A mere caprice for thee has got; - So bathed in tears, in my distress, - I envy thee thy lot. - - And there the while, with daring heel, - Thou tread’st in arrant confidence, - Without a heart or hope to feel, - Or instinct’s common sense. - - In the embraces, which my thought, - Not even in its boldest vein, - Could scarce to hope for have been brought, - Presumptuous to attain. - - -TO ENARDA.--I. - - Lovely Enarda! young and old - All quarrel with me daily: - Because I write to thee they scold, - Perhaps sweet verses gaily. - - “A judge should be more grave,” they say, - As each my song accuses; - “From such pursuits should turn away - As trifling with the Muses.” - - “How wofully you waste your time!” - Preach others; but, all slighting, - The more they scold, the more I rhyme; - Still I must keep on writing. - - Enarda’s heart and mind to praise, - All others far excelling, - My rustic pipe its note shall raise, - In well-toned measures telling. - - I wish, extolling to the skies, - Her beauty’s high perfection - To sing, and all her witcheries - Of feature and complexion: - - With master pencil to portray - Her snowy neck and forehead, - And eyes that round so roguish play, - And lips like carmine florid. - - And let the Catos go at will, - To where they most prefer it, - Who withering frowns and sneerings still - Give me for my demerit. - - In spite of all, with wrinkled pate, - The censures each rehearses, - Enarda I will celebrate - For ever in my verses. - - -TO ENARDA.--II. - - Cruel Enarda! all in vain, - In vain, thou view’st with joyful eyes - The tears that show my grief and pain, - Thyself exulting in my sighs. - - The burning tears that bathe my cheek, - With watching shrunk, with sorrow pale, - Thy lightness and caprice bespeak, - Thy guilt and perfidy bewail. - - Those signs of sorrow, on my face, - Are not the obsequies portray’d - Of a lost good, nor yet the trace - Of tribute to thy beauties paid. - - They are the evidence alone - There fix’d thy falsehood to proclaim; - Of thy deceits the horror shown, - Of my delirium the shame. - - I weep not now thy rigours o’er, - Nor feel regret, that lost to me - Are the returns, which false before - Thou gavest, or favours faithlessly. - - I weep o’er my delusions blind; - I mourn the sacrifices made, - And incense to a god unkind - On an unworthy altar laid. - - I weep the memory o’er debased - Of my captivity to mourn, - And all the weight and shame disgraced - Of such vile fetters to have borne. - - Ever to my lorn mind return’d - Are thoughts of homage offer’d ill, - Disdains ill borne, affection spurn’d, - And sighs contemn’d, recurring still. - - Then, ah, Enarda! all in vain - Thou think’st to please thee with my grief: - Love, who now looks on me again - With eyes of pity and relief, - - A thousand times has me accost, - As thus my tears to censure now, - “To lose them thou hast nothing lost; - Poor creature! why then weepest thou?” - - - - -II. - -TOMAS DE IRIARTE. - - -Of all the modern Spanish poets, Iriarte seems to have obtained for his -writings the widest European reputation. He was born the 18th September -1750, at Teneriffe in the Canary Islands, where his family had been -some time settled, though the name shows it to have been of Basque -origin. His uncle, Juan de Iriarte, also a native of the same place, -was one of the most learned men of his age, and to him the subject -of this memoir was indebted for much of the knowledge he acquired, -and means of attaining the eminence in literature he succeeded him in -possessing. Juan de Iriarte had been partly educated in France, and -had afterwards resided some time in England, so as to acquire a full -knowledge of the language and literature of those countries. He was -also a proficient in classical learning, and wrote Latin with great -precision, as his writings, published by his nephew after his death, -evince; Madrid, two volumes, 4to. 1774. Having been appointed keeper of -the Royal Library at Madrid, he enriched it with many valuable works, -in upwards of 2000 MSS. and 10,000 volumes. He was an active member -of the Royal Spanish Academy, and one of the principal assistants -in compiling the valuable dictionary and grammar published by that -learned Society, as well as other works. - -At the instance of this uncle, Tomas Iriarte went to Madrid in the -beginning of 1764, when not yet fourteen years of age, and under -that relative’s able guidance completed his studies, learning at the -same time the English and other modern languages. He was already far -advanced in a knowledge of classical literature, and it is stated that -some Latin verses he wrote, on leaving his native place, showed such -proficiency as to surprise his friends, and make them entertain great -expectations of his future success. Some of his Latin compositions, -published afterwards among his works, prove him to have been a scholar -of very considerable acquirements. Classical literature does not seem -in modern times to be much studied in Spain, and Iriarte is the only -distinguished writer among the modern Spanish poets who can be pointed -out as conspicuous for such attainments. Thus they have failed in -apprehending one of the chief beauties of modern poetry, so remarkable -in Milton and Byron, and our other great poets, who enrich their works -with references that remind us of what had most delighted us in those -of antiquity. - -In 1771 his uncle died, and Tomas Iriarte, who had already been acting -for him in one of his offices as Interpreter to the Government, was -appointed to succeed him in it. He was afterwards, in 1776, appointed -Keeper of the Archives of the Council of War; and these offices, -with the charge of a paper under the influence of the government, -seem to have been the only public employments he held. From one of -his epistles, however, he appears to have succeeded to his uncle’s -property, and thus to have had the means as also the leisure to give -much of his time to the indulgence of literary tastes. He was very fond -of paintings and of music, to which he showed his predilection, not -only by his ability to play on several instruments, but also by writing -a long didactic poem on the art, entitled ‘Musica.’ This he seems to -have considered as giving him his principal claim to be ranked as a -poet, though the world preferred his other writings. - -When yet under twenty years of age, Iriarte had already appeared as a -writer of plays, some of which met with considerable approbation. Of -these it will be sufficient for us here to observe, that Moratin, the -first great dramatic poet of Spain in modern times, pronounced one of -them, ‘The Young Gentleman Pacified,’ to have been “the first original -comedy the Spanish theatre had seen written according to the most -essential rules dictated by philosophy and good criticism.” - -Besides several original plays, Iriarte translated others from the -French, from which language he also translated the ‘New Robinson’ of -Campe, which passed through several editions. From Virgil he translated -into Spanish verse the first four books of the Æneid, and from Horace -the Epistle to the Pisos. These, though censured by some of his -contemporaries so as to excite his anger, were altogether too superior -to those attacks to have required the vindication of them he thought -proper to publish. Horace seems to have been his favourite author; but -he had not learned from him his philosophical equanimity, wherewith -to pass over in silent endurance the minor miseries of life. Thus he -allowed himself, throughout his short career, to be too much affected -by those ungenerous attacks, which mediocrity is so apt to make on -superior merit. The names of those censurers are now principally -remembered by his notices of their writings; an honour, which men of -genius, in their hours of irritation, too often confer on unworthy -opponents. Thus a large portion of his collected works consists of -these controversial notices, which, as usual in such cases, only -impair the favourable effect produced by the remainder on the mind of -the reader. Those works were first published in a collected form in six -volumes, in 1786; afterwards in eight volumes, in 1805. - -From Iriarte’s poetical epistles, which are eleven in number, he -appears to have been a person of a very kindly disposition, as -Quintana describes him, living in friendly intercourse with the -principal literary characters of Spain, especially with the amiable and -ill-fated Cadahalso, to whom, in one of those epistles, he dedicated -his translations from Horace. The others also are mainly on personal -topics, and display his character advantageously, though, as poetical -compositions, they have not been received so favourably as some of his -other works. - -The fame of Iriarte may be said to rest on his literary fables, which -have attained a popularity, both at home and abroad, equalled by few -other works. They are eighty-two in number, and all original, having, -as their title indicates, a special reference to literary questions, -though they are also all sufficiently pointed to bear on those of -ordinary life. Like Sir Joshua Reynolds’s Discourses on Painting, they -convey general instructions to all, while professing an application to -one particular pursuit. They are written with much vivacity and ease, -yet with an appropriate terseness that adds to their effect. Martinez -de la Rosa, equally eminent as a statesman, a poet and a critic, -observes of them, that if he had not left compositions of any other -class, they would have extended his reputation as a poet; and adds, -“that they abound in beauties, though frequently wanting in poetical -warmth, so as to recommend this valuable collection, unique in its -class, as one of which Spanish literature has to be proud.” - -Of these fables, first published in 1782, so many editions have -appeared, that it would be a very difficult task to enumerate them. -There is scarcely a provincial town in Spain, of any consequence, in -which they have not been reprinted. Several editions have appeared in -France, two in New York, and three in Boston, where they have been -used in teaching Spanish. Several of the fables have been imitated by -Florian, and translations have been made into other languages. Of these -translations, one in French verse was published by M. Lanos, Paris, -1801, and another, in prose, by M. L’Homandie, ibid. 1804: into German -they were translated by Bertuch, Leipzic, so early as 1788, and into -Portuguese, by Velladoli, in 1801. - -I am not aware of more than one edition of them in England, that -published by Dulau, 1809; but there have been no fewer than three -translations of them into English verse; first by Mr. Belfour, London, -1804, another by Mr. Andrews, ibid. 1835, and a third by Mr. Rockliff, -ibid. 1851. - -The same popularity attended another work which Iriarte prepared -for the instruction of youth, named ‘Historical Lessons,’ published -posthumously, about twenty editions of which have since appeared, -principally from its having been adopted as a text-book for schools. -Of this also an edition has been published in London by Boosey, and a -translation into English. Iriarte’s industry appears to have been of -the most practical character, and his endeavours were as wisely as they -were unremittingly directed to make his countrymen wiser and better -in their future generations. If a man’s worth may be estimated by -such labours, few persons have ever lived who were so entitled to the -gratitude of posterity, as few have ever effected so much as he did in -the short career that was afforded him. - -In private life, in the leisure allowed from his studies and duties, -he indulged much, as has been already stated, in the recreation of -music; and in praise and explanation of that favourite art he wrote -his largest work, ‘Music,’ a didactic poem, in five cantos. Of this -work, which was first published in 1780, the fifth separate edition -appeared in 1805, since which I have not heard of any other. It has, -however, had the good fortune to be translated into several foreign -languages; into German by Bertuch, in 1789; into Italian by the Abbé -Garzia, Venice, 1789; into French by Grainville, Paris, 1800; and into -English by Mr. Belfour, London, 1807. The last-mentioned translation is -made with much exactness and elegance into heroic verse; though, as the -original had the fault usual to all didactic poems of not rising to any -high poetical power, the translation must share the fault to at least -an equal extent. - -In the Italian version, a letter is quoted from the celebrated -Metastasio, in which he speaks of the style of Iriarte’s poem as “so -harmonious, perspicuous and easy, as to unite the precision of a -treatise with the beauties common to poetry.” It is said also that -Metastasio further pronounced the poem to be “not only excellent, but -to be considered uncommon, in having successfully treated a subject so -difficult, and apparently so little adapted to poetry.” It is to be -observed that Iriarte had warmly eulogized Metastasio in the book, so -as to merit the commendation. The first canto is confined to treating -the subject artistically, and will therefore prove less to the taste -of the general reader than the other cantos, which are of a more -interesting character, and may be read with pleasure by persons who -do not understand music as a science. The third canto especially is -written with much spirit in its praise, as connected with devotion. The -second canto treats of the passions as they may be expressed by music, -including martial music. The fourth minutely discusses theatrical -music, with its excellences and defects. The fifth explains it, as -calculated for the amusement of societies, or individuals in solitude. -The poem concludes with pointing out what ought to be the study of a -good composer, and by a proposal for the establishment of an academy -of music, or scientific body of musicians, anticipating the benefit to -science that would result from such an institution. - -This poem, the ‘Musica,’ and the Epistles, are written in a very -favourite style of versification in Spain, denominated the Silva, -which consists of lines of eleven syllables, varied occasionally with -others of seven, rhyming at the pleasure of the writer. The ‘Literary -Fables’ are written in various metres; Martinez de la Rosa observes in -upwards of forty different kinds, appropriate to the characteristics -of the subjects, which may be more perceptible to a native ear than to -a foreigner’s. It is certainly true that this gives a variety to the -work which is well suited to the purposes the author had in view. He -was wise enough to know that truths hidden in the garb of fiction will -often be felt effectually, where grave precepts would not avail, - - Καὶ τοῦ τι καὶ Βρότων φρενὰς - Ὑπὲρ τὸν ἀληθῆ λόγον, - Δεδαιδαλμένοι ψεύδεσι ποικίλοις - Ἐξαπάτωντι μύθοι, - -and thus conveyed his lessons in examples, with a moral, which could be -quickly understood and easily remembered. - -With regard to the objection made to these fables, that they are often -deficient in poetical warmth or colouring, it may be observed that the -subjects would scarcely admit of any. Iriarte was certainly a writer -of more poetic taste than talent, and it must be acknowledged that his -genius, judging by the works he left, was not one to soar to the higher -flights of poetry. He felt this himself, as he intimates in his Epistle -to his brother; and, choosing a subject like Music for a didactic poem, -or writing familiar epistles on occasional subjects, did not give -himself much scope for fancy, much less for passion. But as applied to -the fables, the objection was unnecessary. If they deserved praise for -their vivacity of style, that very circumstance, independent of the -subjects, rendered them passionless, ἀπαθέστατα, as Longinus remarks, -where stronger feelings could scarcely be brought into connexion with -such discussions. The great difficulty in such cases is, when metres -are chosen to suit the subject, abounding in pyrrhics, trochees, and -such measures, as the same great critic adds, to guard, lest the sense -be lost in too much regard to the sound, raising only attention to the -rhythm, instead of exciting any feeling in the minds of the hearers. - -Of the five fables chosen for translation, the two first were -taken from Bouterwek, and the third on account of its having been -particularly noticed by Martinez de la Rosa. The Epistle to his Brother -was selected partly on account of its notices of other countries, as a -foreigner’s judgement of them; and partly as being most characteristic -of the writer, showing his tastes and dispositions more perhaps than -the rest. The reader generally feels most interested in such parts of -the works of favourite writers, especially when their private history -gives the imagination a right to ask sympathy for their sufferings. - -Nothing is to be found in Iriarte’s works to show any peculiar opinions -on religion, though the tendency of his mind is everywhere clearly -seen, as leading to freedom of thought, instead of subjection to -dogmas. In his poem on Music, as already intimated, some devotional -rather than free-thinking principles are developed; yet it is said -that it was from a suspicion of his being affected by the French -philosophy of the day he fell under the censure of the Inquisition, -and was seized in 1786, and imprisoned three years in the dungeons of -that institution. What was the particular offence imputed to him has -not been stated. It could be no question of a political character, for -he was in the employment of the government, and was amenable to it -for any misdeeds. It probably was from some private cause, under the -cloak of a question of faith, that he had to undergo this imprisonment, -during which it is said he had to submit to severe penances before he -could obtain his liberty. After he had obtained it, he returned to his -studies and wrote further, a monologue, entitled ‘Guzman,’ and some -Latin maccaronic verses on the bad taste of some writers then in vogue. -But his spirits were no doubt broken down, as his health and strength -were undermined; and thus it was that he died two years after, though -his death was imputed to his sedentary habits and gout, the 17th of -September, 1791, when he had just completed his forty-first year. - -This untimely death was a serious loss to Spanish literature. With -his great and varied acquirements and unremitting industry, the world -might have expected still more valuable works from him, when, at the -age of thirty-six, in the best period of a man’s existence for useful -labours, he was cast into that dungeon, from which he seems to have -been permitted to come out only to die. The last Auto da fe in Spain -was celebrated in 1781; but the Inquisition had other victims whose -sufferings were no less to be deplored, though not made known. If -Iriarte was one, he had unquestionably the consciousness of being -enabled to feel, though not dying “an aged man,” yet that in his -comparatively short life, he had not lived in vain for his own good -name, and the benefit of posterity. - - -TOMAS DE IRIARTE. - - -EPISTLE TO DON DOMINGO DE IRIARTE, ON HIS TRAVELLING TO VARIOUS FOREIGN -COURTS. - - He who begins an instrument to play, - With some preludings, will examine well - How run the fingers, how the notes will swell, - And bow prepares, or breath for his essay; - Or if to write the careful penman’s aim, - He cuts and proves his pen, if broad or fine; - And the bold youths, to combat who incline, - Strike at the air, as trial of the game: - - The dancer points his steps with practised pace; - The orator harangues with studied grace; - The gamester packs his cards the livelong day; - I thus a Sonnet, though worth nothing, trace, - Solely to exercise myself this way, - If prove the Muse propitious to my lay. - It seems to me, dear brother, that Apollo - A course divine now does not always follow, - Nor please to dictate verses of a tone, - Worthy a sponsor such as he to own; - But rather would be human, and prefer - To prose in rhymes of warmthless character; - Without the enthusiasm sublime of old, - And down the wings of Pegasus would fold, - Not to be borne in flight, but gently stroll’d. - - You who forgetful of this court now seek - Those of the east and north to contemplate, - Forgive me, if in envy I may speak, - That to indulge it has allow’d you fate - The tasteful curiosity! to view - With joy the land, so famed and fortunate, - Which erst a Tully and a Maro knew, - To which Æmilius, Marius service paid, - Which Regulus and the Scipios obey’d. - Long would it be and idle to recall - The triumphs, with their blazonries unfurl’d, - Matchless of her, that once of Europe all - Was greater part, metropolis of the world. - I only ask of you, as you may read, - How in Avernus, destined to succeed, - Anchises show’d Æneas, in long line, - The illustrious shades of those, who were to shine - One day the glory of the Italian shore, - Now you, more favour’d than the Trojan chief, - Not in vain prophecy, but tried belief, - From what you see, by aid of history’s lore, - To admire the lofty state which Rome possess’d, - The which her ruins and remains attest. - - From our Hispanian clime I cannot scan - With you the column of the Antonine, - The fane or obelisk of the Vatican, - Or the Capitol, and Mount Palatine; - I cannot see the churches, or the walls, - The bridges, arches, mausoleums, gates, - The aqueducts, palaces, and waterfalls, - The baths, the plazas, porticos, and halls, - The Coliseum’s, or the Circus’ fates; - But still the immortal writings ’tis for me, - Of Livy, Tacitus, Cicero, to see; - I see Lucretius, Pliny, Juvenal, - Augustus, Maro and Mæcenas all; - With their names is the soul exalted high, - Heroic worth and honour to descry; - And so much more that model imitates - A nation now, so much more to be gain’d, - Is seen it but to approach the lofty heights - Of splendour, wealth, fame, power, that Rome attain’d. - - From the benignant lands that richly gleam - Beneath the Tiber’s fertilizing stream, - You next will pass, where borne as he arose, - Through colder realms the mighty Danube flows. - Girded in pleasant borders ’tis for you - The Austrian Vienna there to view; - To admire the monarch, warlike, good and wise, - With the magnanimous Prussian king who vies - An army brave and numerous to sway; - Chosen and hardy, forward to obey, - Whom as companions honour’d he rewards, - And not as slaves abased a lord regards. - There agriculture flourish you will see; - Public instruction is promoted free; - The arts extended rapidly and wide; - And these among, in culture and esteem, - That with which Orpheus tamed the furious pride - Of forest beasts, and cross’d the Lethe’s stream: - There all the tales of wonderful effect, - Of music’s art divine, with which are deck’d - The ancient Greek and Latin histories, - No longer will seem fables in your eyes, - When near you may applaud the loftiness, - The harmony, and the consonance sublime, - All that in varied symphonies to express - Has power the greatest master of our time; - Haydn the great, and merited his fame, - Whom to embrace I beg you in my name. - - But now the confines of the German land - I see you leaving, for the distant strand - Of Britain’s isle your rapid course to take, - And tour political around to make. - There in the populous court, whose walls’ long side - Bathes the deep Thames in current vast and wide, - A nation’s image will before your eyes - In all things most extraordinary rise. - Not rich of old, but happy now we see - By totally unshackled industry. - A nation liberal, but ambitious too; - Phlegmatic, and yet active in its course; - Ingenuous, but its interests to pursue - Intent; humane, but haughty; and perforce - Whate’er it be, the cause it undertakes, - Just or unjust, defends without remorse, - And of all fear and danger scorn it makes. - There with inevitably great surprise, - What in no other country we may see, - You will behold to exert their energies - Men act and speak with perfect liberty. - The rapid fortune too you will admire - Which eloquence and valour there acquire; - Nor power to rob has wealth or noble birth - The premiums due to learning and to worth. - You will observe the hive-like multitude - Of diligent and able islanders, - Masters of commerce they have well pursued, - Which ne’er to want or slothfulness defers; - All in inventions useful occupied, - In manufactures, roads, schools, arsenals, - Experiments in books and hospitals, - And studies of the liberal arts to guide. - There you will know in fine what may attain - An education wise; the skilful mode - Of patriotic teaching, so to train - Private ambition, that it seek the road - Of public benefit alone to gain: - The recompense and acceptation just, - On which founds learning all its hope and trust; - And a wise government, whose constant aim - Is general good, and an eternal fame. - - Midst others my reflections I would fain, - In some description worthy of the theme, - (If it were not beyond my powers) explain, - The varied scenes, enchantment all that seem, - Which the Parisian court on your return - Prepares, and offers you surprised to learn. - Polish’d emporium of Europe’s courts, - The which with noble spectacles invites, - With public recreations and resorts, - That give to life its solace and delights; - Brilliant assemblages! and these among, - The chief and most acceptable to gain, - Of all to this new Athens that belong, - To enjoy the fellowship of learned men; - With useful science, or with taste alone, - Who enlighten foreign nations, and their own. - - But I, who from this narrow corner write, - In solitude, while shaking off the dust - From military archives, ill recite - What I, O travelling Secretary! trust - Yourself will better practically see, - Whilst I can only know in theory. - Continue then your journey on in health; - From tongue to tongue, from land to land proceed: - To be a statesman eminent your meed. - Acquire each day with joy your stores of wealth, - Of merit and instruction; I the while, - As fits my mediocrity obscure, - Will sing the praise of quiet from turmoil; - Saying, as Seneca has said of yore;-- - “Let him, who power or honours would attain, - On the high court’s steep precipice remain. - I wish for peace, that solitude bestows, - Secluse to enjoy the blessings of repose. - To pass my life in silence be my fate, - Unnoticed by the noble, or the great: - That when my age, without vain noise or show, - Has reach’d the bounds allotted us below, - Though a plebeian only to pass by, - Perhaps I yet an aged man may die. - And this I do believe, no death of all - Than his more cruel can a man befall, - Who dying, by the world too truly known, - Is of himself most ignorant alone.” - - -FABLES. - - -THE BEAR, THE MONKEY AND THE HOG. - - A Bear, with whom a Piedmontese - A wandering living made, - A dance he had not learn’d with ease, - On his two feet essay’d: - - And, as he highly of it thought, - He to the Monkey cried, - “How’s that?” who, being better taught, - “’Tis very bad,” replied. - - “I do believe,” rejoin’d the Bear, - “You little favour show: - For have I not a graceful air, - And step with ease to go?” - - A Hog, that was beside them set, - Cried, “Bravo! good!” said he; - “A better dancer never yet - I saw, and ne’er shall see.” - - On this the Bear, as if he turn’d - His thoughts within his mind, - With modest gesture seeming learn’d - A lesson thence to find. - - “When blamed the Monkey, it was cause - Enough for doubting sad; - But when I have the hog’s applause, - It must be very bad!” - - * * * * * - - As treasured gift, let authors raise - This moral from my verse: - ’Tis bad, when wise ones do not praise; - But when fools _do_, ’tis worse. - - -THE ASS AND THE FLUTE. - - This little fable heard, - It good or ill may be; - But it has just occurr’d, - Thus accidentally. - - Passing my abode, - Some fields adjoining me, - A big Ass on his road - Came accidentally; - - And laid upon the spot, - A Flute he chanced to see, - Some shepherd had forgot, - There accidentally. - - The animal in front, - To scan it nigh came he, - And snuffing loud as wont, - Blew accidentally. - - The air it chanced around - The pipe went passing free, - And thus the Flute a sound - Gave accidentally. - - “O! then,” exclaim’d the Ass, - “I know to play it fine; - And who for bad shall class - The music asinine?” - - * * * * * - - Without the rules of art, - Ev’n asses, we agree, - May once succeed in part, - Thus accidentally. - - -THE TWO RABBITS. - - Some shrubs amidst to shun - The dogs he saw pursue, - I will not call it run, - But say a rabbit flew. - - From out his hiding-place - A neighbour came to see, - And said, “Friend, wait a space: - What may the matter be?” - - “What should it be?” he cried; - “I breathless came in fear, - Because that I espied - Two scoundrel greyhounds near.” - - “Yes,” said the other, “far - I see them also there; - But those no greyhounds are!” - “What?”--“Setters, I’ll declare.” - - “How, setters do you say? - My grandad just as much! - They are greyhounds, greyhounds, they; - I saw them plainly such.” - - “They are setters; get along: - What know you of these matters?”-- - “They are greyhounds; you are wrong:”-- - “I tell you they are setters.” - - The dogs while they engage - In these contentious habits, - Come up, and vent their rage - On my two thoughtless rabbits. - - * * * * * - - Who minor points affect, - So much about to quarrel, - And weightier things neglect, - Let them take the moral. - - -THE LAMB AND HIS TWO ADVISERS. - - A farm there was, with a poultry-yard, - Where roved an old bantam about; - And laid at his ease, a pig was barr’d - In a sty close by without. - - A lamb moreover was raised up there; - We know it does so befall: - Together in farms these animals fare, - And in good company all. - - “Well, with your leave,” said the pig one day - To the lamb, “what a happy life! - And healthful too, to be sleeping away, - One’s time without cares or strife! - - “I say there is nothing, as I am a pig, - Like sleeping, stretch’d out at ease; - Let the world go round with its whirligig, - And cares just as it may please.” - - The other the contrary chanced to tell - The same little lamb, to take heed; - “Look, innocent! here, to live right well, - Sleep very little indeed. - - “Summer or winter, early to rise - With the stars the practice seek; - For sleeping the senses stupefies, - And leaves you languid and weak.” - - Confused, the poor lamb the counsels compares, - And cannot perceive in his mind, - That contrary each advising declares, - But how he himself is inclined. - - * * * * * - - And thus we find authors the practice make, - To hold, as infallibly true, - The rules they fancy themselves to take, - And in their own writings pursue. - - -THE FLINT AND THE STEEL. - - Cruelly bent, it chanced the Flint - Ill-treated the Steel one day; - And wounding, gave it many a dint, - To draw its sparks away. - - When laid aside, this angry cried - To that, “What would your value be - Without my help?” the Flint replied, - “As much as yours, sir, but for me.” - - * * * * * - - This lesson I write, my friends to incite; - Their talents, however great, - That they must study with them unite, - To duly cultivate. - - The Flint gives light with the help of the Steel, - And study alone will talent reveal; - For neither suffice if found apart, - Whatever the talent or the art. - - - - -III. - -JUAN MELENDEZ VALDES. - - -For a hundred years after the time of Calderon de la Barca, who died -in 1687, there appeared in Spain no writer of sufficient merit to be -classed among those eminent characters, who had done so much honour to -Spanish literature in the seventeenth century. Verses were published -in sufficient abundance, which found readers and even admirers, merely -from the necessity the public felt of having something to read and -to admire, as of the fashion of the day. But they were written with -a perversion of taste and a deficiency of talent, which was truly -astonishing, in the successors of such authors, as had immediately -preceded them. - -This depression of literature, however, could not be expected to -continue long, among a people of such imaginative and deep passioned -character as the Spanish, whose native genius was by far too buoyant, -to be affected for any length of time by inferior models, even under -dynastic influences. Accordingly, towards the end of the eighteenth -century, it might have become apparent to an attentive observer, that -another order of writers was about to be called forth, and that the -nation was prepared to welcome the advent of true genius whenever it -was to be recognized. Learned societies had been established throughout -Spain; education on a sound basis had been sedulously promoted; and the -country was wealthy, and sufficiently flourishing to give incitement to -the arts, which are the attendants of public prosperity. - -At this epoch appeared Melendez Valdes, the restorer of Spanish poetry, -as his admirers with much justice termed him; who then showed by his -writings, that the old inspiration of the national genius was yet -capable of being revived in all its former grace and strength; and who -by the influence of his example further roused the energies of other -men of genius to follow in his steps. - -This highly gifted poet was born the 11th of March, 1754, at Ribera del -Fresno in the province of Estremadura, where his parents were of what -was called noble families, and, what was more important, in respectable -circumstances. The good disposition noticed in the son determined -them to destine him for study, and to award him a becoming education. -Thus, having learned the rudiments of Latin at home, he was sent to -study philosophy, or what was called philosophy, at Madrid, under the -charge of the Dominican Fathers of St. Thomas, where his application -and advancement gained him the esteem of his tutors and fellow-pupils. -Thence he was sent by his parents in 1770 to Segovia, to study with his -only brother, who was private secretary to the bishop of that city, and -with whom he was confirmed in that fondness for reading, and taste for -acquiring books, which might be called the passion of his whole life. -The bishop, who was a distant relation, pleased with his talents and -inclination for study, sent him in 1772 to Salamanca, the alma mater -of Spain, and assisted him to proceed in the study of law, in which he -distinguished himself wherever he had an opportunity; so that, says his -biographer, “appearing absorbed in the pursuit of that career, no one -would have judged him the same young man, whose inclination for poetry -and learning was soon after to place him at the head of the elegant -literature of his country.” - -Fortunately for Melendez, continues his biographer, there happened -then to be at Salamanca Don Josè de Cadalso, “a man celebrated for -extensive erudition, combined with more than ordinary talent for poetry -and letters, and a zeal for the glory and advancement of his country, -learned in the school, and under the inspiration of virtue. Generous -and affable, always lively, and at times satirical without branching -off into maliciousness, his conversation was kind and instructive, -and his principles indulgent and steadfast.” This eminent individual, -already well known in the literary world by several works published in -1772 and 1773, immediately recognized the value of Melendez: he took -him to his house to live with him, showed him the beauties and defects -of the older writers, taught him how to imitate them, and opened to -him the road to become acquainted with the literature of the learned -nations of Europe. “He afforded him an instruction yet more precious, -in the beautiful example he gave him to love all writers of merit, -to rise superior to envy, and to cultivate letters without degrading -them by unworthy disputations. The eulogies Cadalso bestowed on his -contemporaries are a public testimony of this noble character; and the -works of Melendez, where there is not a single line detracting from -the merit of any one, and his whole literary career, exempt from all -attack, show how he profited by the lessons of his master.” - -The Anacreontic style, in which Cadalso excelled, was also that first -cultivated by Melendez; and the former, seeing the progress of his -pupil, and the first efforts of his Muse, unreservedly acknowledged him -his superior, and in prose and verse announced him as the restorer of -good taste and the better studies of the University. This kindly union -was maintained until the death of Cadalso, at the siege of Gibraltar; -and the “Elegiac song of Melendez on this misfortune, will be, as long -as the Spanish language endures, a monument of affection and gratitude, -as well as an example of high and beautiful poetry.” - -Beyond the instructions which he received from Cadalso, Melendez was -aided by the example and counsels of other distinguished persons then -residing at Salamanca, among whom were two, favourably known as writers -of verse, Iglesias and Gonzalez. These, though they were soon eclipsed -by the young poet, admitted him to their friendship. By the latter -he was brought into communication with the illustrious Jovellanos, -then Judge of the High Court at Seville; and between them soon was -instituted a correspondence, which has been in great part preserved, -though as yet unpublished; a valuable monument, says Quintana, in which -are seen, “livingly portrayed, the candour, the modesty and virtuous -feelings of the poet, the alternate progress of his studies, the -different attempts in which he essayed his talents, and above all, the -profound respect and almost idolatry with which he revered his Mæcenas. -There may be seen how he employed his time and varied his tasks. At -first he applied himself to Greek, and began to translate Homer and -Theocritus into verse; but learning the immense difficulty of the -undertaking, and not stimulated to it by the bent of his genius, he -shortly abandoned it.” - -He then dedicated himself to the English language and literature, for -which he was said to have ever had an exceeding great predilection, -observing, “that to the Essay on the Human Understanding, he should owe -all his life the little he might know how to acquire.” As books came to -his hands, he went on reading and forming his judgements upon them, -the which he transmitted to his friend. Thus “by all the means in his -power he endeavoured to acquire and increase that treasury of ideas, -which so much contributes to perfection in the art of writing, and -without which verses are nothing more than frivolous sounds.” - -His application to study, however, soon proved more than his health and -strength would permit. He was obliged to leave Salamanca, and repair -to the banks of the Tormes, which he has made famous in song, and -there, by long attention to the regimen imposed on him, he fortunately -recovered. About this time his brother died in 1777, their parents -having died previously; and Melendez suffered much grief, as might -naturally be expected, on being thus left alone of his family, the more -painful in his state of health. Jovellanos urged him to join him at -Seville, but he declined the invitation, observing, that “the law of -friendship itself, which commands us to avail ourselves of a friend in -necessity, also commands that without it, we should not take advantage -of his confidence.” - -Study, to which he now returned to engage himself with more intensity -than ever, was the best alleviant of his sorrow, and time as usual at -length allayed it. “He then gave himself up to the reading and study -of the English poets: Pope and Young enchanted him. Of the former, he -said that four lines of his ‘Essay on Man’ were worth more, taught -more, and deserved more praise than all his own compositions.” The -latter he attempted to imitate, and in effect did so, in the poem on -‘Night and Solitude,’ but in remitting it to his friend, expressed with -much feeling his sense of its deficiencies compared with the original. -Thomson also he studied, and Gesner, in his lonely exercises by the -Tormes, and acknowledged how much he was indebted to the former for -many thoughts with which he subsequently enriched his pastoral poems. - -Thus having prepared himself to appear before the literary world as -a candidate for fame, an opportunity soon occurred for him to obtain -distinction. The Spanish Academy had been proposing subjects for -prizes, and then having given one for an Eclogue, ‘On the happiness of -a country life,’ Melendez felt himself in his element, and sent in his -Essay for the prize. This succeeded in receiving the first. The second -was awarded to Iriarte, who showed his mortification on account of the -preference, more sensibly than was becoming, under the circumstances. - -In the following year, 1781, Melendez went to Madrid, where his friend -Jovellanos had already been appointed Councillor of the Military -Orders, when for the first time they met. Melendez was already in the -road to fame, which his friend had foretold for him; and Jovellanos, -delighted with the realization of his hopes and endeavours, received -him into his house, introduced him to his society, and took every -opportunity of advancing his interests. It was the custom of the -Academy of San Fernando to give triennial celebrations, with much -solemnity, for the distribution of prizes, when eloquence, poetry -and music were tasked to do honour to the fine arts. One of these -celebrations was about to take place; Jovellanos was engaged to -pronounce a discourse, and Melendez was invited to exercise his genius -on the same subject, as the first literary characters of preceding -times had already given the example. Melendez acceded, and delivered -accordingly his Ode on the Glory of the Arts, which was received with -rapturous admiration, and ever since seems to have been considered his -masterpiece. - -In the midst of these successes, Melendez received the Professorship -of Humanities in his University, and in the following year, 1782, -proceeded to the degree of Licentiate, and in 1783 to that of Doctor -of Law, having shortly before the last married a lady of one of the -principal families of Salamanca. But as his professorship gave him -little occupation, and his marriage no family, he remained free to -continue his favourite studies. - -In 1784, on the occasion of peace being made with England, and the -birth of twin Infantes, to give hopes of secure succession to the -throne, the city of Madrid prepared magnificent celebrations of -rejoicings, and among the rest, a prize was proposed for the two best -dramatic pieces that might be offered within sixty days, under the -condition that they should be original, appropriate, and capable of -theatrical pomp and ornament. Out of fifty-seven dramas that were -offered, the prize was awarded to the one sent in by Melendez, ‘The -Bridals of Comacho the Rich,’ a pastoral comedy, which, however, though -abounding in poetical passages, was found on representation wanting -in effect, so as to be coldly received on the stage, where it has not -since been attempted. - -This ill-success gave occasion to several detractors of Melendez to -pour forth the effusions of envy or disappointment against him, to -which he gave no other answer than by the publication of his poems -in a collected form. This was in 1785; and the manner in which they -were received, it could be said, had had no parallel in Spain. Four -editions, of which three were furtive, were at once taken up, and all -classes of persons seemed to have the book in hand, commenting on its -excellences. The lovers of ancient poetry, who saw so happily renewed -the graces of Garcilasso, of Leon and Herrera, and “even improved -in taste and perfection,” saluted Melendez as the restorer of the -Castillian Muses, and hailed the banishment of the prosaic style which -had previously prevailed. The applauses extended beyond the kingdom, -and found especially in Italy the admiration repeated, as well as in -France and England, where several of the poems are said to have been -imitated. - -Great as was his success in literature, it was not enough provision -for his daily needs, notwithstanding the help of his professorship; -and Melendez accordingly applied for and obtained an office as a local -judge at Zaragoza, of which he took possession in September 1789. The -duties of this office were too onerous to admit of much study; but he -was soon removed, in 1791, to the chancery of Valladolid, where he had -more leisure, and where he remained till 1797, when he was appointed -Fiscal of the Supreme Court at Madrid. During this time he wrote -apparently little; but he prepared, and in 1797 published, another -edition of his works with two additional volumes, enriched with many -new poems, in which he “had elevated his genius to the height of his -age;”--“descriptive passages of a superior order, elegies powerful and -pathetic, odes grand and elevated, philosophic and moral discourses and -epistles, in which he took alternately the tone of Pindar, of Homer, of -Thomson, and of Pope, and drew from the Spanish lyre accents she had -not previously learned.” - -But notwithstanding the great merit of many of these poems, the -biographer of Melendez had it to confess that this publication was -not so favourably received as the first had been; and attempts to -account for it partly by the circumstances of the times, and partly -by what was new not being on the whole so finished and well-sustained -in interest as his former poems. Some of them also met with decided -disfavour; especially one, ‘The Fall of Lucifer,’ which showed that his -genius was not of the severer cast calculated for graver and higher -subjects allied to the epic, any more than to the dramatic. But the -merits of Melendez in his own sphere are too great, and his fame is -too well-founded to lose by acknowledgements which must be made in -truth and justice. It is not improbable that he had been urged by -his admirers to these attempts, to which his own inclinations would -not have led him, and it might thus have been the easiness of his -disposition that made him yield to suggestions which ended in failure. - -In the prologue which he affixed to this edition, Melendez attempted to -prove that poetic studies derogated nothing from the judicial dignity, -and that they had no incompatibility with the duties and talents of -a public man or man of business. But without following him or his -biographer into such a discussion, we may concede the point so far, -that any one undertaking responsible duties from the State, is bound -to give them his best and undivided energies. If, however, he has -any hours of leisure free from those responsibilities, it is surely -only an extension of his duty for him to employ them in attempting to -make his fellow-men wiser and better, or happier, in the manner most -congenial to his disposition or talents. Melendez certainly had no need -to exculpate himself in this respect, having been “long remembered -at Zaragoza and Valladolid as a model of integrity and application, -for his zeal in arranging amicably all disputations in his power, for -his affability and frankness in listening to complaints, and for the -humane and compassionate interest with which he visited the prisoners, -accelerating their causes, and affording them assistance, with an -inseparable adhesion to justice.” It was for his detractors,--and -Melendez had them, notwithstanding the amiability of his character -and the superiority of his talents,--to make these objections, if -they could have done so. His resorting to such apologies only gave -the appearance of a consciousness of weakness, which was not becoming -either in the one character or the other. - -Shortly after the publication of this edition, Melendez went to -Madrid to take possession of his new office. The advanced age of his -predecessor in it had for some time prevented his due attention to its -duties, so that Melendez had many arrears to dispose of in addition -to the ordinary services, through all which he laboured with much -assiduity and credit. But they were the last satisfactory events of -his life, which was henceforth to be passed in reverses and misery. -Yet at that time he seemed to be in the height of prosperity. Holding -an elevated post under the government, of which his friend Jovellanos -was a member, and respected both at home and abroad as one of the -first literary characters of the age, he might have justly hoped to -be free from any of the darker misfortunes of life. This exemption, -however, was not to be his lot, serving under a despotic government, of -which the head, Charles IV., was one of the weakest-minded of mortals, -guided by a favourite such as Godoy. When Jovellanos fell under this -favourite’s resentment, to make the blow inflicted on that illustrious -individual more poignant, it was extended to others, whose only fault -was that they shared his esteem. Melendez was ordered away from Madrid -within twenty-four hours, though his friends procured for him soon -after a commission from the government as inspector of barracks at -Medina del Campo, where he gave himself up again to study and such -duties as were assigned him. Beyond these, however, he particularly -exerted himself, it is recorded, in attending to the sick at the -hospitals, providing that they should not be sent out into the world, -as had often been previously the case, imperfectly cured or clothed, -and unable to effect their livelihood. - -In this humble occupation he might have been supposed exempt at least -from further malignity, but unfortunately some sycophant of power -thought it would be pleasing to the favourite to have a frivolous -accusation forwarded against him, which had the effect of his being -sent on half salary to Zamora. There he was fortunate enough to have -the intrigues against him made known, and in June 1802, he received a -royal order to have his full salary allowed, with liberty to reside -where he pleased. He would have preferred Madrid, but he found it most -prudent to return to Salamanca, and there, arranging his house and -library, began to enjoy a more peaceful life than what he had passed -since he left the University. - -The literary world might now have hoped for further efforts of -genius in this asylum, and perhaps some superior work worthy of his -talents and fame; but his spirits had been broken down by adversity -and injustice, and his attention was distracted by hopes and fears, -from which he could never free himself. A poem on Creation, and a -translation of the Æneid, were the fruits of six years’ retirement from -the world; and he proposed another edition of his works, which however -he did not accomplish, on the rapid succession of events which again -called him forth to a short period of active life, and subsequent years -of suffering. - -The revolution of Aranjuez brought Melendez to Madrid, in the hopes of -recovering his former employments; but in the troubled state of the -country, he soon wished to return to his house, without being able to -effect it. The French had now made themselves masters of the capital, -and Melendez was unfortunately induced to take office under them. This -conduct was contrary, not only to the course taken by Jovellanos and -his other friends, but also to the whole tenor of his former life and -opinions. His easy temper, which had at all times led him submissive -to the wishes of those who had his confidence, no doubt on this -occasion had been influenced by persons near him, and he might have -thought it a hopeless struggle to contend with Napoleon. - -Having however engaged in this unpatriotic service, he was sent as a -commissioner, on the part of the intrusive government, to the Asturias, -where the people had already risen in vindication of the national -independence. Melendez and his colleague were seized by the populace, -notwithstanding the efforts of the local authorities, who had placed -them for security in the prison, the doors of which were forced, and -they were led out to be put to death. All entreaties were in vain. -Melendez protested his attachment to the national cause, and even began -reciting some patriotic verses he had been writing, but the excited -multitude would not hear him. They added insults to menaces, and as -a great favour only permitted them to confess before they should -be executed. Thus a little time was gained; but this was at length -concluded and they were tied to a tree, and the party prepared to shoot -them, when a dispute arose whether they should be shot from in front -or behind as traitors, a piece of etiquette in such cases considered -of importance. The latter counsel prevailed, and the prisoners had -to be loosened and tied again accordingly, when the authorities and -religious orders of the place, with a particular Cross famous among -them, appeared approaching for their rescue. The people hereon became -calmed, and Melendez and his colleague were taken back to the prison, -whence they were soon permitted to return to Madrid. - -On the success of the Spanish army at Bailen, the French retired -from the capital, and Melendez remained at Madrid, hoping, through -the influence of Jovellanos, to be taken into favour with the -constitutional party. But fortune again seemed to side with the -French, and they returned to Madrid, when Melendez was again induced to -join them, and accepted office as Councillor of State and President of -a Board of Public Instruction. Thus he inevitably compromised himself -in a cause which was not that of his heart or principles, and whose -apparently irresistible strength could only have excused his adhesion -to it. This supposition, however, also proved erroneous; and when -the French armies had to abandon Spain, Melendez, with their other -principal adherents, had to fly with them also, having had the further -misfortune to have his house plundered, and his valuable library -destroyed, by the very marauders for whose sake he had lost all his -hopes of the future at home. - -Before entering France, Melendez, kneeling down, kissed the Spanish -soil, saying, “I shall not return to tread thee again.” His -apprehensions, notwithstanding his anxiety to do so, proved correct. -He passed four years in France, residing at Toulouse, Montpelier, -Nismes and Alaix, as circumstances compelled him, in great privation -and with bodily sufferings, the more aggravating, in his advanced -age, the bitter remembrances of the past. A paralytic affection first -incapacitated him from all exertion, and finally, an apoplectic attack -terminated his existence, at Montpelier, on the 24th May, 1817, in the -arms of his wife, who had followed him through all the vicissitudes of -life, and surrounded by the companions of his exile. A monument was -afterwards placed to his memory in the cemetery by the Duke de Frias. - -Notwithstanding the indecision of his character in public life, -Melendez was in private remarkable for laborious application to his -studies and duties. His reading was immense, and his desire unceasing -to be useful, and to contribute, by all the means in his power, to the -well-being of his fellows. His kindness of heart is conspicuous in all -his writings, which also