CL

Manuel, I do not shed a tear
Our parting to delay;

I dare not listen to my fear,
I dare not bid thee stay.

The heart may shrink, the spirit fail,
But Spaniards must be free!
And pride and duty shall prevail
O'er all my love for thee.

Then go, and round that gallant head,

Like banners in the air,

Shall float full many a daring hope
And many a tender prayer.

Should freedom perish-at thy death
"Twere madness to repine;
And I should every feeling lose

Except the wish for mine.

But if the destiny of Spain

Be once again to rise!

O grant me, Heaven! to read the tale

In Manuel's joyful eyes.

M. BETHAM.

CL

Nulla petit manans in nostros lacrima vultus ut sit digressus serior hora tui; mens etenim non est molli parere timori nostra nec imbellis ausa rogare moras. pectora deficiant, coeat formidine sanguis, vincla sed Hispanis sunt adimenda viris; et pudor et patriae quae sensi debita terrae sunt mihi (nam fateor) pluris amore tuo. ergo age, carpe viam: nam ceu vexilla, per auras mille meae tecum somnia mentis eunt; non aberunt tacitis pro te vota edita labris spesque satis facilis vix habitura deos. si pereunte tamen cum libertate peribis, nil mihi praeterea quod doleatur erit; omnis enim sensus diffugerit; una manebit praecipiens nostros spes malesuada rogos. sin favet inceptis deus eventusque secundat, si suus Hispanis est rediturus honor; hoc erit in votis, ut fracti nuntius hostis sit mihi laetantis risus in ore viri.

J. A. G.

6

CLI

Among the many methods which might be made use of for the acquiring of the virtue of contentment, I shall only mention the two following. First of all, a man should always consider how much more he has than he wants; and, secondly, how much more unhappy he might be than he really is. For the first point, I am wonderfully pleased with the reply which Aristippus made to one who condoled with him upon the loss of a farm. Why,' said he, 'I have three farms still, and you have but one; so that I ought rather to be afflicted for you than you for me.' On the contrary, foolish men are apt to fix their minds on those who are richer than themselves, rather than on those who are under greater difficulties. All the real pleasures and conveniences of life lie in a narrow compass; but it is the humour of mankind to be always looking forward, and straining after those who have got the start of them.

ADDISON.

CLII

At this with maddened stare

And lifted hands and trembling lips he stood,
Like old Deucalion mountained o'er the flood,
Or blind Orion hungry for the morn.
And, but from the deep cavern there was borne
A voice, he had been froze to senseless stone;
Nor sigh of his, nor plaint, nor passionate moan
Had more been heard. Thus swelled it forth; 'Descend,
Young mountaineer! descend where pathways bend
Into the rocky hollows of the world!

CLI

Multis illa modis parvo mens laeta parari,

si nescis, possit. sapiens nam 'plura habeo' inquit

quam cupio,' aut idem quanto infelicior esse

quam nunc sum poteram.' fundum cum perdidit unum, haud male Aristippus solanti fortis amico

'tres mihi sunt' inquit 'fundi nunc, quattuor olim, te tuus unus alit: nostram maerere vicem te quid decet?' at stultis semper locupletior obstat ante oculos positus, nec egenos et magis arto respiciunt victu vicinos vivere suetos.

omnis in angusto vitae stat vera voluptas,

vera bona: et cunctos tamen hinc amentia flectit strenua prospiciunt et praecedentibus instant.

W. R. H.

CLII

Stat fixis demens oculis atque ore trementi,
attollitque manus, qualis stetit ille patentum
culmine Deucalion celso spectator aquarum,
vel cupidus caecis solem exoptabat Orion
luminibus; iamque in lapidem cedebat inertem,
nullos iam gemitus, suspiria nulla daturus,
ploratusve sonum, medio nisi clamor ab antro
erumpens pavidum dictis monuisset amicis:
'tune illuc, iuvenis, metuas descendere, pergit
semita qua sterilis terrae penetrare cavernas,

Oft hast thou seen bolts of the thunder hurled As from thy threshold; day by day hast been A little lower than the chilly sheen

Of icy pinnacles; now, as deep profound

As these are high, descend! He ne'er is crowned With immortality, who fears to follow

Where airy voices lead: so through the hollow, The silent mysteries of earth descend!'

CLIII

It must be

KEATS.

And yet it moves me, Romans! it confounds

The counsels of my firm philosophy,

That Ruin's merciless ploughshare must pass o'er,
And barren salt be sown on yon proud city.

As on our olive-crowned hill we stand,
Where Kedron at our feet its scanty waters
Distils from stone to stone with gentle motion,

As through a valley sacred to sweet peace,
How boldly doth it front us! how majestically!
Like a luxurious vineyard, the hill-side

Is hung with marble fabrics, line o'er line,
Terrace o'er terrace, nearer still, and nearer
To the blue heavens.

MILMAN.