portray the diffidence of his own powers, -ascribed to him by his biographer. - -His principal objects of veneration seem to have been the writings of -Newton and Locke. The former, as the “Great Newton,” is often named by -him. Pope he took for his model avowedly in poetry, and he strove to -imitate the moral and philosophic tone of that great poet’s writings, -whose elegance of style he certainly rivalled. Nothing in Spanish verse -had been ever produced to equal the sweetness of his verses, their -easy tone, and sparkling thoughts and expression. He was much attached -to drawing, but had no inclination for music, not even to the charms -of song, the more singular in one whose ear for the melody of verse -appears to have been so sensitive. To the very last he seems to have -been endeavouring to improve his poems, which have been thus observed -to have often lost in strength and expression what they gained in -cadence. - -“The principles of his philosophy were benevolence and toleration; -and he belonged to that race of philanthropists who hope for the -progressive amelioration of the human race, and the advent of a period, -when civilization, or the empire of the understanding, extended -over the earth, will give men that grade of perfection and felicity -compatible with the faculties and the existence of each individual. -Such are the manifestations of his philosophic poems, and such a state -he endeavoured to aid in producing by his talents and labours.” - -His influence as a poet has certainly been very great. All the writers -in Spain, who immediately succeeded him, especially Quintana, showed -evident proofs of having profited by the lessons his example gave them, -and those lessons seem to have sunk deeply into the minds of successive -generations, so as to leave no doubt of their continuing in the same -course. - -After his arrival in France, Melendez wrote a few short poems, which, -notwithstanding his age and failing health, showed his spirit was still -the same, and his imagination as lively as ever. At Nismes he prepared -an edition of his works, which the Spanish government published at -their cost after his death, when they also gave his widow the pension -allotted for her, as according to her husband’s former rank. This -edition has been the one subsequently several times reprinted, with a -biography by the eminent Quintana, worthy of himself and of his master. -The prologue to it, by Melendez, is very interesting, and from it we -learn, with regret, that upon the destruction of his library, “the most -choice and varied he had ever seen belonging to a private individual, -in the formation of which he had expended a great part of his patrimony -and all his literary life,” he had lost what he considered some of his -best poems, and some tracts, in prose, which he had prepared for the -press, on Legislation, on Civil Economy, the Criminal Laws, on Prisons, -Mendicancy and other subjects. - -The misfortunes of Melendez were certainly much to be lamented, but -throughout them he could unquestionably console himself with the -conviction of having been actuated ever by upright motives, and of -leaving to his country an imperishable name. His literary career had -been an eminently successful one, and he had felt the full enjoyment -of fame. In the prologue, above mentioned, he refers very feelingly to -the reverses to which he had been subjected, but also with apparent -satisfaction to the various editions and notices of his works, -published both in Spain and abroad. - -In leaving revised his works, published afterwards by the government, -Madrid 1820, Melendez left also this positive direction: “Although I -have composed many other poems, these appear to me the least imperfect, -and I therefore forbid the others to be reprinted under any pretext. -I earnestly request this of the editor, and expect it of his probity -and good feeling, that he will fulfil this, my will, in every respect.” -In accordance with this request, many of his earlier works have been, -with much propriety, omitted, and the remainder have been considerably -corrected; at the same time that a great number of poems are added, -that had not been previously published. The best edition of his works -is that by Salva, Paris 1832. - -Melendez enjoyed in his day a higher reputation than readers at present -are willing to concede him, comparing him with the other poets that -have since appeared in Spain. But the merits of writers should be -considered, in justice, relatively only to those who have preceded -them, and by this standard he is certainly fully entitled to the -eulogiums which his contemporaries awarded him. - - -MELENDEZ VALDES. - - -JUVENILITIES. - - When I was yet a child, - A child Dorila too, - To gather there the flowerets wild, - We roved the forest through. - - And gaily garlands then, - With passing skill display’d, - To crown us both, in childish vein, - Her little fingers made. - - And thus our joys to share, - In such our thoughts and play, - We pass’d along, a happy pair, - The hours and days away. - - But ev’n in sports like these, - Soon age came hurrying by! - And of our innocence the ease - Malicious seem’d to fly. - - I knew not how it was, - To see me she would smile; - And but to speak to her would cause - Me pleasure strange the while. - - Then beat my heart the more, - When flowers to her I brought; - And she, to wreathe them as before, - Seem’d silent, lost in thought. - - One evening after this - We saw two turtle-doves, - With trembling throat, who, wrapt in bliss, - Were wooing in their loves. - - In manifest delight, - With wings and feathers bow’d, - Their eyes fix’d on each other bright, - They languish’d, moaning loud. - - The example made us bold, - And with a pure caress, - The troubles we had felt we told, - Our pains and happiness. - - And at once from our view - Then, like a shadow, fled - Our childhood and its joys, but new, - Love gave us his instead. - - -THE TIMID LOVER. - - In the sharp pains the tyrant Love - Since first I saw thee made me feel, - To thee a thousand times above, - I come those pains to heal, - My village girl! but soon as nigh - To thee I find my way, - If e’er so bold to be I try, - I know not what to say. - - My voices fail, and mournful sighs, - Malicious phrenzy watching o’er, - The place of them alone supplies; - While mocks my efforts more - The traitor god, when anxious by - My thoughts to speak I pray; - If e’er so bold to be I try, - I know not what to say. - - Then feels his fire so strong my soul, - Meseems to die my only fate, - My tears in torrents freely roll, - And with deep groanings wait, - To move thy feeling heart’s reply; - But vainly, all astray, - If e’er so bold to be I try, - I know not what to say. - - I know not what, in trembling fear, - That seals my lips, as yet to learn - A foolish hope, thou mayst ev’n here - My hapless love discern. - I feel I must for ever fly - From thy side far away; - If e’er so bold to be I try, - I know not what to say. - - Alas! if thou couldst, my adored! - But hear those sighs, and thoughts express’d, - What happiness ’twould me afford! - I should be, Phyllis, blest. - But woe is me! beneath thine eye, - To sink in mock’d dismay, - If e’er so bold to be I try, - I know not what to say. - - -MY VILLAGE LIFE. - - When able happily am I - To my poor village to escape, - From all the city’s noise to fly, - And cares of every shape; - - Like a new man my spirits give - Me then to feel, in joyous link; - For only then I seem to live, - And only then to think. - - The insufferable hours that there - In weariness to me return’d, - Now on a course so gently bear, - Their flight is scarce discern’d. - - The nights that there in sloth and play - Alone their occupations keep, - Here with choice books I pass away, - And in untroubled sleep. - - With the first dawn I wake, to change - Rejoiced the soft bed’s balmy rest, - Through the life-giving air to range, - That free dilates the breast. - - It pleases me the heavens to view, - O’erspread with red and golden glows, - When first his lustres to renew, - His splendours Phœbus shows. - - It pleases me, when bright his rays, - Above the zenith fiery shine, - To lose me in the thick wood’s maze, - And in their shade recline. - - When languidly he hides his head, - In last reflection, even then - The mountain heights I eager tread, - To follow him again. - - And when the night its mantle wide - Extends around of beaming lights, - Their motions, measuring as they glide, - My watchful eye recites. - - Then to my books return’d, with awe, - My wondering thoughts, to trace, rehearse - The course of that portentous law, - That rules the universe. - - From them, and from the lofty height - Of such my thoughts, I then descend - To where my rustic friends await, - My leisure to attend. - - And with them taking up the part, - They give me in their toils and cares - To share, with jokes that merry start, - Away the evening wears. - - About his crops one tells me all, - Another all about his vines, - And what their neighbours may befall - Each many a tale combines. - - I ponder o’er each sage advice; - Their proverbs carefully I store; - Their doubts and quarrels judge concise, - As arbitrator o’er. - - My judgements all extol they free, - And all together talking loud; - For innocent equality - Reigns in their breasts avow’d. - - Then soon the servant comes to bring - The brimming jugs, and next with these - The mirthful girl supplies the ring - With chestnuts, and the cheese. - - And all, in brotherly content, - Draw nearer round, to pass untold - The sparkling cups, that wine present - Of more than three years old. - - And thus my pleasant days to pass, - In peace and happiness supreme, - (For so our tastes our pleasures class,) - But like a moment seem. - - -REMEMBRANCES OF YOUTH. - - Like a clear little stream, - That with scarcely a sound, - Through the plain among flowers, - Glides whirling around, - - So the fugitive years - Of my easy life sped, - Amidst laughter and play, - Like a dream have fled. - - On that dream to look back, - Oft in wonder I dwell; - Nor to tear me have power - From its pleasing spell. - - On each side in soft ease, - With friends cherish’d and gay, - In diversions and dance, - In banquets and play, - - With roses Cytheran - Sweet martyrdoms twine, - Of the blinded ring join’d - To deliriums of wine. - - And hopes so fallacious, - Bright castles that shone - In the air as upraised, - By the winds overthrown. - - With the Muses to crown - The grave tasks, that are born - Of wisdom, with laurel - Their sons to adorn: - - Here a thousand retreats - Of charm’d leafy arcade, - That to slumber beguile, - In freshness and shade: - - There beyond in the bowers - Of sweet Cnidus arise, - As of fear and desire, - Half mingled, the sighs: - - There the broad river spreads, - Showing soft its delights, - To oblivion of all - Whose crystal invites; - - With a gaze of desire - The fair banks I descend, - And to the false waters - My thirsty lips bend; - - For a full draught I seek, - But feel suddenly by, - Disenchant me the call - Of a friendly cry:-- - - “Where impell’d dost thou go, - In such blind madness, where? - O, fool! round thy footsteps - Hid dangers are there! - - “The wild fancy restrain, - Light ill-omen’d is this, - Where but lures thee to whelm - A fatal abyss. - - “Of thy happier years - Is the verdure dispell’d, - And what were then graces - Now vices are held. - - “Thou art man! it befits - Thee repenting in truth, - To gild virtuous with toils - The errors of youth!” - - I yield, from the current - I tremblingly fly: - But with eyes looking back, - Repeat with a sigh,-- - - “If to fall be a sin, - What hast thou, Nature, meant? - The path made so easy, - So sweet the descent? - - “How blest are the creatures, - With instincts secure, - Whom to swerve from the right - No perils allure!” - - -OF THE SCIENCES. - - I applied myself to science, - In its great truths believing, - That from my troubles I hence - Some ease might be receiving. - - O! what a sad delusion! - What lessons dear I learn’d me! - To verses in conclusion, - And mirth and dance I turn’d me. - - As if it were that life could - Produce so little trouble, - That we with toils and strife would - Make each one of them double. - - I stand by smiling Bacchus, - In joys us wont to wrap he; - The wise, Dorila, lack us - The knowledge to be happy. - - What matters it, if even - In fair as diamond splendour, - The sun is fix’d in heaven? - Me light he’s born to render. - - The moon is, so me tell they, - With living beings swarmy; - “There may be thousands,” well they - Can never come to harm me! - - From Danube to the Ganges, - History tells how did he - The Macedonian launch his - Proud banner fierce and giddy! - - What’s that to us, to entice us, - If only half this valley, - To feed our lambs suffice us, - With all our wants to tally? - - If not, leave all to justice: - Give me some drink, o’erpower’d - With but to name this goddess, - I feel myself a coward. - - They much who study ever - Have thousand plagues annoy them; - Which in their best endeavour - Their peace and joy destroy them: - - And then what do they gather? - A thousand doubts upspringing, - Which other puzzlings farther - Them other doubts are bringing. - - And so through life they haste on, - One enviable truly! - Disputes and hates to waste on, - And ne’er agreeing throughly. - - My shepherd girl! but bring me - Then wine abundant very, - And fear not songs I’ll sing thee, - As endlessly and merry. - - -THE DISDAINFUL SHEPHERDESS. - - If, as thou sayst, thou lovest me well, - Dear girl, those scornfulnesses cease; - For love can ne’er in union dwell - With such asperities. - - Show sharp disdain, to plight if e’er - Another proffers thee his troth; - To two at once to listen fair - Is an offence to both. - - Let one be chosen, so to prove - How great your happiness may be; - Thou calmly to enjoy his love, - And he to love thee free; - - Above all maids to extol thee most; - And thou to tenderness incline, - To yield repaying him the boast - His love gives forth for thine. - - Reserve and rigour to preside - In love, is like the ice in spring, - That robs fair May of all its pride, - The flocks of pasturing: - - But kindness, like the gentle rain, - Which April gives to glad the field, - Which makes all flourishing the plain, - And seeds their stores to yield. - - Be not disdainful then, but kind: - Know not to certain beauteous eyes - Alone all beauty is confined, - Or locks of golden dyes. - - Vain puff’d-up beauty will appear, - But like some showy ivy stem; - They may surprise, but fruitless, ne’er - Have any valuing them. - - If join’d with kindness, like the vine - It seems, with fruitful stores array’d; - Where all contentedly recline, - Beneath its peaceful shade: - - And whose green stems, the elm around, - When twining with adorning grace - Its leaves, will hold it also bound, - Firm in its fond embrace. - - Flower of a day is beauty’s bloom; - Time leaves it soon behind: if e’er - Thou doubt’st my word, let Celia’s doom - The lesson true declare. - - Celia, for witching beauty famed - Once far and wide, so foolish proud, - A thousand captives who contemn’d - That all before her bow’d, - - Now worn by years would blindly try - Who to her service may be won; - But finds all from her turn to fly, - To look at her finds none. - - For with her snow and rose the beams - And lustre of her eyes are flown, - And like a wither’d rose-tree seems, - Sad, wrinkled and alone. - - ’Tis but ingenuous kindness true, - The maid that loves in honour’s bonds, - Who listens to her lover sue, - And tenderly responds; - - Who at his pleasantries will smile, - Who dances with him at the feast, - Receives the flowers his gift, the while - His love with like increased; - - Who him her future husband sees, - Is neither coy nor feels ashamed, - For he as hers, and she as his, - The village through are named, - - That always like the dawn will seem, - When calm its light shines o’er the plain, - And keeping all beneath her beam - Bound captive in her chain: - - Years without clouding pass away; - Care to oppress her ne’er affects; - Ev’n rivalry forgives her sway, - And envy’s self respects. - - Her cheerfulness and happy vein, - Being to latest age to share, - Delight of all the shepherd train, - Enchantment of the fair. - - Be then, my Amaryllis! kind; - Cease those disdainfulnesses, cease; - For with thy pleasing grace combined - Such harshness ill agrees. - - The heavens ne’er form’d thee perfect thus, - Surpassingly of matchless cost, - That such high gifts should ruinous - Be miserably lost. - - Be kind, receive thy lover’s vow, - And all the village thou wilt find, - Who murmur at thy coldness now, - To praise thee then as kind. - - Thus sang Belardo, at her door, - His shepherd girl to wait upon, - Who scornful, from her casement o’er, - Bids him be silent and begone. - - - - -IV. - -LEANDRO FERNANDEZ MORATIN. - - -Spanish writers have in general too much overrated the merits of their -national dramas, and foreigners have too often repeated the eulogies, -as if they were deserved. Like those of antiquity, the Spanish, -though they abound in passages of much poetry and feeling, are almost -entirely deficient in that delineation of individual character, which -constitutes the highest class of the art. Thus all the representations -may be observed of the same description of personages and incidents, -given often with much ingenuity, but also often in the worst taste, and -always betokening a limited power of invention. Of this school Calderon -de la Barca was the great type, both as regards his merits and defects. -Lopez de Vega too, though his comedies are more representations of -manners and every-day life than Calderon’s, only showed his capability -of something better, if he had allowed his genius to seek a reputation -for perfectness, rather than for fecundity. The inferior order -of writers mistook the errors of these for excellences, and thus -exaggerated them. - -There were not, however, wanting in Spain persons of better judgement, -who observed those errors with a view to correct them, and among -whom the prominent place is due to the two Moratins, father and son. -Of these the former seems to have been the first of his countrymen -who openly denounced the wrong tendencies of the national dramatists; -and the latter, following in the same track, may be pronounced the -great reformer of the Spanish stage, to whom it owes some of its best -productions. - -The elder Moratin was one of the ablest writers of verses in Spain -during the last century, before the new æra of poetry arose, and his -merits, if not of themselves superior to those of his contemporaries, -have had an advantage over them, in connexion with the reputation of -the son, who has rendered them more celebrated by a pleasing memoir -of his father, prefixed to his works. From this we learn, that if the -father did not attain a high rank himself as a poet or dramatist, yet -he well deserves to be remembered as a bold and judicious critic, who, -both by precept and example, effected much good in his own day, and -still more by instilling good lessons into the mind of the son, so as -to enable him to attain his merited success. - -In the words of this memoir, “Calderon at that time enjoyed so high a -reputation, that it appeared a sacrilegious hardihood to notice defects -in his comedies or sacramental pieces, which, repeated annually on the -stage with every possible pomp and appliance, delighted the vulgar of -all classes, and perpetuated the applauses of their famous author. -Moratin published three Discourses, which he entitled, ‘Exposition -of the Misconceptions of the Spanish Theatre,’ written with the good -judgement of a man of taste, and with the zeal of a citizen interested -in the progression and literary glory of his country. In the first -he showed the defects in which the old plays abounded; as also the -modern, with which poets, without rule or plan, supplied the players, -sanctioning every time more irregularity and ignorance. In the two -following, he proved that the Autos of Calderon, so admired by the -multitude, ought not to be suffered in a country that prided itself as -civilized. It is unnecessary to say what opposition these discourses -encountered; it is enough to add, that the third was scarcely -published when the government prohibited the repetition of what he had -condemned:--a memorable epoch in the annals of the Spanish stage, which -can never remember, without praise, that judicious and intrepid writer -to whom it owed so useful a reform.” - -Of this able critic, Leandro Moratin was the only son that survived -childhood. He was born at Madrid, the 10th of March, 1760, and in his -earliest years is described as having been remarkable for infantile -grace and vivacity. At four years of age, however, he unfortunately had -a severe attack of the smallpox, which not only left its disfiguring -marks on his countenance, but also seemed to have changed his -character, making him the rest of his life shy and reserved. As he grew -up he shunned all playfellows; like Demophilus, he was a man among -boys,--Κεῖνος γὰρ ἐν παισὶν νέος--and devoting himself to drawing and -making juvenile verses, pursued his favourite studies in secret, so -that even the father seemed not to have been ever fully aware of the -bent of his son’s genius. - -The elder Moratin, whose father had been jewel-keeper to Isabel -Farnesi, widow of Philip V., had been brought up to the profession -of the law, in which he had not acquired any eminence, though he had -some as an author. Seeing his son’s talent for drawing, he had first -intended him to take advantage of it as an artist, but finally placed -him with a brother, Miguel de Moratin, who was a jeweller, to learn -his occupation. In his earlier years the younger Moratin had been only -at an obscure private school in Madrid, but he had good examples and -lessons at home, and recourse to his father’s library, where he found -all the best works in Spanish literature, for secret study, beyond the -tasks set in routine for his education. In 1779 the Spanish Academy, in -the course of its objects for the promotion of literary pursuits, had -offered, as a subject for a prize poem, The Taking of Granada; when the -Accessit was awarded to a competitor who had signed himself Efren de -Lardnoz y Morante. On this person being called for, Leandro Moratin, to -the surprise of his father, presented himself as the author, producing -the rough copy of the verses he had sent. This was naturally a source -of great delight to the father, who might thus foresee, in hope at -least, his son’s future success. But he did not live to witness it, -having died the following year, at only forty-two years of age, leaving -a widow dependent on his son’s labours as a working jeweller. At this -business he continued, therefore, combining however with it his former -studies, as far as his leisure permitted him. - -In 1782 he obtained the honour of another Accessit from the Academy for -a Satire on the vicious practices introduced into the Spanish language, -and a greater feeling thereupon arose in his favour from literary -persons who remembered his father, with the respect due to his merits. -Hence, also, Leandro Moratin, notwithstanding his natural reserve, was -drawn from his retirement into the company of several young men of -kindred tastes and pursuits, whose conversation and society had great -and good effect on his mind and future efforts. - -In 1785 he published an edition of his father’s poems, with -reflections, which may be considered his first essay on criticism and -declaration of opinion on matters of taste, according to the precepts -of the purest classicism, then so much in fashion. From his earliest -years he had been much attached to the theatre, then sunk to the low -state which he so feelingly describes in the preliminary discourse to -his Comedies, subsequently published; and having witnessed his father’s -anxiety to reform its abuses, he felt it a sort of inheritance left -him to attempt the task. He had already begun one of his plays, which -however he had not sufficient leisure to complete, on account of the -demands for his daily labour; but about this time his mother died, and -Leandro had then only his own wants to consider. - -At the same time the good and great Jovellanos, whose notice he had -attracted, proposed him as secretary to the Conde de Cabarrus, then -going to Paris on a special mission, where accordingly Leandro went -with that able and enlightened statesman, in January 1787, returning to -Madrid in the January following. Shortly after the Conde and Jovellanos -fell into ill-favour at court, and all their friends were involved -in their fall. Moratin took shelter in the obscurity of his original -occupation, and so escaped notice. He completed his play, but could not -get it represented, and in the course of delays had the license for it -withdrawn. He wished to be exempt from labour for maintenance, to give -himself up to his favourite studies, but sought in vain for other means -of attaining this end than from the favour of the government. A change -in the ministry having now occurred, he wrote a petition, in verse, to -the Conde de Florida Blanca, in which, humorously depicting his wants, -he asked a small benefice in the church. This, though a very small -one, was granted him, and thereupon he had to take the first orders of -the tonsure. Shortly afterwards, Godoy, Prince of the Peace, came into -power, and became a still more effectual patron for Moratin, on whom -he conferred other benefices and favours, to the amount of about £600 -a year sterling, so that he became at once, for his position in life, -wealthy, and enabled to devote himself entirely to literature. - -It has been the fashion lately for all parties to decry Godoy, and -there can be no doubt that he was guilty of much misconduct in the -exercise of power. But he was in this only acting according to the -circumstances in which he was placed, and the favourite and minister -of a weak-minded and despotic monarch could not be expected to have -acted much otherwise than he did. In the memoirs he published in his -later years in his justification, Godoy has, in a tone of apparent -sincerity and earnestness, sometimes amounting even to eloquence, -shown that often he could not have acted otherwise, and that his -faults were the faults of his position, while his merits were his -own. He declares that he was the first minister in Spain who curbed -the power of the Inquisition, and that he had never instituted any -prosecution for private opinions. His treatment of Jovellanos he -might well excuse to himself, as a return for hostility manifested to -him under circumstances that he might consider to warrant it. But of -other eminent men of learning and of the arts he was the munificent -patron, of Melendez among others, and of Moratin more especially. The -former dedicated to him the second edition of his works, and Moratin -now one of his plays, which had been received with much favour. From -this dedication, a judgement may be formed by the translation, of the -spirit of Moratin, that, while under the sense of great obligations, -he did not condescend, like other poets, to flatter his Mæcenas’s -vanity by ascriptions of descent from ancient kings or other fictions; -but dwelt only on his personal qualities, and the great power which -he undoubtedly possessed, as exercised in his favour. The same spirit -Moratin showed in his letter to Jovellanos, in which adulation could -less be imputed to him, as that illustrious individual was in disgrace -at court, and no longer the dispenser of the favours of the government. - -But Moratin showed the independence of his character still more -decidedly, in refusing the request made by Godoy that he should write -eulogistic verses on a lady of the court; and it is to the honour -of Godoy, we are informed, that though he was at first angry at the -refusal, he passed it over without subsequent notice. - -To another request made by Godoy, for an ode on the Battle of -Trafalgar, Moratin acceded, though it is stated with considerable -disinclination to the task. He could not, he replied at first, -celebrate a lost battle, and as Hermosillia tells us, could not hide -from himself the ridiculousness of having to represent a complete -defeat as a glorious triumph, though the “dreaded Nelson” had fallen -in it. He felt bound, however, to obey the favourite and to reconcile -his task to justice, wrote his ‘Shade of Nelson,’ in imitation of the -Prophecy of Nereus, and of the Tagus by Fray Luis de Leon. In this -poem, he represents Nelson appearing the same night on the heights of -Trafalgar, and foretelling England’s approaching ruin, notwithstanding -the victory which had been gained “so dearly, as to be in reality -a discomfiture.” He observes, that “Napoleon, having overcome the -Austrians, would now turn all his energies to the conquest of England, -while Spain would raise a mightier fleet to join him. He therefore -counselled his countrymen to abandon their ambitious projects and -make peace, and to create disunion in foreign countries by corrupting -their cabinets, for the purpose of maintaining their preponderance.” -The thoughts are expressed in elegant poetical language, but the whole -argument shows how little feeling he had in favour of the subject. -In the last edition of his works prepared for publication before his -death, he took care to have it omitted, but it has been again inserted -in subsequent editions. - -Prior to this, however, he had had a full opportunity of judging the -character of the English nation. He had obtained permission to go -abroad from Godoy, who also munificently gave him the means for that -purpose. He first went to Paris, where he had scarcely arrived, in -September 1792, when hearing a great tumult in the streets, and looking -out for the occasion of it, he saw the head of the Princess de Lamballe -borne along by the infuriated multitude on a pike. Horror-struck at the -sight, he immediately left Paris for London, as, says his biographer, -“anxious to contemplate for the first time true liberty arrayed in -popular forms, without the mortal convulsions of licentiousness, or -the withering foot-marks of oppression.” Here he stayed about a year, -taking notes of the lively impressions made on him of the “character, -ideas, traditions, legislation, and political and commercial tendency -of that singular nation, so worthy of being studied.” It may be allowed -us to regret that those notes were never published, and perhaps the -censor’s license for them could not have been obtained. The only fruit -of his visit was a translation of Hamlet, which he published in 1798, -on his return. - -On leaving England, Moratin passed through Flanders and some parts -of Germany and Switzerland to Italy, whence, after visiting all the -principal cities there, he returned to Spain in December 1796. Previous -to his arrival in Madrid, he had been appointed Secretary Interpreter -of languages, a valuable appointment in itself, but still more so to -him, as it left him sufficient leisure for study. He took advantage of -this to proceed with several dramas with which he enriched the Spanish -stage, and had projected others which he felt under the necessity -of abandoning. In several of his pieces, and especially in the -Mogigata, which Maury translates La Femelle Tartuffe, he had offended -the clerical party, so that he was denounced to the Inquisition, and -though preserved from their power under the protection of Godoy, he was -subjected to many and great annoyances. In consequence of these, he -determined to give up further writing for the stage, contenting himself -with producing afterwards only some translations from the French, and -with preparing his most valuable work, ‘On the Spanish Theatre.’ This -work treats the subject historically, and abounds with much interesting -information as well as sound criticisms. On it he passed the latter -years of his life, so that it was not published until after his death. - -Shortly after his return from Italy he was named one of a commission -to reform the stage, and on this proving insufficient for the purposes -intended, he was appointed Director of Theatres by royal order. No one, -it might be thought, could be better adapted for this office, and it -would have seemed one agreeable to his inclinations; but he declined -it, preferring to effect the reforms he recommended by example rather -than by exercise of authority. - -The events of the 19th March, 1808, deprived Godoy of his power, and -the French armies soon after entered Madrid. Moratin had remained at -his post in the execution of the duties of his office, and became -involved in the course of proceedings, the final character of which -he could not foresee. He was set down as one of the French party, and -so exposed to public obloquy, that when the French had to evacuate -Madrid, he felt himself under the necessity of going with them. When -they returned he returned with them, and was appointed, by Joseph -Buonaparte, Chief of the Royal Library, an appointment which was -most congenial to his taste, and which would have been exceedingly -appropriate for him to accept, had it been only from the national -government. - -As it was, he had to fly from Madrid a second time with the intruders, -and henceforth there was nothing for him in life but privations to -endure. Some houses which he had bought had been seized, and one of -them sold. Another, which was restored to him, had been much injured, -and his books and property destroyed. His benefices were denied him; a -merchant, with whom he had entrusted his money, became bankrupt; and -a dependent, in whom he had confided, by his defalcation brought a -further heavy loss on his means. He had at first retired to France, but -having been excepted from the list of the proscribed by Ferdinand VII., -he returned to Spain, and for a length of time resided at Barcelona. -But the Inquisition was attempting to rise again into power, and -Moratin, naturally of a timid disposition, felt himself marked out for -a victim. He could not submit to live subject to be watched and kept in -constant alarm; and even when this office was finally put down, he felt -the frequent recurrence of public commotions more agitating than he -could endure. He therefore determined again to retire to France, first -to Bayonne, in 1823, and afterwards to Bordeaux, to live with a friend, -named Silvela, who had a seminary at that place, and in whose society -he felt sure of enjoying domestic happiness. - -Through his whole life, Moratin seems to have required the aid of -friends on whom to rely for daily needs and attentions; and it -was fortunate for him, in his advanced age and under the pressure -of infirmities, to possess such a resting-place as in Silvela’s -establishment. Shortly after this friend removed to Paris, where also -Moratin followed him, and there he died, the 21st June, 1828. He was -buried in the cemetery of Père la Chaise, in one of the lines to the -right of the chapel, between the remains of Molière and Lafontaine, -where a simple monument, with a cinerary urn, marks his grave. - -“There,” says his biographer, “in a foreign land, lies a celebrated -Spaniard, to whom his country did not offer sufficient security to -allow him to die tranquilly in her bosom. A man averse to all party -feeling, obedient to existing authority, whether of fact or of right, -absorbed in his studies, teacher from his retirement of the purest -morality, incapable of injuring any one, or of exciting disorder even -indirectly, he had to wander forth many years, not proscribed, but -driven away by apprehensions too justly entertained.” - -After his death there were several editions of his works published, -both in France and Spain: the last one in the collection of Spanish -authors by Rivadeneyra, Madrid 1848, as the last seems most correct and -complete. This republication is more interesting, as also containing, -in the same volume, the works of his father, Nicolas Moratin. It is to -be regretted that other works of his, yet existing in manuscript, have -not been added, especially the account of his travels. - -Moratin was an exceedingly careful writer, and very fastidious in the -correction of his verses. His admirers, especially those of the classic -school, have praised him as a great lyric poet, even superior to -Melendez. This, however, he felt was not just; and without derogating -from his merits, we must pronounce him far inferior to that eminent -poet, whose works surpassed all that had preceded him in Spanish -poetry. The fame of Moratin must rest on his plays, into which, -however, it is not the object of this work to enter, confined as it is -to lyric poetry. They are only five in number, and, like Sheridan’s, -are remarkable for neatness and elegance of dialogue, as much as for -incident and character. The Spanish theatre owes all its subsequent -merit to Moratin; he reformed the taste of the times by giving the -stage better works than it had previously possessed, and assuredly was -thus one of the greatest public benefactors of his age. - - -LEANDRO FERNANDEZ MORATIN. - - -DEDICATION OF THE COMEDY OF THE MOGIGATA TO THE PRINCE OF THE PEACE. - - This moral fiction, which the facile Muse, - Thalia kind inspired, and which await - The numerous crowds that throng the Spanish scene, - Therein acquiring voice, and life, and form, - To thee I now present, with feelings pure - Of gratitude and love. By other path - The difficult height of Pindus to ascend, - In vain have I aspired, in vain; and oft - Have wept me baffled, o’er the bold attempt. - How often, striking the Aonian chords, - To win her have I sought, so fleeting, coy, - The beauty that in silence I adore! - To imitate the voice and harmony, - Which Echo erst repeated in the woods - Of green Zurgüen: oft as Clio waked - The trumpet that diffuses martial rage, - I wish’d, with her sublimest ardour fired, - To celebrate the lofty deeds of Spain: - From her proud neck as beating, broken off, - The barbarous yoke; the conqueror in turn - Conquer’d on the burning sands of Libya: - Numantia with the miseries appeased, - Proud Rome was doom’d to know, abandon’d prey - To frightful military outrages: - Cortes, in the valley of Otumba, - Lord of the golden standard, at his feet - The sceptre of the West! but angrily, - Menander’s muse offended, soon reproved - My error, and the lyre and pastoral pipe - Snatch’d from me, and the clarion of Mars. - - “Follow,” she said to me, “the only track - Which my voice indicates, if thou wouldst seek - The honour, that despite of silent death, - May make thy name immortal. I in love - A thousand times upon thy infant lip - Have printed a soft kiss, and bade thee sleep - To the repeated heavenly tones I raised. - Thou my delight wast ever, and my care; - And the propitious gifts, which Nature shed - On thee, it was my joy to cultivate. - Now with loud festive acclamation sounds - Thy country’s scene in thy just praise, on high - Thy glory to affirm. Thou follow on - To sacred Helicon, which Cynthia bathes - With her immortal light, the Muses’ crown - Of ivy and of laurel there to gain.” - - Be not offended, Sir, if e’er so poor - The tribute that I dedicate; and what - Could worthy be the greatness of thy name? - The gift is humble, the desire is rich; - And not sufficing more my sterile vein, - What I can give I offer. Prostrate thus, - On the rude altars he has raised, is wont - The husbandman to heap the simple fruits - Of his fields gather’d round; and offering them - To the high tutelar deity he adores, - Spreads them forth grateful, incenses and flowers. - - -EPISTLE TO DON GASPAR DE JOVELLANOS, SENT FROM ROME. - - Yes! the pure friendship, that in kindly bonds - Our souls united, durable exists, - Illustrious Jovino! nor can time, - Nor distance, nor the mountains us between, - Nor stormy seas hoarse roaring, separate - Remembrance of thee from my memory. - - The sound of Mars, that now sweet peace awhile - Suspends, has long unhappy silence placed - On my affection. Thou I know content - Livest in obscure delicious quietude, - For ever with untiring zeal inspired - To aid the public weal; of virtue e’er. - And talent, the protector and the friend. - - These verses which I frame unpolish’d, free, - Though not corrected with thy learned taste, - In truth announce to thee my constant faith. - And so may Heaven but soon to me return - The hour again to see thee, and relate - Familiarly discoursing, to my view - Whatever of its varied scenes the world - Presented. From my native shores to those - Which bathes the Seine, blood-stain’d and turbulent; - The daring Briton’s, master of the sea, - To the bold Belgian’s; from the deep-flowing Rhine - To the high tops of Apennine snow-crown’d, - And that height further, which in burning smoke - Covers and ashes over Naples wide, - The different nations I have visited, - Acquiring useful knowledge, never gain’d - By learned reading in retired abodes. - For there we cannot see the difference great - Which climate, worship, arts, opinions, - And laws occasion. That is found alone, - If thou wouldst study man, in man himself. - - Now the rough Winter, which augments the waves - Of Tiber, on his banks has me detain’d, - Inhabitant of Rome. O! that with thee - ’Twere granted me to rove through her, to scan - The wonderful remains of glories past, - Which Time, whose force can naught resist, has spared! - Thou nursling of the Muses and the Arts, - Faithful oracle of bright history, - What learning thou wouldst give the affluent lip; - What images sublime, by genius fired, - In the great empire’s ruin thou wouldst find! - Fell the great city, which had triumph’d o’er - The nations the most warlike, and with her - Ended the Latin valour and renown. - And she who to the Betis from the Nile - Her eagles proudly bore, the child of Mars, - The Capitol with barbarous trophies deck’d, - Conducting to her car of ivory bound - Great kings subdued, amid the hoarse applause - Of wide-throng’d forums, and the trumpet’s sounds, - Who to the world gave laws, now horrible - Night covers her. She perish’d, nor expect - More tokens of her ancient worth to find. - - Those mouldering edifices, which the plough - Breaks through in shapeless masses, once they were - Circuses, strong palaces, and theatres; - Proud arches, costly baths, and sepulchres; - Where thou mayst hear perchance, for so ’tis said, - In the deep silence of the gloomy shade, - A funeral lament, they only tell - The glory of the people of Quirinus. - And this to future races but remains - The mistress of the world, illustrious Rome! - This and no more remain’d? of all her arts - And dreaded power? What could not aught avail - Her virtue, wisdom, valour, all conjoin’d, - With such her opulence, the law severe - To mitigate, or stay the blows of fate? - - Alas! if all is mortal--if to Time - Alike the strong wall and the tender flower - Must yield--if that will bronze and porphyry break, - Destroying them and burying in dust, - For whom so guards unhappy Avarice - His treasuries untouch’d? for whom foretells - Immortal fame, the adulation vile - That crimes and violence traitorous exalts? - For what so hastening to the tomb runs on - The human race, revengeful, envious, - And haughty? Why, if all that e’er exists, - And what man sees is all but ruins? all. - For never to return the hours fly past - Precipitate, and to their end but lead, - Of the most lofty empires of the earth, - The perishable splendour. The Deity, - That hidden animates the universe, - Alone eternal lives, and He alone - Is powerful and great. - - - - -V. - -JUAN BAUTISTA DE ARRIAZA. - - -In the history of the literature of every country, it is interesting -to observe with what noiseless steps true genius generally proceeds to -win popular favour, compared with the means to which mediocrity resorts -for whatever share of notice it can attain. There are some writers who, -with great talent, have some counterbalancing deficiency, respecting -whose merits more discussion will be consequently excited, than -respecting the superior qualities of others, not liable to the same -observations. To obtain that kind of notoriety, it is often requisite -to belong to some school or party, whose praise will give a temporary -importance to works written, according to their taste or system, while -those out of their pale will be passed over with at best only cold -commendations. In Spain, as elsewhere, poetry has had its classical and -romantic schools, and the merits of all writers, belonging to one or -the other of them, were fully set forth by their respective partisans; -while, if there happened to be one who could not be claimed by either, -like Arriaza, he was allowed to pass comparatively unnoticed by the -critics of the day. - -Of this very pleasing author no detailed biography has been published; -and his claims to be considered one of the first modern poets of -Spain seem to be scarcely recognized by his countrymen, who read with -surprise the commendations passed on him abroad. Thus they have allowed -seven editions of his works to be circulated and exhausted, without -satisfying our curiosity by any of those particulars of private life, -with which we love to consider the characters of worth and genius. All -we are informed of him, in the short notices given of Arriaza by Wolf, -Maury and Ochoa, is, that he was born at Madrid, in the year 1770, -where the last-mentioned writer also says he died, in 1837. - -From his name, it would seem that he was of Basque descent, and his -family connections must have been “noble” and influential, from his -career through life, though we have no account given of them. We learn, -however, that he was educated at the Seminary of Nobles at Madrid, -whence he was afterwards sent a cadet to the Military College at -Segovia, and that he finally entered the navy. In one of his Epistles, -in verse, he informs us that he was engaged in the expedition to Oran, -and thence sailed to Constantinople, of which he gives a poetical -description. - -In 1798 he had to quit this service, on account of a disease of the -eyes; and he then published the first edition of his poems. In 1802 -he was appointed Secretary of Legation at London, and there wrote his -principal poem, ‘Emilia,’ which was published at Madrid in the year -following. The subject was the wish of a lady of fortune to bring -up orphan children and others to the study of the fine arts; and it -contains many fine passages, but was left unfinished. - -In 1805 he went to Paris, where also he resided some time. On his -return to Spain, he took part in the struggles against the French, -having entered the ranks as a soldier, and having by his verses also -vehemently instigated his countrymen to rise against the invaders. Of -all the poets of the day, he seems to have been the most prolific in -those patriotic effusions, which, no doubt, agreeing so well with the -national temperament, had no small effect in keeping up the spirit of -the Spanish people throughout the war. When the French entered Madrid, -Arriaza, while engaged in resisting them, had a brother killed by -his side, fighting in the same cause, to whose memory he has given a -tribute of affection accordingly among his verses. - -In the subsequent discussions in Spain respecting the government, -Arriaza took part with those who advocated the rights of the absolute -king. For this advocacy, on the return of Ferdinand VII. to full power, -he received his reward, having been appointed Knight of the Order of -Charles III., and Secretary of Decrees, besides receiving several other -minor favours and offices. Henceforth Arriaza seems to have passed his -life at court, in the quiet enjoyment of literary pursuits. He might -be considered the Poet Laureate of Spain, as he seems to have allowed -scarcely any opportunity to pass by unhonoured, of paying homage to the -court in celebration of birthdays and other such occasions. His works -abound with these loyal effusions, though they might generally have -been better omitted. - -It must, however, be said, in justice, that he was evidently sincere -in those principles, to which he adhered under all circumstances, even -when the Constitutionalists were in the ascendent. Once only he was -betrayed into an eulogium of the other line of opinions, which had an -effect rather ludicrous, so far as he was concerned in it. In 1820, -when the constitution of 1812 had been anew promulgated, a friend of -his, Don Luis de Onis, was appointed minister from Spain to Naples, and -a banquet having been given him on his departure, Arriaza was induced -to write verses on the occasion, which, full of apparent enthusiasm, -abounded in spirit and beautiful images, beyond his usual facility -and fulness of expression. Carried away, no doubt, by the contagion -of the company, he gave way to what, in soberer mood, he would have -thought most dangerous doctrines. He painted the envoy as going “to -Parthenope to announce our revolution;” adding, “To Parthenope that is -now groaning beneath flowery chains, and to whom, though her syrens -celebrate her in songs of slavery, thou wilt be the Spanish Tyrtæus, -and raise them to the high employ to sing of country and virtue;” -praising the heroism of Riego as to be offered as an example, “to throw -down the holds of oppression.” The Neapolitan government obtained -notice of this composition, and actually used it as sufficient cause -for objecting to receive Don Luis as Spanish minister, “because he -was coming to inculcate revolutionary principles.” Arriaza heard -with horror that he was stigmatized as a liberal, and was urgent to -disclaim such opinions, notwithstanding what he had written. Don Luis -meanwhile was detained at Rome, until, by a strange coincidence, the -revolution broke out at Naples also, and he entered the city almost as -in fulfilment of the prophecy, that he was to be the harbinger of it. - -The best edition of Arriaza’s works is that of 1829, printed at the -Royal Press of Madrid, of which the one of Paris, 1834, is a reprint. -They consist of almost all varieties of song, and are almost all -equally charming. His satirical pieces even are light and pleasing, as -well as his anacreontic and erotic effusions, while his patriotic songs -and odes breathe a spirit well suited to the subjects. - -Maury, who has made him better known abroad by his praises than others, -his contemporaries, seems to have regarded him with especial favour. -He says of him:--“Depuis Lope de Vega, M. d’Arriaza est le seul de -nos poëtes qui nous semble penser en vers. La nature le fit poëte, -les évènements l’ont fait auteur. Il était arrivé à sa réputation -littéraire sans y prétendre, il l’accrue pour ainsi dire à son corps -défendant.” In truth he seems to have poured forth his verses without -effort, as a bird does its song, with a simplicity and truthfulness -which went to the heart of the hearer, and left in it a sensation of -their being only the echoes of its own. As Maury has well observed, -“parlent à la raison et à l’esprit, comme au cœur et à l’imagination, -elles offrent en même temps aux amateurs de la langue Castillane les -sons harmonieux et les tournures piquantes qui la distinguent avec une -grande élégance de diction et une clarté rare chez la plupart de nos -écrivains.” - -It is true that his style is exceedingly easy, and the expression -generally very clear, but it must also be acknowledged, on the part -of the translator, that obscurities are frequently to be found in his -lines, when he must discover a meaning for himself. It was Arriaza’s -own doctrine in the prologue to his works, “that there can be no true -expression of ideas where there does not reign the utmost clearness of -diction; that what the reader does not conceive at the first simple -reading, cannot make in his imagination the prompt effect required, -and much less move his heart in any way. This clearness,” he observes, -“should also be associated with a constant elegance of expression; -though he does not consider this elegance to consist in a succession -of grammatical inversions, or revolving adjectives, or metaphor -on metaphor, but the mode most select and noble of saying things -becomingly to the style in which they are written.” - -Arriaza was eminently what the French call a _poëte de société_; and -thus his verses were favourites with the higher classes particularly. -He abjured the practices of the Romanticists who affected to despise -the shackles of metre, as if the melody of verse, being merely -mechanism, were of inferior consideration. On the contrary, he -intimates that he considers it of primary importance, as if “whether -a statue should be made of wax or marble.” Thus he made cadence a -principal study, and his verses becoming thereby better adapted for -music, obtained greater vogue in the higher circles by means of -accompaniments. Some even seem to have been expressly written for that -purpose; for instance, among other pieces of a domestic character, -one, a very pleasing Recitative, in which his wife and daughter join -him in thanksgiving for his recovery from a dangerous illness. Though -generally far from being impassioned, some of his verses are full -of tender feeling, as the ‘Young Sailor’s Farewell.’ This may be -pronounced the most popular piece of modern poetry in Spain, being most -in the memories of those whom he himself calls “the natural judges in -these matters, the youth of both sexes, in whose lively imagination and -sensible hearts may find better acceptation, the only two gifts with -which I may rejoice to have endowed my verses, naturalness and harmony.” - -Arriaza must have acquired in his youth the rudiments of a sound -education, and he was distinguished in later life for a knowledge of -the French, Italian and English languages. Still he was not considered -by his contemporaries as a person of extensive reading; and thus -we do not find in his works any allusions or illustrations of a -classical character, though it is almost ludicrous to observe with what -pertinacity he introduces the personages of the heathen mythology, on -all occasions where he can do so. Some of his ideas also run into the -ridiculous, as in one of his best pieces, ‘La Profecia del Pirineo,’ he -says, that on the heroic defenders of Zaragoza “there were at once on -their faithful brows raining bombs and laurels.” - -The Ode to Trafalgar, notwithstanding its being liable to the -observation above made, of too frequent invocations of the Muses, is -an admirable exemplification of an appropriate poem on such a subject. -This battle, no doubt on account of its decisive effect, has been more -celebrated than others. But it must be acknowledged to have been an -unequal fight between the British and the Spanish portion of the allied -fleet, as the former were in a high state of discipline, and the latter -were newly levied and hurried out of port, before the officers and -men had become sufficiently acquainted with one another to take their -respective parts, with the precision necessary for such an occasion. -Yet it is well known that the Spaniards fought with desperate and -unswerving courage throughout, and their poets were therefore well -warranted in taking the subject, as one doing honour to the national -bravery. - -The circumstances of the battle have lately again come into discussion -in Spain, with naturally considerable warmth, on M. Thiers, in his -History of the Consulate and the Empire, having been guilty of the -extraordinary error to allege that the Spanish fleet fled, the greater -part of them, from the battle, when, in fact, it was only the division -of the French Admiral Dumanoir that had done so. This he did “for the -purpose of preserving a naval division for France,” as Dumanoir himself -afterwards stated, in his justification, though he was disappointed in -that patriotic wish, having been met a few days after by Sir Robert -Calder’s squadron, when all his four ships were taken in a less -renowned combat. - -The translation of the Ode has been made as nearly into the same metre -with the original, as the forms of verse used in the two languages -would admit. That of the ‘Farewell’ may be considered in the same -light also, though the original has the first and fourth lines rhyming -together, and the second with the third. This is an old and common -form in Spanish poetry, and agrees well with our alternate lines of -eight and six syllables, which Johnson considered “the most soft and -pleasing of our lyric measures.” In the Ode, it is interesting to -observe not only the manly style of sentiment throughout, but also the -absence of any ungenerous feeling against the English. Arriaza had, -however, both as a seaman and a diplomatist, while resident in England, -had sufficient opportunities of learning to think more justly of the -English character than some other writers of the Continent. - -Beyond his poems, Arriaza wrote several political pamphlets. The first -was published at Seville in 1809, after the battle of Talavera, when -the English, notwithstanding the victory, had to retreat into Portugal, -giving occasion to the French party in Spain to allege that they were -about to abandon the country to the French, and keep possession of the -principal ports. In this pamphlet, which he entitled the ‘Pharos of -Public Opinion,’ Arriaza combated these suspicions, and by a strenuous -assertion of the good faith of the English, succeeded in disabusing the -minds of his countrymen of what he termed “such malignant insinuations.” - -The second pamphlet he termed ‘Virtue of Necessity,’ shortly after -the disastrous battle of Ocania; and its object was to stimulate the -English government and nation to give more assistance than they had -yet done, by money and otherwise. He proposed in return to give the -English free right of commerce with the Spanish colonies in America, at -least for a stated period, observing that they already had extensive -dealings with them by contraband, and that the free commerce would make -the English neutral, at least, in the question of the colonies wishing -to declare themselves independent, while otherwise it would be their -interest to have them independent. This pamphlet especially is full of -sound statesmanlike ideas, and proves how well he was acquainted with -the state of public feeling in England, on the several particulars -respecting which he was writing. - -A third pamphlet he wrote in English, and published it in London in -1810, where he was then sent on the part of the Spanish government. -This he entitled ‘Observations on the system of war of the Allies in -the Peninsula;’ and he endeavoured in it to urge the English to send -more troops to the Peninsula, at certain points, where he considered -they would be of most avail in disconcerting the plans of the French, -and assisting the Guerrilla warfare the Spaniards were carrying on. -He explained the determined fidelity of the Spaniards to the cause of -their independence, but showed they would be insufficient to effect it, -without the assistance he came to seek. This pamphlet was favourably -received in England, and was noticed in Parliament; and the author -had the good fortune to hope that his efforts had been successful, as -he says, “The English government then sent greater reinforcements to -their army, which emerging from its inaction, acquired the superiority -preserved until the happy conclusion of the war.” - -For these and other writings, Arriaza received the thanks of the -Regency in the name of the king, and had just cause to consider that -a sufficient counterbalance to the misrepresentations made of his -conduct in France, and elsewhere, by the opposite party. In a note -affixed to the last edition of his poems, he complains that in a work -published in France, ‘Biography of Contemporary Characters,’ there was -an article respecting him “full of errors, even regarding the most -public circumstances of his life,” which he seems to have considered -written from party feeling. If his surmises were correct, it is the -more to be regretted that he did not take the best means of correcting -those misrepresentations, by giving an authentic biographical account -of his career in reply. He might thus not only have done justice to -himself, but also have satisfied the desires of his admirers, who would -naturally have felt sufficient interest in his fame to have rejoiced in -those details. Whatever may be the course which a man of genius takes -in public life from honest principles, he may always rely on finding in -literature a neutral harbour where he may retire in confidence from all -turmoils, and expect full justice awarded to his motives and memory. -In the midst of political contentions, where so much always depends -on circumstances with which we are little acquainted, it is often -difficult at the time to know what is the proper course to follow. It -is enough for us that those we admire have ever been distinguished for -their sincerity and uprightness in the conduct they pursued. - -With regard to Arriaza, our greatest regret must be that, with his -apparently extreme facility of versification, and capability of -elevating his mind to the conception of nobler subjects, he confined -his genius so much to trivial events of the day, and thus wrote for his -contemporaries instead of for posterity. - - -JUAN BAUTISTA DE ARRIAZA. - - -TEMPEST AND WAR, OR THE BATTLE OF TRAFALGAR. ODE. - - I fain would sing of victory; - But know, the God of harmony, - Dispenser of renown, - For fortune’s turn has little care, - And bids superior valour bear, - Alone, the immortal crown. - - See in his temple, shining yet, - Those at Thermopylæ who set - Of manly fortitude - Examples rare, or ’neath thy wall - Who, sad Numantia, shared thy fall, - But falling unsubdued. - - There are to whom has fate bestow’d - The lot, that always on the road - Of docile laurels borne, - Success should fly their steps before, - And in their hands events in store - Should lose each cruel thorn. - - As heroes these the vulgar choose, - If not as gods, but I refuse - Such homage for the mind; - And in Bellona’s doubtful strife, - Where fortune’s angry frowns are rife, - There heroes seek to find. - - O! true of heart, and brave as true! - Illustrious Clio, turn thy view - Afar the vast seas o’er; - For deeds, in spite of fate abhorr’d, - Than these more worthy to record - Ne’er pass’d thy view before. - - To abase the wealthy Gades, see, - From haunts of deep obscurity, - The fellest Fury rise! - And from her direful hand launch’d forth, - Transform’d the forests of the North, - She floating walls supplies. - - Her envy is the city fair - Of Hercules, so proudly there, - Couch’d on the Atlantic gates; - Girt by the sea, that from the west - Comes fraught with gold, and her behest - Before her bending waits. - - With venal aid of hate assists - Unfruitful England, throne of mists, - Whose fields no sun behold; - Which Flora with false smile has clad - In sterile green, where flowers look sad, - And love itself is cold. - - Greedy the poison gold to seize, - They with the monster Avarice, - The peace of Spain abhor; - And by their horrid arts increased, - Turn ev’n the treasures of the East - To instruments of war. - - Their proud Armada, which the main - Tosses to heaven, or threats in vain - To engulf, they mustering show: - Ye suffer it not, ye pupils brave - Of the Basans, and to the wave - Launch yours to meet the foe. - - As by conflicting winds close driven, - The dark clouds o’er the vault of heaven - Across each other fly; - And troubling mortals with the roar, - The electric fluids flashing o’er - Dispute the sway on high, - - So from both sides the battle roll’d, - The sails their wings of flame unfold, - And ship to ship they close; - Combined, O! day of hapless fame, - Four elements with man proclaim - The unequal war that rose. - - Who in the whirlwind of dense smoke, - To Mars that in fit incense woke, - From hollow ordnance sent, - With iron flames, a countless host, - Sounds that unhinging shaking cross’d - The eternal firmament,-- - - Who in that lake of fire and blood, - Midst crashing masts and raging flood - Of havoc and its train,-- - Who by the light the picture shows, - May not your blood-stain’d brows disclose, - O! noble chiefs of Spain? - - With crimson dyed, or with the brand - Of sulphurous powder, firm ye stand, - As in the conflict dire, - The sacrilegious giants rear’d, - Serene the shining gods appear’d, - Midst rolling clouds of fire. - - Shouts forth your courage hoarsely high - Bellona’s metal roar, the cry - The combat to inflame; - Nor fear ye mortals, when ye view - The streams of blood the waves imbue, - Your prowess that proclaim. - - With iron clogg’d the air, the breath - Is drawn each with a dart of Death, - Whose skeleton immense - Rises exulting o’er the scene, - To see such fury rage, and glean - His devastation thence. - - O! how he crops youth’s fairest flowers, - Or grief o’er life for ever lowers! - See there for vengeance strains - One arm for one that off is torn, - Or when away the head is borne, - Erect the trunk remains. - - But, ah! what fiery column broke - There to the wind, and mid dense smoke - Then to the abyss down threw - Heads, bodies, arms and woods confused, - And hands yet with the swords unloosed - They for their country drew! - - Struck by the sound groans Trafalgar; - Olympus shakes as in the war - The savage Titans waged, - When through the waves their forges roll’d - Ætna, Vesuvius, and untold - Volcanoes burning raged. - - Trembling the monsters of the deep - Against each other beating, sweep - Off to the Herculean Strait; - In horror heaven is clouded o’er, - Lashing the seas the north winds roar, - In shame infuriate. - - Of its own rage, the foaming brine, - Is born the tempest, fearful sign - Of more disastrous night; - Mars at the view restrains his cry; - Bark Scylla and Charybdis high, - The fiends whom wrecks delight. - - Swift as a thunderbolt ye come, - The unhappy relics to consume - Of fire, ye winds and waves! - O, Night! who may thy fearfulness, - Thy vast amount of woes express, - Without the tear it craves! - - Yield to the cruel element - At length the ships, that long unbent - Its haughtiest rage defied; - Men sink yet living, and for e’er - Closes o’er them their sepulchre, - The insatiable tide. - - Save him, Minerva! who around - From East to West, the earth’s wide bound, - Was happier once thy care! - Urania, this thy votary save! - O, Love! how many fond hearts crave - That one’s last sigh to share! - - Some to their much-loved country swim, - That horror-struck retires, and dim - In quicksands seems to fly; - Hid by the waves them death unveils, - And to the wreck’d-worn seamen’s wails - They only fierce reply. - - Never may Time, in his long flight, - Join day more terrible and night: - But who in such a strife, - Who constant overcame such fate, - Where may we danger find so great - For dauntless heart in life? - - O, Clio! where? yet midst that rage, - With golden pen and deathless page, - Thou lovest the brave to greet; - Gravina, Alava, each name - Write, and Escanio’s, echoes fame - Olympic will repeat. - - And others, but my voice repels - The love that in my memory dwells; - O, Cosmo! hard thy lot! - O, Muses! him the laurels give, - Whose friend is only left to live, - And weep him unforgot. - - Tried adverse fortune to endure, - Your valour proved sublime and pure, - O, Mariners of Spain! - Your life your country’s shield and strength, - Defended and avenged at length, - She will be yet again. - - The Lion and the Eagle yet - May have them Neptune’s arm abet, - Now England’s slave and boast; - Who from her lofty poops shall view - Your troops resistless pouring through - In torrents on her coast. - - Suffice it now, as tribute paid, - Her great Chief’s death; the Thames to shade, - Doubling with grief her gloom: - That cover’d thus with honour’d scars, - She sees you wait, in happier wars, - The combat to resume. - - Ye go, as on the Libyan shore - The lion walks, that fiercely tore - The hunter’s cunning snare; - That not ingloriously o’erborne, - Calmly and fear’d, though bleeding, worn-- - Regains his sandy lair. - - -THE PARTING. - - Sylvia! the cruel moment’s near, - When I must say farewell! - For hark! the cannon’s sounds we hear - Of my departure tell. - Thy lover comes to give thee now - The last adieu, and part! - With sorrow overcast his brow, - And sorrowful his heart. - - Come, object of my love divine! - Reach me those beauteous arms: - Would fate my happy lot assign - My home and rest thy charms, - The blow that threatens its decree - To give, I should not meet; - For sooner then than part, ’twould see - Me dying at thy feet. - - O! had our passion equal force, - Or been of equal growth, - The grief of absence might its course - Divide between us both! - But thou a face indifferent, - Or pleased, dost give to view, - Whilst I have not ev’n breath content - To say to thee, Adieu. - - A gentle river murmuring by, - In calmness bathes the plain, - And of its waters the supply - Sees beauteous flowers attain; - In silence thou, my lonely grief, - Dost bathe my wretched breast, - And Sylvia’s pity in relief - For me canst not arrest. - - But what, my Sylvia, dost thou say? - What means that tender sigh? - Why do I see, mid tears that stray, - Shine forth thy beaming eye? - As opens to the sun opposed - On some clear day the cloud, - And his rays make the drops disclosed - To sparkle as they flow’d. - - On me dost thou those languid eyes - Turn with that tender gaze? - Loses thy cheek its rosy dyes, - Nor beauty less displays? - Thy ruby lips a moment brief - Thou opest, and sorrow seals! - How fair the very show of grief - Itself in thee reveals! - - Insensate! how I wildly thought - My bitter griefs would gain - Some ease, if thou wert also taught - A portion of my pain! - Pardon the error that deceived, - O, Sylvia! I implore; - Me more thy sorrow now has grieved, - Than thy disdain before. - - My bliss! I pray no more to swerve! - Calm those heart-breaking pains: - Thy grief to have, does not deserve - All that the world contains. - May all life’s hours, in calm serene, - Be ever pass’d by thee; - And all that darker intervene - Reserved alone for me! - - For me, whose lonely wretched doom - By heaven has been decreed - To bear fate’s cruelty and gloom, - Wherever it may lead. - But not on thee, so lovely born, - Form’d of a power divine, - To hold ev’n fate a subject sworn - To every will of thine. - - Whilst thou my absence mayst lament, - Thy comfort mayst descry, - By fate a thousand lovers sent - More to thy choice than I. - Some one she pleases me above - To favour chance may show; - But one to love thee as I love, - That none can ever know. - - ’Twas not thy graces won my heart, - Nor yet thy faultless face; - But ’twas some sympathy apart - I might from birth retrace. - I long a picture loved to draw - Of charms I fancied true, - And thy perfections when I saw, - The original I knew. - - No traveller upon the ground - By sudden lightning thrown, - The blow could more at once confound, - Left helpless and alone, - Than I to see that beauteous brow, - In hapless love was lost; - At thy feet forced at once to bow, - To adore whate’er the cost. - - But I depart, alas! the pain - No words can e’er express; - Heaven only knows it that can scan - The inmost heart’s recess; - And saw the hours of deep delight, - So full now long pass’d by, - That all my wishes’ utmost height - Heap’d up could satisfy. - - Now while the breezes fair avail, - The waves are gently stirr’d, - And of the mariners the hail - Confused afar is heard: - Now from the deep’s tenacious hold - The anchor’s fangs they heave, - And all conspiring are enroll’d - Me swifter death to give. - - Now with a vacillating foot - The slender boat I tread, - Soon destined from the bank to shoot, - As to the great bark sped. - Sylvia, in this sad moment’s pause, - O! what a mournful crowd - Of thoughts around thy lover close, - To assault him and o’ercloud! - - The sweet requital in return - Thou givest my love I know; - And kind remembrances discern - All thy affections show; - Whilst here each proof assures me well - That naught thy heart can move; - But in my absence, who can tell - If thou wilt faithful prove? - - For those divine attractions whence - Now all my joys arise, - Perhaps may fate the cause dispense - Of all my miseries; - And whilst I absent and forlorn - My pledges lost deplore, - Some rival gains of me in scorn - The enchantments I adore! - - But no, my bliss, my glory! ne’er - Were given the winds in vain - Those vows, which envied me to share - The universe my gain. - Let us time’s tyranny defy, - And distance, constant thus - Remaining in that changeless tie, - That then united us. - - When rises first the beamy sun, - When sets his beauteous ray, - When moon and stars their courses run, - On thee my thoughts will stay. - From that enchanting form my heart - No moment will be free; - And traitress thou, when I depart - Wilt ne’er ev’n think of me! - - At lonely hours across my thought - Gulf’d in the ocean vast, - The scenes to memory will be brought - With thee I saw and pass’d. - Then will my sorrows make me feel - My lot more dark to be, - And thou more cruel than the steel - Wilt ne’er ev’n think of me! - - “There first her matchless form I saw; - There first my faith I swore; - And from her flattering lips could draw - The happy ‘Yes’ they wore!” - As these reflections by me file, - Rise griefs in like degree; - And thou, who knows, if thou the while - Wilt e’er ev’n think of me? - - Then as I hours of glory call - Those when I thee beheld; - And of my griefs the sources all - When from thy sight repell’d; - A thousand times the thoughts enhance - The doom ’tis mine to see, - Meanwhile who knows, if thou perchance - Wilt e’er ev’n think of me? - - When in the heavens I view unfurl’d - The awful signs arise, - With which the Ruler of the world - Poor mortals terrifies; - When sounds are in the deepest caves - Of horrid thunderings nigh, - And of the seas the troubled waves - Rage furiously on high; - - When by the south wind is impell’d - The proud Tyrrhenian main, - As if from its deep bosom swell’d - To assault the starry train; - When the despairing steersman turns - To prayer, instead of skill, - Seeing his bark the ocean spurns - The plaything of its will; - - Amid the hoarse and troubled cries - The people raise around, - While shines the sword before their eyes - Of death, to strike them bound; - Ev’n then will I my love’s farewell - In that dark hour renew, - And to the winds my sighs shall tell-- - Sylvia! my life, Adieu! - - - - -VI. - -MANUEL JOSÈ QUINTANA. - - -Connecting the present age of modern Spanish poetry with that of the -past generation, by a happily protracted existence, as well as by the -style and tone of his writings, the venerable subject of this memoir -still survives, to close a life of active usefulness in a healthy and -honoured old age. - -Quintana was born at Madrid, the 11th April, 1772, of a respectable -family of Estremadura. He received his primary education in classical -learning at Cordova, whence he proceeded to Salamanca, and graduated -there in canon and civil law. In this university he had the advantage -of studying under Melendez Valdes, by whom he was soon favourably -noticed, and was made known to the illustrious Jovellanos, by whose -counsels also he had the good fortune to be assisted. Thus his natural -disposition for the study of elegant literature was encouraged, both by -precept and example, under two such able directors, to take a higher -course than the mere study of law, for which profession he was destined. - -Having been admitted an Advocate of the Supreme Court, he has held -various appointments, as fiscal of the tribunal of commerce, and censor -of theatres; afterwards chief clerk of the Secretary-General to the -Central Junta of Government, secretary of decrees and interpretation -of languages, member of the censorship to the Cortes, and of the -commission for the formation of a new plan of education. In the last, -he was charged with the duty of drawing up a report of all the works on -the subject presented to the government, which was, in 1835, approved -of by the Cortes. - -In the two former of these employments he was interrupted by the -French invasion, when he took an active part against the invaders. -Receiving afterwards the other offices mentioned, he wrote many of the -proclamations and other addresses which were put forth on the part -of the national government, during the struggle for independence. -Throughout those eventful times, he was in the most advanced rank of -the party that advocated constitutional rights, so that when Ferdinand -VII. returned to the possession of absolute power, in 1814, he was, -amongst the proscribed, made a prisoner, and confined in the castle of -Pamplona. - -There he was kept six years, without being allowed to communicate with -his friends, or make use of his pen. On the constitutional government -becoming re-established, he was released, and restored to his offices -as secretary for the interpretation of languages, and member of the -board of censors. In 1821, the directorship-general of public education -having been formed, he was made president, until 1823, when the -constitution was again set aside, and he was again deprived of his -employments. - -Hereupon Quintana retired to Estremadura to his family, and lived there -till the end of 1828, when he was permitted to return to Madrid, to -continue his labours and literary studies. The following year he was -named member of the board for the museum of natural sciences, and in -1833 was re-established in his former employment, as secretary for -interpretations for which his knowledge of the French, English and -other languages rendered him qualified, and also reappointed president -of the council of public instruction. He was shortly after appointed -preceptor to her present Majesty, Queen Isabel II., and although ever -maintaining strong liberal principles, has been since, under the -administration of Narvaez, named a senator of the kingdom. - -Quintana first appeared as an author in 1795, when he published a -small volume of poems, among which was an Ode to the Sea, considered -one of his best compositions. The greater part, however, of them were -of unequal merit, and those have been omitted in subsequent editions: -the next one was published in 1802, and it has been reprinted with -additions several times. The best and most complete edition of his -poetical works was published at Madrid, in 1820, in two volumes, -entitled, ‘Poems, including the patriotic odes and tragedies, the -Duke of Viseo, and Pelayo.’ Of this edition five or six surreptitious -reprints have been made at Bordeaux and elsewhere, the laws regarding -copyright having only lately been made accordant with justice in Spain -as regards authors, though they do not yet extend them protection -against piratical republications from abroad. - -The tragedy of the ‘Duke of Viseo,’ imitated from the English, the -‘Castle Spectre’ of Lewis, was brought forward in 1801, and that of -‘Pelayo’ in 1805. The latter, on a favourite subject of their ancient -history, was received with much favour by his countrymen, as were also -many of his patriotic odes and poems, written in a spirit accordant -with the national feeling. Most of these were at the time inserted in -two periodical works he had under his direction; the first, ‘Variedades -de Ciencias, Literatura y Artes,’ and the second, the ‘Seminario -Patriotico,’ which was of a political character, and established to -promote, and sustain the spirit of independence, against the French -invasion. - -Beyond his original poems, Quintana has done an important service -to Spanish literature by publishing ‘A Collection of select Spanish -Poetry,’ altogether in six volumes, Madrid, 1830-33, with critical -and biographical notices, reprinted in Paris by Baudry, 1838. These -notices are written in a tone of great impartiality and fairness, and -are preceded by a Dissertation, as an Introduction, on the History -of Spanish Poetry, which, written as it is with eminent ability, Mr. -Wiffen has shown great judgement in translating, prefixed to his very -correct and elegant version of the works of Garcilasso de la Vega, -London, 1823. Besides this valuable collection of Spanish poetry, -Quintana has favoured the public with a work in three volumes,--‘Lives -of celebrated Spaniards,’ of which the first volume was published in -1807, the other two in 1830 and 1833 respectively. - -The first volume, which has been translated into English by Mr. -Preston, London, 1823, contains the lives of the earlier heroes of -Spanish history,--the Cid Campeador, Guzman the Good, Roger de Lauria, -the Prince of Viana, and Gonzalo de Cordova; all bearing impressions -of the enthusiastic and poetic feelings, characteristic of the -comparatively youthful period of life at which they were written. -It was Quintana’s intention to have proceeded with a series of like -biographies; but the subsequent public events, in which he had to -take so active a part, interrupted the task, and when he resumed it, -after the lapse of twenty years, it was under the influence of other -feelings. He then proceeded principally with the lives of persons -distinguished in American history; the second volume containing those -of Vasco Nunez de Balboa and Francisco Pizarro; and the third volume -those of Alvaro de Luna, and Bartolome de las Casas. Of these two -volumes, the former has been translated into English by Mrs. Hobson, -Edinburgh, 1832; and of the third a translation has been announced, -London, 1851; both, and the latter especially, well deserving of study. - -In the first volume, treating of heroes, whose history, almost lost in -the obscurity of remote times, might be considered among the fabulous -legends prevailing everywhere in the first formations of society, it -seemed only appropriate to give a colouring of poetry, to characters of -whose actions nothing could be judged, except by their outward bearing. -But in the others he could write as a philosophic historian, inquiring -into the motives of actions, and teaching lessons of public morality -by individual examples. The life of Alvaro is thus particularly -interesting, depicting the caprices of fortune, as they affect - - The wish indulged in courts to shine, - And power too great to keep or to resign. - -In the other lives he maintains the high tone of feeling shown in his -beautiful Ode to Balmis, the philanthropic introducer of vaccination -into America, where the ravages of the disease, so graphically -described by Humboldt, had made this benefit more peculiarly desirable. - -The generous sentiments expressed in this ode are such as to do honour -not only to Quintana, but also to the nation, where they are in the -present generation adopted, as we find them repeated emphatically -by so popular a writer as Larra. More than thirty years had elapsed -after writing that ode, when Quintana, in the Life of the enthusiastic -Las Casas, proved his consistency of character and principles, by -maintaining them in a work of historical character, as he had done in -poetry in his youth. - -In the prologue to the third volume he says, “The author will be -accused of little regard for the honour of his country, when he so -frankly adopts the sentiments and principles of the Protector of -the Indians, whose imprudent writings have been the occasion of so -much opprobrium, and of subministering such arms to the detractors -of Spanish glories. But neither the extravagance or fanatical -exaggerations of Las Casas, nor the abuse which the malignity of -strangers have made of them, can erase from deeds their nature and -character. The author has not gone to imbibe them from suspicious -fountains; nor to judge them as he has done, has he regarded other -principles than those of natural equity, or other feelings than those -of his own heart. Documents carefully appended for this purpose, and -the attentive perusal of Herrera, Oviedo, and others our own writers as -impartial and judicious as those, give the same result in events and -opinions. What then was to be done? To deny the impressions received, -and repel the decision which humanity and justice dictate, on account -of not compromising what is called the honour of the country? But the -honour of a country consists in actions truly great, noble and virtuous -of its inhabitants; not in gilding with justifications, or insufficient -exculpations, those that unfortunately bear on themselves the seal of -being iniquitous and cruel. To strangers who to depress us, accuse us -of cruelty and barbarity in our discoveries and conquests of the New -World, we might reply with other examples on their own part, as or more -atrocious than ours, and in times and under circumstances sufficiently -less excusable.… - -“The great glories and usefulnesses, which result from extended -conquests and dominations, are always bought at a great price, whether -of blood, or violence, or reputation and fame: unhappy tribute to be -paid even by nations the most civilized, when the impulse of destiny -bears them to the same situation. Glorious, without doubt, was for us -the discovery of the New World! But at what cost was it bought! For -myself what affects me, leaving apart as not required here the question -of the advantages which Europe has derived from that singular event, -I will say, that wherever I find, whether in the past or the present, -aggressors and aggrieved, oppressors and oppressed, on no account of -ulterior utility, nor even of national consideration, am I able to -incline myself to the former, or to fail in sympathizing with the -latter. I may have put therefore into this historical question more -entireness and candour than is commonly expected, when referring to our -own conduct, but no odious prejudices, nor an inclination to injure or -detract. Let us everywhere give some place in books to justice, now -that unfortunately it is wont to have so little left it in the affairs -of the world.” - -Holding such high opinions in all his writings, it may be seen that the -youth of Spain cannot have a better guide to take for private study -than those writings, the best preparatives for honourable exertion in -life; and Quintana’s own history shows, that whatever misfortunes may -befall any one individually, he does not labour or suffer in vain, -who labours or suffers honestly in a just cause. In another part of -the same prologue, Quintana says of his own lot, “Of this variety of -circumstances and continued alternations, from good to ill, and from -ill to good, not small has been the part fallen to the author of this -work. Drawn by the force of events from his study and domestic lares, -flattered and excessively exalted now, afterwards borne down and -contemned, falling into imprisonment and proceeded against capitally, -destined to a long and perhaps indefinite detention, deprived during it -of communications and even of his pen, released from it, when he least -hoped, to rise and prosper, and descending again soon to be endangered, -he has experienced all, and nothing now can be to him new. Let it not -be supposed from this that he puts it forth here as a merit, and -less, that he presents it in complaint. For of whom should I complain? -Of men? These in the midst of my greatest calamities, with very few -exceptions, have shown themselves constantly regardful, benevolent, -and even respectful towards me. Of fortune? And what pledges had she -given me to moderate for me the rigour with which she treated the rest? -Were they not of as much or more value than I? Political and moral -turbulences are the same as the great physical disorders, in which the -elements becoming excited, no one is sheltered from their fury.” - -Resigning himself thus to his fate, Quintana seems to have learned -the philosophical secret of preserving his equanimity in all the -vicissitudes of life, to the enjoyment of a tranquil old age. The -privilege of attaining this is a favour to every one, to whom it is -granted; but its highest enjoyments must be consequent only on a life -of active usefulness, with a conscience void of offence. The man of -cultivated mind, who has been called upon to do or to suffer more -than others his fellows in the turmoils of the world, may then be -supposed to receive his greater reward in the remembrances of scenes, -happier perhaps in the retrospect than in the reality, which may have -given them even the semblance of a longer existence. As perspectives -appear lengthened, according to the number and variety of objects that -intervene to the view, so life itself may appear to have been longer -or shorter, according to the memory and character of events witnessed -in its course. Described as a person of athletic form, yet unbowed by -the burden of fourscore years, Quintana, as before observed, still -survives, to receive the honour justly due to him for his honourable -exertions through life, the remembrances of which may thus give him -more pleasurable enjoyments, than can be supposed to fall to the lot of -ordinary mortals. - -As a poet, if a foreigner may be allowed to express an opinion, for -which he has no native authority to adduce, Quintana may be said to be -more eloquent than poetical. As Quintilian said of Lucan, both also -natives of Spain, “ut dicam quod sentio, magis oratoribus quam poetis -annumerandus.” Quintana’s eloquence consists in earnestness more than -in flights of fancy. His favourite subjects were the glories of his -country; and his patriotic odes, in which he endeavoured to incite his -countrymen to imitate the examples of their forefathers, have been -pronounced his best compositions. He has as a poet paid his tribute -of admiration to beauty and the arts; but his whole soul seems to be -poured forth when pathetically mourning over the dimmed glories of his -country, as when at the thought “of our miserable squadrons flying -before the British,” he turns to the Padillias and Guzmans of former -days, “when the Spaniard was master of half of Europe, and threw -himself upon unknown and immense seas to give a new world to men.” - -As a patriotic poet Quintana has been compared to Beranger, and is -said to have had the same power over the minds of his countrymen. -If the parallel be correct, it may be curious to consider how -characteristically these two poets appeal to the feelings of their -admirers; one by songs and incidents, which though often trivial, -yet speak to the heart in its most sensitive points, while the other -proceeds to the same object by martial odes of commanding austerity. -Besides the Ode to Balmis, the other one in this work, on the Battle of -Trafalgar, has been chosen for translation, as most likely to interest -the English reader, though it may not be in itself so much to be -admired as some others of his poems. The reader will perhaps observe a -constrained style in it, even beyond that of translation,--sentiments -forced, as if the subject had not been taken voluntarily. It must -not therefore be looked upon as a favourable specimen of Quintana’s -genius, like the Ode to Balmis, which more fully shows the character of -his mind. - -Quintana, more than other poets of his time, has written in one style -of verse, as in imitation of the Pindaric ode, or of our Gray and -Dryden. Thus with free metres and often unfettered by rhyme, he has -a staid measured tone, well suited to the subjects he has generally -adopted. They are considered in Spain as of an elegiac character; and -as accordant with them, they have fallen in the translation into the -form of our elegies, or the heroic lines with alternate rhymes, the -style of verse which Dryden, a high authority on such a question, -pronounced “the most magnificent of all the measures which our language -affords.” - -Much as Quintana has published, both of his own works and of the works -of others, for the advancement of sound learning and moral instruction, -we have still great cause to regret that the circumstances of the times -in which he has lived have prevented him from publishing more. Not only -has he been interrupted in the course of those instructive biographies, -of which we have such valuable beginnings, but we might have hoped, -if he had lived in more peaceful times, that he would have given the -world some work, of a character more distinctively his own, to place -his name still higher in the history of elegant literature. It was one -of the maxims of the wise Jovellanos, “that it was not sufficient for -the purposes of good government to keep the people quiet, but that they -ought to be kept contented.” Without this condition the other cannot -be expected; and for all public commotions, therefore, the rulers are -always most responsible, as unmindful of this truth. The greatest -evil is, when the whole literary world has thus also further cause -to complain of their misdeeds, as affecting those who were endowed -with talents of a higher order, such as to make all men interested -in their well-being. It is to be hoped that we are now, under the -benignant reign of Isabel the Second, entitled to expect a more liberal -government, and the advent of a still brighter æra for the literature -of Spain. - -Taking the space of eighty years, as comprehending the period during -which modern Spanish poetry has been peculiarly distinguished for -superior excellence, we may now make a further division of this period, -into the former and latter parts of it. All the poets, whose lives we -have hitherto traced, wrote their principal works previously to the -year 1810; after which time we have a succession of writers, whose -genius may perhaps be found to take a yet wider range of thought and -feeling, consequent on the extended field of knowledge, which later -events presented to their observation. - - -MANUEL JOSÈ QUINTANA. - - -TO THE SPANISH EXPEDITION FOR THE PROMOTION OF VACCINATION IN AMERICA, -UNDER DON FRANCISCO BALMIS. - - Fair Virgin of the world, America! - Thou who so innocent to heaven display’st - Thy bosom stored with plenty’s rich array, - And brow of gentle youth! Thou, who so graced - The tenderest and most lovely of the zones - Of mother Earth to shine, shouldst be of fate - The sweet delight and favour’d love it owns, - That but pursues thee with relentless hate, - Hear me! If ever was a time mine eyes, - When scanning thy eventful history, - Did not burst forth in tears; if could thy cries - My heart e’er hear unmoved, from pity free - And indignation; then let me disclaim’d - Of virtue be eternally as held, - And barbarous and wicked be one named - As those who with such ruin thee assail’d. - - In the eternal book of life are borne, - Written in blood, those cries, which then sent forth - Thy lips to Heaven, such fury doom’d to mourn, - And yet against my country call in wrath. - Forbidding glory and success attend - The fatal field of crimes. Will they ne’er cease? - Will not the bitter expiation end - Sufficed of three eventful centuries? - We are not now those who on daring’s wing, - Before the world, the Atlantic’s depths disdain’d, - And from the silence found thee covering, - That fiercely tore thee, bleeding and enchain’d! - - “No, ye are not the same. But my lament - Is not for this to cease: I could forget - The rigours which my conquerors relent, - Their avarice with cruelties beset: - The crime was of the age, and not of Spain. - But when can I forget the evils sore - Which I must miserably yet sustain? - Among them one, come, see what I deplore, - If horror will not you deter. From you, - Your fatal ships first launch’d, the mortal pest, - The poison that now desolates me flew. - As in doom’d plains by ruthless foes oppress’d, - As serpent that incessantly devours, - So ever from your coming, to consume - Has it raged o’er me. See here, how it lowers! - And in the hidden place of death and gloom, - Buries my children and my loves. Affords - Your skill no remedy? O! ye, who call - Yourselves as of America the lords, - Have pity on my agony. See, fall - Beneath your insane fury, not sufficed - One generation, but a hundred slain! - And I expiring, desolate, unprized, - Beseech assistance, and beseech in vain.” - - Such were the cries that to Olympus rose, - When in the fields of Albion found remote, - Variola’s fell havocs to oppose, - Kind Nature show’d the happy antidote. - The docile mother of the herd was found - Enrich’d with this great gift; there stored attent - Where from her copious milky founts around - She gives so many life and aliment. - Jenner to mortals first the gift reveal’d: - Thenceforward mothers to their hearts could press - - Their children without fear to lose them heal’d; - Nor fear’d thenceforward in her loveliness - The maiden, lest the fatal venom spoil - Her cheek of roses, or her brow of snow. - All Europe then is join’d in grateful toil, - For gift so precious and immense to know, - In praises loud to echo Jenner’s name; - And altars to his skill to raise decrees, - There to long ages hallowing his fame, - Beside their tutelar divinities. - - Of such a glory at the radiant light, - With noble emulation fill’d his breast, - A Spaniard rose,--“Let not my country slight,” - He cried, “on such a great occasion’s test, - Her ancient magnanimity to employ. - ’Tis fortune’s gift discovering it alone; - That let an Englishman his right enjoy. - Let Spain’s sublime and generous heart be shown, - Giving her majesty more honour true, - By carrying this treasure to the lands - Which most the evil’s dire oppressions knew. - There, for I feel a deity commands, - There will I fly, and of the raging wave - Will brave in bearing it the furious strife; - America’s infested plains to save - From death, as planting there the tree of life.” - He spoke, and scarcely from his burning lip - These echoes had beneficently flowed, - When floating in the port, prepared the ship, - To give commencement to so blest a road, - Moved spreading her white canvas to the air. - On his fate launch’d himself the aëronaut. - Waves of the sea, in favouring calmness bear, - As sacred, this deposit to be brought - Through your serene and liquid fields. There goes - Of thousand generations long the hope; - Nor whelm it, nor let thunder it oppose; - Arrest the lightning, with no storms to cope, - Stay them until that from those fertile shores - Come forth the prows, triumphant in their pride, - That fraught remote with all their golden stores, - With vice and curses also come allied. - - Honour to Balmis! O, heroic soul! - That in such noble toil devotest thy breath, - Go fearless to thy end. The dreadful roll - Of ocean always hoarse, and threatening death; - The fearful whirlpool’s all-devouring throat, - The cavern’d rock’s black face, where dash’d by fate, - Break the wreck’d barks, the dangers they denote - Greatest are not most cruel thee that wait. - From man expect them! Impious, envious man, - In error wrapped and blind, will prove him bent, - When hush’d against thee is the hurricane, - To combat rough the generous intent. - But firmly and secure press forward on; - And hold in mind, when comes for strife the day, - That without constant, anxious toil, can none - Hope glory’s palms to seize, and bear away. - - At length thou comest; America salutes - Her benefactor, and at once her veins - The destined balm to purify deputes. - A further generous ardour then regains - Thy breast; and thou, obedient to the hand - Divine that leads thee, turn’st the sounding prow - Where Ganges rolls, and every Eastern land - The gift may take. The Southern Ocean now - Astonished sees thee, o’er her mighty breast - Untiring passing. Luzon thee admires, - Good always sowing on thy road impress’d: - And as it China’s toilsome shore acquires, - Confucius from his tomb of honour’d fame, - If could his venerable form arise, - To see it in glad wonder might exclaim, - “’Twas worthy of my virtue, this emprise!” - - Right worthy was it of thee, mighty sage! - Worthy of that divine and highest light, - Which reason and which virtue erst array’d - To shine in happier days, now quench’d in night. - Thou, Balmis! never mayst return; nor grows - In Europe now the sacred laurel meet - With which to crown thee. There in calm repose, - Where peace and independence a retreat - May find, there rest thee! where thou mayst receive - At length the august reward of deeds so blest. - Nations immense shall come for thee to grieve, - Raising in grateful hymns to Heaven address’d - Thy name with fervorous zeal. And though now laid - In the cold tomb’s dark precincts thou refuse - To hear them, listen to them thus convey’d - At least, as in the accents of my Muse. - - -ON THE BATTLE OF TRAFALGAR. - - Not with an easy hand wills Fate to give - Nations, or heroes, power and renown: - Triumphant Rome, whose empire to receive - A hemisphere submissively bow’d down, - Yielding itself in silent servitude, - How often did she vanquish’d groan? repell’d - As she her course of loftiness pursued! - Her ground to Hannibal she scarcely held; - Italian blood of Trevia the sands, - And wavy Thrasymenus deeply dyed, - And Roman matrons the victorious bands - Of Cannæ nigh approaching them descried, - As some portentous comet fearful lower. - Who drove them thence? Who from the Capitol - Turn’d on the throne, that founded Dido’s power, - The clouds that threaten’d then o’er them to roll? - Who in the fields of Zama, from the yoke - They fear’d, with direful slaughter to set free, - At length the sceptre of great Carthage broke, - With which she held her sovereignty, the sea? - - Unswerving courage! that alone the shield - That turns adversity’s sharp knife aside: - To joy turns sorrow; bids despair to yield - To glory, and of fortune learns to guide - The dubious whirlwind, victory in its train; - For a high-minded race commands its fate. - O, Spain! my country! covering thy domain, - The mourning shows how great thy suffering state; - But still hope on, and with undaunted brow, - From base dejection free, behold the walls - Of thy own lofty Gades, which avow - Thy strength, though fate them now awhile appals; - Which though affrighted, blushing in their shame, - As bathing them around the waves extend, - Yet loud thy sons’ heroic deeds proclaim, - Far on the sounding billows they defend. - - From the proud castled poop that crowns his high - Indomitable ship, the Briton round - Look’d, on his power and glory to rely, - And boastful cried, “Companions renown’d! - See, there they come: new trophies to attain - Wait your unconquer’d arms; the feeble pines - That Spain prepares for her defence in vain: - Fate from our yoke exemption none assigns. - We are the sons of Neptune. Do they dare - To plough the waves before us? Call to mind - Aboukir’s memorable day! to share - Another such a triumph: let us find - One moment as sufficing us to come, - To conquer, and destroy them. Grant it me, - Kind fate! and let us crown’d with laurels home - Our wealthy Thames again returning see.” - - He spoke, and spread his sails. With swimming prows - Opening the waves, they follow him elate, - Conquerors of winds and waves. With dauntless brow - The Spaniards view them, and in calmness wait, - Contemning their fierce arrogance, and high - Their bosoms beating with indignant rage. - Just anger! sacred ardour! “There come nigh - Those cruel foes, who hasten war to wage, - And spill our blood, when we reposed secure - Beneath the wings of peace. They who are led - By avarice vile; who friendship’s laws abjure; - Who in their endless tyranny o’erspread - Would hold condemn’d the seas; who to unite, - As brothers, pride and insolence of power - With treachery and rapacity delight; - Who”--but with mantle dark night brings the hour - To enwrap the world. Wandering round the shrouds - Are frightful shades, dire slaughter that portend - And fearful expectations raise. Through opening clouds - The day displays the field, where wildly blend - Fury and death; and horrid Mars the scene - Swells loud with shouts of war, upraised in air - His standard high. To answer intervene - From hollow brass the mortal roarings glare. - The echo thunders, and the waves resound, - Dashing themselves in rage to Afric’s shore: - In conflict fly the ships to ships around, - By rancour moved. Less violent its store - Of heap’d-up ice in mountains, the South Pole - Emits immense, loud thundering through the waves - To glide, and on the adventurous seaman roll. - Nor with less clamour loosen’d from their caves - Rush the black tempests, when the East and North, - Troubling the heavens enraged in furious war, - And dire encounter, all their strength put forth, - And shake the centre of the globe afar. - - Thrice the fierce islander advanced to break - Our squadron’s wall, confiding in his might: - Thrice by the Spanish force repulsed, to shake - His hopes of victory he sees the fight. - Who shall depict his fury and his rage, - When with that flag before so proud he saw - The flag of Spain invincible engage? - ’Tis not to skill or valour to o’erawe, - Solely he trusts to fortune for success. - Doubling his ships, redoubling them again, - From poop to prow, from side to side to press, - In an unequal fight is made sustain - Each Spanish ship a thousand, thousand fires; - And they with equal breath that death receive - So send it back. No, not to my desires, - If heaven would grant it me, could I achieve - The task that day’s heroic deeds to tell, - Not with a hundred tongues; hid from the sun - By smoke, Fame’s trumpet shall their praises swell, - And bronze and marble for their names be won. - - At length the moment comes, when Death extends - His pale and horrid hand, to signalize - Great victims. Brave Alcedo to him bends, - And nobly Moyua, with Castanios, dies. - And Alcalà, Churruca, also ye! - Of Betis and Guipuzcoa the pride. - O! if Fate knew to spare, would it not be - Enough to soothe, upon your brows allied - Minerva’s olive with Mars’ laurels seen? - From your illustrious and inquiring mind - What could the world, or stars, their mysteries screen? - Of your great course the traces left behind - The Cyclades are full, nor less the seas - Of far America. How seeks to mourn, - New tears from her sad heart her grief to appease, - The widow’d land such heroes from her torn; - And still she sheds them o’er your cruel fate. - O! that ye two could live, and I in place - Of grief, of sorrowing song, to consecrate - To you the funeral accents that I raise, - Might have opposed my bosom to the stroke, - And thus my useless life my country give! - That I might thus your cruel lot revoke, - To bear the wounds, so that ye two might live! - And she might proudly raise her front anew, - Victorious crown’d with rays of glory bright, - Her course ’gainst arduous fortune to pursue, - Triumphant in your wisdom and your might. - - Yet fell ye not, ye generous squadrons! there, - Without revenge and slaughter. Spreading wide, - Rivers of English blood your powers declare. - And Albion also horror-struck descried - Mountains of bodies weigh, a heavy pile, - On her so proud Armada. Nelson, too! - Terrible shade! O, think not, no, that vile - My voice to name thee, e’er an insult threw - On thy last sigh. As English I abhor, - But hero I admire thee. O, thy fate! - Of captive ships a crowd, the spoils of war, - The Thames awaits, and now exults elate - To hail with shouts the conqueror’s return! - But only pale and cold beholds her Chief! - Great lesson left for human pride to learn, - And worthy holocaust for Spanish grief. - - Yet still the rage of Mars impels the arm - Of destiny; mow’d down unnumber’d lives. - By fury launch’d, voracious flames alarm; - On every side planks burning. Loosely drives - Each ship a fierce volcano; blazing high - Through the wide air ’tis raised, and thrown again - With horrid bursting in the seas to lie, - Engulf’d. Do other havocs yet remain? - Yes, for that Heaven, displeased to see such foes, - Bids the inclement north winds rise to part - The furious combatants, and day to close - In stormy night. ’Tis order’d, and athwart - They throw themselves the miserable barks, - Lashing the waves on high with cruel wings. - As each this new unequal combat marks - For ruin, falls the mast, and over swings - Trembling beneath the assault. The hulls divide, - And where the gaping seams the waves invite, - They enter, while the dying Spaniards cried, - “O! that we were to perish, but in fight!” - - In that remorseless conflict, high in air, - Then shining forth their glorious forms display’d - The mighty champions, who of old to bear - The trident and the spear, supreme had made - Before the Iberian flag the nations bow. - There Lauria, Trovar, and Bazan were seen, - And Aviles, their brother heroes now - Of Spain to welcome, and in death convene. - “Come among us,” they cried, “among the brave - You emulate. Already you have gain’d - Your fair reward. The example that you gave - Of valour, Spain in constancy sustain’d - Her warriors shows, inciting to prepare - For other conflicts they undaunted greet. - Look to the city of Alcides! there - Gravina, Alavà, and Escanio meet! - Cisneros and a hundred more combine - There in firm column, with proud hopes to bless - Our native land. Come, fly ye here, and shine - In heaven their stars of glory, and success.” - - - - -PART II. - - - - -VII. - -FRANCISCO MARTINEZ DE LA ROSA. - - -Throughout the civilized world, and even beyond it, this eminent -statesman has long been heard of, as one who, while devoting his life -faithfully to promote the welfare of his own country, had exerted -himself no less assiduously for the general interests of mankind. As -an orator, a statesman and a political writer, he has thus obtained a -deservedly high European reputation, due to his services and merits. In -Spain he is further known as one of the first literary characters of -whom his country has to boast, and as a dramatist and lyric poet of a -very superior order. - -Martinez de la Rosa was born the 10th March, 1789, at Granada, where -also he received his education, completing it at the University in that -city. Before the age of twenty he had gone through the usual course of -study in the ancient and some of the modern languages, in philosophy, -mathematics, canon and civil law, with such success as to have been -enabled to undertake a professorship of philosophy there, perfecting -himself in the art of oratory, in which his natural talents already -had become manifest, as they soon afterwards gave him the means of -greater distinction. From those pursuits he was called away, in 1808, -on the occurrence of the French invasion, to take an active part in -the struggle for national independence, into which he entered with -youthful ardour, by public declamations, and by writing in a periodical -instituted to maintain it. - -As the French arms advanced victoriously, Martinez de la Rosa, with -others of the party who had been most conspicuous in their opposition -to them, had to take refuge in Cadiz. He was first employed to proceed -to Gibraltar, as his future colleague, the Conde de Toreno, had been -sent to London, to obtain a cessation of hostilities, in the war -then yet existing between England and Spain, and concert measures -of alliance against the French. In this mission he had the desired -success, having further obtained from the governor of Gibraltar arms -and ammunition, which enabled the Spanish forces under Castanios to -march and obtain, at Bailen, the memorable triumph of the 19th July, -1808. In consequence of this victory, the French had to evacuate -Madrid, and the Central Junta was formed, superseding the first actors -in the conflict. On this, Martinez de la Rosa took advantage of the -circumstances to go to England, and observe there himself, says his -biographer, the celebrated Pacheco, “in its birth-place, where it was -natural, complete and necessary, that representative system, which the -spirit of reform wished to bring over for the people of the Continent.” -Wolf says he had there a diplomatic commission, adding, that he took -advantage of it “to familiarize himself with the English constitution, -for which he always had a great predilection.” - -Whether he had public duties entrusted to him or not, Martinez de -la Rosa seems then to have stayed some time in London, studying the -workings of the parliamentary system, the good fruits of which he, -as Mirabeau had before him, found in his legislative career. There -he printed, in 1811, his poem, Zaragoza, written in competition -for the prize offered by the Central Junta, in celebration of the -defence of that city in 1809, and there also he wrote several other -poems. The one of Zaragoza seems not to have been reprinted in Spain -till the publication of his collected poems in Madrid in 1833, -and no adjudication ever was made on the compositions prepared at -the suggestion of the Junta, but it is stated that the judges had -unanimously agreed to confer on him the premium offered in the name of -the nation. - -In 1811 the French armies had driven the assertors of national -independence from all the other principal parts of Spain to Cadiz, -and there the Cortes were convoked to meet. There then, Martinez de -la Rosa returned, and though not yet of the age required by law to be -chosen a Deputy, he took part in all the deliberations of the national -councils, and was appointed Secretary to the commission on the freedom -of the press. Meanwhile the siege of Cadiz was commenced by the French -and pressed unremittingly; but the spirit of the defenders did not -fail them. Martinez de la Rosa and Quintana continued their literary -labours, and the former produced a comedy and a tragedy, both of which -were received with much favour. The latter continues a favourite on the -stage, on a subject well chosen from Spanish history, and entitled the -‘Widow of Padillia.’ To use his own words, “It was represented, for the -first time, in July 1812, and in days so unfortunate, that it could -not be produced even in the theatre at Cadiz, on account of the great -danger from the bombs of the enemy, which had nearly caused, a little -before, the destruction of the building, crowded at the time with a -numerous audience. For this reason they had to erect a theatre of -wood in another part of the city, at a distance from where the French -artillery had directed their aim.” - -Shortly after this the siege was raised, and the French having -again evacuated Madrid, the Cortes were convoked to assemble there, -when Martinez de la Rosa was elected Deputy for his native city. He -had throughout the struggle joined the most active members of the -liberal party, Arguelles, Quintana and others, who, all honourable and -patriotic characters, had acted in perfect sincerity in forming the -Constitution of 1812, as it was called, which they hoped would secure -the future freedom of the country. - -In this, however, they found themselves mistaken; the representative -system had scarcely time to develope its advantages, when it was -overthrown entirely on the return of Ferdinand to Spain, who, by -his decree of the 4th of May, 1814, annulled the Constitution, -and dissolved the Cortes. Had he been contented with this, as in -re-assumption of the regal authority exercised by his predecessors, -the liberal party might have had only to lament the abrupt termination -of their hopes. But, unfortunately, proceedings still more arbitrary -were commenced against their leaders individually, of a nature unknown, -even in Spain, till then, and in comparison with which the rule of the -Prince of the Peace was a pattern of toleration. As those leaders had -not been guilty of any act which could make them amenable to any legal -tribunal, Ferdinand VII. took on himself to pass the sentences he chose -to inflict on them for the opinions they had held, and the conduct -they had pursued, in the momentous struggle for national independence, -resulting in his restoration. The partisans of the Absolute King wished -to extort from Martinez de la Rosa a retractation of the opinions -he had maintained; but they miscalculated his character. He refused -to listen to their overtures, and he was sentenced to ten years’ -imprisonment in the penal settlement of Gomera in Africa. - -In 1820 a reaction took place, and the constitutional party again -obtained possession of the government. Martinez de la Rosa had then -passed six years of unjust imprisonment, when he was recalled to Spain, -and was received, in his native city, with triumphal arches erected to -welcome him, and other tokens of public respect and rejoicing. At the -first election of deputies afterwards for the Cortes, he was sent with -that character from Granada, but his sentiments on public affairs had -become considerably modified. Others of the liberal party had returned -from exile or imprisonment with exasperated feelings; but Martinez de -la Rosa had employed his time more philosophically, in considering the -means that should be adopted, to use his own expression, “for resolving -the problem, most important for the human race, how to unite order -with liberty.” Avoiding all extreme opinions, he gave his support to -the ministry he found existing and their successors, as the means of -preserving order, until they fell under the combination of unworthy -jealousies among their own party, and the constant attacks of those -holding the extreme opinions of democracy and absolutism. - -On the 1st March, 1821, Martinez de la Rosa was called on to form a -ministry, which duty he finally undertook, though he had at first -strenuously declined it. He had good reason to decline it, as the king -himself was throughout that period plotting against his own ministers -and government, to re-establish himself in absolute power. At the -end of June, Martinez de la Rosa found himself under the necessity -of tendering his resignation, and insisting upon its being accepted, -though both the king and the council at first refused to do so. The -moderate course which he wished to follow pleased neither party; and -even he, who had suffered six years of unjust imprisonment in the -popular cause, was now looked on as a traitor by the people, and ran -great risk of being murdered in a public commotion raised in the city. -Had he chosen to take a more decisive part, either on the one side or -the other, the weight of his character would no doubt have given it the -preponderance. As it was, the question was decided by the invasion of -the French under the Duc d’Angoulême, who restored Ferdinand VII. to -his former authority. - -When the French entered Spain, the constitutionalist government had -retired to Seville; but Martinez de la Rosa had been obliged, from -illness, to remain at Madrid. There being called upon to give in his -adhesion to the authority imposed by foreign arms on the nation, he -declined to do so, and thought himself fortunate in having no severer -penalty to suffer thereupon, than to have his passport given him to -go from Spain, while others had to suffer so much more severely. He -then retired to Paris, where he resided eight years, paying occasional -visits to Italy, and though not proscribed directly as an exile, yet he -was not allowed to return to his country. - -During those eight years he devoted his leisure to literary pursuits, -and composed most of those works on which his fame must permanently -rest; such as his poem, ‘Arte Poetica;’ his very beautiful ‘Ode on -the Death of the Duchess de Frias,’ and several plays; among them the -‘Tragedy of the Conspiracy of Venice,’ considered the best of all he -had written. Thus occupied in endeavouring to make future generations -wiser and better, Martinez de la Rosa gained increased respect at home -with his increased reputation abroad; and on the moderating of the -first angry party-feelings in Spain, was at the end of eight years -allowed to return to Granada. - -The events of 1830 had produced the effect in Spain of milder councils -being adopted in the government, which prevailed still more on the -Queen Christina assuming power, first on the illness of the king, and -afterwards as Regent on his death in 1833. Martinez de la Rosa had -then been permitted to return to Madrid, and in this latter year he -published the first collection of his poems, dedicating himself to -writing at the same time his ‘Life of Perez del Pulgar,’ one of the -old warriors of Spain, and other works. From these labours he was -then called to undertake again the duties of government. The existing -ministry formed under a former line of policy, was not suitable to -the exigences of the times, rendered still more pressing now by the -pretensions of Don Carlos to the throne. It was necessary to oppose -those pretensions, by obtaining the zealous aid of the constitutional -party; and Martinez de la Rosa was chosen as the leader, embodying in -himself the characteristics of moderation and just principles, to form -a ministry. - -It does not become a foreigner, least of all in a purely literary -work, to enter in judgement on any questions of a political nature. -The best-intentioned persons in the world may take different views of -the same question, under the same emergences, and the wisdom of any -particular measure is not always to be judged of by the result. In -the conflicts of contending parties, the most unscrupulous and daring -may often succeed, where wiser and better men may fail. Of Martinez -de la Rosa, his biographer has observed, that “he was one of those -men who would not conspire even for good ends unlawfully; and that if -he could not obtain what he wished by just means, he would cross his -arms, and leave the rest to Providence.” The events of those years -present much ground for regret for all parties, and it is a truly -honourable consideration for such a one as Martinez de la Rosa, that, -acting according to the best of his judgement on many very difficult -occasions, he might have been compelled to yield to force and violence, -without any imputation on his probity or statesmanship. - -But if it be beyond our consideration of duty to enter on questions -of internal polity, there are two others, connected with his -administration, to which we may venture to refer, as to be judged of -by those great principles of right and justice, which are applicable -to all times and all countries, and become thus fairly subject to -commendation or censure, as affecting the general interests of mankind. - -Though Martinez de la Rosa had been one of the principal actors among -those who had established the Constitution of 1812, for which also -he suffered as a prisoner and an exile, he learned soon to perceive -that it required considerable modifications in a country like Spain, -where the people were not fully prepared to receive it. One of his -first measures then was to promulgate what might be termed a new -Constitution, called the Estatuto Real, the general wisdom and -propriety of which may be admitted, or at least not disputed, while -one part of it may be pronounced indefensible. This was in the design -to subvert the ancient rights of the Basque people, by amalgamating -their provinces into the kingdom, without obtaining or asking their -assent. This was a measure unjust in itself; and because unjust, also -impolitic; leading to a long-protracted struggle, in which the whole -force of Spain being employed, army after army was destroyed, and -general after general disgraced, by a comparatively inconsiderable -number of undisciplined peasantry. When England sought to incorporate -the Parliaments of Scotland and Ireland into that of the United -Kingdom, it was sought by what might be called legal, though not always -honourable means. On the same principle, the consent of the Basques -ought to have been obtained by the Spanish government, rather than the -attempt made, furtively or forcibly, to deprive them of their ancient -privileges. - -On another great question affecting humanity, it is pleasing to -consider Martinez de la Rosa among the foremost characters of the age, -in attempting the suppression of the slave trade with Africa. In 1817 -a treaty was made between England and Spain to suppress this traffic, -which, after the experience of a few years, it was found necessary to -make more stringent. Propositions to this effect were therefore made -year after year to successive Spanish governments by the British, but -in vain, until in 1835 Lord Palmerston was successful enough to find -in him a minister of Spain, who had the courage to consent to those -suggestions. The treaty of that year was then entered into, and signed -on the part of the two countries, by Sir George Villiers, now Earl of -Clarendon, and Martinez de la Rosa, which has had the desired effect of -preventing the trade being protected by the Spanish flag. But this able -statesman has done still more, to entitle him to the respect of all who -look with interest on this important question. One of the stipulations -of the treaty declared that a penal law should be passed in Spain, in -accordance with it, to punish all Spanish subjects found infringing it. -This stipulation no other Spanish minister could be found to fulfil; -and after the lapse of ten years, having again come into power, it -was left for him in good faith to accomplish the engagement he had -previously undertaken. Accordingly in 1845, he passed a law, answering -the purposes required, which received the approbation of the British -government, and which seems to have been so far effective in its -application. - -Great, undoubtedly, is the praise due to those philanthropic statesmen, -who, even at the Congress of Vienna, agreed to protect the liberty -of Africa. But much greater must be acknowledged due to one who, -unsupported almost in his own country, having to oppose himself to a -strong colonial interest, and the cry they raised against him of acting -in subservience to a foreign power, yet had the moral courage to follow -the dictates of justice and humanity, on behalf of an injured race, -notwithstanding all the enmity he had to encounter in so doing. - -In 1836 Martinez de la Rosa had to yield his place in the government to -other hands; and in 1840 he thought proper to retire again to Paris, -engaging himself in those literary pursuits from which he had latterly -been estranged. It is not our province to follow his political course, -through the different public questions on which he had to act. During -the four intermediate years various ministries were formed, to some of -which he had to give an honourable support, to others as honourable an -opposition; but the Regency of Espartero he avoided to acknowledge. -When this fell under the attack of Narvaez, he came forward again into -public life, and accepted office for a short time in the government; -but seemed resolved to take the first opportunity of giving up the post -of active exertion for one of more private character, though of no -less public utility. Accordingly, on the accession of Pius IX. to the -Papacy, he was appointed Ambassador to Rome, which important office he -still continues to hold, for the advantage of the Roman Catholic church -itself, as well as of his own country, in the several questions that -have come since under discussion, subject to his intervention. - -As a politician, Martinez de la Rosa has been conspicuous for constant -rectitude and consistency of principles. “Not even in moments of the -utmost defamation,” says his biographer, “has a word been ever raised -against his purity of conduct, nor have his greatest enemies ever -permitted themselves to impugn in the least his intentions.” As an -orator, he has had few to equal him in his time, none to surpass him; -but his eloquence has been modelled by his character to persuade and -defend rather than attack; and thus, if not abounding in brilliant -sallies, it has been found of more essential service to the cause of -good government. - -Beyond the ‘History of Perez del Pulgar,’ Martinez de la Rosa has -written several other works in prose, one of which, the latest, -entitled ‘Spirit of the Age,’ is in fact, so far as yet published, -a History of the French Revolution, preceded by a few general -observations on political questions. It has already advanced to -six volumes, and becoming a political and philosophical history of -contemporaneous events, may be extended to the utmost limits. A novel -which he wrote earlier in life, ‘Donna de Solis,’ is acknowledged -a failure, as showing “that no man, however eminent, can write -successfully on all kinds of subjects.” - -The principal literary success which Martinez de la Rosa has had, -seems to have been as a dramatist; but into those works it would be -impossible to enter, to treat them with justice, except by making them -a prominent subject of consideration. His poems, published as before -stated in 1833, contain compositions in various styles, from the light -Anacreontic to the project of an Epic Poem on the Wars of Granada, of -which, however, he has only published fragments. Besides a translation -of Horace’s ‘Art of Poetry,’ he has also given the world an ‘Ars -Poetica,’ for the benefit of his own countrymen, which he has enriched -with many excellent notes and criticisms. - -Some of the rules laid down in this ‘Ars Poetica’ are well worthy of -study, as giving room for reflection, for carrying their suggestions -even further than he has done. Thus, while insisting on the young -poet depending on the excellency of his ear for the melody of verse, -instead of having to count the syllables for the requisite purpose, -he observes, that as the ancients regulated their metres by time, -making so many long or short feet of equivalent measure, of which the -judgement must depend on the cadence, so in the verses of the best -Spanish poets, there are often some lines containing three or four -more syllables than others, to which they form the counterpart, and -which are read in the same measure, with increased pleasure for the -variation. - -The same observation may apply to English verse, though perhaps not so -fully. Many of our syllables containing shortly sounded vowels, such -as a Hebrew scholar might call Sheva and its compounds, pronounced -distinctly, but two in the time of an ordinary syllable, may be found -to give an elegance to the line, which would sound faulty with only -one of them. But we may go further, and observe, that as in music the -melody may be continued by the pause, instead of a note in the bar, -so in a line, a pause with one or more long syllables may have the -effect of a syllable, instead of the sound or foot to make up the -measure. Readers of poetry will not require to be reminded of instances -of this adaptation of sounds, and if they notice any such lines in -these translations, they will perceive that they have been written in -accordance with the precepts referred to. - -It must be acknowledged, that in the generality of his poems, Martinez -de la Rosa has not risen to any such height of sublimity or fancy as to -give him a place in the superior class of poets. But one of the latest -critical writers, Ferrer del Rio, who has given a more disparaging -estimate of his poetical talents than justice might award, pronounces -the ‘Epistle to the Duke de Frias’ as a composition for which “judges -the most grave and least complaisant might place him on the top of -Parnassus.” The ‘Remembrance of Spain,’ Del Rio declares to be poor in -images, without feeling or depth, but with much of pastoral innocency. -The ‘Return to Spain’ is, according to him, a mere itinerary of his -travels, more than an expression of pleasure on escaping from past -evil. But in the ‘Epistle to the Duke de Frias,’ he finds “true-felt -inspiration, an appropriate expression, and a plan well traced -out,”--“without vagueness or artificial labour, but with phrases that -soften and ideas that satisfy the mind,” becoming the subject. - -Another anonymous critic finds the writer dwelling too much on the -remembrance of his own sorrows, instead of offering consolation to the -mourner, and some incongruity in felicitating him on having witnessed -the last pangs of mortality. But these topics, on such an occasion, are -true to nature. Grief is apt to be egotistical, and the mind cannot but -dwell on the subject in which it is absorbed. Nor is the other a less -natural suggestion; and thus we may observe, that the great master of -antiquity represents the sweetest of his characters lamenting that she -had not been by the side of her lord at such a time, as the height of -her misfortune, to receive his last embrace, and his last word to be -remembered ever after:-- - - Ἕκτορ, ἐμοὶ δὲ μάλιστα λελείψεται ἄλγεα λυγρά. - Οὐ γάρ μοι θνήσκων λεχέων ἐκ χεῖρας ὄρεξας - Οὐ δὲ τί μοι εἶπες πυκινὸν ἔπος, οὖ τέ κεν αἰεὶ - Μεμνῄμην νύκτας τε καὶ ἤματα δακρυχέουσα. - -In this ‘Epistle to the Duke de Frias,’ Martinez de la Rosa has also -introduced, as a fit consideration in his grief, the same topic of -the instability of earthly things, which “the Roman friend of Rome’s -least mortal mind” offered him on a similar occasion of sympathy. But -it also seems a favourite subject of our poet’s thoughts at all times, -as befitting the philosopher and the scholar, to dwell on the passing -nature of worldly greatness, and so lead the mind to higher suggestions -than those of the present moment. These ideas he has carried further in -another work he has published, ‘Book for Children,’ in which, like many -other eminent characters, who have given the aid of their talents to -the development of juvenile minds, he has inculcated lessons of virtue, -and the instinct of good taste, with the feelings of patriotism and -religion, as the basis of moral well-being. - -Martinez de la Rosa published his works in a collected form first, in -five volumes, 1827-30, at Paris, where they have been again lately -reprinted. Besides these, there have been two editions in Spain, one -at Madrid and the other at Barcelona. From Her Catholic Majesty he -has received the decoration of the Golden Fleece, the highest order -of Spain, besides other similar honours. But the world at large will -consider his greatest honour to consist in having raised himself from -mediocrity of station, by his talents and exertions, to the high -position he has attained “without stain or reproach,” while, by his -literary works, he has enabled all mankind to become benefited by his -genius, and interested in his fame. - - -FRANCISCO MARTINEZ DE LA ROSA. - - -REMEMBRANCE OF SPAIN, WRITTEN IN LONDON IN 1811. - - I saw upon the shady Thames - Unnumber’d ships with riches fraught; - I saw the power the nation claims - Immense, the greatness it has wrought, - And arts that such renown have brought. - - But the afflicted mind exhaled - A thousand sighs; again to view - The flowery banks the wish prevail’d, - Where glides the Douro calmly through, - Or Henil’s streams their course pursue. - - I saw the proud Court’s ladies forth - Their wealth and grandeur gaily show; - I saw the beauties of the North, - Their bright complexions white as snow, - Commingling with the rose’s glow. - - Their eyes appear’d of heavenly blue, - Their tresses of the purest gold; - Their stately forms arose to view, - Beneath the veil’s transparent fold, - As white and lovely to behold. - - But what avail the gay brocade, - The city’s silks, and jewels’ pride; - Or charms in rosy smiles array’d, - With brilliant gaiety supplied, - That all to beauty are allied? - - When but is seen my country girl, - Clad in her robe of simple white, - Shamed are the needless silk and pearl; - And by her pure and blooming light - Confused hides beauty at the sight. - - Where shall I find in icy clime - Her black and beaming eyes of fire? - That whether scornfully the time, - To look, or kindly they desire, - To rob me of my peace conspire? - - Where the black hair that may like hers - In hue with ebony compare? - Where the light foot that never stirs, - When bounding o’er the meadows fair, - The lowly flowers that blossom there? - - Maids of the Henil! dark ye be; - But ne’er would I exchanged resign - Your charms for all that here I see, - Proud Albion shows, of brows that fine - Ev’n as the polish’d ivory shine. - - O, father Douro! gentle stream, - Whose sands a golden store supply, - Deign of my heart the wish supreme - To hear, thy sacred margins by, - That it may be my lot to die! - - -RETURN TO GRANADA, OCTOBER 27, 1831. - - My loved country! thee again - I come at length returned to see; - Thy beauteous soil, thy fields where reign - Plenty and joy unceasingly! - Thy radiant sun, thy peaceful skies, - Yes! there extended o’er the plain, - From hill to hill, I see arise - The far-famed city! Noble towers, - Midst groves of ever-blooming flowers; - Kissing her walls are crystal streams, - Her valley lofty heights surround, - And the snow-topp’d Sierra gleams, - Crowning the far horizon’s bound. - - Not vain thy memory me pursued - Where’er I stray’d; with that imbued, - Troubling my hopes, my joys, my rest, - The thoughts my heart and soul oppress’d. - On the cold margin of the Thames, - Or Seine, I thought of thee, and sigh’d - Again to view the bank that gems - Thy Henil’s or thy Douro’s tide. - And if perchance my voice essay’d - Some gayer song, for short relief, - Soon for lament the attempts I made - Were check’d, and doubled was my grief. - - Vain the delicious Arno show’d, - Offering to me her fruitful shore, - Of peace and loves the soft abode, - With flowers enamell’d o’er. - “More blooming are the plains where flows - The gentle Henil through, - And lovelier still Granada shows - Her pleasant site to view!” - Murmuring such words in mournful thought, - I oft with tearful eyes repined, - Upraised to Heaven, as memory brought - My fathers’ homes and hearths to mind. - At times the solitary view - Of rural scenes more seem’d to soothe; - From cities terror-struck I flew, - And breathless, anxious, o’er the uncouth - Rough Alps I took my way. - But not so pure, so vivid show’d - Their snowy tops the sun’s bright ray, - As from our snow Sierra glow’d - The streams of light, the god of day - O’er earth and heaven bestow’d. - - My griefs Pompeii flatter’d more: - Its fearful ruins, silent streets, - Deserted porticos, retreats - Of men with grass run o’er. - And in my troubled mind began - Grave thoughts to rise, how vain is all - The power of miserable man. - To abase his fame, his pride to gall, - How fate delights! and works that vast - He rears, and dares eternal call, - Throws over with a blast! - Today the traveller, as he roves - Along the Tiber, has to trace - Through ruins, where that was high Jove’s - Triumphant city had its place! - The plough breaks up the fruitful mould, - The sacred relics now we see - Of Herculaneum that enfold, - As in a darksome tomb! If be - Pompeii’s walls still standing, yet - Are their foundations undermined - By age, and as the rude winds threat, - They tremble to their fall inclined. - - Thus in my youth I saw the tower - Of the superb Alhambra lower, - Broken, and imminent appal - The Douro threatening with its fall. - Each rapid moment of my life - Hasten’d the term with ruin rife; - And of the Alcazar’s sovereign pride, - Where once the Moorish power enchain’d - Their fame as left to ages wide, - Mine eyes may soon not find descried - Its ruins ev’n remain’d. - As that dark image o’er me glooms, - My heart sinks heavy in my breast; - I bow myself before the tombs, - In tears with grief oppress’d. - - What is thy magic? what may be - The ineffable enchantment found, - O, country! O, sweet name, in thee? - Ever so dear to man the sound! - The sunburnt African will sigh - For his parch’d sands and burning sky, - Perchance afar, and round the plains - However blooming he disdains. - Ev’n the rude Laplander, if fate - In luckless hour him off has torn - From his own soil, disconsolate - Will to return there longing mourn; - Envying the eternal night’s repose, - His icebound shores and endless snows. - - And I, to whom kind fate assign’d - My birth within thy happy fold, - Granada! and my growth as kind - Within thy blissful bounds to mould, - Far from my country, and beset - With griefs, how could I thee forget? - On Africa’s inhuman shore, - To the wreck’d seaman rough and drear, - Thy sacred name I o’er and o’er - Repeated, which the waves to hear - Back to the Spanish regions bore. - On the far Pole’s dark furious sea, - By the Batavian’s energy - Bridled, again thy name was heard: - Heard it the Rhone, the foamy Rhine, - The Pyrenæan heights the word - Repeated with the Apennine, - And in Vesuvius’ burning cave - Then first the sound the echos gave. - - -EPISTLE TO THE DUQUE DE FRIAS, ON THE DEATH OF THE DUQUESA. - - From the dark gloomy borders of the Seine, - Where with black clouds around the heaven extends, - The earth o’erwhelm’d with snow, the heart with pain, - Thee thy unhappy friend his greeting sends; - - To thee still more unhappy! nor deters - Him ev’n the fear to touch the wounds unheal’d, - Yet bleeding sore, or see thee how it stirs - Fresh tears to bathe thine eyes thy sorrows yield. - - What would he be, if man were not to weep? - A thousand times I’ve thank’d our God, who gave - The heart to soothe its griefs in tears to steep; - As rain we see subdue the raging wave. - - Weep then, ay, weep! others, and abler friends - As faithful, with success may in thine ears - Make heard the voice that stoic virtue lends; - But I, who in the world my cup of tears - - Oft to the dregs have drain’d, no cure could find - For grief, but what from grief I might derive; - When with vain struggling tired, the powerless mind - Submissive ceased beneath the weight to strive. - - Dear friend! wilt thou believe me? time will come, - When the sharp edge of sorrow worn away, - That grief and anguish now so burdensome, - At length a placid sadness will allay; - - In which absorb’d, as yet o’erwhelm’d, the soul - Folds itself up all silently to bear; - Nor seeks nor envies, as around they roll, - The world’s delights or pleasures more to share. - - Thou doubt’st perchance; and once there was a time - I also doubted it; and endless thought - My deep affliction, and insulting crime - To tell me to an end it could be brought. - - And yet it was! for so from God to man - That is another mercy, which alone, - Amidst so many woes ’tis his to scan, - Aids him this weary life to suffer on. - - Hope then, believe my words, and trust in me: - Who in this world the unhappy privilege - Has bought so dear to speak of misery? - These many years that saw it me assiege, - - Saw me no day but as the plaything vile - Of a dire fate, that like a shrub amain - The hurricane tears up, and raised awhile - It fiercely dashes to the earth again. - - I know it true, against the blows of fate, - When that against ourselves they only glance, - The firm heart shielded can withstand its hate; - But so it is not oft: and thou, perchance, - - Mayst think I never one have lost I loved - More than my life. If sorrow will give truce - Thee for a moment, turn thine eyes disproved - To an unhappy orphan, weak, recluse, - - And sorrowing solitary in the world, - Without scarce one to whom to weep his woe; - For to the grave relentless death had hurl’d, - One after one, all he was born to know. - - In the same season, thou wilt see sufficed - Thy loss to open forth the wounds I bear, - I lost a mother kind, and idolized, - My joy, and comforter in every care; - - On her steps my reaved father to the grave - Soon follow’d, and both sank o’erwhelm’d in tears, - Calling my name afar; the cries they gave - Fell on my heart, but not upon my ears. - - I ran, I flew, I came, but all in vain: - Both now beneath the fatal stone reposed, - And I my height of anguish to attain, - But found the covering earth yet newly closed. - - Thou in thy grave affliction more hast found - Thee to console, if possible; (how turn - Rebels against me thy own woes around! - From my rude voice perforce thou hast to learn - - That he who fortune flatter’d not before, - Will neither flatter grief) thou in thy loss - Hast found a thousand comforts, which forbore - My cruel fate to grant my path across; - - Thou soothing saw’st thy wife in her last pains; - Her last sigh couldst receive; couldst press her hands, - Her arms raised to thee, and her pledge remains - In thine, her daughter still thy love demands. - - But I, not wishing it, am in thy breast - A dagger striking, thus again to view - That fatal night’s dark image to suggest, - When life with death its fearful struggles drew. - - Now ended are her pains, for ever o’er! - Herself she pray’d for it, with pious eyes - To heaven, and hope, amidst the pangs she bore, - Shone on her brow serene in death to rise. - - O! were it given us to penetrate - The secrets of the tomb, how oft our grief - Would it not soften down, however great! - In this same moment who of the belief - - Could not assure thee, while thou dost lament, - Unhappy, thy lost wife’s untimely doom, - That she is there enjoying permanent - A lot more happy than this side the tomb? - - Thou, silent, lowly bendest down thy head; - But thou mayst not be silent; answer me; - Sound, if thou darest it, the abyss to tread, - That separates thy lost loved wife from thee. - - Take through eternity thy course, and then - Tell me of where she is, what is her state? - Happy or miserable? or again, - We should rejoice in, or lament her fate? - - To thee I may repeat it, others gay - Will laugh at my dark fancy; not long past - The time I was by that enchanting bay - Of the Tyrrhenian sea; the city vast, - - Mother of pleasures, I forsook, and bent, - Absorb’d, my feeble steps, where lowly lies - Pompeii; palaces with gardens blent - And fountains brilliant, shone before my eyes; - - But deeper penetrates the mind, and sad, - Slowly along I went with heavy heart: - Flowers amid lava grew! and rich, and glad - Today the scenes on every side impart - - The towns and villages, which others hide - That stood as happy there a former day; - Those now that flourish built up by the side - Of some forgotten that have pass’d away. - - At length I came where we the walls descry - Of the deserted city, which the abode - Proclaim’d it was of men in times gone by; - Their sepulchres stood bordering the road! - - There for a resting-place the traveller stays, - For shade and for repose: the gate now gain’d, - Awhile the vacillating foot delays - To enter, as if fearing it profaned - - Too bold the mansions of the dead. No word, - No sound, no murmur. It would seem that there - Ev’n Echo’s self is mute, no answer heard! - Slowly I through the narrow streets repair - - Without a human footstep! Porticos - And plazas by no living beings trod, - Walls with deserted hearths, and temples rose - And altars, without victims or a god. - - How little, mean and miserable seem’d - The world before mine eyes, when there I stood! - A bitter smile upon my features gleam’d, - To think of man’s ambition, schemes of blood, - - And projects without end, when by a blast, - Like smoke, their good and evil are represt; - Ashes a mighty city overcast, - As light dust covers o’er some poor ants’ nest! - - Thus wrapp’d in mournful thoughts, I paced along - That vast and silent precinct, as behind - Roves some unbodied shade the tombs among; - The ties me yet to this low earth that bind - - I felt to loosen, and the soul set free - Launch’d itself forth, ev’n into endless space, - Leaving behind it ages.--Couldst thou see - What is this wretched life, compared its trace - - With that immensity, most surely, friend, - In thine eyes would remain congeal’d those tears, - Which now profuse thou shedd’st, and thou wouldst bend - Down on the earth thy gaze, where soon appears, - - Thyself must see, the end of all our toil; - The rest that she enjoys beyond the sky, - For whom thou weep’st, whilst o’er this care-worn soil - Dragging life’s heavy burden, as do I. - - Yet till ’tis granted thee to meet again - Thy lost adored, the moments consecrate - Of absence to her memory that remain: - Thy heart let her remembrance animate; - - Let thy lips ever her dear name repeat: - Nor how forget that clear ingenuous mind, - That heavenly beauty, generous soul, to meet - So rare! the world admired such gifts combined. - - But now I see thee to the dusky grove - Of cypress and rose-bay trees take thy way; - On thy right hand a crown is hanging, wove - Of mournful everlastings; nor astray - - Thine eyes scarce raising, fearing to behold - The monument of thine eternal grief, - That guards her ashes! Different she consoled, - Hastening in charity, as for relief - - The poor unhappy and the orphans knew! - For whom she ever show’d a parent’s care: - They who partook her gifts and kindness true, - Now in long files and slow, thy griefs to share - - Silent and mournful on thy steps attend, - Around her tomb; dost thou not hear them? theirs, - Theirs are the tearful sobbings that ascend, - And cries that interrupt the funeral prayers. - - Not ev’n a flower to deck her sepulchre, - Have I to send thee! flowers may not be grown - To bud in beds of ice; or if they were, - They soon would wither at my touch alone. - - -ANACREONTIC. - - Let the thunder burst, - Pour out and drink the wine! - Thou never saw’st a thunderbolt - Strike the tender vine. - - Vesuvius himself - To Bacchus tribute pays, - And spares the vineyard flourishing, - Where his lava sways. - - In Italy in vain - I hero sought or sage; - Mine eyes but dusty ruins found, - Mouldering with age. - - Of Rome the image scarce - Remains to be portray’d; - A tomb is Herculaneum, - Pompeii is a shade. - - But I found Falernum, - His nectar rich remain’d, - And in memory of Horace, - A bottleful I drain’d. - - -BACCHANALIAN. - - In chorus we sing, of wine, sweet wine, - Its power benign, and its flavour divine. - - Against power so sweet - No guard is secure, - Nor gate, nor yet wall, - Nor will castle endure, - Nor doubtings, nor watchings, - How strict or demure. - - Chorus. - - With thee the fair maiden - Shows herself fairer, - With thee has the matron - New beauty to glare her; - Ev’n the sad widow - Finds love an ensnarer. - - Chorus. - - With thee the poor captive, - Though heavy his chains, - Ne’er feels in his feasting - Or torments or pains, - But a place with his lord - As an equal he gains. - - Chorus. - - With thee the worn seaman - The south wind defies, - While echoes the thunder - He singing replies, - And of winds and the waves - Will the fury despise. - - Chorus. - - Thou hast power o’er the lip - Of the fool and the sage, - From the breast to root out - Gall, venom and rage, - What rancour and envy - Would hide, to assuage. - - Chorus. - - With thee will the coward - Of courage make show, - The niggard so vile - Learn bounteous to grow, - And the feeble and old - Fresh vigour to know. - - Chorus. - - Thy colour so pure - Outrivals the flowers, - Thy odorous essence - The rich myrrh’s showers, - The rosemary honey - Thy taste overpowers. - - Chorus. - - Oblivion thou givest - To troubles and sorrow, - Joys fleeting a show - Of eternal to borrow, - And robb’st of its horrors - The fate of tomorrow. - - In chorus we sing, of wine, sweet wine, - Its power benign, and its flavour divine. - - - - -VIII. - -ANGEL DE SAAVEDRA, DUKE DE RIVAS. - - -There are few persons to whom Fortune can be said to have “come with -both hands full,” more truly than to the illustrious subject of this -notice; even the very reverses of life, which have fallen to his lot, -have come like favours; as they have been incurred honourably, and have -proved the harbingers of many advantages. - -Angel de Saavedra was born at Cordova, the 1st March, 1791, the -second son of Don Juan Martin de Saavedra, Duke de Rivas, and Donna -Maria Ramirez, Marchioness of Andia, Grandees of Spain, both persons -not less eminent for private virtues than for their exalted rank. He -received his primary education under his father’s care; but he dying -in 1802, Angel was then removed to the College of Nobles at Madrid. In -accordance with the privileges then enjoyed by youths of noble birth, -he was, while yet a child of ten months, nominated a cornet of cavalry, -and held a commission as captain when but seven years old. At that -age, pursuing his studies, it was observed that he did not show much -application or inclination for abstruser subjects; but his quickness of -apprehension, and felicity of memory gave him a superiority over his -companions, many of whom were distinguished for much greater industry. -History and poetry were, from his earliest years, his favourite -subjects of study; and in original compositions and translations from -the classics, he then already began to show the bent of his genius. -At the same time he also began to show his great talent for drawing, -in which art, no less than in poetry, he has so much excelled; and -it is recorded that for the greatest punishment to be awarded him -for juvenile delinquencies, it was found sufficient to take away his -pencils, and forbid his taking his drawing lesson for the day. - -In 1806 the regiment, to which he was attached, had orders to join -Napoleon’s army in Germany, with the Spanish contingent; whereupon -the Duchess de Rivas, as her son’s guardian, procured his exchange -into the Royal Guard, by which he lost rank, having now only that of a -sub-lieutenant, in the rank as a guardsman. Having joined this corps -in the beginning of 1807, it was the lot of Don Angel to witness the -scenes which then occurred in the palace, little creditable to any -of the parties, including the arrest of the Prince of the Asturias, -afterwards Ferdinand VII., and the proceedings against him. It was -perhaps fortunate for the young guardsman that he was so soon called -into active service. A privileged corps is always a dangerous trial -for a young man entering into life; though, in addition to his -own right-mindedness, he had the good fortune to be joined to the -Flemish battalion of the guard, where he became intimate with a young -Belgian officer of kindred tastes and character, who, by example -and association, confirmed him in his inclinations. He also became -acquainted with some other young men who had the conducting of a -literary periodical, to which he contributed several articles, both in -prose and verse. For a young man of sixteen, desirous of distinction, -this was a privilege which could not fail of producing good results in -subsequent improvement, if his early efforts were found to be approved, -as an encouragement to continue them. - -From such occupations was Saavedra called away soon, to engage in the -important events, upon which the future fate of his country was to -depend. Napoleon’s troops had crossed the Pyrenees, and under pretence -of marching through the country to Portugal, had seized upon the -principal fortresses of Spain. The Court of Madrid, aware too late -of the treachery intended, was thrown into irremediable confusion, -heightened by the internal dissensions of the royal family. The troops -at Madrid were summoned in haste to the king at Aranjuez, when Saavedra -among them witnessed the pitiable scenes, which ended in the abdication -of Charles IV. and the declaration of Ferdinand VII., in whose escort -he returned to Madrid. But the French armies were already in possession -of the country, and had the royal family in their power. They soon had -further possession of Madrid, and the guards, in which Saavedra’s elder -brother, the Duke de Rivas, was also serving with him, were ordered -away to the Escurial, as the French leaders were aware of the part they -had taken at Aranjuez, and were fearful of their influence with the -people, in the course of resistance then widely spreading against the -invaders. - -Murat, then chief of the French forces, and of the provisional -government, had good reason to fear that so influential a body as the -Royal Guards, all composed of individuals of rank, might be induced -to take part with the insurrectionists in the rising struggle; and he -therefore sent to them to the Escurial, one of the principal Spanish -officers, also one of the Royal Guard, who had attached himself to -the French interest, to persuade the others to join the same cause. -This officer having accordingly come to the Escurial, called together -the members of the guard, and stating to them that the students of -the Military College at Segovia were in a state of rebellion against -the authorities, expressed Murat’s wish that the guards should join -the French troops to suppress the movement, to prevent further -ill-consequences. The assembly received the proposal at first in -silence and perplexity. But it was one of those occasions when a right -mind and strong heart availed more than conventional dignity; and thus, -though perhaps the youngest person present, Angel de Saavedra rose -up, and with all the impetuosity of youth, declared in impassioned -language, that “none of the guard would do treason to their country, -or become an instrument of foreign tyranny, for the oppression and -punishment of their companions in arms.” He therefore, in the name of -his comrades, gave a positive refusal to the mandate. - -In this, his first harangue, the spirit was as noble, as the sentiments -were bold and patriotic. The manner in which it was received showed -that it was also in unison with the feelings of the rest of the guard, -and Murat’s messenger was obliged to content himself with attempting -to reprove the young officer, who had ventured to speak before others, -so much his superiors in rank and service. But his efforts were of no -avail, and he had to return to Madrid, with the information that the -guards were also apparently about to join the national party. These -passed the night in watch, with their arms and horses prepared, for -whatever might be the result. In the morning they received orders to -return to Madrid, and obeying the order, at halting for the night, -came to deliberate on the course they should adopt. Some thought it -would be better to disperse, and go to their respective provinces, -to join the several parties already armed in resistance against the -invaders. Others, among whom were the two brothers, Saavedra and the -Duke de Rivas, thought it would be better for them to keep united, -and join as a body, with their standards, the first effective Spanish -force they could meet. Unfortunately there was no one of sufficient -authority present to command; and the first suggestion, where most of -them naturally wished to share the fates of their families, prevailed. -Accordingly they dispersed, and the two brothers entered Madrid -secretly, finding that those who remained together were too few to -remain as a body, against the numerous bands of the enemy spread over -the country. - -The first wish of the brothers was to join Palafox at Zaragoza, and -they started for that purpose with false passports; but found the road -too closely beset by the French. In one place, however, they met with -a mischance on the other side; where the people, now risen against -the invaders, fancied that the travellers who were going armed so -mysteriously, were emissaries of the French, and would listen to no -declaration to the contrary. Fortunately there happened to be in the -town a comrade of the guard, well known there, who hearing the uproar, -came and recognized the prisoners, and assuring the multitude of -their true character, made them be received with as much enthusiastic -welcome, as they had just before been with violence. - -Turning from this course, the two brothers then hastened back to join -the forces under Castanios, flushed with their triumph at Bailen; and -at Sepulveda, Angel Saavedra had his first encounter in fight with the -French. With the army he joined, he found about 200 of his comrades -of the guards, and these, as a body, now effected much service in the -various skirmishes and actions that took place. They had these with -varied success at Ucles, Tudela, and other places, where the two -brothers distinguished themselves by their activity and bravery. At -Tudela the Duke had his horse killed, and received several contusions, -which resulted in a fever, on account of which his brother had to take -him to their mother’s care at Cordova. - -Having recovered from this, they again joined the army, and were -present at “the memorable battle of Talavera,” after which they had to -share in the several encounters of Caminias, Madrilejos and Herencia. -But now a severer trial awaited them. On the 18th of November, 1809, -on the eve of the disastrous battle of Ocania, the French and Spanish -forces had an encounter at Antigola, when the Royal Guards, under the -Duke de Rivas, though pressed by superior numbers, charged three times -on the enemy, before they retired, with the loss of one-third of their -number, to Ocania. - -In this skirmish, Angel Saavedra had his horse killed at the beginning -of the affray, and then had to fight hand to hand at a disadvantage. -Thus he soon received two wounds in the head, and another in the breast -from a lance which prostrated him, and left him insensible, while the -combatants were riding over him and others laid in the same state. -About the middle of the night he recovered his sensibility, and found -he had been robbed of his clothes. He attempted to rise, but fell down -again, unable to move. Happily for him he had sufficient strength to -call to a man he saw near, who proved to be a Spanish soldier seeking -for spoils, and he, learning the name of the wounded officer, put him -on his horse, and took him to his brother. The Duke, who had already -been searching for him, and had sent others out for the same purpose -unavailingly, now hastened to procure for him medical assistance. -With much difficulty he found a surgeon, who, on seeing the patient, -declared the case hopeless, and left him to attend to others. The cold -air had arrested the bleeding, which now burst forth from the motion of -the horse and the warmth of the room used for the hospital, so as to -leave him apparently dying. The Duke was in despair, when the people -about him brought the barber of the place to dress the wounds, which -he did with great skill, giving him hopes of success in saving his -brother’s life. - -As the morning broke, the drums were heard beating for action, -announcing the advance of the enemy. The Duke had barely time to -procure a common cart of the country into which to place his brother, -who was found to have no fewer than eleven wounds upon him, and send -him away with seven other wounded companions, before he had to join -his troop. Going slowly along, the seven died by his side one after -another, and in a few hours they were overtaken by fugitives, whose -flight showed the ill-fortune of the day. Saavedra might have shared -this ill-fortune further; but one of the escort knew the country well -and took him along by-paths to a retired place, where his wounds were -again dressed, and afterwards to Baeza, in which city he found better -attendance. There, after three weeks, all his wounds were healed, -except the one in the breast, and one in the hip, from which he was -lame for some years afterwards. He then was enabled to proceed to his -mother at Cordova, and there was received, in his native place, with -marks of public respect, which could not fail of being very gratifying -to his feelings, though at the expense of so much suffering. - -In the beginning of 1810 the French came marching towards Cordova, -and Saavedra and his mother fled to Malaga. He had frequent bleeding, -apparently from the lungs, and his medical advisers were fearful that -any extraordinary exertion would have a fatal result. Before they could -embark at Malaga for any other place, the French had got possession -of the city, and Saavedra and the Duchess had to take refuge, -disguised, in a fisherman’s hut. In this extremity they were found by a -Spanish officer in the French interest, who had formerly shared their -hospitality at Cordova, and he repaid it now by procuring for them -passports and giving them the means to get to Gibraltar, whence they -passed over to Cadiz, then the last hope of Spain. - -Arrived at Cadiz, Saavedra was received with the consideration due to -his merits. He was put into active service, as far as his strength -would allow, and on the staff his talents for drawing as well as for -ready composition were found of great value. Many of the military -reports were written by him; and he also wrote a defence of the -military establishments against a pamphlet which had been published, -conducting at the same time a military periodical, published weekly, -at Cadiz, throughout 1811. Thrown into association with such men as -the Conde de Noronia, Arriaza, Quintana, and Martinez de la Rosa, his -love for poetry was further excited, and he composed verses like them, -some of which have been preserved among his later works, while he has -allowed others to be forgotten. He continued also cultivating his taste -for drawing, attending the schools at Cadiz to draw from life as well -as from the models; while at leisure moments on duty he amused himself -with sketching portraits of his comrades, or of the scenes presented to -their view. - -But his military duties did not cease at Cadiz. Having been sent out -on important commissions with orders, he was led away by his ardour to -join in the encounter which took place with the French at Chiclana, in -forgetfulness of the commission with which he was charged. Afterwards a -division of the army being found in a state of resistance to the orders -of the Regency, on account of their general refusing to acknowledge the -Duke of Wellington as commander-in-chief, Saavedra was sent with full -powers to arrest the disorder. This he did effectually, drawing the -division out of Cordova in good order, after deposing the general and -other chiefs of the insurrection, who but for this might have brought -further reverses on the Spanish arms, such as so many other incapable -officers had done previously, influenced in like manner by their -presumption and self-conceit. - -Saavedra, so far from joining in the vanity and folly of those of his -countrymen, who fancied themselves competent to act independently of -the British commander, on the contrary, sought to be employed on the -staff under the immediate orders of Lord Wellington, but he could not -effect it. The wound in his breast again occasioned large effusions -of blood from the mouth, and he was obliged to return to Seville, and -ultimately was quartered at Cordova. When the war came to an end, he, -under these circumstances, retired from military service with the rank -of lieutenant-colonel. - -While at Cadiz, Saavedra had joined, unreservedly, in the councils of -those who framed and attempted to establish in Spain the constitution -of 1812. When Ferdinand VII. returned and set it aside, he therefore -fully expected that he would be included in the proscription directed -against Martinez de la Rosa and others who had distinguished themselves -in the assertion of liberal opinions. But instead of this, the king, -who probably considered him more of a military than a political -character, received him favourably, and gave him the rank of colonel, -assigning him Seville for his residence. There accordingly he retired, -and while Spain was subjected to the rule of absolutism, employed -himself in literary pursuits and drawing, for which the magnificent -paintings of Murillo and other Spanish masters in that city gave one of -his inclinations so great an incentive. In 1813 he published a volume -of poems, and in the following six years brought forward several -plays, some of which were represented at Seville with considerable -applause, and one had the “marked honour of being prohibited by the -censorship.” These he republished in a second edition of his works at -Madrid in 1821, but though favourably received at the time, they are -all acknowledged now to be of little merit. In fact, at that time, -having studied principally the later poets of the classical school as -it was termed, his mind had not yet attained that expansiveness and -vigour which subsequent years of study were destined to give it. - -In 1820 Saavedra happened to be in Madrid, probably engaged in -superintending this edition of his works, when the events of that -year brought into power the party with whom he had been associated at -Cadiz at the time of the siege. With characteristic ardour he entered -again into close alliance with them, resuming the principles he had -previously maintained with them. But though now those friends were in -office, he sought nothing for himself further than leave to travel -into neighbouring countries, which permission he had sought in vain -from the previous government. This favour he now obtained, with full -salary allowed, and a commission to examine the military establishments -of other nations, and to report to the government on their advances -and improvements. He went accordingly to Paris, and after a careful -attention to the duties entrusted to him, was about proceeding to -Italy, when he was called back to Spain to engage in a new career of -public importance. - -Before going to Paris, Saavedra had paid a short visit to his native -city, and there formed a close intimacy with Alcala Galiano, one of the -most learned and talented men of his age, who, with Don Javier Isturitz -(the present respected Minister of her Catholic Majesty at London), -was now at the head of the government. Galiano, by the fascination of -his eloquence, had completely won the good feelings of the young poet, -and inspired by the desire of having so able and popular a follower -in the legislature, had procured his election as Deputy to the Cortes -from Cordova. Flattered by the favour shown him by his fellow-townsmen, -Saavedra entered with his accustomed ardour on his duties, and was -appointed Secretary to the Cortes, where he came forward as one of the -most vehement speakers in the maintenance of liberal opinions. But -those opinions were not responded to by the great mass of the people, -and were opposed by the foreign courts of Europe. Saavedra had voted -for the removal of the court to Seville, and there further voted for -the suspension of the king and his transference to Cadiz, when the -entry of the French army re-established Ferdinand on his throne. On -the 1st October, 1822, Saavedra and Galiano had to take flight from -Cadiz to Gibraltar, where he remained till the following May, when -he proceeded to London to join the other emigrants there, Isturitz, -Galiano, the celebrated Arguelles, whom his countrymen, on account of -his remarkable eloquence, have termed the divine, and others. - -Even during his short political career, Saavedra had continued his -literary pursuits, and now in London he renewed them, writing his poem -‘Florinda’ and minor pieces, as well as continuing his recreative art -of drawing. For his participation in the proceedings against the king, -he had been sentenced to death, and his property had been sequestrated. -This same measure had been visited on his brother, the Duke de Rivas, -who had taken part also in the proceedings, and thus Saavedra had -become reduced to very straitened circumstances. Their mother, with -natural feeling, forwarded him all the supplies in her power; but -these were scanty, and it was necessary for him to seek means of -subsistence for himself. He therefore determined on going to Italy to -perfect himself in the art of painting, as the best means of employment -left him, finding the climate of England also too rigorous for his -constitution. - -As the Spanish emigrants were forbidden to go to Italy, the Duchess -de Rivas besought the Pope’s Nuncio at Madrid to grant her son a -passport and obtain for him permission to go there for the purposes -specified. The Nuncio having communicated with Rome, was enabled -to reply, that “as Don Angel Saavedra engaged neither to speak nor -to write on political subjects in Italy, nor to frequent English -society, his passport would be granted him, assuring him he would -there find hospitality and protection.” The required securities having -been given, and the Nuncio’s authorization obtained, on which he had -himself written, “Given by express order of His Holiness,” Saavedra -left London in December, 1824, for Gibraltar, where he remained till -the June following. In the meantime he there married, according to -previous arrangement, Donna Maria de la Encarnacion Cueto, daughter of -a distinguished colonel of artillery, and then, with his young wife, -proceeded to Leghorn. Arrived at this city, and presenting his passport -to the Roman consul, he was told that, notwithstanding the assurances -given him, he was now forbidden to go to Rome; besides which he -received an order from the Tuscan government to leave their territories -within three days. Finding all remonstrances useless, Saavedra now, -in right of a passport from Gibraltar, applied for aid to the British -consul, who took him to his house, and as the only means of putting -him in safety, embarked him on board a small Maltese vessel then about -to sail for that island. After a protracted voyage, with wretched -accommodations and subjected to great peril in a storm, when the men -abandoned their tasks, and the captain and Saavedra had to compel them -by blows even to resume their labours, they at length reached Malta. -Here Saavedra intended to have remained only until he could obtain -the means of returning to Gibraltar; but the advantages of climate, of -cheapness of living, and the reception he met with from the English -authorities, induced him to continue there, until his stay at length -extended to five years’ residence. - -Fortunately for him, there happened then to be residing at Malta Mr. -J. H. Frere, formerly British Minister at Madrid, who, in addition -to a highly cultivated taste and great general knowledge, was well -conversant with the Spanish language and literature also in particular. -With this gentleman Saavedra soon entered into terms of intimate -friendship, and was taught by him to turn his thoughts from the tame -class of poetry he had copied from the French school, and elevate -his mind to the high tone of the older poets of Spain, as well as to -the study of English literature. These lessons he followed, and thus -proved another instance of the remark of Plutarch, that the Muses often -suggest the best and most approved productions of genius, taking exile -as their means to aid them: Καὶ γὰρ τοῖς παλαιοῖς (ὥς ἔοικεν) αἱ Μοῦσαι -τὰ κάλλιστα τῶν συνταγμάτων καὶ δοκιμώτατα, φυγὴν λάβουσαι σύνεργον, -ἐπετέλεσαν. - -At first Saavedra continued his former style of writing, but after a -short time his mind seemed suddenly to expand, and to act under the -influence of another genius. He finished, after his arrival at Malta, -his poem of ‘Florinda,’ and wrote there several plays, of the same -character as those he had formerly written, but at the same time showed -that a change was coming over his mind, by an ‘Ode to the Lighthouse -at Malta,’ known to the reader by Mr. Frere’s translation of it, which -for spirit and range of thought proved itself the offspring of another -and truer inspiration. The expectations thus raised were destined -to be fully realized, and the poem he then began, and published -subsequently, the ‘Moro Esposito,’ or ‘Foundling Moor,’ proved one of -a class entirely unknown to Spanish literature, but quite in accordance -with the national genius, so as to be at once accepted by the Spanish -public, as entitled to their unqualified admiration. To use the words -of his biographer, Pastor Diaz, himself a writer of considerable -reputation, “This work, which had no model, nor has yet had a rival, is -one of the most precious jewels of our literature, and in our judgement -the most beautiful flower of his poetic crown.” - -But it was not to poetry alone that Saavedra gave his attention at -Malta. He continued also his application to painting, not having -forgotten his original intention of adopting this art professionally. -Notwithstanding the advantages he enjoyed there, however, he was -anxious to be nearer his own country, and sought permission to go to -France, for which purpose he had an English vessel of war assigned to -take him to Marseilles. On arriving there, instead of being allowed -to go to Paris as he desired, he was directed to fix his residence -at Orleans, where, having exhausted the means afforded him for -subsistence, he found it necessary to establish a school for drawing. -In this he met with some success, having obtained various pupils and -commissions for portraits, and a painting which he had finished with -care and ability having been bought at a high price for the museum -of the city. Four others of his paintings are in the choir of the -cathedral at Seville. - -After a few months’ residence at Orleans, the revolution of July, 1830, -allowed him to go to Paris, where he found his valued friends Isturitz -and Galiano, both, like himself, having moderated the warmth of early -opinions by the effect of observation as well as of time. Instead of -interfering in political questions therefore, he continued his artistic -labours. Several portraits he had painted appeared in the Exhibition -of 1831 at the Louvre, and his name is to be found in the list for -that year of professional artists established in Paris. In consequence -of the cholera having broken out there, Saavedra soon after retired -to Tours, where he finished his poem, the ‘Moro Esposito,’ and the -Tragedy, ‘Don Alvaro,’ publishing the former at Paris in two volumes, -in 1833. - -On the death of Ferdinand VII., under the milder sway of Queen -Christina, the emigrants hitherto excluded from Spain were allowed to -return to their country. Angel Saavedra hastened to take advantage of -the amnesty, and arrived in Spain the 1st of January, 1834, to take the -oaths required; after which he took up his residence at Madrid, and -gave his adhesion to the government over which Martinez de la Rosa then -presided. Now, however, an important change came over his fortunes, -which brought him still more prominently before the world, and involved -him again in the vicissitudes of public life. - -On the 15th of May, 1834, his elder brother died without children; and -Angel Saavedra thereupon succeeded to his honours as Duke de Rivas, -and to the family estates entailed with the title. As a Grandee of -Spain, the new Duke had to take his place in the Chamber of Peers, -where he was chosen, on the 24th of July following, second Secretary, -and shortly after, first Secretary of the Chamber and Vice-President. -Here again, as formerly in the Cortes, he then took his part in the -public debates, having on several occasions shown himself to possess -great oratorical abilities. One speech he made on the exclusion of -Don Carlos and his descendants from the Spanish throne, has been -particularly mentioned as combining much eloquence with high political -considerations. - -But notwithstanding his elevation and parliamentary duties, he still -continued his literary pursuits. Having finished the Tragedy of ‘Don -Alvaro,’ he now brought it forward, and it is not too much to say that -never had a drama been produced in Spain of so high a character, or -that was attended with such success. At first it was received with -wonder, then with long and loud applause; it was repeated at every -theatre in Spain, and still continues to excite the admiration of -audiences, casting into the shade all his former dramatic productions, -and in fact causing a revolution in the dramatic art of the Spanish -stage. The old worn-out characters and constantly recurring self-same -incidents that had encumbered the scenes have since been swept away, -and a higher tone has been in consequence adopted by later writers, -though still this remarkable production remains without a rival on the -Spanish stage. Yet it is not without faults, and it has been subjected -to severe criticisms; but on the representation, so absorbing is the -interest which it is said to excite, that all faults are lost sight -of in admiration. The subject of the drama is that of the old Greek -tragedy, Fatality. Don Alvaro is an Œdipus, destined for misfortune, -and not even religion can save him from his mission of crime. “It is a -character which belongs to no determinate epoch, perhaps more universal -in this as it belongs to all, like the heroes of Shakespeare.” There -can be no question but that it was the study of Shakespeare which -elevated his genius to the production of this masterpiece of the modern -Spanish theatre, as had the study of Walter Scott and Byron enabled him -to give the world the great poem of the ‘Moro Esposito.’ - -On the 15th of May, 1836, the Duke de Rivas was called on to join the -government formed by his friends Isturitz and Galiano, to which he -consented with much reluctance. But this ministry was doomed to be of -short duration, and was overthrown in the midst of popular commotions. -The Duke had to take refuge in the house of the British Minister, the -present Earl of Clarendon, where he remained twenty-four days, refusing -to emigrate as others of his colleagues had done, though at last he -felt himself compelled to do so. With much difficulty he then escaped, -and after many perils, passing through Portugal, arrived at Gibraltar. - -The moderate counsels of the Isturitz ministry were not agreeable to -the temper of the public, and thus the Duke de Rivas was now driven -into banishment by his former friends the liberals, as he had formerly -been by their mutual enemies the Absolutists. At Gibraltar he thereupon -remained a year, dedicating himself again to poetry and painting, -having then composed much of his next, and perhaps most popular work, -‘Historical Romances.’ On the promulgation of the constitution of 1837, -accepted by the Queen, the Duke gave in his adhesion to it, and was -thus enabled to return to his family from his second exile, on the 1st -of August of that year. - -In the ensuing elections, the Duke was elected Senator for Cadiz, -when, in consonance with his principles, he gave his general support -to the ministry, and distinguished himself by several animated -discourses he pronounced in the Chamber; particularly one in favour of -returning to the nunneries their sequestrated properties, and another -for maintaining to the Basque provinces their ancient privileges and -rights. For this just and disinterested advocacy of their interests, -the constituents inhabiting the two provinces of Biscay and Alava -respectively elected him to the Senate in 1840, though the government -which then existed did not think proper to sanction their choice. - -Shortly after this, another change occurred in the government, and -under the administration of Narvaez, the Duke de Rivas was appointed -Minister from Her Catholic Majesty to the Court at Naples, in which -city he continued upwards of five years in that mission; during also -the residence of Pius IX. there, while a fugitive from Rome. On the -marriage of the Conde de Montemolin, eldest son of Don Carlos, with -a sister of the King of the two Sicilies, he demanded his passport, -leaving his post, for which he received the approbation of his -sovereign. Since his return to Spain, the Duke has been again appointed -Vice-President of the Senate, but seems to have taken little part in -public affairs. - -Mr. Borrow, in his very amusing work, ‘The Bible in Spain,’ describes -the Duke de Rivas, in 1836, as “a very handsome man;” and so his -portraits represent him, agreeing with all the accounts of his personal -appearance and courtly manners. Favoured by fortune with the possession -of high rank and ample means, he has been still further favoured in -his domestic relations, and with a large family, the solace of his -age. We have thus traced him through life, distinguished, in every -stage in which he has had to exert himself, for eminent ability as -well as honourable conduct. As a soldier, engaged in the noblest of -causes, the defence of his country, he showed himself conspicuous among -the most active and bravest of her defenders. In public life, as an -orator, a diplomatist and a statesman, he has proved equally eminent. -In private life, he has been no less exemplary for the exercise of the -domestic virtues, having in his needs exerted himself to discharge his -duty to his family, by the practice of the talents with which he had -been endowed, as an artist of superior proficiency. As a dramatist, -his works have in that most difficult department gained the fullest -success; and in poetry he is the only modern writer in Spain who has -given the world a poem of the highest class, combining varied incidents -with well-drawn characters and a sustained interest. Our greatest poet -of modern days felt constrained to say, - - I twine - My hopes of being remember’d in my line - With my land’s language; - -and in such aspirations may the Duke de Rivas indulge in the retrospect -of his past labours to ensure for him a like future remembrance. - -Passing by the poems written under the influence of an adhesion to the -rules of the classical school, we find the poem of the ‘Moro Esposito,’ -or ‘Cordova and Burgos in the fifteenth century,’ well-deserving of -being classed with the poetical romances of Sir Walter Scott, on the -model of which it was written. The subject is the History of the Seven -Infantes of Lara, made known to the English reader by Southey and -Lockhart, and it contains many passages of extraordinary merit, though -severe criticism would point out many faults. “To make felt,” says his -biographer, “or to record all the beauties of this book, a book as -large would be necessary, and they may well compensate for the defects, -notwithstanding that at times those same beauties make us see at what -small cost the author might have sent forth his work more finished.” As -in every-day life, he has joined in his narration scenes of the most -opposite character, the most magnificent descriptions with what is most -ludicrous, and the tenderest with what is oppressing to sensibility. -The passages referring to his native city of Cordova are peculiarly -beautiful, and show the feelings of the exile, as they lean to his -country, in all ages and under all circumstances,--to “sweet Argos” or -sacred Athens-- - - γενοίμαν, - ἵν’ ὑλᾶεν ἔπεστι πόντου - πρόβλημ’ ἁλίκλυστον, ἄκραν - ὑπὸ πλάκα Σουνίου, - τὰς ἱερὰς ὅπως προσείποιμεν Ἀθάνας. - -The dedication to Mr. Frere has the singularity of being written in the -English language. - -The ‘Ode to the Lighthouse at Malta’ is another exemplification of the -Duke’s patriotic feeling, as well as the poem of ‘The Exile,’ which -has been translated into English by Mr. Reade. One of his latest works -is in the form of a drama, but, like those of Lord Byron, it is not -intended for the stage. It is entitled, ‘Undeception in a Dream,’ and -represents the life of man, contrasting its vicissitudes and events -with his hopes and desires. Like the tragedy of ‘Alvaro,’ it is a -highly poetical conception, and worthy of the reputation of the noble -writer. - -It has already been intimated that the most popular of the Duke’s -works is one published at Madrid in 1841, ‘Historical Romances,’ from -which has been taken, for translation, the ‘Alcazar of Seville.’ These -romances are, in fact, ballads on various subjects in Spanish history, -written in the ballad measure of octosyllabic lines, with asonante -rhymes for the second and fourth of each quatrain, similar to our own -ballads. In the prologue to this work the Duke has written a defence -of this measure, which required no defence beyond his own adoption of -it, with the example of such writers in it as Melendez and Arriaza -in modern times, and almost all the best writers in the language -previously. Ochoa has praised “above all” the romance of the Conde de -Villa Mediana, and readers generally find most interesting the ‘Tale of -a Veteran,’ so that it may require an explanation for the choice of the -one taken, that the character of Pedro, surnamed the Cruel, was best -known to the English public, as associated with English history. That -of the Conde de Villa Mediana is a lively description of some scenes -which led to his assassination by order of the king, who was influenced -by jealousy; the ‘Tale of the Veteran’ gives an account of an adventure -in a nunnery, where a nun invites an officer to her cell and poisons -him in revenge for his slight to her sister. She then shows him the -corpse of a brother officer, who had already fallen a victim to her -arts for the like wrong to herself, and she tells him the whole history -of her motives and conduct, while she induces him to dig a grave for -the first victim, with whom, she tells her second, that he is also to -be placed. - -Few writers have given the world so many works of a superior order, -distinguishable separately for varied excellence, as the Duke de Rivas. -He has concentrated in his later productions all the chief merits of a -poet, in the choice of his subjects, in the delineation of character -and the power of maintaining throughout the interest of the narrative. -If he has failed too often in the mechanical execution, in attending to -the harmony of verse or poetic expression of the thoughts, these are -faults which we may hope will be corrected in subsequent editions, so -as to leave him still greater claims on the admiration of his readers. - - -THE DUKE DE RIVAS. - - -THE ALCAZAR OF SEVILLE. - - I. - - Magnificent is the Alcazar, - For which Seville is renown’d, - Delicious are its gardens, - With its lofty portals crown’d. - With woods all carved elaborate, - In a thousand forms about, - It raises high its noble front - With cornice jutting out; - And there in ancient characters - A tablet may be seen, - Don Pedro built these palaces, - The sculptures placed between. - But ill beseem in its saloons - The modern triflings rear’d, - And in its proud courts men without - The antique vest or beard. - How many a soft and balmy eve, - In pleasant converse there, - Have I with Seville’s mirthful sons, - And Seville’s daughters fair, - Traversed those blooming bowers along, - On entering which are rude - Gigantic shapes in myrtles cut, - Of various attitude; - And rose-bay trees, in long arcades, - With oranges unite, - And shady labyrinths form, the which - To thefts of love invite; - And hidden jets of water spring - All sudden from the floor, - When trod the painted pebbles laid - In rich mosaic o’er, - That sprinkle on the stranger there, - While shouts of laughter rise, - From those who warn’d by former fate - Now shun such pleasantries! - - In summer time, at close of day, - When mid the light cloud’s fold, - The sun declines, encircling them - With scarlet and with gold, - That bright transparent heaven above, - With purple mists o’erspread, - Cut in a thousand varied hues, - By softest zephyrs led, - That glowing atmosphere, in which - One seems to breathe of fire, - How temper they the languid frame, - And soul divine inspire! - The view too of those baths, that gain - From all who know them praise, - And that proud edifice which Moors - And Goths combined to raise, - In some parts harsh, in some more light, - Here ruins, there repair’d, - The different dominations pass’d - Are thus by each declared; - With records, and remembrances - Of ages long pass’d by, - And of more modern years alike - To arrest the fantasy. - The lemon’s and the jasmine’s flowers, - While they the eyes enchant, - Embalm the circumambient air - With sweets they lavish grant. - The fountains’ murmurs, and afar - The city’s varied cries, - With those that from the river near, - Or Alameda rise, - From Triana, and from the bridge, - All lost, confused amain, - With sound of bells vibrating loud - In high Hiralda’s fane;-- - A scene that never is forgot - Enchanted forms the whole, - The thoughts of which unceasing cause - To beat my heart and soul. - - Many delicious nights, when yet - My now all-frozen breast - Beat warmly, have I seen those halls - By youthful footsteps press’d; - Fill’d with a chosen concourse gay - In country dance to meet, - Or light quadrille, while festive sounds - The orchestras repeat: - And from the gilded roofs rebound - The steps, the laugh perchance - And talk of happy pairs, by love - United in the dance; - With sound of music mix’d the while, - Confused and blended o’er, - As sent according echos forth - From the enamell’d floor. - - Yet, ah! those lovely bowers along - I never once have stray’d, - But saw as in a mental dream - Padillia’s gentle shade, - Flitting before my view to pass, - Heaving a sigh profound, - Light as a vapour, or a cloud - That skims the trees around. - Nor ever enter’d I those halls, - But fancying arise - I saw the founder’s phantom, stain’d - With blood congeal’d the dyes. - Nor in that vestibule obscure, - Where with the cornice blend - The portraits of the kings, arranged - In columns to extend, - To that which is blue-tiled below, - And enamell’d is on high, - Which shows on every side around - A rich-set balcony, - And gilded lattice roof above - That crowns it with dark shade, - But thought I saw upon the ground - A lifeless body laid! - Yet on that pavement may be seen - A dark stain to this day! - Indelible, which ages pass - And never wash away: - ’Tis blood that dark tenacious stain; - Blood of the murder’d dead: - Alas! how many throng it o’er, - Nor think on what they tread! - - II. - - Five hundred years shone younger - The Alcazar to the day, - Its lofty walls yet lustrous, - And faultless its array; - And brilliant were the enamels - Which its gilded roofs reveal, - It showed itself the mansion fit - Of the king of proud Castile; - When on one balmy morn it chanced - Of florid May betide, - In that saloon whose balcony - Is on the plaza’s side, - Two persons of illustrious mien - In silence deep were there; - One was a Cavalier, and one - A Lady passing fair. - - A Barbary carpet richly wove - Upon the floor was laid, - The gift or tribute which the Moor - Granada’s king had paid; - A silken curtain, bright with flowers, - And ribbons curious wrought, - With various eastern colours deck’d, - Which to our Spain had brought - Venetian galleys, as perchance - Her Doge’s gift of state, - Was thrown across the balcony, - The light to moderate. - In the recess in front, with woods - Well carved, and richly graced - With mother-o’-pearl inlayings, - Was an Oratory placed; - Where of the sovereign Virgin - The image stood devout, - The sculpture somewhat rude, but yet - Attractions not without; - Which with a plate of silver, - For ornament was crown’d, - Its rim reflecting amethysts, - And emeralds around. - A manuscript of holy prayers, - Which miniatures adorn, - Precious with gold and ivory - Upon its coverings borne, - Was seen there placed upon a stand, - Form’d of an angel’s wings, - The figure badly sculptured, - But with neat finishings. - And on the floor of gold brocade - A cushion one might see, - Which by its sunken pressure show’d - The marks of bended knee. - And on the pure white walls were hung - Bright arms along the space, - And interspersed were banners, - And trophies of the chase. - An ornamental table stood - In the middle of the floor, - On which a well-tuned lute was placed, - Though partly covered o’er; - A rich-cut board for game of draughts, - And a coffer by its side - Of silver filigree, and jars - With chosen flowers supplied. - - The Lady near the balcony - Sat very pensively, - In a great gilded chair of state, - Whose back was form’d to be - A canopy, or cover o’er, - And in gay curvings down - Were lions, castles, and the whole - Surmounted with a crown. - Her dress a silken robe of green, - Which show’d a various tinge, - In twisted threads, with pearls and gold - The embroidery and fringe. - Her head-dress than the snow appear’d - Ev’n whiter to behold, - And covering o’er the fine clear lawn - Her long dark tresses roll’d. - Her face was heavenly, and her neck - Divine, but in their hue - Like wax, the colour which fear paints, - And long-known sorrow too. - Her eyes were like two beaming suns - Beneath their lashes tall, - Where shone two precious pearly drops - As ready down to fall. - She was a lily fair, whom death - Was rudely threatening seen, - For a corroding worm the heart - Was tearing deep within. - Now in her thin pale hands, convulsed - It seems with fear or doubt, - Her kerchief white, of border’d lace - And points, she twists about; - Or with absorb’d distracted mien - She agitates the air, - With fan, whose feathers Araby - Had sent, the choicest there. - - The Cavalier was slightly form’d, - And of the middle size, - With reddish beard, a restless mouth, - And most unquiet eyes. - His visage pale and dry appear’d, - Nose sharp and of a crook, - Noble his port, but sinister - And terrible his look. - In a red mantle he was wrapp’d, - With golden plates o’erspread, - And gracefully his cap was placed - On one side on his head. - With measured steps, from end to end, - He paced along the room, - And different passions o’er his face - Though silent seem’d to come. - At times he reddens, darting round - Fierce looks, that seem to tell, - As flames cast forth from eyes of fire, - The very deeds of hell. - And now a fierce and bitter smile - The extended lip displays, - Or on the gilded roof he fix’d - A darkly lowering gaze. - Now hastening on his course, from head - To foot he trembles o’er, - And now proceeds his noble mien - Of calmness to restore. - Thus have I seen a tiger fierce, - Now tranquil, now with rage - Revolve himself each side across, - And round his narrow cage. - Thus pacing o’er the carpet there - His footsteps are not heard, - But soundless they, yet were distinct - As ever that he stirr’d, - The crackling of his arms and knees: - In distant lands, ’tis said, - That with like noise has Heaven supplied, - For man to shun in dread, - O, wonder rare! a serpent, named - Thence Rattlesnake, that springs - Quick at the moment it comes nigh, - And kills whome’er it stings. - - The Lady was Padillia, - That sat in mournful strain; - And the stern silent Cavalier - Don Pedro, King of Spain. - - III. - - As round some solitary tower, - At setting of the sun, - Fierce birds of prey are whirling seen, - Revolving one by one, - Thus with Don Pedro in their turn - Have various thoughts a trace, - Whose shadows darken as they pass - The expression of his face. - Now occupies his angry mind - His brother’s power and state, - Of those whose mother he had slain, - And birth would criminate. - Now of unquietnesses borne, - Great scorn and insult shown, - Or of his failing treasury, - Nor means to fill it known. - Now of the fair Aldonza’s charms, - His fortune ’twas to gain, - Or of the blood-stain’d forms of those - He had unjustly slain. - Now some projected enterprise, - Some treaty to defeat, - Faith-breaking with Granada’s Moor, - Or treason or deceit. - But as the birds the lonely tower, - The broken heights between, - Are all at length, as one by one, - Retiring hiding seen; - And constant only one remains, - Revolving it infest, - The fiercest, strongest on the wing, - That will admit no rest; - Thus all that multitude confused - Of passions wild and strange, - Of which Don Pedro for a while - Was tangled in the range, - At length from breast and head alike - Fled finding a retreat, - And living left distinct alone, - With horror great replete, - The image of Fadrique, - His eldest brother famed, - The pride of knights and Master those - Of Santiago named. - - Now from Humillia’s conquer’d walls, - With matchless courage won, - In triumph had Fadrique come - O’er vanquish’d Aragon. - Where erst the bars, the castles now - He floating left abroad, - And to present the keys he brings - His brother, king and lord. - Well knows the king no rebel he, - But friend and ally true, - And more than Tello madly hates, - And more than Henry too. - ’Twas he Fadrique had the charge - From France to bring the queen, - The Lady Blanche, but he allow’d - A year to intervene. - With her in Narbonne he delay’d, - And rumours thus of those, - Which whether true or false alike - Are poisonous, arose. - And in Medina’s tower the price - The Lady Blanche now pays, - Of all the palace whisperings, - And journey’s long delays. - And on his shoulders yet untouch’d - His head Fadrique wears, - Because of his great wealth and power - And honour’d name he bears. - But, woe for him! the ladies all - Him as their idol own, - For his gay port and gallant mien, - And manly courage known. - And if he cause the throne no fear, - In his fidelity, - He gives what’s worse, though that were bad, - The heart strong jealousy. - - Meanwhile the fair Padillia, - Whose judgement clear and great, - Her royal lover’s secret thoughts, - Though deepest penetrate, - In whom the goodness of her heart - The enchantment still excels, - That in her beauteous face and form - So marvellously dwells, - Unhappy victim lives of fears, - That ever her attend, - Because she loves the king, and sees - His course in evil end: - She knows that based in blood and grief, - And persecution’s train, - A palace never is secure, - No throne can fix’d remain. - And she has two young tender girls, - Who with another sire, - Whate’er their lot, might all have gain’d - Their hearts could best require; - And in Fadrique’s worth she sees - A stay and partisan. - She knows he comes to Seville now, - And as from words can scan - Her fierce lord’s brow dark lowering, - In evil hour he came, - And to allay suspicions, - Or give them higher aim, - At length, though with a trembling lip, - The silence breaking dared - To speak, and thus the words that pass’d - Between the two declared: - “Your brother then, Fadrique, - Triumphant comes today?” - “And certainly in coming, - The wretch makes long delay.” - “He serves you well, and hero-like, - As does Humillia show, - Of loyalty gives proofs, and brave - He is”--“Sufficient so.” - “You may be sure, Sire, that his heart - Will ever true remain.” - “Tomorrow still more sure of that.” - Both silent were again. - - IV. - - With joy the Master to receive, - Through Seville’s streets along, - Great rumour spreads, and arms resound, - And men and horses throng. - And shouts of welcoming, amidst - Repeated echoes rise, - Which from Hiralda’s lofty tower - Are scattered to the skies. - Now comes the crowd approaching near, - But less the shouts resound, - And now the palace gates they reach - Mid silence all around: - As if the Alcazar had enjoy’d - The privilege to appear, - In sight, and still the enthusiast flow, - And turn it into fear. - Thus mute and breathless, motionless, - The people stood in dread, - As if with magical respect - The plaza’s bounds to tread; - And enters there the Master now, - With but a scanty train, - And of his order some few knights, - The palace gates to gain. - And forward on his course directs, - As one without alarms, - Who goes to meet a brother kind, - With open heart and arms: - Or as some noble chieftain comes, - For glorious deeds the cause, - From grateful monarch to receive - Due honours and applause. - Upon a dark and mettled steed, - That breathes of foam and fire, - And while the bridle scarce restrains, - Seems proud of its attire, - With a white mantle o’er him cast, - Flung loosely to the air, - O’er which the collar and red cross - His dignity declare; - And cap of crimson velvet girt - His brows, whereon unfold - The winds the feathers’ snowy plumes, - And tassels bound with gold. - - All pale as death, the furious King - His brother saw from far, - When on the plaza entering first, - And fix’d as statues are, - Awhile he stood upon the floor, - And from his angry eyes - Seem’d burning horrid lightning thence - In flashes to arise. - But starting soon, himself around - He turn’d the room to leave, - As if he would some welcome guest - Right affably receive. - When thus Padillia saw him turn, - Her heart beyond relief - Of anguish full, and countenance - So beauteous mark’d with grief, - She rose, and to the balcony - Went troubled, by the square, - And to the Master motions wild, - With gestures to declare, - In evil hour he comes, and waves - Her kerchief him away, - And by mute signs thus bids him seek - Safety without delay. - Nothing of this he comprehends, - But for saluting takes - The warning, and discreetly thus - A gallant answer makes. - And to the open’d portal comes, - With guards and bowmen lined, - Who give him passage free, but leave - His followers behind. - - If he knew not Padillia’s signs, - Don Pedro knew them well, - As he before the chamber door - A moment seem’d to dwell, - In deep suspense o’er his resolve, - When turning back his eye, - He saw the Lady warn him thus - By motions thence to fly. - O, heaven! then was that noble act, - Of pure intent to be - What call’d the executioners forth, - And seal’d the stern decree. - Follow’d by two esquires alone, - The Master scarce in haste - Upon the royal vestibule - His foot confiding placed, - Where various men-at-arms were seen, - In double iron barr’d, - Pacing along as sentinels - The entrance stairs to guard, - When over from the balcony, - Like fiendish shape of ill, - The King looks out, and “Mace-bearers,” - He shouts, “the Master kill.” - Quick as the lightning in a storm - Comes ere the thunders call, - Six well-appointed maces down - On Don Fadrique fall. - He raised his hand to grasp his sword, - But in his tabard’s gird - The hilt was bound, impossible - To draw it at the word. - He fell, a sea of blood around - Ran from the shattered brain, - Raising a cry which reached to heaven, - And doubtless not in vain. - Of deed so horrible the news - At once around was spread, - And thence the brotherhood and knights - Together quickly fled. - To hide them in their houses fled - The people, trembling sore - With horror, and the Alcazar’s bounds - Were desert as before. - - V. - - ’Tis said, the sight of blood so much - Is wont to infuriate - The tiger, that he still rends on - With stomach satiate; - Solely because ’tis his delight - With blood the earth to stain, - So doubtless with the King it was - Such feelings grew amain. - For when he saw Fadrique laid, - Thus prostrate on the ground, - After the squires in search he ran - The palace all around; - Who tremblingly and livid fled - The apartments various o’er, - Nor find they any hiding-place, - Or whence to fly a door. - One happily at length succeeds, - To hide or fly outright; - The other, Sancho Villiegas, - Less happy or adroit, - Seeing the King still follow him, - Enter’d half dead with fear - Where was Padillia on her couch, - With her attendants near; - They trembling, as she senseless laid, - And by her side reclined - Her two young tender girls, who were - Angels in form and mind. - The unhappy youth still seeing there - The spectre following nigh, - That even this asylum mocks, - In his arms quickly high - Snatches the Lady Beatrice, - Who scarce six years has known, - The child for whom the King has e’er - The most affection shown. - But, ah! naught serves him this resource, - As in the desert naught - The holy cross avails, that clasps - The pilgrim hapless caught; - When roars the south wind, burns the sky, - And seems as if up-driven - A frightful sea, of waves of sand, - Commingling earth and heaven; - Thus with the child between his arms, - And on his knees compress’d, - The furious dagger of the King - Was planted in his breast. - - As if that day had witness’d naught - The palace new or rare, - The King sat at the table calm - To eat as usual there; - Play’d afterwards a game of draughts, - Then went out pacing slow - To see the galleys, arming soon - To Biscay’s shores to go. - And when the night the hemisphere - Had with its mantle veil’d, - He enters in the Golden Tower, - Where he shut up has held - The fair Aldonza, whom he took - From Santa Clara’s walls, - And as in blind idolatry - Who now his heart enthralls. - With Levi then his treasurer, - Who though a Hebrew vile - Has all his confidence, he goes - On state affairs awhile; - And very late retires to rest, - With no attendants nigh, - Only a Moor, a wretch perforce, - His favourite waiting by. - - Enter’d the lofty vestibule, - The Alcazar’s tranquil bound, - One moment paused the King and pass’d - His gaze in turn around. - A large lamp from the vaulted roof - Was hanging loose, and cast - Now lights, now shadows, as it swung, - As by the breezes pass’d. - Between the polish’d columns placed - Two men in armour were, - But only two dark figures show’d, - Watching in silence there. - And still was Don Fadrique laid - Extended on the ground, - With his torn mantle o’er him spread, - In a lake of blood around. - The King approach’d him, and awhile - Attentively survey’d, - And seeing that his brother yet - Was not entirely dead, - Since he perchance as breathing seem’d, - His breast a heave to make, - He gave him with his foot a push, - Which made the body shake; - Whereon he, giving to the Moor - His sharpen’d dagger bare, - Said, “Finish him,” and quietly - To sleep went up the stair. - - - - -IX. - -MANUEL BRETON DE LOS HERREROS. - - -In the country of Lope de Vega and Calderon de la Barca, it was not to -be supposed, that on the general revival of the national literature, -the drama could be left neglected, in a state unworthy of its ancient -reputation. From the time of those great writers until the present, -notwithstanding the predilection of the Spanish people for the stage, -and the encouragement consequently given for genius to exert itself, -no dramas had been produced to equal them in the public admiration. -The younger Moratin, who may be justly termed the Spanish Molière, had -rather introduced into Spain a new style of drama, that which we call -genteel comedy, than followed the track of the ancient masters. It was -reserved for a later writer, the subject of this notice, to appear as -a rival to them in the exuberance of composition, and possession of -popular favour, though it may be a question for future ages to decide -on his relative merit. - -Breton de los Herreros was born at Quel, a small village in the -province of Logronio, the 19th December, 1796. Of his early history, -we are only informed that he was educated at the school of San Antonio -Abad at Madrid, and that he entered a regiment of infantry as a -volunteer, when yet a boy of fourteen. The world at large may be -considered to be, with regard to contemporary characters of another -nation, in the relation of posterity, making distance have, as Bishop -Atterbury remarked to Lord Bolingbroke, the effect of time; and they -will thus inquire eagerly into the particulars of the life of one -distinguished for genius, however humble his birth, while they will -pass heedlessly by the noblest born personage, who has given them no -peculiar right of interest in his history. But, as on reading the life -of the Duke de Rivas, we feel it a subject of congratulation, that the -lance of a French marauder did not cut off one who was destined to be -the ornament of his country’s literature, so we rejoice again equally -that the chance passed away favourably, when a stray ball might have -deprived the world of the works of Breton de los Herreros. Serving in -his humble line, he was present at various skirmishes with the invaders -on their final expulsion from Valencia and Catalonia, at the same time -composing patriotic songs on the national triumphs. In 1812, when yet a -boy of fifteen, he wrote an Ode to the Constitution, and distinguished -himself as an orator among his comrades on the popular subjects of -discussion. On the return of Ferdinand VII. to absolute power, he must -have been compelled to restrain his tendencies for liberalism, and it -may be supposed that his time was at least as well employed in noting -the characters of those around him, and the scenes he had to witness, -as a storehouse of useful observations for his future writings. - -In 1822 he obtained his discharge from the army, and after various -attempts made to obtain an eligible employment in the provinces, he -went to Madrid, in the summer of 1824, for the same purpose. There -again he was equally unsuccessful, and as a last resource, took to the -director of the theatre, a comedy which he had written some years -previously for pastime. Fortunately for him, the director happened to -be in want of a new piece to bring out on the king’s birthday, and -thinking the one presented would answer his purpose, he undertook its -production with more than usual care, on account of the occasion. It -was accordingly performed on the 24th October, 1824, and met with such -decided success, that the literary fame of the author was at once -secured. - -The profits accruing from the representation of his comedies were -exceedingly trifling; but his natural inclinations led him to writing -for the stage, where he now found himself respected as a successful -writer; and as he had no other resource for maintenance, he applied -himself to this labour with better hopes. A succession of pieces he -wrote were equally successful, produced with a rapidity that reminded -the world of the fertility that had characterized the genius of Lope de -Vega or Calderon. One of his pieces was so much relished, that at the -close, the audience insisted on its being repeated all over a second -time, with which extraordinary demand the actors had to comply. In 1831 -he brought out his comedy of ‘Marcela, or Which of the Three?’--the -most popular of all his productions, the subject being, which of -three lovers, all unworthy of her, the heroine, who is amiability -personified, should accept. It was repeated at all the theatres in -the kingdom, and went through six editions on publication, besides -several surreptitious ones, having some of the verses even passing into -“household words,” as popular expressions. - -In the same year, 1831, he published a small volume of poems, -containing lyrical and miscellaneous pieces, and has since written many -more of the same character in the different periodicals of Madrid. -None of these are, however, deserving of note, except the satirical -ones, many of which abound with the wit and humour for which his -comedies are remarkable. He is now engaged in publishing at Madrid a -collection of all his works, the last volume being intended to contain -the miscellaneous poems, which, corrected and collected together from -the different papers in which they at first appeared, will no doubt -prove to be more worthy of his fame than those published in 1831. In -the lyrical poems he is avowedly a follower of the so-called classical -school, and rises no higher than those of the same class that had -preceded him; their utmost praise being to be characterized as-- - - Coldly correct and classically dull. - -In the satirical pieces, however, he seems in his proper element, -playing on words and treating his rhymes with a command of language -truly surprising. For this reason, and on account of the numerous local -and national allusions contained in them, it is very difficult for a -foreigner fully to understand, and almost impossible to be able to -translate them. Those pieces attempted in this work may perhaps give -some faint image of his style; but they have been chosen as most easy -for translation, rather than as the best. Of the Satires published -separately after the volume above mentioned, the most applauded have -been those entitled, ‘Against the Philharmonic Rage;’ ‘Against the -Mania for Writing for the Public;’ ‘Against the Abuses introduced -into Theatrical Declamation;’ ‘Moral Epistle on the Manners of the -Age;’ and ‘The Rage for Travelling.’ With the Spaniards of the present -day as with their Roman ancestors, satire is a favourite species of -composition, and it has been observed, that a manual of the history of -the national dissensions might be composed out of the works of this -popular author alone. - -Breton, independently of his original writings, has had the editorship -of one of the periodicals of Madrid, and occasional engagements -connected with others. He also had at one time an appointment in one -of the offices of the government, which he seems to have lost in 1840, -on his writing some satirical effusion on the change that had then -taken place. Literature has been in every age a grievous exaction, -for those who had to follow it as a profession, except under peculiar -circumstances. He had only his genius to befriend him, and apparently -had not even the virtue of prudence for a counsellor. Thus he has had -often to submit to circumstances, which though harassing at the time, -he had the wisdom to make subjects of merriment afterwards, to the gain -of his literary reputation. - -In Spain there can scarcely yet be said to be formed a “reading -public,” notwithstanding the great number of good works that have -been lately published, to supply the demand whenever it shall arise. -The most evident and flattering of all the applauses that a literary -man can there receive, are those awarded to dramatic successes, and -of these, he has had the reward that was certainly due to him. In -such a climate as that of Spain, and with such a people, theatrical -amusements are more a matter of popular necessity than they are in a -colder climate, with people of more domestic requirements; and yet even -in England it may be a cause of surprise, considering the honour given -to the author of a successful play, that more works of genius have not -been produced for the stage. In both countries there is a complaint -of the public requiring “novelties;” but the fact is, that in seeking -novelties, they are only seeking excellence. When any really good work -is presented them, they know how to appreciate it, and in seeking for -others even of the same author, they are only expressing their sense of -his merits. - -In the prospectus of the proposed new edition of his works, he had the -satisfaction of stating he had to republish more than sixty original -dramas, that had met with a successful reception from the audiences -of Madrid. He has besides these produced several that have not been -successful, and has translated from the French a great number of -others. These have been principally tragedies, and he has adapted them -for the Spanish stage, rather than translated them, showing a talent, -it has been observed by Del Rio, in so doing equivalent to making them -to be counted in the number of his original works. Del Rio cites as a -particular example, the translation from Delavigne’s Tragedy of ‘The -Sons of Edward.’ Breton’s talent is evidently pre-eminent for comedy; -but he has written several tragedies also, of which one, the ‘Merope,’ -brought forward in 1835, was received with much favour. - -This work, as it has been more than once already intimated, is intended -mainly to give an account of the lyrical poetry of Spain as nourishing -at present; and, therefore, it would be entering on subjects foreign -to our purpose, to inquire at large into the merits of any specific -dramatic performances. The Spanish drama may, no doubt, be worthy of -especial study, but I confess that I have not felt it deserving of the -extravagant praises which some writers have bestowed on it. It would -surely be much happier for the people of every country to seek their -greatest enjoyments in those of a domestic nature, rather than in those -miscellaneous congregations where the quieter virtues can have little -exercise. But as human nature is constituted, and public amusements -cannot be avoided, it is the duty of every friend of the popular -interests to support their being given on the foundation of good taste -and moral principles. Though Breton’s works do not appear free from -all blame in this respect, and though sometimes his witticisms may be -observed scarcely fitting even for the stage, yet they show, on the -whole, compared with the dramatic productions of other countries, at -least equal refinement, as they certainly do more inventive talent than -we can point out elsewhere in our age. - -Larra, the most discriminating critic of Spain, has observed of Breton, -“that in nothing does his peculiar poetical talent shine more than in -the simplicity of his plans. In all his comedies it is known that he -makes a study and show of forming a plot extremely simple,--little or -no action, little or no artifice. This is conceded to talent only, -and to superior talent. A comedy, full of incidents, which any one -invents, is easy to be passed off on a public always captivated by -what interests and excites curiosity. Breton despises these trivial -resources, and sustains and carries to a happy conclusion, amid the -continual laughter of the audience, and from applause to applause, a -comedy based principally on the depicting of some comic characters, in -the liveliness and quickness of repartee, in the pureness, flow and -harmony of his easy versification. In these gifts he has no rival, -though he may have them in regard to intention, profoundness or -philosophy.” - -Ferrer del Rio says of him, “that he has cultivated a style so much his -own, that at the first few verses of one of his works, the spectators -cry out his name from all parts. Originality is thus one of the -qualities that recommend him. He tyrannizes over the public, obliging -them to cast away ill-humour, and laugh against their will from the -time the curtain rises till the representation ends, and this the -same whether in the comedies they applaud, or those they disapprove. -He is consequently mirthful and witty in the extreme, and no one -can dispute the palm with him under this consideration. None of his -scenes fatigue from weariness; none of his verses fail of fullness and -harmony; they do not appear made one after another, but at one blow, -and as by enchantment. Thus all hail him as a perfect versifier and -easy colloquist. Infinite are the matters he has introduced in his -comedies, multiplied the characters sketched by his pen, innumerable -the situations imagined, and undoubtedly there is due to him the -well-founded ascription of a fertile genius. Originality, wit, easy -dialogue, sonorous versification, an inexhaustible vein, would not be -sufficient to form a good comic writer of manners without the criterion -of observation, fit for filling up his pictures with exactness. This -criterion also he possesses in a high degree.” - -High as is this encomium, the writer says of him further, that if it -were decreed by Providence that a new race of barbarians should overrun -Spain, destroying libraries and other depositaries of human knowledge, -yet the name of Breton de los Herreros would survive the disaster, -and some vestige of his comedies would remain. “Histories, books of -learning, works of legislation, science, philosophy and politics are, -no doubt, more profound than his comedies, though from their peculiar -nature not so popular. Thus what we have said is to be understood as -a means of distinguishing between writings which, that they may not -perish in the course of ages, require studious men to adopt them for -a test, and learned men to illustrate them by their commentaries, -and those compositions that, to succeed in obtaining the honours of -immortality, require only a people to recite and transmit them verbally -from father to son. The name of Breton may become traditional in Spain, -that of other celebrated writers will belong to history.” - -Breton has been elected a member of the Royal Spanish Academy, and -certainly one so highly gifted as he is in his department, is well -deserving of every literary honour. The times are gone by when a writer -of comedies could be all in all with the public as their favourite -author; but probably there is no other existing in Spain who enjoys so -much popular regard. As such, notwithstanding the inferior merit of his -lyrical and miscellaneous poetry, excepting his satirical writings, it -would have been a blameworthy omission to have left his name out of the -list of the modern poets of Spain. It was, however, for this reason -more advisable to make the selections from those satirical writings; -though independently of this consideration, it would have been also -desirable, in a work attempting to give a general view of modern -Spanish poetry, that so essential and popular a branch of it should not -be left unnoticed. - -For the poems under this head, Breton has only given the general term -“Satirical Letrillias,” so that with those translated his numbering -only could be adopted for reference. The Letrillia, it may be proper -to observe, is what our musical writers call Motetts or small pieces, -having generally some well-known proverbial saying for the close of -each verse. - - -MANUEL BRETON DE LOS HERREROS. - - -SATIRICAL LETRILLIAS.--III. - - Such is, dear girl, my tenderness, - Naught can its equal be! - If thou a dowry didst possess - The charms to rival of thy face, - I would marry thee. - - Thou wert my bliss, my star, my all! - So kind and fair to see; - And me thy consort to instal, - At once for witness Heaven I call, - I would marry thee. - - Thou dost adore me? yes, and I, - Thy love so raptures me, - If thou wouldst not so anxious try - To know my pay, and what I buy, - I would marry thee. - - If thou wert not so always coy, - Ne’er listening to my plea, - But when I, fool! my cash employ - To bring thee sweets, or some fine toy, - I would marry thee. - - If thou must not instructions wait, - As may mamma agree, - To write or speak to me, or state - When thou wilt meet me at the gate, - I would marry thee. - - If ’twere not when to dine, the most - Thy meagre soup bouillie - Thou givest, as many airs thou show’st, - As Roderic at the hanging-post, - I would marry thee. - - If for my punishment instead - Of ease and quiet, we - Might not three hungry brothers dread, - And mother too, to keep when wed, - I would marry thee. - - If ’twere not when these plagues combine - With thy tears flowing free, - The virtues of a heavenly sign - I see must solace me, not thine, - I would marry thee. - - Go, get another in thy chain, - And Heaven for you decree - A thousand joys, for me ’tis vain; - I know thee cheat, and tell thee plain, - I will not marry thee. - - -SATIRICAL LETRILLIAS.--IV. - - Whene’er Don Juan has a feast at home, - I am forgotten as if at Rome; - But he will for funerals me invite, - To kill me with the annoyance quite: - Well, so be it! - - Celeste, with thousand coy excuses, - Will sing the song that set she chooses, - And all about that her environ, - Though like an owl, call her a Siren: - Well, so be it! - - A hundred bees, without reposing, - Work their sweet combs, with skill enclosing; - Alas! for an idle drone they strive, - Who soon will come to devour the hive: - Well, so be it! - - Man to his like moves furious war, - As if were not too numerous far - Alone the medical squadrons straight - The world itself to depopulate! - Well, so be it! - - There are of usurers heaps in Spain, - Of catchpoles, hucksterers, heaps again, - And of vintners too, yet people still - Are talking of robbers on the hill: - Well, so be it! - - In vain may the poor, O Conde! try - Thy door, for the dog makes sole reply; - And yet to spend thou hast extollers, - Over a ball two thousand dollars: - Well, so be it! - - Enough today, my pen, this preaching; - A better time we wait for teaching: - If vices in vain I try to brand, - And find I only write upon sand, - Well, so be it! - - -SATIRICAL LETRILLIAS.--VII. - - O! what a blockhead is Don Andres, - So spending his gold without measure, - Who ruins, perhaps, to be a Marquess, - His house by the waste of his treasure! - A cross on his breast to wear so prim, - Much be the good it will do to him! - - Louis is passing the whole long night, - In the dance, what a fancy to take! - So foolish too, when he easier might - On his warm soft bed his comfort make; - To stretch as he pleased each weary limb: - Much be the good it will do to him! - - O, how short-sighted is Avarice! - Cenon exposes himself to shame, - For the few pounds more he gains amiss, - To lose his office and his good name; - For a paltry bribe his fame to dim, - Much be the good it will do to him. - - And Clara! what of thee shall I say? - When slowly along I see thee go, - As if quite lame on the public way, - And on thy long broad foot bestow - A short narrow shoe for us to see? - Much be the good it will do to thee! - - Can it be possibly true, Jerome, - Though yearly he sees his rents decrease, - When his fat steward shall bring him home - His bills, will sign them as he may please? - Without any search to scarcely skim? - Much be the good it will do to him! - - Fabio wedded with Jane, when above - A sixpence they neither had, but then - “He loved her so!” Long life to that love, - Bravo! tomorrow if he seem fain - To hang himself with vexation grim, - Much be the good it will do to him. - - Wouldst thou engage with the bulls in fight, - My friend! thy wish to be gratified, - When to the best champion known will light - Some luckless thrust give through the right side? - To try thy skill thou art surely free: - Much be the good it will do to thee! - - Martin goes a poor rabbit to chase, - When he could buy for a trifle one - Fully as good in the market-place; - And he gets fever-struck by the sun! - Well, at the least he has had his whim: - Much be the good it will do to him! - - If when such a thing he least expects, - His house should tumble upon his head, - Because a doubloon Anton neglects - To give for mending the roof instead, - The hole some rat had made in the rim, - Much be the good it will do to him! - - If should some crusty reader exclaim - Over these lines,--What a wretched style! - What a bad taste to make it his aim! - My pen more gracefully could the while - Have made the verse go easy and trim, - Much be the good it will do to him! - - - - -X. - -JOSÈ MARIA HEREDIA. - - -The people of Cuba have good cause to be proud of a poet born in their -island, whose genius seems always to have found its highest inspiration -in expatiating on the charms of the place of his birth. - -Heredia was born the 31st December, 1803, at Santiago de Cuba, in which -city his family had taken refuge when driven away by the revolution -from the island of Santo Domingo, where they had been previously -settled. His father, whose profession was that of the law, was shortly -afterwards appointed a Judge in Mexico, where he accordingly went -with his family, taking his son there for his education under his -special superintendence. This duty he had the privilege allowed him -to accomplish, when he died in 1820, leaving a reputation for ability -and uprightness so eminent as to prove highly advantageous to his son -in his subsequent necessities. On his father’s death, Heredia returned -with his mother and three sisters to Cuba, where he had an uncle and -other relations residing, and there he engaged in a course of study -for the profession of the law, at the termination of which he was, in -1823, admitted an Advocate in the Supreme Court of the island. From his -earliest years he had always shown himself possessed of a very studious -disposition, and some of his poems seem to have been written when only -eighteen years of age. - -In the pursuit of the profession he had adopted, with his talent and -energy, Heredia might have hoped soon to acquire a very honourable -position; but unfortunately for his future comfort in life, he had -imbibed too strongly the principles then prevailing to consider the -domination of Spain as an evil which ought to be removed. It is -stated, that there was a conspiracy even then formed to declare the -independence of the island, in which he was implicated; and that on his -being denounced to the government in consequence, he was obliged to fly -from the island. Proceedings under this charge were notwithstanding -instituted against him, under which he was formally declared banished. -He thereupon went, in November 1823, to New York, where he passed the -following three years, appearing, from the accounts that reached his -friends, to have lived there during that time in great privations. -These, and the variableness of the climate, operating severely on his -constitution, as a native of the tropics, were no doubt the causes -of his becoming a victim to that fatal disease which terminated his -existence a few years afterwards. - -In New York he acquired soon an accurate knowledge of the English -language, which enabled him also to become familiarly acquainted with -English literature. Of this he showed no inconsiderable tokens, in -a volume of poems which he published there in 1825, having included -among them several translations from the English, though he has not -acknowledged them generally as such. He continued the same neglect in -the edition of his works published subsequently in Mexico in 1832, -which was a much superior edition to the former, being more than -doubled in regard to its contents, and having the poems formerly -published now much corrected and improved. - -Not finding his residence in New York offering him any hopes of -advancement in life, and despairing of being able to return to his -family in Cuba, he determined to go thence to Mexico and seek the -assistance of his father’s friends in that city. He accordingly went -there in 1826, and had scarcely arrived when he was at once appointed -to a situation in the office of the Secretary of State. From this minor -post he was soon afterwards promoted to discharge various important -offices in the provinces, and finally to be named one of the Judges of -the Supreme Court of Mexico and a Senator of the Republic. It was while -holding one of those appointments as a local judge at Toluca that he -published there the second edition of his works just mentioned. - -After the death of Ferdinand VII., in 1833, the Regent, Queen -Christina, wisely accorded a general amnesty to all expatriated -Spaniards, when Heredia, notwithstanding the favourable position he -held in Mexico, where also he had married in 1827, wished to take -advantage of it to return to his family. On making application, -however, for permission to do so, he was refused it by the -Captain-General of Cuba, and all he could obtain was permission to go -there for two months to visit his aged mother and other relatives, -subject to the observation of the police. He went there accordingly in -1836, when, by a singular coincidence, he joined his family again on -the same day of the month that thirteen years before he had parted from -them. - -On his arrival in Cuba, he was subjected to some of those petty -annoyances which military governments too often impose on people under -their sway. A friend of his who had gone to meet him, found him, -notwithstanding his rank in the Mexican republic, or his reputation -as a literary character, or his evident state of ill-health, seated -on a bench in the court of the government office, to wait his turn at -the pleasure of the official, who thought he was showing his dignity -by exposing to unnecessary delay those whom he had to note under his -inspection. Heredia was so altered that his friend could scarcely -recognize him, and his relatives soon had to become apprehensive that -his health was seriously endangered. He had given the most solemn -assurance to the authorities that he would not in any way during his -visit interfere in the public questions of the day, and he fulfilled -his promise. If he really had entered in his youth into any plot -against the government, the most dangerous conspirator in it could -scarcely have been a young man of nineteen, who seems to have been the -principal sufferer. But in any case, he had by time and reflection -become very altered in sentiment, and his failing strength would not -admit of any extraordinary exertion, even if he had remained the same -enthusiast for political liberty as he was in his youth. He would have -wished to stay the remainder of his life with his family, but it was -his duty to return to Mexico after the expiration of the period allowed -him, and there he died of consumption on his return, the 6th May, 1839. -After his death, his widow and her children came to Cuba, where she -died the 16th June, 1844, leaving a son and two daughters in the kindly -charge of his relatives. - -The Toluca edition of Heredia’s poems in two volumes, 1832, does great -credit to the Mexican press, being one of the best printed Spanish -works to be found. But it is extremely scarce, and therefore deserves -a more detailed account of it than might be requisite with works -better known. In addition to those contained in the first edition, -which is yet comparatively frequently to be met with, it contains his -philosophic and patriotic poems, some of which are very spirited, and -one, the ‘Hymn of the Banished,’ an extremely fine one. The copies -of the work sent to Havana had these patriotic poems taken out, as -otherwise they would have been seized by the authorities; so that -most of the copies of the work existing are deficient with regard -to them. In the place of the odes thus taken out, another poem, ‘On -Immortality,’ was inserted, which, however, is principally taken from -the Seventh Book of Young’s Night Thoughts, though not so stated. The -other principal poems, in respect of length, are, ‘On the Worth of -Women,’ and ‘the Pleasures of Melancholy.’ Of another very fine ode, -‘To Niagara,’ a very excellent translation into English blank verse has -appeared in the United States Review. - -In the preface to the second edition, he states that he had been -induced to undertake it, upon finding that several of the poems in the -first had been reprinted in Paris, London, Hamburg and Philadelphia, -and had been received with much favour in his own country, where -the celebrated Lista had pronounced him “a great poet.” There can -be no doubt that other editions would have met with very favourable -reception, had it not been for the circumstance of his being -considered an author obnoxious to the Spanish government. As it is, -the Creoles of Cuba have manuscript copies of his poems circulating -amongst themselves, generally faulty as dependent on the taste of the -individuals who had copied them. The effect of this is apparent in the -only edition I am aware of, that has been published in Spain, that of -Barcelona, in 1840, acknowledged to be taken from a manuscript copy, -in which not only are some of his best compositions omitted, such -as the ‘Lines to his Horse,’ and the poem entitled, ‘The Season of -the Northers,’ but some others, for instance, the ‘Ode to the Sun,’ -are given imperfectly. In return, it gives a poem on receiving the -portrait of his mother, which had not appeared in the former editions, -and which is not unworthy of being compared with Cowper’s on the same -subject, though treated differently. - -In the prologue to this edition the editor observes, that “in all his -productions is seen an excellency of heart and an imagination truly -poetical, enabling us to assert with Lista that he is a great poet, and -one of the best of our day.” He adds, “the poems of Heredia have, in -our judgement, the merit of a purity of language, which unfortunately -begins to be unknown in Spain. They are of a kind equally apart from -the monotony and servileness, ascribed perhaps with reason to the -classicists, and from the extravagant aberration of those who affect to -be called Romanticists, and believe they are so, because they despise -all rules in their compositions, substituting words and phrases unknown -to our better writers and poets.” - -The language of Heredia in his poems is by the concurrent opinion -of all Spanish critics very pure, and even strangers can feel its -simplicity and nature in connexion with the truly poetical thoughts -they contain, free from all conceits or affectations. In his best -original compositions, the sentiments expressed are generally of a -tender and melancholy character, as might be expected from his history, -of one banished from his country and family, while suffering from -privations and ill-health, and at length sinking under a fatal disease. -Like many other poets, he thus also writes most affectingly when -dwelling on his own personal feelings, as if to verify the declaration -of Shelley, that - - … most men - Are cradled into poetry by wrong; - They learn in suffering what they teach in song. - -The ‘Lines to his Horse’ and ‘The Season of the Northers’ bear -intrinsic evidence of their origin, and also the Ode entitled ‘Poesy.’ -This one bears a strong resemblance in its general tone to the ‘Epistle -to His Brother’ and the poem of ‘Sleep and Poetry’ by Keats, whose -character and fate also were in some degree the same as his. They have -the same sentiment, as conscious of fame awaiting them, common to all -poets, but peculiarly to those of more sensitive temperament, the ‘non -omnis moriar,’ the hope of immortality,-- - - Ἐλπίδ’ ἔχω κλέος εὑρέσθαι - κεν ὑψηλὸν πρόσω. - -If the extravagant eulogiums bestowed on the merit of the Sonnet, as -a form of verse, by some Italian writers, and echoed by Boileau and -others, be at all deserved, Heredia’s claims to superiority may be -put forward very confidently, in respect of that to ‘His Wife’ in -dedication of the second edition of his works. It contains all the -conditions required for a perfect composition of this kind, in the -poetical statement of the subject, the application of it, the beautiful -simile given as a counterpart, and the strikingly appropriate idea -with which it closes. Of this idea, the classical reader will at once -perceive the elegance and force; but he cannot do so fully, unless he -have also seen in the churches of seaport towns on the continent, as -for instance, that of Santa Maria del Socorro, at Cadiz, the votive -offerings of gratitude for deliverances from danger. - -The ‘Ode to Night’ might have been considered worthy of equally -unqualified commendation, were it not for the circumstance that twelve -out of the nineteen stanzas it contains are almost a paraphrase -from the Italian of Ippolito Pindemonte. At the time of making the -translation hereafter given, I had not read that very pleasing writer, -but have since found the source of the poem in his ‘Poesie Campestri, -Le quattro parti del giorno,’ to which, therefore, justice requires -the acknowledgement to be given. It is much to be regretted that -Heredia did not distinguish his original compositions in all cases from -imitations, as there is no statement with regard to this one, of its -having been taken from another author. There are other instances of -the same neglect, as in a close translation from Campbell of ‘The Ode -to the Rainbow,’ equally unacknowledged. The interests of literature -require that such acknowledgements should be uniformly made, that we -should know gold from imitations, and give every one his right and -place. As the same Italian poet remarked in his ‘Opinioni Politiche,’ - - Conosco anch’io negli ordini civili - L’oro dal fango, ed anch’io veggio che altra - Cosa è il nascere Inglese, ed altra Turco. - -Heredia’s original poems, many of them written to, or respecting his -near relatives or other friends, betoken so much true poetic feeling, -as well as flow of poetical ideas, that we cannot suppose the neglect -of which we have complained to have been more than an oversight. He -might even in some cases have lost remembrance of his obligations, and -repeated from memory when he thought he was writing from inspiration. -The latter part of his first volume is entirely taken up with -“Imitations;” but those we have noticed above are in the second volume, -without any distinction from the original poems. - -He had, however, in early life so many privations to endure, and so -many daily necessities for which to make a daily provision, that we may -not be surprised at his inexactness in minor matters. In the preface -to the second edition, he says, that “the revolutionary whirlwind -had made him traverse over a vast course in a short time, and that -with better or worse fortune he had been an advocate, a soldier, a -traveller, a teacher of languages, a diplomatist, a journalist, a -judge, a writer of history, and a poet at twenty-five years of age. All -my writings,” he observes, “must partake of the variableness of my lot. -The new generation will enjoy serener days, and those who then dedicate -themselves to the Muses will be much more happy.” On his first going to -Mexico, it is to be supposed that he had to enter on military duties -in the unsettled state of the country, and that he had some diplomatic -commissions entrusted to him by the government, of which, however, -we have no other account. This, in fact, may be said to be the first -biographical notice of him published, obtained from information given -by his relatives, who, having been long separated from him, could not -explain the particular references more fully. - -As a writer of history, he had published, also in Mexico, a work in -four volumes, 8vo. which was chiefly a compilation from Tytler, but -with additions in Spanish and Mexican history, suited to the community, -for whose benefit it was intended. In this respect, as in so many other -parts of his career, the knowledge he had acquired of the English -language was of essential assistance to him, while it was no less -evident that his knowledge of English literature had improved his taste -and strengthened his powers of mind also in his own compositions. - -In private life Heredia appears to have been a most amiable character: -courteous, generous, and possessed of the most lively sensibility, he -made himself beloved by all who had to enter into communication with -him. He was also remarkable for the exceeding great ingenuousness of -his disposition, which, while it rendered him incapable of vanity -in himself, made him at the same time as incapable of dwelling on -the faults of others. Several of his poems show further a religious -feeling, which no doubt enabled him to bear with becoming equanimity -the various trials to which he had been subjected. - -Those trials it seemed were appointed to attend him further, even if -it had pleased the Almighty to prolong his existence. Shortly before -his death, the Mexican legislature passed a law declaring that no one -should hold any office under the republic who was not a natural born -citizen; and thus he was, among others, deprived of the offices he had -held with credit to himself and advantage to the state. If the measure -were directed against him personally, it was of short operation, and -political intrigues could not avail to deprive him of the consciousness -of having fulfilled his duties honourably, or of the claim he had to -leave on the remembrance of future ages. - - -JOSÈ MARIA HEREDIA. - - -SONNET. DEDICATION OF THE SECOND EDITION OF HIS POEMS, TO HIS WIFE. - - When yet was burning in my fervid veins - The fieriness of youth, with many a tear - Of grief, ’twas mine of all my feelings drear, - To pour in song the passion and the pains; - And now to Thee I dedicate the strains, - My Wife! when Love, from youth’s illusions freer, - In our pure hearts is glowing deep and clear, - And calm serene for me the daylight gains. - - Thus lost on raging seas, for aid implores - Of Heaven the unhappy mariner, the mark - Of tempests bearing on him wild and dark; - And on the altars, when are gain’d the shores, - Faithful to the Deity he adores, - He consecrates the relics of his bark. - - -TO HIS HORSE. - - Friend of my hours of melancholy gloom, - To soothe me now, come, scouring o’er the plain; - Bear me that I forgetfulness may gain, - Lost in thy speed from my unhappy doom. - - The fond illusions of my love are gone, - Fled never to return! and with them borne - Peace, happiness and hope: the veil is drawn, - And the bared cheat shows frenzy’s end alone. - - O! how the memory of pleasures past - Now wearies me! horrible that soul’s state, - Of flowers of hope, or freshness desolate! - What then remains it? Bitterness o’ercast. - - This south wind kills me: O! that I could rest - In sweet oblivion, temporary death! - Kind sleep might moderate my feverish breath, - And my worn soul again with strength be blest. - - My Horse, my friend, I do implore thee, fly! - Though with the effort break my frame so weak: - Grant for thy master’s brows he thus may seek - Sleep’s balmy wings spread forth benignantly. - - Let him from thee gain such refreshment kind; - Though much another day it caused me shame, - In my mad cruelty and frenzy’s blame, - My crimson’d heels, and thy torn flanks to find. - - Pardon my fury! beats upon my eye - The sorrowing tear. Friend, when my shouts declare - Impatience, then the biting spur to spare - Wait not, but toss thy mane, thy head, and fly. - - -THE SEASON OF THE NORTHERS. - - The wearying summer’s burning heat - Is now assuaged; for from the North - The winds from frost come shaken forth, - ’Midst clouds o’er Cuba rushing fleet, - And free us from the fever’s wrath. - - Deep roars the sea, with breast swell’d high, - And beats the beach with lashing waves; - Zephyr his wings in freshness laves, - And o’er the sun and shining sky, - Veil-like, transparent vapours fly. - - Hail, happy days! by you o’erthrown - We see the altar, which ’mong flowers - May rear’d to Death: attendant lowers, - With pallid face, vile Fever lone, - And with sad brilliancy it shone. - - Both saw the sons, with anxious brow, - Of milder realms approaching nigh, - Beneath this all-consuming sky: - With their pale sceptres touched, they bow, - And in the fatal grave are now. - - But their reign o’er, on outspread wing, - To purify the poison’d air, - The north winds cold and moisture bear; - Across our fields they sounding spring, - And rest from August’s rigours bring. - - O’er Europe’s gloomy climates wide, - Now from the North fierce sweeps the blast; - Verdure and life from earth are past: - With snow man sees it whelm’d betide, - And in closed dwellings must abide. - - There all is death and grief! but here, - All life and joy! see, Phœbus smile - More sooth through lucid clouds, the while - Our woods and plains new lustres cheer, - And double spring inspires the year. - - O, happy land! his tenderest care - Thee, favour’d! the Creator yields, - And kindest smile: ne’er from thy fields - Again may fate me fiercely tear! - O, let my last sun light me there! - - How sweet it is to hear the rain, - My love! so softly falling thus - On the low roof that shelters us! - And the winds whistling o’er the plain - And bellowings of the distant main. - - Fill high my cup with golden wine; - Let cares and griefs be driven away; - That proved by thee, my thirst to stay, - Will, my adored! more precious shine, - So touch’d by those sweet lips of thine. - - By thee on easy seat reclined, - My lyre how happy will I string; - My love and country’s praise to sing; - My blissful lot, thy face and mind, - And love ineffable and kind! - - -POESY, AN ODE. - - Soul of the universe, bright Poesy! - Thy spirit vivifies, and, like the blast - That’s burning in the desert swiftly free, - In its course all inflames where it has past. - Happy the man who feels within his breast - The fire celestial purely is possess’d! - For that to worth, to virtue elevates, - And to his view makes smile the shadowy forms - Confused of joys to come, and future fates: - Of cruel fortune ’gainst the gathering storms - It shields him, causing him to dwell among - The beings of his own creation bright: - It arms him daringly with wings of light, - And to the world invisible along - Bears him, to wondering mortals to unseal - The mysteries which the horrid depths reveal. - - High inspiration! O, what hours of joy, - Deep and ineffable, without alloy, - Hast thou benign conceded to my breast! - On summer nights, with brilliant hues impress’d, - ’Tis sweet to break with sounding prow the wave - Of the dark surging sea, which shows behind - A lengthen’d streak of light the current gave. - ’Tis sweet to bound where lofty mountains wind, - Or on thy steed to scour along the plain; - But sweeter to my fiery soul ’tis far - To feel myself whirl’d forward in the train - Of thy wild torrent, and as with a star - The brow deck’d proudly, hear thy oracles - Divine; and to repeat them, as of old - Greece listen’d mute to those from Delphic cells - The favour’d priestess of Apollo told; - While she with sacred horror would unfold - The words prophetic, trembling to refer - To the consuming god that frenzied her. - - There is of life a spirit that pervades - The universe divine: ’tis he who shades - All Nature’s loveliest scenes with majesty, - And glory greater: beauty’s self ’tis he, - Who robes with radiant mantle, and endows - Her eye with language eloquent, while flows - Soft music from her voice; ’tis he who lends - To her the magic irresistible, - And fatal, which her smile and look attends, - Making men mad and drunk beneath her spell. - - If on the marble’s sleeping forms he breathe, - To life they start the chisel’s touch beneath: - In Phædra, Tancred, Zorayde he wrings - The heart within us deep; or softly brings - Love-fraught delight, as do their strains inspire - Anacreon, or Tibullus, or the lyre - Of our Melendez, sweetest languishings. - Or wrapt in thunder snatches us away - With Pindar, or Herrera, or thy lay, - Illustrious Quintana! to the heights, - Where virtue, and where glory too invites. - By him compels us Tasso to admire - Clorinda; Homer fierce Achilles’ ire; - And Milton, elevated all beyond, - His direful angel, arm’d of diamond. - - O’er all, though invisible, this spirit dwells; - But from ethereal mansions he descends - To show himself to men, and thus portends - His steps the night rain, and the thunder tells. - There have I seen him: or perhaps serene - In the sun’s beam, he wanders to o’erflow - Heaven, earth and sea, in waves of golden glow. - On music’s accent trembles he unseen; - And solitude he loves, he lists attent - The waters’ rush in headlong fury sent: - The wandering Arabs o’er their sands he leads, - And through their agitated breasts inspires - A feeling undefined, but great to deeds - Of desperate and wild liberty that fires. - With joy he sits upon the mountain heights, - Or thence descends, to mirror in the deep, - In crystal fixedness, or animates - The tempest with his cries along to sweep: - Or if its clear and sparkling veil extend - The night, upon the lofty poop reclined, - With ecstasy delights to inspire his mind, - Who raptured views the skies with ocean blend. - - Noble and lovely is the ardour felt - For glory! for its laurel pants my heart; - And I would fain, this world when I depart, - Of my steps leave deep traces where I dwelt. - This of thy favour, spirit most divine! - I well may hope, for that eternal lives - Thy glowing flame, and life eternal gives. - Mortals, whom fate gave genius forth to shine, - Haste anxious to the sacred fount, where flows - Thy fiery inspiration; but bestows - The world unworthy guerdon on their pains: - While them a mortal covering enshrouds, - Obscure they wander through the listless crowds; - Contempt and indigence their lot remains, - Perchance ev’n impious mockery all their gains: - At length they die, and their souls take the road - Of the great fount of light whence first they flow’d; - And then, in spite of envy, o’er their tomb - A sterile laurel buds, ay, buds and grows, - And thus protects the ashes in the gloom, - ’Neath its immortal shade; but vainly shows - To teach men justice. Ages onward fleet - The lamentable drama to repeat, - Without regret or shame. Homer! thou divine, - Milton sublime, unhappy Tasso thine, - The fate to tell it. Genius yet the while - Faces misfortune undismayed; his ears - Dwell only on the applauses to beguile, - His songs will happy gain in future years; - His glory, his misfortunes will excite - Sweet sympathy; posterity will requite - Justice against their sires, who thus condemn - Him now to grief and misery, shame on them! - From his tomb he will reign; his cherish’d name - Will beauty with respect and sighs proclaim. - On her eye gleams the bright and precious tear - His burning pages then will draw from her, - Kind-hearted loveliness! he sees it near; - His heart beats, he is moved; and strong to incur - The cruelty and injustice, is consoled; - And waiting thus his triumph to obtain, - Enjoying it, though but in death to hold, - Flies his Creator’s bosom to regain. - - O, sweet illusion! who has had the power - To save himself from thee, who was not born - Than the cold marble, or the rough trunk lower? - With ardour I embrace, and wait thee lorn. - Yet of my Muse perchance some happier strains - Will me survive, and my sepulchral stone - Will not be left to tell of me alone! - Perhaps my name, which rancour now detains - Proscribed, will yet resound o’er Cuba’s plains, - On the swift trumpet of enduring fame! - Correggio, when he saw his canvas flame - With life, “a painter,” it was his to cry, - “I also am!”--A poet too am I. - - -ODE TO NIGHT. - - Night reigns; in silence deep around - Dreams whirl through empty space; - Clothing with her pure light the ground, - The moon shows bright her face: - Soft hour of peace; without a trace - Of Man, where rise these heights uphurl’d, - I sit abandon’d of the world. - - How Nature’s quietude august - Delights the feeling mind, - That heeds her voice, and learns to trust - Its joys with her to find! - Sweet silence! here I rest reclined, - With but the river’s murmurings heard, - Or leaves by gentle breezes stirr’d. - - Now its repose on languid wings, - Its freshness Night supplies; - To shaded heaven which faithful clings, - And blaze of daylight flies: - Unseen by that, mysterious lies - On mount and plain, to please though sad, - Still beauteous ev’n in horrors clad. - - How is the ecstatic soul impress’d - With melancholy thought! - The lovely picture here possess’d - Sublime with sadness fraught! - How more its music to be sought, - And peace, than all that may entrance - The echoes of the noisy dance. - - Around the proud saloon reflect - Each face the mirrors there; - With diamonds, pearls, and gold bedeck’d, - Light dance the gentle fair; - And with their witching grace and air, - O’er thousand lovers holding sway, - Their vows and plaudits bear away. - - Lovely is that! I one day too, - When childhood scarce above, - Through balls and banquets would pursue - The object of my love. - And from the young beloved I strove, - As magic treasure, to obtain - A passing look, or smile to gain. - - But now by cares subdued, and bound - By languor and disease, - Than gilded halls, these plains around - Me more the night hours please: - To the gay dance preferring these, - The calm asylum they supply, - To meditate beneath this sky. - - O! ever shine on me the stars, - In a clear heaven as now! - And as my Maker that avers, - There let me turn my brow. - O! God of heaven, to Thee I bow! - And raise by night my humble strain, - The voice of my consuming pain. - - Thee, also, friendly Moon! I hail; - I always loved thee dear: - Thou, Queen of heaven! me ne’er didst fail, - In fortunes fair or drear, - To guide, to counsel, and to cheer: - Thou know’st how oft, to enjoy thy ray, - I chide the blaze and heat of day. - - Oft seated on the wide sea-shore, - Whose waves reflected thee, - To muse alone, thou smiling o’er, - I pass’d the night hours free; - And ’midst my clouded hopes to see - Thy face serene, I found relief, - In sweet complaint to pour my grief. - - For throbs, alas! my breast with pain, - Consumption’s wounds to bear; - And pales my cheek, as thou must wane - Beneath the morning’s glare. - When I shall sink, grant this my prayer, - That thy light ne’er to shine defer, - On thy friend’s humble sepulchre. - - But, hark! what dulcet notes arise - The neighbouring woods among? - Causing these tender thoughts and sighs - My lonely breast to throng. - Sweet Nightingale, it is thy song! - I always loved thy wood-notes wild, - Like me from sorrow ne’er beguiled. - - Perish whoe’er for thy soft note - Seeks thee to oppress or take. - Why rather not like me remote, - Thee follow through the brake, - Where these thick woods our shelter make? - Fly free and happy round thy nest; - Enslaved I wish none, none oppress’d. - - Night, ancient goddess! Chaos thee - Produced before the sun; - And the last sun ’tis thine to see - When the world’s course is run; - And the Lord wills his work undone! - Hear me, while this life’s breath is raised, - By me thou shalt be loved and praised. - - Before time was, in Chaos vast - Thou laid perhaps mightst view - Thy coming beauties, as forecast - Thy destined glories grew: - Looking thy veil of shadows through - With face obscured, to meditate - Calm on thy future power and state. - - Thou camest, O Queen! from Ocean’s bars - At the Creator’s voice, - With sceptre raised, and crown’d with stars, - And mantle glittering choice; - And bade the silent world rejoice, - To see through space thy brow severe - Shine with the kind moon’s silvery sphere. - - How many high truths have I learn’d - Beneath thy solemn shade! - What inspirations in me burn’d - ’Mid the wood’s silence laid! - In thee I saw sublime display’d - The Almighty’s power, and seized my lyre, - And fervid dared to Heaven aspire. - - Great Goddess, hail! in thy calm breast - Let me soothe every care! - Thy peaceful balm may give me rest - From ills my heart that tear. - Sweet pitying friend! to whom repair - Poets and mourners for repose, - O, Night! in soft peace end my woes. - - - - -XI. - -JOSÈ DE ESPRONCEDA. - - -In the introductory part of this work, while acknowledging the merits -of the earlier poets of Spain, it may be remembered that a claim was -made in favour of the still superior excellences of their successors -in the present day. If the reader, who has followed us so far through -these notices, has not already come to the same conclusion, his assent -may be confidently expected to the assertion, in consideration of the -surpassingly poetical genius of the two writers who have now to come -under his review. - -In considering the merits of their earlier poets, the best critics of -Spain have not been so blinded by national partiality as to be led into -awarding them unqualified commendations. In the very able prologue to -the ‘Moro Esposito’ of the Duke de Rivas, said to have been written -by the celebrated Alcalà Galiano, we find an estimation of them which -we can adopt, as correct in judgement as it is unexceptionable for an -authority. He says, “Though the tenderness of Garcilasso, the warmth -of Herrera, the fancy, at once lively and thoughtful, of Rioja, and, -above all, those strong feelings of devotion which give to Fray Luis de -Leon a character so original, even when he is most an imitator, are -sources of great perfections, and most glorious crowns of the Spanish -Parnassus, yet we are obliged to confess, that in the Spanish poets, -lyric and pastoral, we see too great a sameness, that their stock of -ideas and images is limited and common to them all, and that if varied -and choice in expression, they are uniform in their arguments and -plans, founding their merit more in the gala and pomp of language, -in the floridness and sonorousness of verse, and in the ingenious -dexterity of making variations on one theme, than in the vigour and -originality of their thoughts, or in the strength and profoundness of -the emotions which they felt, or which their works excite in the minds -of their readers.” - -Entirely coinciding in the opinions thus expressed, we feel, on the -other hand, with regard to the modern Spanish poets, that while they -have fully maintained the grace and beauty that distinguished their -predecessors in former ages, their genius has expanded over far wider -fields, and embraced subjects of as varied and powerful interest as -the contemporary poetry of any other country can present to delight -or captivate. As instances in support of this opinion, we have, in -particular, to refer to the comparatively few but exceedingly brilliant -compositions of Espronceda, whose early loss, at only thirty-two years -of age, the whole literary world has to deplore. - -We have great cause to be thankful to Ferrer del Rio that we have any -account at all of this very eminent lyric poet, though the one he has -given is far from being so full as the admirers of his genius might -have desired. From that account, we learn that it was in the spring -of 1810, during the most momentous period of the war of independence, -a colonel of cavalry, after some long and harassing marches, was -obliged to halt at the small town of Almendralejo, in the province of -Estremadura, in the face of the enemy, on account of his wife, who had -followed him through the campaigns, having there had a son born, the -subject of this narrative. We have no other particulars of his earlier -years, than that on the conclusion of the war his parents settled at -Madrid, where he was placed at an early age under the tuition of Lista, -a writer who enjoyed considerable reputation at the time as a poet, -but whose chief merit consisted in his critical and elementary works. -Under such a preceptor, his natural genius found a congenial course -of tuition, and verse-making seems to have been a part of his usual -studies. It was remarked, that though he was by no means inclined to -steady application, yet, that by the force of his quick comprehension, -he shone as prominently as others of greater industry, and when a mere -boy produced verses which gave tokens of future eminence. - -When only fourteen years of age he joined a society of youths who -called themselves Numantines, and was elected one of their tribunes. -In their meetings, no doubt, there was much intended treason debated, -for which, whether deservedly or not, the government of the day thought -proper to proceed against them at law, and Espronceda, with others, was -sentenced to three months’ imprisonment in the convent of Guadalajera, -in which town his father then resided. There, in the solitude of his -imprisonment, his active mind found employment in poetry, and he was -bold enough to begin an epic poem on the subject of the national -hero, Pelayo. Of this poem there are fragments given among his works, -from which we may judge favourably of what it might have proved -when completed, containing as it does many striking passages. The -representation of Hunger, and the Dream of the King, Don Roderic, are -bold conceptions, and if they were not the additions of after-years, -were truly remarkable as the productions of any one at so early an age. - -On his release from the convent he returned to Madrid, but feeling -himself under restraint as subject to the observation of the police, -and desirous also of visiting other countries, he shortly afterwards -went to Gibraltar and thence to Lisbon. There he seems to have been -subjected to great privations, which, however, did not prevent his -being involved in romantic adventures, characteristic of one of his -temperament, such as he subsequently described with all the warmth -of poetic feeling. But the ministers of the king, now restored to -absolute power by French intervention, could not allow Spanish -emigrants to be congregated so near to Spain, and at their instance -Espronceda and others were obliged to go from Lisbon to London. How -he maintained himself, during these wanderings, we are not informed, -but his relatives probably had the means to afford him sufficient for -his pressing necessities, and the love of adventure would lead him, -oftentimes willingly, into situations from which most others would have -recoiled. - -In London, we are informed, that he enjoyed the happiest period of -his life, though not abounding in resources; passing his time between -his studies and gaieties, which resulted in confirmed dissipation. -He learned to read Shakespeare and Milton, as well as Byron, and -considering his inclinations, his habits and his writings, we need -not be surprised to find him supposed to have taken the last for his -model. There he began the series of compositions which place him in -the first rank of lyric poets, though we have to lament that they are -tinctured with a spirit of such evil character. His ‘Elegy to Spain,’ -dated London, 1829, is in the original written with peculiar sweetness -of expression, which Del Rio finds in the style of the Prophet of the -Lamentations, and which, though not so well suited for translation -as most of his other poems, has been chosen as the effusion of the -patriotic muse of Spain, no less worthy of note than others of more -general application. - -From London he passed over to Paris, and happening to be there during -the three memorable days of July 1830, he took part in the fearful -scenes which then took place with all the ardour of his character as -well as of youth. He joined afterwards the small band of emigrants who -crossed the Pyrenees in the hopeless attempt of subverting the despotic -sway that then prevailed, resulting in the death of Don Joaquin de -Pablo, whom his friends regarded as falling heroically, and to whose -memory Espronceda has left a poem of great beauty. Returning to Paris, -he entered himself in the rank of the bold spirits who volunteered to -lend their aid in the regeneration of Poland, from which, and other -similar schemes, he was rescued by the promulgation of the first -amnesty, of which he took advantage immediately to return to Spain. - -On his arrival in Madrid, he entered himself in the Royal Guard, where -he soon won the goodwill and affections of his officers and comrades, -and might have risen to distinction, but for an unfortunate though -characteristic occurrence. He had written some verses on passing events -connected with the service, which were recited at a banquet, and having -been much applauded and passed from hand to hand, came to the knowledge -of the ministry, who thereupon, notwithstanding the efforts of his -colonel to the contrary, dismissed Espronceda from the corps, and -banished him to the town of Cuellar. There he composed a work, which he -called a novel, under the title of the ‘Sancho of Saldania,’ but which, -though containing some good sketches and descriptions, is only worthy -of notice as having been one of his compositions. - -“On the dawning of liberty in Spain with the promulgation of the -Estatuto,” by Martinez de la Rosa, he came forward as a journalist, -connected with the paper published as ‘The Age.’ His proud spirit -could not submit to the censorship previously existing, but even now -he had to feel its influence. The fourteenth number of his paper, the -most violent of the time, was found to contain some articles which -were forbidden by the censor, and as the time pressed, the editors did -not know how to supply the deficiency. The ready genius of Espronceda -suggested a scheme, which, after a little hesitation, was adopted: this -was to publish the sheet in blank, with merely the headings, which -had not been struck out of the manuscript by the censor. Accordingly, -the usual sheet appeared with the titles only of the subjects it had -originally to bear, namely--“The Amnesty;” “Domestic Policy;” “Letter -from Don Miguel and Don Manuel Bravedeed in defence of their honour -and patriotism;” “On the Cortes;” “Song on the Death of Don Joaquin -de Pablo.” The effect was startling, and perhaps more powerful than -the forbidden articles would have proved. The people supplied the -deficiencies according to their individual feelings, and the ingenuity -of the device had its fullest success. As the result, the publication -of the paper was forbidden, and the managers had to hide themselves for -a time to escape further prosecution. - -In the years 1835 and 1836, there were several serious commotions in -Madrid in which he joined, erecting barricades in the principal square, -and making violent harangues to the people. On both occasions the -disturbances were soon put down by the military, and he had to hide -himself in the provinces, until, in the year 1840, Espartero having -put himself at the head of the liberal party, the public principles -prevailed for which Espronceda had so exerted himself. He then -came forth again from his retirement, and made himself conspicuous -by appearing as an advocate in a case in which a paper named the -‘Hurricane’ had been denounced at law for a seditious article it -contained. Espronceda’s speech in defence, from some passages of -it given by Del Rio, appears to have been very energetic, and as -inflammatory as the article accused, but he was successful, and the -proprietor of the paper was acquitted. - -In the same year, 1840, he published the volume of poems on which -his fame rests, as perhaps the first lyric poet that Spain has -produced. Most of the contents had been previously given in the -periodical publications of Madrid, but it was a great service to -literature to have them collected. They contained the fragment of -the epic poem, ‘Pelayo,’ and a short dramatic piece, entitled, ‘The -Student of Salamanca,’ in which his own character is supposed to have -been depicted; as well as the lyric odes and other poems. They are -comparatively few in number, not exceeding fifteen altogether, but of -such rare excellence as to make us regret that so gifted a writer was -to be so soon cut off, depriving the literary world of the hopes of -still further excellence they gave reason to expect. In the following -year, 1841, he published his poem, ‘The Devil World, El Diablo Mundo,’ -in four cantos, to which three others were afterwards added, found -among his papers after his death. His friends had long feared that he -was not destined to attain a prolonged period of life, but their fears -were unhappily realized much sooner than they had imagined. - -In December 1841, Espronceda was sent to the Hague as Secretary of -Legation, but the coldness of the climate affecting too severely his -enfeebled constitution, he was obliged, almost immediately, to return -to Spain. He had meanwhile been elected Deputy to the Cortes for -Almeria, and he attempted to take accordingly his share of public -duties. But his health and strength had been undermined by the life of -hazard, of privations and excesses he had undergone, and the journey to -the Hague in the depth of winter seemed to give the final shock to his -frame, from which it could not recover. On the 23rd of May, 1842, his -friends and admirers were thrown into unexpected grief by hearing that -he had died that morning, after what was termed a four days’ illness. -The immediate cause was said to have been some disorder affecting the -throat, and his sufferings have been described by an intimate friend -and schoolfellow, who was with him at the time, as very painful. The -loss to Spain and the whole literary world was as great as it was -irreparable; and so the people seemed to feel it, by the general -expression of regret over his fate, such as it seldom falls to the lot -of any one to excite. - -The moralist might dilate on the evil courses which probably hastened -his death, and all must lament that a man of such extraordinary genius -should have sunk under them; but before we judge any one severely, we -should be certain of being able to form a right judgement. The utmost -remark, therefore, we permit ourselves to make, may be to consider his -history as a lesson to all under similar circumstances of life, that if -they will not take heed to a moral in others, they may become a warning -themselves. Every man’s character may be taken as a whole, in which his -good and evil qualities are often so blended together as to make them -inseparable. The excesses of youth are often “the flash and outbreak -of a fiery mind,” which shows itself in its true characters in other -respects, though often with the alloy of lower passions to lead them -to a fatal end. Thus Byron and Espronceda, two kindred geniuses in our -days, have sunk prematurely into the grave, most unhappily, when new -fields of glory seemed to be opened before them to retrieve the past -errors of life, and make it in future as honourable as they had already -rendered it renowned. - -The genius of Espronceda was kindred to Byron’s, of whom he has been -accused of having been an imitator. But this seems to me unquestionably -a mistake. During his residence in England he had certainly acquired -a good knowledge of the English language and literature, much to his -advantage; but he could scarcely have acquired such a knowledge of -either as to put him in the position of an imitator. The utmost that -can be alleged of him in this respect is, that the style of Byron’s -writing was so congenial to his own taste and talent, as to make him -imbibe it intuitively, and so obtain a more decided character for his -own than perhaps it would have otherwise attained. - -It is certain that Spanish poetry never before presented such depth -of thought and feeling, and such fulness and vigour of expression, as -he gave to it; and it is apparent, in every page of his works, that -he had studied in a higher school and become imbued with a brighter -inspiration than he could have done on the Continent. But what ordinary -imitators would have considered the characteristics of Byron as models -to follow, he had the good sense entirely to discard. He has none of -the egotism and affectation which distinguish that school; and if he -indulged in some of its propensities, it is clear that they were the -natural results of the circumstances in which he was placed, and not -the wilful perversions of misdirected abilities. His poem to Harifa is -written with an earnestness of feeling that must be felt, even through -the haze of translation, giving tokens of its origin too distinct to -admit any supposition of its being a suggestion from any other source -than his own experience of life. Neither in this poem nor in any -other of his works is there any of those mysterious suggestions of -dark histories, or of those morbid denunciations of imaginary wrongs -which abound in the productions of the Byronian school. His complaints -are the evident effusions of a mind maddened at finding itself in a -state unworthy of its powers, and thus, instead of venting his rage -on others, he turned it against his own misdeeds, in giving way to -excesses that he scorned, and which he felt degraded him. But even in -his aspirations for higher thoughts, he had the same leaven of earth -to keep him from attaining them. He had not learned the lessons which -Jovellanos inculcated in the Epistle to Bermudez, to seek wisdom where -only it ought to be sought; as he might have done even from the heathen -poet, that the hidden things of God could not be found out, though he -were to traverse over all space in search of them. - - Ἀλλ’ οὐ γὰρ ἆν τὰ θεία, κρύπτοντος Θεοῦ, - Μάθεις ἆν, οὐδ’ εἰ πάντ’ ἐπεξελθοις σκότων. - -In somewhat of the same strain with these lines is the second canto of -his poem, the ‘Diablo Mundo,’ addressed to Theresa, which, however, has -no connexion with the rest of the poem to which it is attached. The -verses ‘To a Star,’ contain also poetical thoughts no less exquisite, -though perhaps not of so decided a character; and they are all valuable -at least in this, that instead of gilding over vices and follies, -they show the confession of one so highly gifted by nature, that the -indulgences of sensual gratifications are in reality only sources of -unhappiness. - -Two other of his poems, ‘The Mendicant’ and ‘The Executioner,’ are -no less distinguishable for the power of thought and expression they -display; but they also unfortunately indicate such objectionable -tendencies, as to make us regret that his extraordinary talents had -not been directed to nobler subjects. Not so the two poems selected -for translation, ‘The Song of the Pirate,’ and that of the ‘Criminal -Condemned to Die,’ in addition to those previously mentioned. Of these, -the latter is one of such peculiarly energetic character, as to need -no comment. The other is one of the most favourite poems known in -Spain, and having been set to music, is therefore heard repeated more -frequently. It has been said to have been taken from the French, but -I believe erroneously. It bears strongly the impress of Espronceda’s -genius; and if the poem intended be either of those by Floran or Victor -Hugo, any one who will take the trouble of comparing them will observe -that they are essentially different, as each also is from the song of -Lord Byron’s ‘Corsair.’ - -At the first view of it, the ‘Diablo Mundo’ appears to be an imitation -of ‘Don Juan;’ but it would be as unjust to declare it so, as to say -the latter had been copied from the various Italian poems written in -the same style. Espronceda might have had the idea suggested by reading -Lord Byron’s poem, or Goëthe’s ‘Faust,’ or both, but he has carried it -much higher, and given the outlines of a nobler conception than either. -He begins by supposing that, absorbed in meditation, during the silence -of the night, he hears an extraordinary noise, which calls back his -feelings and arouses them. That confused noise, with sublime music and -solemn sound, are all the passions of the world, all the interests -found in life,--the affections and hatreds, love, glory, wealth, the -vices and the virtues; they are, in fine, the complaint of the whole -universe that comes like a revolving whirlwind, and displays before the -fancy a thousand allegorical monsters, traced with inimitable facility -and astonishing vigour. - -The visions pass away, the noise goes gradually off, losing itself in -the distance, until it ceases, where begins the introduction of the -poem. The first canto is the exposition of the great drama proposed to -be developed. - -A man bowed down with age and embittered by sorrowful and useless -experience, shuts in despair a book he was reading, and mournfully -convinced of the barrenness of learning, falls asleep. Death then -presents itself, and intones a hymn inviting him to the peace of the -grave. With pleasure he feels his benumbed limbs growing stiff with -cold, and is enjoying himself in the enervation of his spirit, when -Immortality suddenly rises up before him and sings another hymn in -opposition to that of Death, and like that also offering herself to the -man about to die. - -The election is immediate; he chooses Immortality, and is re-endowed -with youth. The song of this deity, however, does not lead to the -immortality of the spirit, but of the material part of man, and it -is that he receives. The image of death is invested with melancholy -beauty; it is soft and gentle; that which is desired when, free from -prejudices, we feel the heart worn and the soul discontented. The -immortality that rises over the pale front of death, effaces it with -a magnificent lustre. “It is impossible,” says Ros de Olano, who has -written the prologue to this beautiful poem, “to approach, by any words -of ours whatever, to the luxuriousness of thought, of expression, and -of knowledge displayed in this sublime description, the most happy -perhaps yet presented in the Spanish language.” Grand, extended and -immense is the field which the poet has displayed to trace out a course -for his hero, and the variety of tones he employs are like the face of -the world, over which he has to range. As the character is developed, -the hero, with the body of a man and the soul of a child, is placed in -situations equally original and interesting, and the whole scheme is -one which gave full scope to the writer for an unlimited work, even if -he had been permitted to live to the utmost period of human existence. - -Del Rio states, that Espronceda was in his public discourses an -ineffective speaker, and ascribes it to the physical weakness of his -frame; he describes him as having been distinguished for sarcasms, -and only at intervals powerful in declamation. “In conversation he -made an affectation of laughing at the restraints and virtues which -are necessary for the order of society, and yet in private life no -one was more remarkable for kindness and generosity. When the cholera -was raging in Madrid, he was one of the most active in disregarding -its attacks, and in attending to the wants of those near him who were -suffering from it.” “All who knew him loved him, and even to his -faults he knew how to give a certain impression of greatness.” Del -Rio proceeds to describe him as having been graceful in his bearing, -endowed with manly beauty, and his countenance marked with a melancholy -cast that rendered it more interesting. He concludes by observing, -that notwithstanding the years that have passed since his friends had -to lament his loss, a garland of everlastings never fails to be found -renewed over his grave. - -In 1848 Baudry published another edition of Espronceda’s works, at -Paris, but, with the exception of the fifth and sixth cantos of the -‘Diablo Mundo,’ there is no additional poem given, though Del Rio -points out six other pieces published in different periodicals. This -omission is much to be regretted, as undoubtedly every line that -proceeded from his pen was worthy of being gathered together as a rare -treasure. It is to be hoped that some admirer of his genius may soon -collect those scattered relics, and give them in an edition worthy of -their character in Spanish literature. Another Life of him also would -be most desirable, as in the Paris edition there is only repeated -the account given by Ferrer del Rio, which, though ably written as a -sketch, is still on the same scale with a number of other writers in -the same work of far inferior merits, and utterly unworthy of so great -a genius as Espronceda. Spanish versification under his influence has -become “revolutionized.” He has extended the powers apparently even of -the language itself, and by the force of his style as well as by the -varied character of his poems, has certainly shown its capabilities -more decidedly than any poet who preceded him. - - -JOSÈ DE ESPRONCEDA. - - -TO SPAIN, AN ELEGY. LONDON, 1829. - - How solitary is the nation now - That peopled countries vast a former day! - That all beneath her sovereignty to bow, - From East to West extended once her sway! - - Tears now profuse to shed, unhappy one, - Queen of the world! ’tis thine; and from thy face, - Enchanting yet in sorrow, there is none - Its overwhelming traces to erase. - - How fatally o’er thee has death pour’d forth - Darkness and mourning, horrible and great! - And the stern despot in his madden’d wrath - Exulted wildly o’er thy low estate. - - Nothing or great or beautiful he spared, - My country! the young warrior by him fell, - The veteran fell, and vile his war-axe glared, - Pleased all its fury o’er thee to impel. - - Ev’n the pure maiden fell beneath the rage - Of the unpitying despot, as the rose - Condemn’d the summer’s burning sun to engage - Her bloom and beauty withering soon must close. - - Come, O! ye inhabiters of the earth, - And contemplate my misery! can there, - Tell me, be any found of mortal birth - Bearing the sorrows I am doom’d to bear? - - I wretched, banish’d from my native land, - Behold, far from the country I adore, - Her former glories lost and high command, - And only left her sufferings to deplore. - - Her children have been fatally betray’d - By treacherous brethren, and a tyrant’s power; - And these her lovely fertile plains have made - Fields o’er which lamentations only lower. - - Her arms extended wide unhappy Spain, - Her sons imploring in her deep distress: - Her sons they were, but her command was vain, - Unheard the traitor madness to repress. - - Whate’er could then avail thee, tower or wall, - My country! still amid thy woes adored? - Where were the heroes that could once appal - The fiercest foe? where thy unconquer’d sword? - - Alas! now on thy children’s humbled brow - Deeply is shame engraved, and on their eyes, - Cast down and sorrowfully beating now, - The tears alone of grief and mourning rise. - - Once was a time for Spain, when she possess’d - A hundred heroes in her hour of pride; - And trembling nations saw her manifest - Her power and beauty, dazzling by their side. - - As lofty shows itself in Lebanon - The cedar, so her brow she raised on high; - And fell her voice the nations round upon, - As terrifies a girl the thunders nigh. - - But as a stone now in the desert’s wild - Thou liest abandon’d, and an unknown way - Through strangers’ lands, uncertain where, exiled - The patriot’s doom’d unfortunate to stray. - - Her ancient pomp and power are cover’d o’er - With sand and weeds contemptuous; and the foe, - That trembled at her puissance before, - Now mocks exulting and enjoys her woe. - - Maidens! your flowing locks dishevell’d tear, - To give them to the wandering winds; and bring - Your harps in mournful company to share - With me the sorrowful laments I sing. - - Thus banish’d from our homes afar away - Still let us weep our miseries. O! Spain, - Who shall have power thy torments to allay? - Who shall have power to dry thy tears again! - - -THE CONDEMNED TO DIE. - - I. - - His form upon the ground reclined, - With bitter anguish inward drawn, - Full of the coming day his mind, - That soon will sadly dawn, - The culprit waits, in silence laid, - The fatal moments hastening now, - In which his last sun’s light display’d - Will shine upon his brow. - - O’er crucifix and altar there, - The chapel cell in mourning hung, - From the dim candle’s yellow glare - A funeral light is flung; - And by the wretched culprit’s side, - His face with hood half cover’d o’er, - The friar, with trembling voice to guide, - Is heard his prayers implore. - - His brow then raises he again, - And slowly lifts to heaven his eyes; - Perhaps a prayer for mercy fain - May in his grief arise. - A tear flows: whence had that release? - Was it from bitterness or fear? - Perhaps his sorrows to increase - Some thought to memory dear? - - So young! and life, that he had dream’d - Was full of golden days to glide, - Is pass’d, when childhood’s tears it seem’d - As scarcely yet were dried. - Then on him of his childhood burst - The thought, and of his mother’s woe, - That he whom she so fondly nursed - Was doom’d that death to know. - - And while that hopelessly he sees - His course already death arrest, - He feels his life’s best energies - Beat strongly in his breast; - And sees that friar, who calmly now - Is laid, with sleep no more to strive, - With age so feebly doom’d to bow, - Tomorrow will survive. - - But hark! what noise the silence breaks - This hour unseasonably by? - Some one a gay guitar awakes - And mirthful songs reply; - And shouts are raised, and sounds are heard - Of bottles rattling, and perchance - Others, remember’d well, concurr’d - Of lovers in the dance. - And then he hears funereal roll, - Between each pause in accents high, - “Your alms, for prayers to rest the soul - Of him condemn’d to die.” - - And so combined the drunkard’s shout, - The toast, the strifes, and fancies wild - Of all that Bacchanalian rout, - With wanton’s songs defiled, - And bursts of idle laughter, reach - Distinct into the gloomy cell, - And seem far off ejected each - The very sounds of hell. - And then he hears, funereal roll - Between each pause, those accents high, - “Your alms, for prayers to rest the soul - Of him condemn’d to die.” - - He cursed them all, as one by one - The impious echos each express’d; - He cursed the mother as a son - Who nursed him at her breast: - The whole world round alike he cursed, - His evil destiny forlorn, - And the dark day and hour when first - That wretched he was born. - - II. - - The moon serene illumes the skies, - And earth in deepest stillness lies; - No sound is heard, the watchdog’s mute, - And ev’n the lover’s plaintive lute. - - Madrid enveloped lies in sleep; - Repose o’er all its shade has cast, - And men of him no memory keep - Who soon will breathe his last. - - Or if perchance one thinks to wake - At early dawn, no thoughts whate’er - Rise for the wretched being’s sake, - Who death is waiting there. - Unmoved by pity’s kind control, - Men hear around the funeral cry, - “Your alms, for prayers to rest the soul - Of him condemn’d to die.” - - Sleeps in his bed the judge in peace; - And sleeps and dreams of how his store, - The executioner, to increase; - And pleased he counts it o’er. - Only the city’s silence breaks, - And destined place of death portrays, - The harden’d workman who awakes - The scaffolding to raise. - - III. - - Confused and mad his heated mind, - With raving feverish dreams combined, - The culprit’s soul exhaustion press’d, - His head sunk heavy on his breast. - And in his dreams he life and death - Confounds, remembers, and forgets; - And fearful struggling every breath, - And sigh he gives besets. - - And in a world of darkness seems - As now to stray; feels fear and cold, - And in his horrid madness deems - The cord his neck infold: - And so much more, in desperate fight, - In anguish to escape his lot, - He strives, with so much more the might - He binds the fatal knot: - And voices hears, confused the whole, - Of people round, and then that cry, - “Your alms, for prayers to rest the soul - Of him condemn’d to die!” - - Or fancies now that he is free; - And breathes the fresh pure air, and hears - Her sigh of love, the maid whom he - Had loved in happier years: - Beauteous and kind as e’er of old, - Sweet flower of spring-time’s gay resort, - As could for love the meads behold, - Or gallant April court. - - And joyful he to see her flies, - And seeks to reach her, but in vain; - For as with anxious hands he tries - His hoped-for bliss to gain, - The illusion suddenly to break, - He finds the dream deceitful fled! - A cold stiff corpse the shape to take, - And scaffold in its stead. - And hears the mournful funeral knoll, - And hollow voice resounding nigh, - “Your alms, for prayers to rest the soul - Of him condemn’d to die!” - - -THE SONG OF THE PIRATE. - - The breeze fair aft, all sails on high, - Ten guns on each side mounted seen, - She does not cut the sea, but fly, - A swiftly sailing brigantine; - A pirate bark, the ‘Dreaded’ named, - For her surpassing boldness famed, - On every sea well known and shore, - From side to side their boundaries o’er. - - The moon in streaks the waves illumes; - Hoarse groans the wind the rigging through; - In gentle motion raised assumes - The sea a silvery shade with blue; - While singing gaily on the poop, - The pirate Captain, in a group, - Sees Europe here, there Asia lies, - And Stamboul in the front arise. - - Sail on, my swift one! nothing fear; - Nor calm, nor storm, nor foeman’s force - Shall make thee yield in thy career, - Or turn thee from thy course. - Despite the English cruisers fleet - We have full twenty prizes made; - And see their flags beneath my feet - A hundred nations laid. - My treasure is my gallant bark, - My only god is liberty; - My law is might, the wind my mark, - My country is the sea. - - There blindly kings fierce wars maintain, - For palms of land, when here I hold - As mine, whose power no laws restrain, - Whate’er the seas infold. - Nor is there shore around whate’er, - Or banner proud, but of my might - Is taught the valorous proofs to bear, - And made to feel my right. - My treasure is my gallant bark, - My only god is liberty; - My law is might, the wind my mark, - My country is the sea. - - Look when a ship our signals ring, - Full sail to fly how quick she’s veer’d! - For of the sea I am the king, - My fury’s to be fear’d; - But equally with all I share - Whate’er the wealth we take supplies; - I only seek the matchless fair - My portion of the prize. - My treasure is my gallant bark, - My only god is liberty; - My law is might, the wind my mark, - My country is the sea. - - I am condemn’d to die! I laugh; - For, if my fates are kindly sped, - My doomer from his own ship’s staff - Perhaps I’ll hang instead. - And if I fall, why what is life? - For lost I gave it then as due, - When from slavery’s yoke in strife - A rover I withdrew. - My treasure is my gallant bark, - My only god is liberty; - My law is might, the wind my mark, - My country is the sea. - - My music is the north wind’s roar, - The noise when round the cable runs, - The bellowings of the Black Sea’s shore, - And rolling of my guns. - And as the thunders loudly sound, - And furious as the tempests rave, - I calmly rest in sleep profound, - So rock’d upon the wave. - My treasure is my gallant bark, - My only god is liberty; - My law is might, the wind my mark, - My country is the sea. - - -TO HARIFA, IN AN ORGY. - - Thy hand, Harifa! bring it me; - Come near, and place it on my brow; - As on some lava’s boiling sea - I feel my head is burning now. - Come, bring with mine thy lips to meet, - Though they but madden me astray, - Where yet I find the kisses beat, - There left thy loves of yesterday. - - What is virtue, what is joy, - Or love, or purity, or truth? - The false illusions of a boy, - The cherish’d flatteries of my youth. - Then bring me wine; there let me try - Remembrance drown’d to hold repress’d, - Without a pang from life to fly; - In frenzy death may give me rest. - - O’erspreads my face a burning flood, - And red and glaring wildly start - My eyes forth out in heated blood, - And forth leaps restlessly my heart. - Woman! I hate thee; fly thee--go: - I feel thy hands my hands infold, - And feel them freezing, cold as snow, - As snow thy kisses are as cold. - - Ever the same, try, tempters weak! - Other endearments to enthral; - Another world, new pleasures seek, - For such your joys I curse them all. - Your kisses are a lie; a cheat - Is all the tenderness you feign; - Your beauty ugly in deceit, - The enjoyment suffering and pain. - - I wish for love, ethereal, high, - For some diviner joy my lot; - For such my heart will imaged sigh, - For such as in the world is not. - And ’tis that meteor light afar, - The phantom that deceived my mind, - The treacherous guide, the vapour star, - That leads me wandering and blind. - - * * * * * - - Why is my soul for pleasure dead, - And yet alive to grief and care? - Why doom’d in listless stupor laid - This arid loathing still to bear? - Why this consuming wild desire, - This restless passion vague and strange? - That well I know I rave, ’tis fire, - Yet plunge in its deceitful range. - - Why do I dream of love and joy, - That I am sure a lie will prove? - Why where fantastic charms decoy, - Will thus my heart delirious move, - If soon it finds for meads and flowers, - But arid wastes and tangled thorns, - And soon a loathing rage o’erpowers - The mad or mournful love it scorns? - - Flung as a rapid comet wide, - On ardent fancy’s wings I flew, - Where’er my wayward mind espied - Or joys or triumphs to pursue. - I launch’d myself, in daring flight, - Beyond the world through heavenward space, - And found but doubt, and all so bright - That seem’d, illusive proved the chase. - - Then on the earth I anxious sought - For virtue, glory, love sublime; - And my worn spirit found there nought - But fetid dust and loathsome slime. - Mid clouds with heavenly hues o’ercast - Women of virgin lustre shone; - I saw, I touched them, and they pass’d, - And smoke and ashes left alone. - - I found the illusion fled; but rife, - Unquench’d desires their longings crave; - I felt the real, I hated life, - And peace believed but in the grave. - And yet I seek, and anxious seek, - For pleasures still I ask and sigh, - And hear dread accents answering speak, - “Unhappy one! despair, and die. - - “Die: Life is torment, joy a cheat, - Hope not for good on earth for thee, - But fruitless struggles look to meet - In thy vain longings endlessly! - For so God punishes the soul - That in its madness dares espy - The unfathom’d secrets of the scroll - Of truth, denied to mortal eye!” - - * * * * * - - O! cease: no more I ask to know, - No more to see: my soul oppress’d - Is humbly bow’d, and prostrate low, - Now only asks, and longs for rest. - In me let feeling then lie dead, - Since died my hopes of happiness, - Nor joys nor griefs be o’er me spread - My soul returning to depress. - - Pass, as in magic optic glass, - And other youthful hearts deceive, - Bright images of glory! pass, - That crowns of gold and laurel weave. - Pass, ye voluptuous fair ones, on! - With dance and mirthful songs attuned, - Like vaporous visions, pass, begone! - No more my heart to move or wound. - And let the dance, and festal din, - O’er my revolted fancy reign, - And fled the night, see morn begin, - Surprised in senseless stupor’s chain. - - Harifa, come! Like me this woe - Thou too hast borne! Thou ne’er dost weep! - But, ah! how wretched ’tis to know - Feelings so bitter and so deep! - The same our sufferings and care; - In vain thou hold’st thy tears apart; - Like me thou also hast to bear - A wounded and an aching heart! - - - - -XII. - -JOSÈ ZORRILLA. - - -It has been said that “the life of a poet is ever a romance.” Perhaps -this observation may apply equally well to the history of every man -of ardent genius who enters with characteristic enthusiasm into the -affairs of life, so as to invest even ordinary circumstances with -the glow and hue of his own excited imagination. But this is more -especially the case with poets who make us participate in their -feelings, their joys or their sorrows, so as to give a character of -romance to incidents that with other persons would have passed away as -unnoticed. In the course of the preceding narratives, no doubt, many -instances may be remembered to verify this remark, and the life of -the eminent and deservedly popular poet with which we have to close -the series, even in his yet youthful career, may be found to afford a -further exemplification of it. - -On the 14th February, 1837, a funeral car, over which was placed a -crown of laurel, had to traverse the streets of Madrid, bearing to -their resting-place in the cemetery, the remains of the talented but -wrong-minded Larra. The car was followed by an immense concourse of -mourners, principally young men of the first classes of Madrid, who -were so testifying their regret for the loss they had sustained. The -whole scene presented a spectacle of homage paid to genius, such as -had seldom been witnessed. It was such as power might have envied, and -as worth scarcely ever attained. Melancholy as had been the end of -the unhappy being they mourned, envy and hatred had become silenced, -morality and charity joined in regret, and no one disputed the -propriety of the funeral honours paid to the dead. - -It was already late when the ceremonies were concluded, and the -darkening shadows of the night, in such a place and on such an -occasion, gave the countenances of all assembled an extraordinary -character. The shock they had felt, to lose so suddenly from among them -one so well-known to them all, in the fulness of youth and intellect, -in the height of fame and popularity, without any apparent motive and -enveloped in mystery, was of itself sufficient to penetrate their minds -with sorrow. They felt that a bright light had been extinguished, -and they feared there was no hope of another arising to shine in its -place. A strange spell seemed to have come over the bystanders, and -they lingered round the vault with an unaccountable disinclination to -separate. - -The eloquent Señor Roca de Togares, distinguished both as an orator and -a poet, pronounced a discourse he had hastily prepared, in which he -portrayed the general sensation of sorrow, as he eulogized the talents -and the principal literary successes of the deceased. But his eloquence -had only the effect of exciting still further the prevalent feeling, -which was that of something still more appropriate being required to -give expression to their grief, and they instinctively looked round -for some one to give utterance to it in the language of mournful -inspiration with which to take their final farewell. - -At that moment, in the midst of, it may be supposed, almost painful -silence, a young man, unknown to them, of a slight figure and boyish -appearance, stood forward, and with a tremulous voice began reading -some verses in unison with their feelings, which at the first accents -seemed to seize irresistibly on the minds of the listeners. He was -himself so much affected by the scene, and perhaps under the sense -of his own temerity, that he could not finish his task, and Roca de -Togares took the paper out of his hands and read the verses again -audibly. Had they been possessed of only ordinary merit, they would -no doubt, on such an occasion, have been favourably received; but -expressed as they were in highly poetical language, with appropriate -sentiments, the effect was to excite the utmost astonishment and -admiration. The author’s name, Josè Zorrilla, was eagerly called -for and repeated on all sides with loud applauses, and they who had -followed sorrowfully shortly before the remains of the man of genius -they had lost, now returned to the city attending in triumph another -poet they had found, with all the tokens of enthusiastic rejoicing. The -young poet, on his part, had found an audience ready to welcome him, -and he was at once launched forth into that “tide in the affairs of men -which taken at the flood leads on to fortune.” - -The history of the new aspirant for fame was now an object of interest, -and the public learned that he was the son of Don Josè Zorrilla, a -person well known as an eminent lawyer who had held several judicial -offices with credit in Spain. It was while holding one of those -offices, in Valladolid, that his son, the subject of this narrative, -was born there, the 21st of February, 1817. From Valladolid, the father -having been promoted to other duties in Burgos, Seville, and finally -at Madrid, the son followed him, and received his primary education in -the various cities they inhabited, under circumstances which must have -operated powerfully on his mind. On arriving at Madrid he was placed at -the Seminary of Nobles, where he remained six years, thus giving that -celebrated institution the just merit of claiming him, as well as so -many others of the ablest writers and public men of Spain, among those -they had educated. There he seems to have gone through his course of -studies without apparently other distinction than an early inclination -to write verses and attend the theatres, which predilection his tutors -disapproved, but in consideration of his father’s position passed over -more leniently than they otherwise would have done. This indulgence, -however, there is no doubt gave that decided turn to his mind which led -to his subsequent career. - -On leaving the Seminary, Zorrilla had to go to his father at his estate -in the province of Castille, where he now lived in retirement, having -lost the favour of the government. There soon a discordance rose -between them as to his future course in life. The father wished him to -graduate in the profession of the law, in which he had acquired wealth -and fame, and sent him, notwithstanding his repugnance, to Toledo, to -study in the university of that city. He passed accordingly a year -there, but with only sufficient application to go through the ordinary -routine respectably. Other studies, more congenial to his taste, -engaged all his thoughts. Toledo is a city rich in historical and -poetical remembrances and legends. Its monuments and ruins are among -the most interesting that exist in Spain, and in the contemplation of -these Zorrilla was constantly absorbed. To Toledo he owed his poetical -education, as to it he has dedicated some of his sweetest poetry. He -shunned the society of his fellow-students, and seemed to pass an -eccentric and even mysterious life. Out no one knew where, at strange -hours, disregarding the university rules and dress and etiquette, -allowing his hair to grow long over his shoulders, and composing -songs, not to the taste of his tutors, he was considered half-mad, and -his father was informed of his strange conduct as not amenable to study -and discipline. On going home for the vacation, his father therefore -received him with coldness and displeasure, and made him read law with -him, notwithstanding his continued disinclination to it, though in -secret he made amends for the restraint by indulging in reading more -agreeable to himself. It is recorded more especially that he then -studied the Sacred Scriptures, in whose pages he found the truest -inspiration of poetry, as he certainly seems in his writings generally -to have imbibed the purest principles of morality and religion. - -In the hope of his entering on a more diligent course of study at -another place than Toledo, Zorrilla was then sent to Valladolid, as if -by changing universities he could be expected to change the tendency -of mind which urged him to his destiny. There he was watched on all -sides by his father’s directions, and it was reported to him that his -son still continued his former course of conduct; that instead of -passing his hours in study, he was ever out on lonely walks, lying -under the shade of trees by the side of the river or the broken rock, -absorbed in his own meditations. There is a hint also given, of even -the discovery that he had found some dream of youthful love to indulge -in, as if it were something extraordinary for one of his age and -enthusiastic character. The father must have been one of the class -that Chateaubriand suffered under, or Mirabeau; and happy it was for -Zorrilla that he did not sink into the recklessness of the one or -the inanities of the other, while he had also to submit to similar -discouragements. As it was, the father came to the conclusion that -no hope was to be entertained of his son’s application to study, to -take that position in the world which he had planned out for him, -and in which were centred all his own ideas of honourable activity. -He therefore resolved to take him from Valladolid, and sent a trusty -messenger to bring him home. - -On the way the messenger gave Zorrilla to understand that his father -had resolved to employ him on his estate, to dress the vines and -perform other labours of country occupation. It seems the father -had even talked about fitting him out in a labourer’s working garb, -as not being calculated for nobler employment, while he himself was -unconscious or careless of the wonderful power of mind which lay hid -from his observation in the son’s apparent inability to fulfil his -expectations. On this intimation, however, Zorrilla at once formed his -determination. Shortly before reaching home, he stayed at the house -of a relative, where he collected together the few valuable things he -could carry away, and appropriating to his necessity a horse belonging -to his cousin, he hastened back to Valladolid. There he was fortunate -enough to arrive and sell the horse before the messenger sent after -him again could arrest him on his flight. He then transferred himself -without loss of time to Madrid, where for a length of time he succeeded -in escaping the vigilant search made for him by his friends, who not -having seen him since he was a boy, were not able now to penetrate his -disguise. - -At Madrid under these circumstances, a fugitive from his father’s -house, he had now passed almost a year, when he came forth before the -public, as we have narrated, on the occasion of Larra’s funeral. How -he had passed those months we are not informed further, than that -he had to submit to every kind of annoyances and privations, which -he surmounted by the firmness of his determination and the elevated -character of his hopes. He had in the interval sent several pieces of -poetry to the different periodicals, by which his name had already -become sufficiently known to a number of those who hailed him on the -14th February as supplying the place of the popular writer they had -lost. - -On the following day, Zorrilla could say, like Lord Byron, that he -awoke and found himself famous. The verses on Larra were in every -one’s mouth, and all others that could be obtained of his writing -were eagerly collected. Editors and proprietors of periodicals were -anxious to obtain his cooperation for their works, and his period -of difficulties had passed away. Before the year closed, the first -volume of his poems appeared with an introduction by Pastor Diaz, and -that was so eagerly bought that he was induced to bring out others in -succession, with a prolificness unknown almost even in Spain. Seven -other closely printed volumes of his poems were published, including -several plays, within about three years afterwards, and eight or nine -other volumes have appeared since. His works have been reprinted in -Paris and in various parts of Spanish America, and received everywhere -with unbounded admiration, so as at once to prove him one of the most -favourite poets that Spain has produced. - -While he was thus rising to fame and competence, his father, on the -other hand, had fallen into misfortune. A high prerogative lawyer, -he had maintained the doctrines of absolutism, and at length openly -espoused the cause of Don Carlos. On the failure of this prince’s -attempts to gain the throne, the elder Zorrilla, with other adherents, -was proscribed and had his property confiscated. His son had not heard -from him after this event for some years, when he received a letter -from his father from Bayonne, stating that he was in difficulties, -and requesting him to apply to a former friend, whom he named, for -a loan for his assistance. Zorrilla wrote back to say that there -was no occasion to incur an obligation from one not related to him, -and that he himself was happy to have it in his power to send him -the sum required, which he would repeat at stated intervals. This -he accordingly did, until he received his father’s directions to -discontinue it, as not requiring it any more. - -Another instance of Zorrilla’s high-mindedness and true Castilian pride -has been recorded. On his father’s property having been sequestrated -by the government, it was intimated to him that if he applied he might -have the administration of it, which was tantamount to giving him -possession of it. But he replied that he would neither apply for it -nor accept it, for while his father lived, he could acknowledge no one -else as entitled to it. His father having since died, Zorrilla has -come by law into possession of his estates, and has thus had the rare -fortune, for a poet, to be possessed of considerable wealth. He has had -several offers of appointments from the government, but he has declined -them, contented to live according to his own fancies and occupied with -his own peculiar pursuits. His extraordinary facility for composing -verses is such as scarcely to allow his compositions to be termed -studies; but with them and his attendances at the theatre, and other -recreations, or at literary reunions, he is said to pass away his hours -in ease and contentment. The first volume of his poems, it has been -already intimated, was published before he was twenty-one years of age. -Within three years afterwards seven others were published; and in the -eighth, to the poem of ‘The Duke and the Sculptor,’ was appended the -following note to his wife:--“Dedicated to the Señora Matilda O’Reilly -de Zorrilla. I began the publication of my poems with our acquaintance, -and I conclude them with thy name. Madrid, 10 October, 1840.” - -What were the circumstances attending this acquaintance or union, -we are not informed; but it is fortunate for the world that the -intimation it might convey of its being the conclusion of his literary -works has not been fulfilled. Since then he has published ‘Songs of -the Troubadour,’ in three volumes, and other minor poems and plays -separately. A larger work he meditated on the conquest of Granada, to -be entitled ‘The Cross and the Crescent,’ has not been completed; and -another he projected with the title ‘Maria,’ intending to celebrate the -different characters under which the Holy Virgin is venerated in Roman -Catholic countries, he has published, with the greater part supplied by -a friend, all very inferior to what might have been expected from him. - -It is much to be regretted that Zorrilla has in all his works allowed -carelessnesses to prevail, which too often mar the effect of his -verses, and still more that he has often inserted some that were of -very inferior merit compared with the rest. It is not to be supposed -that an author can be equally sustained in all his productions, but it -is somewhat extraordinary in his volumes to find some poems of such -transcendent merit, and others so inferior. These, however, are very -few, and probably were hastily composed and hastily published, to -supply the demand arising for the day. He is probably the only author -in Spain who has profited by the sale of his writings to any extent, -and to do this he must have been often under the necessity of tasking -his mind severely, without regard to its spontaneous suggestions. Thus -then, when he found his inspiration failing, he has often had recourse -to memory, and repeated from himself, and even from others, verses -previously published. It is to be hoped that he may be induced soon to -give the world a revised edition of his works, in which the oversights -may be corrected, and the poems unworthy of his fame may be omitted. - -On reading over dispassionately the ‘Lines to Larra,’ by which he -was first brought so prominently into notice, it may occasion some -surprise to learn they had produced so remarkable an effect. If they -had previously been read over alone to any one of the auditors, he -probably might not have considered them so ideal, so beautiful, or so -original as they seemed at the public recital. Some phrase might have -appeared incomprehensible, some sentiment exaggerated or not true; some -expression or line, hard or weak or forced. He might have observed a -want of order or connection in the ideas, or the whole to be vague -and leaving no fixed thought in the mind; or he might have pronounced -them, as they have been since pronounced, an imitation of Victor Hugo -or Lamartine. But to the auditors assembled, in the excited state of -their feelings, there was no time for reflection or criticism. It was -a composition of the hour for that particular scene,--for themselves, -in language and feelings with which they could sympathize. Thus the -verses seized on their minds and electrified them, so that they had no -time to dwell on any discussion or dispute of their merits, but yielded -at once to the fascination of the melodious verse they heard, and the -appropriate application of the homage they testified. - -In the first volume of poems that Zorrilla published, containing his -earliest productions, are to be found all the selections made for -translation in this work. They may not be so highly finished as some -afterwards published, nor so marked by that distinctive character he -has made his own; but they show the first promises of the fruit that -was in store, to be afterwards brought to such maturity. As he had -scarcely emerged from boyhood when he began to tread the path to fame, -his first steps could scarcely fail to betray that sort of uncertainty -which attends on all who are going on an unknown road. Thus then -through the volume he appears to be seeking a ground whereon to fix -his energies and build the temple for his future fame, without being -able confidently to fix on any place in preference. His poetry from the -first, always sonorous and easy, often evidently spontaneous and true -to nature, at times is weak and deficient in the depth of thought that -at other times distinguishes it, especially in the compositions of a -philosophic cast, which require fuller age and reflection to give them -with perfectness. Subject to these remarks, independently of the poems -hereafter given in the translations, there are others, ‘To Toledo,’ -‘The Statue of Cervantes,’ ‘The Winter Night,’ more clearly portraying -the peculiar character of his poetry as afterwards developed. - -In the second volume published about six months afterwards, he seems -already to have taken his ground and to proceed with a more decided -step. The poem, ‘The Day without Sun,’ is full of poetic vigour and -richness of description, and several tales of greater length and -legendary character show the bent of his mind and the direction it -was in future to take. In the third volume it was reserved for his -genius to be fully developed. It opens with a magnificent composition, -‘To Rome,’ in which deep philosophy and reflection are combined with -exquisite description, all so clear and distinct as fully to captivate -the mind and leave an impression of complete satisfaction. But beyond -this it contains the poem ‘To the last Moorish King of Granada, -Boabdil the Little,’ which is generally considered his best. He was -already recognized as an admirable descriptive poet, but he now proved -his power of moving the inmost feelings to be as great as his power -of imagination. It is undoubtedly a splendid composition and highly -finished, so as to be well worthy of study for the Spanish reader, -though too long for translation for this work. The same volume contains -another poem, also worthy of mention, ‘To a Skull,’ as written with -much force and effect, but in the style of the French imitators of -Byron, whom Zorrilla has too much copied, though it must be stated -without their affectation and exaggerations. - -In the following volumes he continues the course now so markedly his -own as a national poet. He avowedly chooses, as becoming him in that -character, subjects taken from the traditions and legends current in -Spain, and clothing them in glowing language reproduces them to his -delighted readers as the dreams and remembrances of their youth. He -is especially partial to the tales connected with the Moorish wars, -and in so doing, with great poetic effect, always represents the Moors -in the most favourable light. Thus he throughout makes them worthy -rivals of the Christians, and thereby renders greater the merit of the -conquerors. The richness of his diction is truly extraordinary, often -so as to make us lose sight of the paucity of ideas contained in his -poems, and that those again are too much the same repeated constantly -over. - -If it was a wonderful and admirable triumph for one so young to achieve -by one bound the unqualified commendations of his countrymen, and to -sustain the success then acquired by subsequent efforts, we have still -to regret that there were evils attending that precocity to prevent his -attaining apparently the highest excellence. Perhaps there is no one -we can point out as so truly exemplifying the maxim “poeta nascitur.” -He was truly born a poet; and though he often writes showing that he -had been reading Calderon or some other of the elder writers of Spain, -or even some of the French poets, yet he always gives the colouring -of his own mind to those imitations so as to make them his own. This -often again leads him to a mannerism and repetition of himself; but -notwithstanding these faults or occasional errors of carelessness, his -compositions always remain uniformly and irresistibly captivating. - -Besides his poems, Zorrilla has published upwards of twenty dramatic -pieces, some of which have been repeatedly produced on the stage -with the fullest success. They are all remarkable for the richness of -versification and high tone of poetry which distinguish his lyrical -compositions, and, like them, all tend to honour and promote the -chivalrous spirit for which the Spanish nation has ever been renowned. - -The modern poetry of Spain shows that her nationality is still as -distinct, her genius as elevated, and her sense of honour as pure, as -in any former period of her history. It shows itself in unison with the -spirit that has always animated the people in their public conduct, in -their loyalty and devotion, the same now as a thousand years since, -making every hill a fortress and every plain a battle-field, to dispute -the ground at every foot with the enemy till they were driven from -their soil. The poets of Spain have still, as ever, the most stirring -tasks before them, to commemorate the glories of their romantic -country, and they are worthy of their task. - - -JOSÈ ZORRILLA. - - -THE CHRISTIAN LADY AND THE MOOR. - - Hastening to Granada’s gates, - Came o’er the Vega’s land, - Some forty Gomel horsemen, - And the Captain of the band. - - He, entering in the city, - Check’d his white steed’s career; - And to a lady on his arm, - Borne weeping many a tear, - - Said, “Cease your tears, fair Christian, - That grief afflicting me, - I have a second Eden, - Sultana, here for thee. - - “A palace in Granada, - With gardens and with flowers, - And a gilded fountain playing - More than a hundred showers. - - “And in the Henil’s valley - I have a fortress gray, - To be among a thousand queen - Beneath thy beauty’s sway. - - “For over all yon winding shore - Extends my wide domain, - Nor Cordova’s, nor Seville’s lands, - A park like mine contain. - - “There towers the lofty palm-tree, - The pomegranate’s glowing there, - And the leafy fig-tree, spreading - O’er hill and valley fair. - - “There grows the hardy walnut, - The yellow nopal tall, - And mulberry darkly shading - Beneath the castle wall; - - “And elms I have in my arcades - That to the skies aspire, - And singing birds in cages - Of silk, and silver wire. - - “And thou shalt my Sultana be, - My halls alone to cheer; - My harem without other fair, - Without sweet songs my ear. - - “And velvets I will give thee, - And eastern rich perfumes, - From Greece I’ll bring thee choicest veils, - And shawls from Cashmere’s looms: - - “And I will give thee feathers white, - To deck thy beauteous brow, - Whiter than ev’n the ocean foam - Our eastern waters know. - - “And pearls to twine amid thy hair, - Cool baths when heat’s above, - And gold and jewels for thy neck, - And for thy lips be--love!” - - “O! what avail those riches all,” - Replied the Christian fair, - “If from my father and my friends, - My ladies, me you tear? - - “Restore me, O! restore me, Moor, - To my father’s land, my own; - To me more dear are Leon’s towers - Than thy Granada’s throne.” - - Smoothing his beard, awhile the Moor - In silence heard her speak; - Then said as one who deeply thinks, - With a tear upon his cheek, - - “If better seem thy castles there - Than here our gardens shine, - And thy flowers are more beautiful, - Because in Leon thine; - - “And thou hast given thy youthful love - One of thy warriors there, - Houri of Eden! weep no more, - But to thy knights repair!” - - Then giving her his chosen steed, - And half his lordly train, - The Moorish chieftain turn’d him back - In silence home again. - - -ROMANCE. THE WAKING. - - No sound is in the midnight air, - No colour in its shade, - The old are resting free from care, - Duenna’s voice is stay’d; - But when all else in slumber meet, - We two are waking nigh, - She on the grated window’s seat, - And at its foot am I. - - I cannot see her beaming eyes, - Nor her clear brow above, - Nor her face with its rosy dyes, - Nor yet her smile of love: - I cannot see the virgin flush - That heightens her cheek’s glow, - The enchantments of that maiden blush, - She is but fifteen now. - - Nor can my searching eyes behold - Her form scarce wrapp’d about; - Nor from the flowing garment’s fold - Her white foot peeping out; - As on some gentle river’s spring, - To glide the foam between, - Spread forth her snowy floatsome wing, - The stately swan is seen. - - Nor can I see her white neck shine, - Or shoulders as they part; - Nor from her face can I divine - Her restlessness of heart; - While like a guard, too watchful o’er, - The grated bars I find; - Audacious love is there before, - Poor virtue is behind. - - But in despite of that thick grate, - And shades that round us twine, - I have, my dove, to compensate, - My soul embathed in thine: - My lips of fire I hold impress’d - On thine of roses free; - And well I feel there’s in that breast - A heart that beats for me. - - But see along the East arise - The unwelcome god of day, - Enveloped in the humid skies, - The darkness drive away. - And when a maid has watch’d the night, - With gallant by her side, - The bright red dawn has too much light - Its coming to abide! - - * * * * * - - The smiling morn is shedding round - Its harmony and hues, - And fragrant odours o’er the ground - The breezes soft diffuse: - Robbing the rose, the lily fair, - And cherish’d pinks they fly, - And leave upon the laurels there - A murmur moaning by. - - Murmurs the fountain’s freshening spring, - Beneath its crystal veil, - And the angelic turtles sing - Their tender mournful tale; - The love-sick dove the morning light - Drinks with enraptured throat, - Mixing the balmy air so bright - With her unequal note. - - Paces the while the noble youth - The garden’s paths along, - And lowly sings, his soul to soothe, - His love-inspiring song; - - “O! soundless midnight hour, again - Come with thy kindly shade, - When rest thy old from cares, and when - Duenna’s voice is stay’d; - For then, while they in slumber meet, - We two are waking nigh, - She on the grated window’s seat, - And at its foot am I.” - - -ORIENTAL ROMANCE,--BOABDIL. - - Lady of the dark head-dress, - And monkish vest of purple hue, - Gladly would Boabdil give - Granada for a kiss of you. - - He would give the best adventure - Of the bravest horseman tried, - And with all its verdant freshness - A whole bank of Darro’s tide. - - He would give rich carpets, perfumes, - Armours of rare price and force, - And so much he values you, - A troop, ay, of his favourite horse. - - “Because thine eyes are beautiful, - Because the morning’s blushing light - From them arises to the East, - And gilds the whole world bright. - - “From thy lips smiles are flowing, - From thy tongue gentle peace, - Light and aërial as the course - Of the purple morning’s breeze. - - “O! lovely Nazarene, how choice! - For an Eastern harem’s pride, - Those dark locks waving freely - Thy crystal neck beside. - - “Upon a couch of velvet, - I n a cloud of perfumed air, - Wrapp’d in the white and flowing veil - Of Mahomet’s daughters fair. - - “O, Lady! come to Cordova, - There Sultana thou shalt be, - And the Sultan there, Sultana, - Shall be but a slave for thee. - - “Such riches he will give thee, - And such robes of Tunisine, - That thou wilt judge thy beauty, - To repay him for them, mean.” - - * * * * * - - O! Lady of the dark head-dress! - That him a kiss of thee might bless, - Resign a realm Boabdil would! - But I for that, fair Christian, fain - Would give of heavens, and think it gain, - A thousand if I only could. - - -THE CAPTIVE. - - I go, fair Nazarene, tomorrow - To queenly Cordova again; - Then thou, my song of love and sorrow - To hear, no longer mayst complain, - Sung to the compass of my chain. - - When home the Christians shall return, - In triumph o’er the Moorish foe, - My cruel destiny wouldst thou learn? - The history of my loves to know, - The blood upon their hands shall show. - - Better it were at once to close, - In this dark tower a captive here, - The life I suffer now of woes, - Than that today thou sett’st me clear; - Alas! thou sell’st it very dear. - - Adieu! tomorrow o’er, thy slave - May never vex thy soul again, - But vain is all the hope it gave: - Still must I bear the captive’s chain, - Thine eyes my prison still remain. - - Fair Christian! baleful is my star; - What values it this life to me, - If I must bear it from thee far? - Nor in Granada’s bowers may be, - Nor, my fair Cordova, with thee? - - Today’s bright sun to me will seem - A lamp unseasonably by: - Daughter of Spain, thy beauties gleam - Alone my sun and moon on high, - The dawn and brightness of my sky. - - Since then I lose thy light today, - Without that light I cannot live! - To Cordova I take my way; - But in the doom my fortunes give, - Alas! ’tis death that I receive. - - A paradise and houri fair - Has Mahomet promised we shall prove: - Aye, thou wilt be an angel there, - And in that blissful realm above - We meet again, and there to love. - - -THE TOWER OF MUNION. - - Dark-shadow’d giant! shame of proud Castille, - Castle without bridge, battlements or towers, - In whose wide halls now loathsome reptiles steal, - Where nobles once and warriors held their bowers! - Tell me, where are they? where thy tapestries gay, - Thy hundred troubadours of lofty song? - Thy mouldering ruins in the vale decay, - Thou humbled warrior! time has quell’d the strong: - Thy name and history to oblivion thrown, - The world forgets that there thou standst, Munion. - - To me thou art a spectre, shade of grief! - With black remembrances my soul’s o’ercast; - To me thou art a palm with wither’d leaf, - Burnt by the lightning, bow’d beneath the blast. - I, wandering bard, proscribed perchance my doom - In the bier’s dust nor name, nor glory know; - With useless toil my brow’s consumed in gloom; - Of her I loved, dark dwelling-place below, - Whom I was robb’d of, angel from above, - Cursed be thy name, thy soil, as was my love. - - There rest, aye, in thy loftiness, - To shame the plain around, - Warderless castle, matron lone, - In whom no beauty’s found. - At thee time laughs, thy towers o’erthrown, - Scorn’d by thy vassals, by thy Lord - Deserted, rest, black skeleton! - Stain of the vale’s green sward. - - Priestless hermitage of Castille, - On thee no banners wave; - Unblazon’d gate, thy pointed vaults - No more their weight can save: - Thou hast no soldier on thy heights, - No echo in thy halls, - And rank weeds festering grow uncheck’d - Beneath thy mouldering walls. - - Chieftain dead in a foreign land, - Forgotten of thy race, - While storm-torn fragments from thy brow - Are scatter’d o’er thy place; - And men pass careless at thy feet, - Nor seek thy tale to find; - Because thy history is not read, - Thy name’s not in their mind. - - But thou hast one, who in a luckless hour - Inscribed another’s name on thy worn stone: - ’Twas I, and that my deep relentless shame - Remains with thee alone. - When my lips named that name, they play’d me false; - When my hands graved it, ’twas a like deceit; - Now it exists not; in time’s impious course - ’Twas swept beneath his feet. - - And that celestial name, - To time at length a prey, - A woman for my sin, - For a seraph snatch’d away; - The hurricane of life - Has left me, loved one, worse - For my eternal grief, - In pledge as of a curse, - Thy name ne’er from my thoughts to part, - Nor thy love ever from my heart. - - -THE WARNING. - - Yesterday the morning’s light - Shone on thy window crystal bright, - And lightsome breezes floating there - Gave richest perfumes to the air, - Which the gay flowers had lent to them, - All scatter’d from the unequal stem. - - The nightingale had bathed his wing - Beneath the neighbouring murmuring spring; - And birds, and flowers, and streamlets gay, - Seem’d to salute the new-born day; - And in requital of the light, - Their grateful harmony unite. - - The sun was bright, the sky serene, - The garden fresh and pleasant seen; - Life was delight, and thou, sweet maid, - No blush of shame thy charms betray’d; - For innocence ruled o’er thy breast, - Alike thy waking and thy rest. - - Maiden, or angel upon earth, - Thy laugh, and song of gentle mirth, - In heaven were surely heard; thine eyes - Were stars, and like sweet melodies - Thy wandering tones; thy breath perfume, - And dawn-like thy complexion’s bloom. - - As phantoms then thou didst not find - The hours pass heavy on thy mind, - A poet, under Love’s decree, - Sang melancholy songs to thee; - And of his griefs the voice they lend - Thou didst not, maiden, comprehend. - - Poor maiden, now what change has come - O’er that glad brow and youthful bloom? - Forgotten flower, thy leaves are sere, - Thy fruitless blossoms dried appear; - Thy powerless stem all broken, low, - May to the sun no colours show. - - O! dark-eyed maid of ill-starr’d birth, - Why camest thou on this evil earth? - Rose amid tangled briars born, - What waits thee from the world but scorn? - A blasting breath around thee, see, - Thy bloom is gone, who’ll ask for thee? - - Return, my angel, to thy sphere, - Before the world shall see thee here: - The joys of earth are cursed and brief, - Buy them not with eternal grief! - Heaven is alone, my soul, secure - The mansion for an angel pure. - - -MEDITATION. - - Upon the obscure and lonely tomb, - Beneath the yellow evening’s gloom, - To offer up to Heaven I come, - For her I loved, my prayer! - Upon the marble bow’d my head, - Around my knees the moist herbs spread, - The wild flowers bend beneath my tread, - That deck the thicket there. - - Far from the world, and pleasures vain, - From earth my frenzied thoughts to gain, - And read in characters yet plain - Names of the long since past; - There by the gilded lamp alone, - That waves above the altar stone, - As by the wandering breezes moan, - A light’s upon me cast. - - Perchance some bird will pause its flight - Upon the funeral cypress height, - Warbling the absence of the light, - As sorrowing for its loss; - Or takes leave of the day’s bright power, - From the high window of the tower, - Or skims, where dark the cupolas lower, - On the gigantic cross. - - With eyes immersed in tears, around - I watch it silent from the ground, - Until it startled flies the sound - The harsh bolts creaking gave; - A funeral smile salutes me dread, - The only dweller with the dead, - Lends me a hard and rough hand, led - To ope another grave. - - * * * * * - - Pardon, O God! the worldly thought, - Nor mark it midst my prayer; - Grant it to pass, with evil fraught, - As die the river’s murmurings brought - Upon the breezy air. - - Why does a worldly image rise - As if my prayer to stain? - Perchance in evil shadow’s guise, - Which may when by the morrow flies - Sign of a curse remain. - - Why has my mind been doom’d to dream - A phantom loveliness? - To see those charms transparent gleam, - That brow in tranquil light supreme, - And neck’s peculiar grace? - - Not heighten’d its enchantments shine - By pomp or worldly glow; - I only see that form recline - In tears, before some sacred shrine, - Or castle walls below. - - Like a forgotten offering lone, - In ruin’d temple laid; - Upon the carved and time-worn stone, - Where fell it by the rough wind thrown, - So bent beneath the shade. - - With such a picture in my mind, - Such name upon my ear, - Before my God the place to find, - Where the forgotten are consign’d, - I come, and bow down here. - - With eyes all vaguely motionless, - Perhaps my wanderings view - The dead, with horror and distress, - As, roused up in their resting-place, - They look their dark walls through. - - ’Twas not to muse I hither came - Of nothingness my part; - Nor of my God, but of a name, - That deep in characters of flame - Is written on my heart. - - Pardon, O God! the worldly thought, - Nor mark it midst my prayer; - Grant it to pass, with evil fraught, - As die the river’s murmurings brought - Upon the breezy air. - - - - -NOTES. - - - -1. Page 3. “Gaspar Melchor de Jovellanos.” - -This name (pronounced Hovellianos) was formerly written as two distinct -names, Jove Llanos, as it is still by several members of the family, -one, an Advocate, at present at Madrid, and another the Spanish Consul -at Jamaica. - - -2. Page 3. “An able and distinguished writer,” &c. - -Antonio Alcalà Galiano, author also of the able article in the Foreign -Quarterly Review on Jovellanos, afterwards mentioned. He was born at -Cadiz, in 1789, the son of a distinguished officer in the Spanish navy, -who was killed at Trafalgar. In his youth, Alcalà Galiano studied -the English language so assiduously as to receive much benefit from -his knowledge of it when he had to take refuge in London, on the -various political changes that took place in Spain. He then wrote -much for the Westminster and Foreign Quarterly Reviews, as well as -other publications, and was subsequently named one of the Professors -of Languages in the London University. Having returned to Spain, on -the death of Ferdinand VII., he was appointed a Minister of State, -with the Señor Isturitz, and has held, at various times, several high -offices in the government. In the Cortes he was considered one of -the most able orators of his time, having been put on a rivalry with -Martinez de la Rosa and Argüelles. He has published a few poems, and -contributed several valuable papers for the different learned societies -of Madrid, besides having written much for the periodicals, according -to the continental system for public men seeking to disseminate their -opinions. His principal work as an author is a ‘History of Spain.’ -Ferrer del Rio says of him, that “he writes Spanish with an English -idiom, and though he puts his name to a history of Spain, it seems -a translation from the language of Byron.” Few foreigners have ever -obtained so complete a knowledge of the English language; in fact his -writings in the several reviews might be pointed out as compositions -which would do credit to our own best writers. As an instance of his -knowledge of the state of literature in England, we may quote a few -observations from an article bearing his name in the first number of -the Madrid Review. He says, “The Bible and the Plays of Shakespeare, -if they may be named together without profanation, are the two works -which have most influence on the thoughts of the English;” adding, -that “classical literature is there better cultivated than in France, -or at least cultivated with more profound knowledge,” deducing the -conclusion, “that the English drama is consequently radically different -from the French.” - - -3. Page 11. “Bermudez, his biographer.” - -This industrious writer was born at Gijon, in 1749, and died at Cadiz -in 1829. He may be termed the Vasari of Spain, as the historian of the -artists of his country. His two biographical works, the one on her -painters, the other on her architects, are a rich mine of materials. -The former was published in six volumes 8vo, in 1800: the latter, in -four volumes 4to, was almost the last work on which he was engaged, -and did not appear till 1829. Besides these, he was the author of -various other publications on the principal edifices in Seville, and -had completed a ‘History of the Roman Antiquities in Spain;’ a ‘General -History of Painting;’ a work on ‘Architecture,’ and other pieces, -which yet remain unedited. As a fellow-townsman, as well as an artist -of considerable genius, he was much assisted by Jovellanos, who, when -Minister of State, gave him a valuable appointment at Madrid under the -government. When that eminent individual fell, his friends had to -suffer also, and Cean Bermudez, deprived of his appointment, had to -return to Seville, where he instituted a school for drawing. It was no -doubt under the feelings of regret, occasioned by the reflection of -having his friends involved in his misfortunes, that Jovellanos wrote -to him the Epistle selected for translation in this work. - - -4. Page 16. “Merit of first bringing into favour.” - -See Hermosilla, ‘Juicio Critico de los principales Poetas Españoles de -la ultima era,’ vol. i. p. 11. - - -5. Page 18. “Epistle to Cean Bermudez.” - -From Works of Jovellanos, Mellado’s edition, vol. iv. p. 226. - - -6. Page 30. “To Galatea’s Bird.” - -From the same, p. 369. - - -7. Page 32. “To Enarda.--I.” - -From the same, p. 368. In submission to the recommendations of several -friends to give the original of at least part or the whole of some one -poem of each author, from whose works the translations have been made, -selections of such as the English students of Spanish literature would -probably most desire, are offered for their comparison. - - Riñen me bella Enarda - Los mozos y los viejos, - Por que tal vez jugando - Te escribo dulces versos. - Debiera un magistrado - (Susurran) mas severo, - De las livianas Musas - Huir el vil comercio. - Que mal el tiempo gastas! - Predican otros,--pero - Por mas que todos riñan - Tengo de escribir versos. - - Quiero loar de Enarda - El peregrino ingenio - Al son de mi zampoña - Y en bien medidos metros. - Quiero de su hermosura - Encaramar al cielo - Las altas perfecciones; - De su semblante quiero - Cantar el dulce hechizo - Y con pincel maestro - Pintar su frente hermosa - Sus traviesos ojuelos, - El carmin de sus labios, - La nieve de su cuello; - Y vàyanse à la … al rollo - Los Catonianos ceños - Las frentes arrugadas - Y adustos sobrecejos, - Que Enarda serà siempre - Celebrada en mis versos. - - -8. Page 33. “To Enarda.--II.” - -From Works of Jovellanos, vol. iv. p. 364. - - -9. Page 46. “Epistle to Domingo de Iriarte.” - -From Works of Tomas Iriarte, 1805, vol. ii. p. 56. - -Domingo Iriarte was subsequently much engaged in the diplomatic service -of Spain, and signed the treaty of peace with France of 1795, as -Plenipotentiary, along with the celebrated M. Barthélemy. - - -10. Page 50. “But now the confines of,” &c. - -The following is the original of this passage:-- - - Mas ya dexar te miro - Los confines Germanos, - Y el polìtico giro - Seguir hasta los ùltimos Britanos. - Desde luego la corte populosa - Cuyas murallas baña - La corriente anchurosa - Del Tàmesis, la imàgen te presenta - De una nacion en todo bien extraña: - Nacion en otros siglos no opulenta, - Hoi feliz por su industria, y siempre esenta: - Nacion tan liberal como ambiciosa; - Flemàtica y activa; - Ingenua, pero adusta; - Humana, pero altiva; - Y en la causa que abraza, iniqua ó justa - Violenta defensora, - Del riesgo y del temor despreciadora. - Alli serà preciso que te asombres - De ver (qual no habràs visto en parte alguna) - Obrar y hablar con libertad los hombres. - Admiraràs la rapida fortuna - Que alli logra el valor y la eloqüencia, - Sin que ni el oro, ni la ilustre cuna - Roben el premio al mèrito y la ciencia. - Adverteràs el numeroso enxambre - De diligentes y habiles Isleños - Que han procurado, del comercio Dueños - No conocer la ociosidad ni el hambre; - Ocupados en ùtiles inventos - En fàbricas, caminos, arsenales, - Escuelas, academias, hospitales, - Libros, experimentos, - Y estudios de las Artes liberales. - Alli sabràs, en fin, à quanto alcanza - La sabia educacion, y el acertado - Mètodo de patriòtica enseñanza, - La privada ambicion bien dirigida - Al pùblico provecho del Estado; - La justa recompensa y acogida - En que fundan las Letras su esperanza, - Y el desvelo de un pròvido Gobierno - Que al bien aspira, y à un renombre eterno. - -This Epistle is addressed to his brother, as the reader may observe, -in the second person singular, which, in Spanish, has a tone of more -familiarity than in English, and understanding it so intended, I have -altered it, in the translation, into our colloquial form of the second -person plural. - -The above extract is the same in his printed works of both editions; -but I have in my possession a collection of his manuscripts, among -which is a copy of this Epistle, with several variations, less -flattering to England. Had he lived to superintend the second edition, -these variations might probably have been adopted in it. They are not, -however, of any material variance, but they seem to me to show that his -eulogium had not been favourably received in some quarters, and that he -had therefore thought it prudent to soften it in preparing for another -edition. The publisher of the edition of 1805 does not seem to have -been aware of these manuscripts, nor indeed to have taken the trouble -of doing more for Iriarte’s memory than merely to reprint the first -edition, without even any biographical or critical notice of him or his -writings, as he might well have done, Iriarte having been then deceased -fourteen years. - -For another eloquent and encomiastic description of English usages and -institutions, the student of Spanish literature would do well to read -a work, published in London in 1834, by the Marques de Miraflores, -‘Apuntes historico-criticos para escribir la Historia de la Revolucion -de España.’ This distinguished nobleman was born the 23rd December, -1792, at Madrid, and succeeded to the honours and vast property of his -ancient house in 1809, on the death of his elder brother, during the -campaign of that year. He has been much engaged in public affairs, -having held various offices in the state. He has been twice Ambassador -to England; the last time, Ambassador Extraordinary on the coronation -of Her Majesty Queen Victoria. The Marques has written several works on -political subjects, of which the one above-mentioned is particularly -deserving of study. - - -11. Page 52. “Saying as Seneca has said of yore.” - - Stet quicumque volet potens - Aulæ culmine lubrico: - Me dulcis saturet quies. - Obscuro positus loco - Leni perfruar otio. - Nullis notus Quiritibus - Ætas per tacitum fluat. - Sic cum transierint mei - Nullo cum strepitu dies, - Plebeius moriar senex. - Illi mors gravis incubat - Qui notus nimis omnibus - Ignotus moritur sibi. - -Thyestes, Act II. The critical reader will observe, that the -translation into English has been made from the Spanish rather than the -Latin. - - -12. Page 53. “Fables.” - -The Fables translated are numbered respectively III., VIII., XI., LIII. -and LIV., in the original collection. The two first, III. and VIII., -having been given by Bouterwek as specimens of Iriarte’s style, without -any translation, I took them for my first essays, and had already -versified them, before finding Roscoe had done the same also in his -translation of Sismondi, and it was subsequently to that I became aware -of other similar versions. Having, however, made those translations, I -have, notwithstanding the others, allowed them to remain in this work. -The fable of the Two Rabbits has been selected as particularly noticed -by Martinez de la Rosa, and the others almost without cause of peculiar -preference. The last one contains an old but good lesson, which cannot -be too frequently and earnestly repeated:-- - - Ego nec studium sine divite venâ - Nec rude quid prosit video ingenium, alterius sic - Altera poscit opem res et conjurat amicè. - - -13. Page 64. “Iglesias and Gonzalez.” - -Diego Gonzalez was born at Ciudad Rodrigo in 1733, and died at Madrid, -1794. Josè Iglesias de la Casa was born at Salamanca in 1753, and died -there in 1791. His poems were first published seven years after his -death, and have been several times reprinted. The best edition is that -of Barcelona, 1820, from which the one of Paris, 1821, was taken. The -poems of Gonzalez also were first published after his death, and have -been several times reprinted. Both wrote very pleasing verses, and are -deservedly popular in Spain. - - -14. Page 69. “It was for his detractors,” &c. - -Hermosilla, author of a work, ‘Juicio Critico de los principales -Poetas Españoles de la ultima era,’ published after his death, Paris -1840, gives in it, as Mr. Ticknor pithily observes, “a criticism of -the poems of Melendez so severe that I find it difficult to explain -its motive;” at the same time that he gives “an unreasonably laudatory -criticism of L. Moratin’s works.” Hermosilla appears to have been a -man of considerable learning, but little judgement. His criticisms are -generally worthless, and the only excuse for him, with regard to his -book, is, that he did not publish it. With regard to Melendez, taking -every opportunity to depreciate his merits, he is constantly found -constrained to acknowledge them, and sometimes even in contradiction -to himself. Thus, having several times intimated, as at p. 31, that -the erotic effusions of Melendez only were praiseworthy, he says, -at p. 297, when speaking of his Epistles, that they are “his best -compositions; thoughts, language, style, tone and versification, all in -general are good.” In another part he censures Melendez for his poems -addressed to different ladies, especially some to ‘Fanny,’ who appears -to have been an Englishwoman; and yet those epistles, addressed to her, -on the death of her husband, are among the purest and most elegant -specimens that can be pointed out of consolation to a mourner. It is -but justice to his editor, Salva, to say, that he has expressed his -dissent from these criticisms, though he thought proper to publish the -work. - - -15. Page 73. “The Duke de Frias.” - -This estimable nobleman, who died in 1850, was descended from the -Counts of Haro, one of the three great families of Spain. He was the -munificent friend of literary men, and in the case of Melendez extended -his protection to the dead, having taken much personal trouble to -have his remains removed from the common burying-ground to a vault, -where they might not afterwards be disturbed. He also wrote verses -occasionally, of which have been preserved, by Del Rio, a ‘Sonnet -to the Duke of Wellington,’ and by Ochoa, an ‘Elegy on the Death of -his Duchess,’ whose virtues will be found hereafter commemorated by -Martinez de la Rosa. - - -16. Page 76. “Best edition, that by Salvà.” - -In taking the edition of 1820 for the text, Salvà, in his edition, -has exercised much judgement in giving some of the poems as they were -originally published, rather than as Melendez afterwards had left them, -weakened by over-correction. - -Salvà was in early life distinguished for learning and study, having -been, when only twenty years of age, named Professor of Greek in the -University of Alcalà de Henares. On the French invasion he returned -to his native city Valencia, and engaged in trade as a bookseller, -in which occupation he continued in London, when obliged to emigrate -hither in 1823, in consequence of his having joined in the political -events of the times. He had been, during those events, Deputy from -Valencia, and Secretary to the Cortes. In 1830 he transferred his house -to Paris, where he continued his pursuits, publishing many valuable -works of his own compilation, as a Grammar and Dictionary of the -Spanish language, as well as editing and superintending the publication -of many other standard works. He closed his useful life, in his native -city, in 1850. - - -17. Page 77. “Juvenilities.” - -Works of Melendez, Salvà’s Edition, vol. i. p. 39. - -This piece was also taken for translation from Bouterwek, when first -entering on a study of Spanish literature. From Bouterwek it was copied -by Sismondi, when borrowing, as he did largely, from that compiler; but -Mr. Roscoe has not given a translation of this, as he probably found it -difficult to do so satisfactorily. It is in fact almost as difficult -to translate Melendez as it is to translate Anacreon, their peculiar -simplicity and grace being so nearly allied. - - -18. Page 79. “The Timid Lover.” - -Works of Melendez, _ibid._, p. 263. - -This poem having been particularly mentioned by Martinez de la Rosa as -favourably characteristic of the style of the author, may be considered -best to be selected as an exemplification of it. It is what is termed a -Letrillia. - - EL AMANTE TIMIDO. - - En la pena aguda - Que me hace sufrir - El Amor tirano - Desde que te vi - Mil veces su alivio - Te voy à pedir, - Y luego, aldeana, - Que llego ante ti, - Si quiero atreverme - No sè que decir. - - Las voces me faltan - Y mi frenesí - Con mìseros ayes - Las cuida suplir - Pero el dios que aleve - Se burla de mi - Cuanto ansio mas tierno - Mis labios abrir - Se quiero atreverme - No sè que decir. - - Sus fuegos entonces - Empieza à sentir - Tan vivos el alma - Que pienso morir, - Mis làgrimas corren, - Mi agudo gemir - Tu pecho sensible - Conmueve, y al fin - Si quiero atreverme - No sè que decir. - - No lo sè, temblando - Si por descubrir - Con loca esperanza - Mi amor infeliz, - Tu lado por siempre - Tendrè ya que huir: - Sellàndome el miedo - La boca: y asì - Si quiero atreverme - No sè que decir. - - Ay! si tu, adorada, - Pudieras oir - Mis hondos suspiros - Yo fuera feliz. - Yo, Filis, lo fuera - Mas, triste de mi! - Que tìmido al verte - Burlarme y reir, - Si quiero atreverme - No sè que decir. - - -19. Page 81. “My Village Life.” - -This and the two following poems are taken from those at pages 94, -110 and 64 of the first volume of the Works of Melendez Valdes; the -Disdainful Shepherdess from the one at p. 62 of vol. ii. - - -20. Page 95. “Merits of their national dramas.” - -For an excellent criticism on the Spanish drama, see the article in the -twenty-fifth volume of the Quarterly Review. - - -21. Page 104. “There, says his biographer,” &c. - -In the sketch prefixed to the edition by Rivadeneyra, from which -the two poems following are taken, at pages 581 and 582. The one to -Jovellanos has been justly praised by Mr. Ticknor as one of his best, -and from it we may in preference extract the commencement, as an -exemplification of his style. - - Si, la pura amistad, que en dulce nudo - Nuestras almas uniò, durable existe - Jovino ilustre, y ni la ausencia larga - Ni la distancia, ni interpuestos montes - Y proceloso mar que suena roco, - De mi memoria apartaràn tu idea. - - Duro silencio à mi cariño impuso - El son de Marte, que suspende ahora - La paz, la dulce paz. Sè que en obscura - Deliciosa quietud, contento vives, - Siempre animado de incansable celo - Por el pùblico bien; de las virtudes - Y del talento protector y amigo. - Estos que formo de primor desnudos, - No castigados de tu docta lima, - Fàciles versos, la verdad te anuncien - De mi constante fe; y el cielo en tanto - Vuèlvame presto la ocasion de verte - Y renovar en familiar discurso - Cuanto à mi vista presentò del orbe - La varia escena. De mi patria orilla - A las que el Sena turbulento baña, - Teñido en sangre, del audaz Britano - Dueño del mar, al aterido Belga, - Del Rin profundo à las nevades cumbres - Del Apenino, y la que en humo ardiente - Cubre y ceniza à Nàpoles canora, - Pueblos, naciones, visitè distintas - Util sciencia adquirì, que nunca enseña - Docta leccion en retirada estancia, - Que alli no ves la diferencia suma - Que el clima, el culto, la opinion, las artes, - Las leyes causan. Hallaràsla solo - Si al hombre estudias en el hombre mismo. - - -22. Page 113. “Juan Bautista de Arriaza.” - -This poet’s name is pronounced Arriatha; the two poems selected for -translation are taken, the first from p. 60 of Book III. of his works, -edition of 1829. ‘The Parting, or the Young Sailor’s Farewell,’ from -_ibid._, Book I. p. 77. - -The eighth stanza, beginning in the translation, ‘With venal aid of -hate assists,’ is in the original-- - - Què de ministros vendes a su encono, - Anglia infecunda! de las nieblas trono, - Campos que el sol no mira, - Que en sonrisa falsa, Flora reviste - De esteril verde, en que la flor es triste, - Y Amor sin gloria espira. - -Which stanza is thus translated by Maury:-- - - Combien te sied le mal, Angleterre inféconde, - Amante de vapeurs, jeteé où l’œil du monde - Te regarde si peu! - Champs où la brume arrose une oiseuse verdure, - Où Flore est sans gaieté, l’automne sans parure, - L’Amour sans traits de feu! - -Of thirty-three stanzas in the original, Maury has only taken fifteen -for his translation, and of ‘The Parting’ he has only taken eighteen -out of twenty-five. The four concluding stanzas are in the original-- - - Crisol de adversidad claro y seguro - Vuestro valor probò sublime y puro, - O Marinos Hispanos! - Broquel fue de la patria vuestra vida - Que al fin vengada y siempre defendida - Serà por vuestras manos. - - Rinda al Leon y al Aguila Neptuno - El brazo tutelar, con que importuno - Y esclavo al Anglia cierra: - Y ella os verà desde las altas popas - Lanzar torrentes de invencibles tropas - Sobre su infausta tierra. - - Bàsteos, en tanto, el lùgubre tributo - De su muerte Adalid doblando el luto - Del Tàmesis umbrio, - Que, si, llenos de honrosas cicatrices - Se os ve, para ocasiones mas felices - Reservar vuestro brio. - - Sois cual leon, que en Libico desierto - Con garra atroz, del cazador experto - Rompiò asechanza astuta; - Que no inglorioso, aunque sangriento y laso - Temido si, se vuelve paso à paso - A su arenosa gruta. - - -23. Page 145. “Described by Humboldt.” - -Political Essay on New Spain, Book II. chapter 5. - - -24. Page 145. “So popular a writer as Larra.” - -Mariano Josè de Larra was born at Madrid, 24th March, 1809. His father -had joined the French army as a medical officer, and after the peace -went to France, taking his son with him, where he forgot his native -language, so that he had to learn it as a novice on his return to -Spain. It is not improbable that his education in that country, where -also he passed some time subsequently, gave Larra’s mind that tendency -for scepticism and perverted feeling which led to his miserable -end. From his earliest years he showed great aptitude for learning, -and had studied the Greek, English and Italian languages, before he -went to Valladolid to prepare for the profession of the law. After a -short residence there, he went to Valencia on some disappointment he -suffered, which, to one of his temperament, seemed a greater misfortune -than what perhaps any other person would have considered it. At -Valencia he obtained employment in a public office, which, however, -did not suit his taste, and having then married, he returned to Madrid -and determined to write for the public. His first efforts were not -successful, and have not been subsequently reprinted with his works, -but after a short time he began writing a series of essays on passing -events, under the signature of Figaro, which at once attained great -popularity. He also wrote several plays and a few poems, which, as -written by Figaro, were favourably received. But the essays, under that -title, were the foundation of his popularity. They were in the style of -our essayists of the reign of Queen Anne, containing criticisms, and -sketches of manners and characters, written in a style of great ease -and elegance, marked with much wit and humour, as well as vigour. These -works have been very many times reprinted in Spain, and also in France -and South America. The student who wishes to form a correct style in -learning Spanish, cannot do better than take Larra for a model. By his -writings he had attained a respectable place in literary society, and -it was understood that his fortunes were thereby also in a state of -competence. He was, however, possessed of an ill-regulated mind and -headstrong passions, so that, as it seems intimated, baffled in some -object of unlawful desire, he put an end to his existence by a pistol -shot the 13th February, 1837. - -In his review of Quintana’s Life of Las Casas, he unreservedly -subscribes to all the sentiments therein expressed. - - -25. Page 160. “From the proud castled poop,” &c. - - Se alzò el Breton en el soberbio alcazar - Que corona su indòmito navio; - Y ufano con su gloria y poderio - Alli estan, exclamò. - - -26. Page 161. “Conquerors of winds and waves.” - - … sus nadantes proras - Del viento y de las ondas vencedoras. - - -27. Page 163. “And Alcalà, Churruca, also ye!” - -Of those who fell at Trafalgar, the names of Alcalà and Churruca seem -to be remembered with peculiar affection. The latter is referred to -by Arriaza also, and seems to have been an officer of great skill and -bravery in his profession, as well as of most amiable qualities in -private life. Alcalà was an officer of very superior attainments. He -was author of a learned Treatise on taking Observations of Longitude -and Latitude at Sea, published at Madrid, 1796. With the copy of this -work in my possession, there is bound up an unedited treatise of his -original manuscript, ‘On the Trigonometrical Calculation of the Height -of Mountains.’ He has already been referred to in Note 2. - -The Spanish navy is at the present day much distinguished for the -superior attainments and character of the officers, as well as in -former years. In addition to the poet Arriaza, they have to boast of -the late learned Navarrete, one of the most eminent and industrious -writers of our times, principally on scientific subjects connected with -his profession, geography, hydrography, and voyages, though in various -biographical works he has extended his labours to the memory of poets -and others, as well as the naval heroes of his country: see his memoir -in Ochoa, vol. ii. p. 586, copied from one by the Bishop of Astorga. - - -28. Page 164. “Yet fell ye not, ye generous squadrons.” - - No empero sin venganza y sin estrago, - Generoso escuadron alli caiste: - Tambien brotando à rios - La sangre Inglesa inunda sus navios. - Tambien Albion pasmada - Los montes de cadàveres contempla - Horrendo peso à su soberbia armada. - Tambien Nelson alli, Terrible sombra, - No esperes, no, cuando mi voz te nombra - Que vil insulte à tu postrer suspiro; - Inglès te aborrecì, y hèroe te admiro. - Oh, golpe! oh, suerte! El Tàmesis aguarda - De las naves cautivas - El confuso tropel, y ya en idea - Goza el aplauso y los sonoros vivas - Que al vencedor se dan. Oh suerte! El puerto - Solo le verà entrar pàlido y yerto: - Ejemplo grande à la arrogancia humana, - Digno holocausto à la afliccion Hispana. - -The two poems from Quintana are at pages 16 and 93 respectively of the -fourth edition of his works, published in 1825. - - -29. Page 170. “The Conde de Toreno.” - -This able and enlightened statesman was born at Oviedo in 1786, and -died at Paris in 1845. His work, on the ‘Rising, War, and Revolution of -Spain,’ is one well deserving of the fame it has attained, having been -translated into all the principal languages of Europe. - - -30. Page 170. “The celebrated Pacheco.” - -Born at Ecija, near Seville, in 1808, he came to Madrid in 1833, and -was admitted an Advocate in the courts of law, but has been since -engaged actively in conducting various publications, principally of -a political character. He has been several times chosen member of the -legislature, and had to undertake his share of public duties, but he -has declined office, and in his whole public life shown a freedom -from ambition, remarkable, as Del Rio intimates, from the contrast -it presents with the conduct of other men of far inferior abilities. -He has announced ‘A History of the Regency of Queen Christina,’ of -which he has published a preliminary volume, comprising a detail of -antecedent events. He has also written various plays and poems, but not -of such a character as to be worthy of his fame as a public speaker and -journalist. His life of Martinez de la Rosa, given in a publication -entitled ‘Galeria de Españoles celebres contemporaneos, 1842,’ (which -work has now extended to many volumes, including persons of distinction -in all ranks of life,) is very pleasingly written, and has been taken -as the principal authority in this compilation. - - -31. Page 176. “Rights of the Basque people.” - -For a just statement of these rights, see the late Earl of Carnarvon’s -‘Portugal and Galicia,’ vol. ii. - - -32. Page 180. “Observation may apply to English verse.” - -Our best poets, and Milton especially, afford many exemplifications of -this practice. - - O’er many a frozen, many a fiery alp, - Rocks, caves, lakes, fens, bogs, dens and shades of death - … - Perverse, all monstrous, all prodigious things - Abominable, inutterable and worse. - -Many of our syllables also are in effect double syllables, as in the -words _brave_, _grave_, _clave_, &c., as singers often have to regret, -causing them, on that account, to slur over them. But these rules are -only a continuation of Quinctilian’s maxim, “Optime de illa judicant -aures. Quædam arte tradi non possunt.” - - -33. Page 181. “The Roman friend,” &c. - -See note 23 to the Fourth Canto of Childe Harold. - - -34. Page 183. “I saw upon the shady Thames.” - - Vi en el Tàmesis umbrio - Cien y cien naves cargadas - De riqueza; - Vi su inmenso poderio - Sus artes tan celebradas - Su grandeza. - - Mas el ànima afligida - Mil suspiros exhalaba - Y ayes mil; - Y ver la orilla florida - Del manso Dauro anhelaba - Y del Genil. - - Vi de la soberbia corte - Las damas engalanadas - Muy vistosas; - Vi las bellezas del norte - De blanca nieve formadas - Y de rosas. - - Sus ojos de azul del cielo, - De oro puro parecia - Su cabello; - Bajo transparente velo - Turgente el seno se via - Blanco y bello. - - Mas que valen los brocados - Las sedas y pedreria - De la ciudad? - Que los rostros sonrosados - La blancura y gallardia - Ni la beldad? - - Con mostrarse mi zagala, - De blanco lino vestida, - Fresca y pura, - Condena la inutil gala - Y se esconde confundida - La hermosura. - - Dò hallar en climas helados - Sus negros ojos graciosos, - Que son fuego? - Ora me miren airados - Ora roben cariñosos - Mi sosiego. - - Dò la negra caballera - Que al èbano se aventaja? - Y el pie leve - Que al triscar por la pradera - Ni las tiernas flores aja, - Ni aun las mueve? - - Doncellas las del Genil - Vuestra tez escurecida - No trocara - Por los rostros de marfil - Que Albion envanecida - Me mostrara. - - Padre Dauro! manso rio, - De las arenas doradas, - Dìgnate oir - Los votos del pecho mio, - Y en tus màrgenes sagradas - Logre morir! - -Works of Martinez de la Rosa, edition of Barcelona, 1838, vol. iv. p. -1. The other translations are taken from the same, pages 113, 104, 48 -and 34 respectively. - -In the prologue, he enters on the discussion, so common a few years -since, as to the relative merits of what were called the Classical and -Romantic schools of poetry, which discussion, it is to be hoped, may -now be considered at an end. The pretensions of different writers, who -affected to range themselves under one or other of these denominations, -were in fact generally only the devices of mediocrity to shelter their -deficiencies. Those who write spontaneously from the true inspiration -of genius, will never submit to the shackles of any system, and for all -writers the wisest aim is to seek the clearest style of expressing -those thoughts which they have to convey. As Martinez de la Rosa has -well observed in this prologue, “I do not remember any one sublime -passage, in whatever language it may be, that is not expressed with the -utmost simplicity; and without this most essential quality, they cannot -excite in the mind that lively and instantaneous impression which -distinguishes them.” - - -35. Page 184. “The light foot that never stirs,” &c. - -An Andalusian poet may be excused entering into hyperbolical praise -of his countrywomen, but we find an English traveller almost as -hyperbolical in praise of them also. “It is beyond the power of -language to describe those slow and surpassingly graceful movements -which accompany every step of the Andalusa; her every attitude is so -flowing, at the same time so unforced, that she seems upborne by some -invisible power that renders her independent of the classically moulded -foot she presses so lightly on the ground.”--_Murray’s Cities and Wilds -of Andalusia._ - - -36. Page 216. “His biographer, Pastor Diaz,” &c. - -In the work already mentioned, ‘Galeria de Españoles contemporaneos,’ -under his own superintendence, and from which the notices in this -compilation are principally taken. Pastor Diaz was born at Vivero in -Galicia, in the year 1811, and was educated at Alcalà de Henares. -Having been admitted an Advocate in the courts of law, he engaged, in -1833, in the public service, and has held various offices under the -government in the provinces. In 1847 he published a volume of poems, -of which two,--one, ‘The Black Butterfly,’ and the other, an ‘Ode to -the Moon,’--Ochoa declares, in his opinion, “two of the most beautiful -pieces that have been written for many years in Spain.” Disagreeing -very much with this opinion, it is only quoted in token of the -estimation in which Pastor Diaz is held among his countrymen. (Ochoa, -vol. ii. p. 628.) - - -37. Page 216. “The advantages he enjoyed there.” - -In his poem of the ‘Moro Esposito,’ the Duke has inserted an -interesting episode referring to his residence in Malta, “whose good -and honest inhabitants he found under the dominion of the most wealthy, -free, enlightened, noble and powerful nation that the sun admires from -the zodiac.” (Book VI.) In the notes he details the particulars under -which he arrived there, acknowledging gratefully the hospitality he had -received. - - -38. Page 222. “Pedro, surnamed the Cruel.” - -This name is pronounced Ped-ro. The true character of the monarch -is yet a disputed question, and has only within the last year been -offered as a subject for inquiry by the Spanish Academy. The learned -Llorente, in his ‘Historical Notices,’ vol. v., has, I think, clearly -shown that Pedro was no more deserving of the epithet peculiarly than -others of his age, including his half-brother and successor, by whose -hand he fell, in retributive justice for the death of their other -brother Fadrique. The legend of this prince’s death has been variously -given, and thus Salvador Bermudez de Castro, who has also a poem on the -subject, takes some different details to those repeated by the Duke de -Rivas. The traditions of the people have handed down Don Pedro’s memory -more favourably, and, perhaps, more justly, than the historians of the -time, whose accounts no doubt were tinctured as darkly as they could -be, partly to please the reigning monarch, and partly because Don Pedro -had not been so submissive to priestly rule as they had desired. - - -39. Page 227. “Yet, ah! those lovely bowers along,” &c. - - Mas, ay! aquellos pensiles - No he pisado un solo dia - Sin ver (sueños de mi mente!) - La sombra de la Padilla, - Lanzando un hondo gemido - Cruzar leve ante mi vista, - Como un vapor, como un humo - Que entre los àrboles gira: - Ni entrè en aquellos salones - Sin figuràrseme erguida - Del fundador la fantasma - En helada sangre tinta; - Ni en vestibulo oscuro - El que tiene en la cornisa - De los reyes los retratos, - El que en colunas estriba, - Al que adornan azulejos - Abajo, y esmalte arriba - El que muestra en cada muro - Un rico balcon, y encima - El hondo arteson dorado - Que lo corona y atrista, - Sin ver en tierra un cadaver. - Aun en las losas se mira - Una tenaz mancha oscura - Ni las edades limpian! - Sangre! sangre! oh, cielos, cuantos - Sin saber que lo es, la pisan! - -This romance was originally printed with the ‘Moro Esposito,’ Paris -1834, vol. ii. p. 451. It was subsequently included among the ‘Romances -Historicos,’ Madrid 1841, p. 19. The Alcazar of Seville has been -described by so many travellers that it is unnecessary to add to their -accounts of it, or to the graphic details of the romance. The stain -on the floor may remind the reader of the legends of Holyrood and the -Alhambra, as well as of other places. - - -40. Page 233. “Darting round fierce looks,” &c. - -This description of anger, as again at p. 241, seems a favourite one -with the Duke, as well as other poets; thus Virgil-- - - Totoque ardentis ab ore - Scintillæ absistunt, oculis micat acribus ignis. - - -41. Page 234. “The crackling of his arms and knees.” - -From the peculiarity of this formation, the king was recognized by an -old woman who had witnessed his killing a man he had met in a night -rencontre in the street opposite her house, and she having given -evidence to that effect, he ordered his statue to be beheaded, and so -placed in the street in memorial of the sentence against himself. - - -42. Page 236. - - “And more than Tello madly hates, - And more than Henry too.” - -The two brothers of Fadrique, of whom Henry was his successor on the -throne, after he had killed Don Pedro in fight by his own hand. In -another romance, the Duke de Rivas describes this “fratricide,” and -represents that Don Pedro had the advantage at first, but that the -page of the other came to his master’s assistance, and attacking Don -Pedro from behind, diverted his attention so as to enable him to give -the King the death-wound. From the accounts handed down to us, it is -clear that Don Pedro had sufficient grounds for suspecting treason from -the brothers, which occasioned his animosity against them and their -adherents, for which they afterwards blackened his memory. - - -43. Page 259. “Meagre soup bouillie.” - -In the original, Gazpacho, “the name of a dish universal in and -peculiar to Spain. It is a sort of cold soup, made of bread, pot-herbs, -oil and water. Its materials are easily come by, and its concoction -requires no skill.” Mr. W. G. Clark has taken this name for the title -of his lively ‘Sketches of Spain,’ London 1850. - - -44. Page 260. “Whene’er Don Juan,” &c. - - Siempre que tiene una broma - El señor don Juan me olvida - Como si estuviera en Roma; - Y à un entierro me convida - Para matarme de pena! - Sea enhorabuena. - - Despues de melindres mil - Canta Celestina el duo - Que le han puesto en atril, - Y aunque canta como un buho - Todos la llaman Sirena. - Sea enhorabuena. - - Cien abejas sin reposo - Labrando à porfia estàn - El dulce panal sabroso. - Ay! que un zàngano holgazàn - Se ha de tragar la colmena! - Sea enhorabuena. - - El hombre à su semejante - Mueve guerra furibundo, - Cual si no fuera bastante - Para despoblar el mundo - El escuadron de Avicena. - Sea enhorabuena. - - Hay en España usureros - Hay esbirros à montones, - Y chalanes y venteros, - Y dicen que los ladrones - Estan en Sierra Morena! - Sea enhorabuena. - - En vano à tu puerta, Conde, - Llegan los pobres desnudos, - Que el perro solo responde, - Y gastas dos mil escudos - En un baile y una cena! - Sea enhorabuena. - - Basta por hoy de sermon. - Aqui mi pluma suspendo - Hasta mejor ocasion. - Si el vicio en vano reprendo - Y escribo sobre la arena, - Sea enhorabuena. - -The selections from Breton de los Herreros are taken from the edition -of 1831, at pages 61, 63 and 71 respectively. - - -45. Page 269. “The celebrated Lista.” - -This celebrated writer was born at Seville in 1775, and in early life -adopted the ecclesiastical profession, having therein principally -dedicated himself to the education of youth, in which he has been -eminently successful. He has written a continuation of Mariana’s -‘History of Spain,’ and translated from the French Segur’s ‘Universal -History,’ besides several mathematical and other elementary works. In -1822 he published a volume of poems, of which a second edition has -been since published, highly praised by the different writers who have -treated of modern Spanish literature. They are however avowedly of the -classical school, and their greatest merit must be supposed to consist -in their elegance of expression. His critical writings are numerous and -valuable. - - -46. Page 271. “Twelve out of the nineteen stanzas.” - -The stanzas 6, 9, 10, 11, 16 and 17 seem to be of his addition, and -it must be acknowledged that they are in no respect inferior to the -others. One stanza in Pindemonte he has not taken into his version. - - -47. Page 272. “Part of his first volume is taken up with imitations.” - -Before observing that this part had been so expressed at the beginning, -I made a translation of one small piece, which may give an idea of the -others. - -EN EL ALBUM DE UNA SENORITA. - - Cual suele en màrmol sepulcral escrito - Un nombre detener al pasagero, - Pueda en aquesta pàgina mi nombre - Fijar tus ojos, ay! por los que muero. - Miralo, cuando ya de ti apartado, - No te pide mi amor mas recompensa; - De mi te acuerda como muerte y piensa - Que aqui mi corazon queda enterrado. - -IN A LADY’S ALBUM. - - As on sepulchral marble writ - A name to stay the passer-by, - So let my name on this page meet - Thine eyes, for which, alas! I die. - Look on it when I am far from thee; - My love asks no return more dear; - As of one dead remember me, - And think my heart is buried here. - -It was only on translating the last line that I recognized them as Lord -Byron’s. - -WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM. - - As o’er the cold sepulchral stone - Some name arrests the passer-by, - Thus when thou view’st this page alone - May mine attract thy pensive eye. - And when by thee that name is read - Perchance in some succeeding year, - Reflect on me as on the dead, - And think my heart is buried here. - - -48. Page 275. “Sonnet, Dedication,” &c. - -A MI ESPOSA. - - Cuando en mis venas fèrvidas ardia - La fiera juventud, en mis canciones - El tormentoso afan de mis pasiones - Con dolorosas làgrimas vertia. - Hoy à ti las dedico, Esposa mia, - Cuando el amor mas libre de ilusiones - Inflama nuestros puros corazones, - Y sereno y de paz me luce el dia. - Asi perdido en turbulentos mares - Mìsero navegante al cielo implora, - Cuando le aqueja la tormenta grave; - Y del naufragio libre, en los altares - Consagra fiel à la Deidad que adora - Las hùmedas reliquias de su nave. - -This sonnet, and the two following translations, are taken respectively -from pages 8, 18 and 46 of the first volume of the Toluca edition. The -imitation of Lord Byron is at page 83 of the same. The Odes to ‘Poesy’ -and to ‘Night’ are at pages 13 and 72 of the second volume. - - -49. Page 282. “Milton elevated all beyond.” - - Y Milton mas que todos elevado - A su angel fiero de diamante armado. - - -50. Page 305. “Josè de Espronceda.” - -This name is to be pronounced Esprontheda. The translations, taken from -the original poems, may be found in the Paris edition of 1848, at pages -49, 58, 73 and 79 respectively. The one translated, ‘The Condemned -to Die,’ El Reo de Muerte, literally, ‘The Guilty of Death,’ has the -signification given to this phrase by our translators of the New -Testament, and it may be necessary to explain that the refrain “Your -alms for prayers,” &c., is in the original merely “To do good for the -soul of him who is about to be executed.” - - Para hacer bien al alma - Del que van à ajusticiar! - -In Spain, when a criminal is about to be executed, it is the custom -for the Brothers of the religious order De la Humanidad, to go about -the public ways, in their peculiar garb, with salvers for receiving -alms for masses to be said for him, repeating words to the effect above -given. - - -51. Page 315. “Sail on, my swift one, never fear.” - - Navega, velero mio, - Sin temor, - Que ni enemigo navio, - Ni tormenta, ni bonanza, - Tu rumbo à torcer alcanza - Ni à sujetar tu valor. - Veinte presos - Hemos hecho - A despecho - Del Ingles, - Y han rendido - Sus pendones - Cien naciones - A mis piès. - Que es mi barco mi tesoro, - Que es mi Dios la libertad, - Mi ley la fuerza y el viento, - Mi ùnica patria la mar. - - Allà muevan feroz guerra - Ciegos reyes - Por un palmo mas de tierra; - Que yo tengo aqui por mio - Cuanto abarca el mar bravio - A quien nadie impuso leyes. - Y no hay playa - Sea cual quiera - Ni bandera - De esplendor - Que no sienta - Mi derecho - Y dè pecho - A mi valor. - Que es mi barco mi tesoro.… - - A la voz de ‘barco viene!’ - Es de ver - Como vira, y se previene - A todo trapo à escapar; - Que yo soy el rey del mar - Y mi furia es de temer. - En las presas - Yo divido - Lo cogido - Por igual: - Solo quiero - Por riqueza - La belleza - Sin rival - Que es mi barco mi tesoro.… - - Sentenciado estoy à muerte! - Yo me rio; - No me abandone la suerte, - Y al mismo que me condena - - Colgarè de alguna entena - Quizà en su proprio navio. - Y si caigo - Que es la vida? - Por perdida - Ya la di, - Cuando el yugo - Del esclavo - Como un bravo - Sacudì. - Que es mi barco mi tesoro.… - - Son mi música mejor - Aquilones; - El estrépito y temblor - De los cables sacudidos, - Del negro mar los bramidos, - Y el rugir de mis cañones; - Y del trueno - Al son violento, - Y del viento - Al rebramàr, - Yo me duermo - Sosegado, - Arrullado - Por el mar. - Que es mi barco mi tesoro, - Que es mi Dios la libertad, - Mi ley la fuerza y el viento, - Mi ùnica patria la mar. - - -52. Page 323. “Josè Zorrilla.” - -The name of this eminently great poet is to be pronounced as -Thorrillia; the translations made from his works are of the poems -at pages 62, 99, 34, 97, 102, 28 and 65, respectively, of the first -volume, as stated in the memoir, published at Madrid in 1837. The -headings, for the sake of distinction, have been given somewhat -differently from the originals, where they are generally only entitled -‘Oriental,’ or ‘A Romance;’ and the piece named ‘The Warning’ is but -part of a longer poem, the conclusion of which is not in the same good -taste as the beginning. All the other selections translated in this -work, of the different authors, have been given fully. - - -53. Page 347. “The Tower of Munion.” - -This tower is a shapeless ruin, the remains of an ancient castle in the -plain of Arlanza near Burgos. The history of the castle is unknown, -further than that Don Fernan Gonzalez assembled there, on one occasion, -the Grandees of Castille, during his wars with the Moors. - - -54. Page 352. “Meditation.” - -LA MEDITACION. - - Sobre ignorada tumba solitaria, - A la luz amarilla de la tarde, - Vengo à ofrecer al cielo mi plegaria - Por la muger que amè. - Apoyada en el màrmol mi cabeza, - Sobre la hùmeda yerba la rodilla, - La parda flor que esmalta la maleza - Humillo con mi piè. - - Aquì, lejos del mundo y sus placeres, - Levanto mis delirios de la tierra, - Y leo en agrupados caractères - Nombres que ya no son; - Y la dorada làmpara que brilla - Y al soplo oscila de la brisa errante, - Colgada ante el altar en la capilla - Alumbra mi oracion. - - Acaso un ave su volar detiene - Del fùnebre ciprès entre las ramas - Que a lamentar con sus gorjeos viene - La ausencia de la luz: - Y se despide del albor del dia - Desde una alta ventana de la torre - O trepa de la cùpula sombria - A la gigante cruz. - - Anegados en làgrimas los ojos - Yo la contemplo inmòvil desde el suelo - Hasta que el rechinar de los cerrojos - La hace aturdida huir. - La funeral sonrisa me saluda - Del solo ser que con los muertos vive, - Y me presta su mano àspera y ruda - Que un fèretro va a abrir. - - * * * * * - - Perdon! no escuches Dios mio - Mi terrenal pensamiento! - Deja que se pierda impio - Como el murmullo de un rio - Entre los pliegues del viento. - - Por que una imàgen mundana - Viene à manchar mi oracion? - Es una sombra profana - Que tal vez serà mañana - Signo de mi maldicion. - - Por que ha soñada mi mente - Ese fantasma tan bello? - Con esa tez transparente - Sobre la tranquila frente - Y sobre el desnudo cuello. - - Que en vez de aumentar su encanto - Con pompa y mundano brillo, - Se muestra anegada en llanto - Al piè de altar sacrosanto - O al piè de pardo castillo. - - Como una ofrenda olvidada - En templo que se arruinò - Y en la piedra cincelada - Que en su caida encontrò - La mece el viento colgada. - - Con su retrato en la mente, - Con su nombre en el oido, - Vengo à prosternar mi frente - Ante el Dios omnipotente - En la mansion del olvido. - - Mi crimen acaso ven - Con turbios ojos inciertos, - Y me abominan los muertos, - Alzando la hedionda sien - De los sepulcros abiertos. - - Cuando estas tumbas visito, - No es la nada en que naci, - No es un Dios lo que medito, - Es un nombre que està escrito - Con fuego dentro de mi. - - Perdon! no escuches Dios mio - Mi terrenal pensamiento! - Deja que se pierda impio - Como el murmullo de un rio, - Entre los pliegues del viento. - - THE END. - - PRINTED BY RICHARD TAYLOR, - RED LION COURT, FLEET STREET. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Modern Poets and Poetry of Spain, by James Kennedy - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MODERN POETS AND POETRY OF SPAIN *** - -***** This file should be named 53671-0.txt or 53671-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/6/7/53671/ - -Produced by Josep Cols Canals and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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