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Note 5. Stanza xxix.
Yet Mafra shall one moment claim delay. The extent of Mafra is prodigious; it contains a palace, convent, and most superb church. The six organs are the most beautiful I ever beheld in point of decoration; we did not hear them, but were told that their tones were correspondent to their splendoar. Mafra is termed the Escurial of Portugal.
Note 6. Stanza xxxÑ.
"Twixt him and Lusian slave, the lowest of the low. As I found the Portuguese, so I have characterised them. That they are since improved, at least in courage, is evident.
Note 7. Stanza xxxv.
That dyed thy mountain streams with Gothic gore! Count Julian's daughter, the Helen of Spain. Pelagius preserved his indepenlence in the fastnesses of the Asturias, and the descendants of his followers, after some centuries, completed their struggle by the conquest of Grenada.
Note 8. Stanza xlviii.
No! as he speeds, he chaunts :-" Vivå el Rey !" “ Viva el Rey Fernando!”—Long live King Ferdinand ! is the chorns of most of the Spanish patriotic songs; they are chiefly in dispraise of the old King Charles, the Queen, and the Prince of Peace. I have heard many of them; some of the airs are beautiful. Godoy, the Principe de la Paz, was born at Badajoz, on the frontiers of Portugal, and was originally in the ranks of the Spanish Guards, till his person attracted the Queen's eyes, and raised him to the dukedom of Alcudia, &c. &c. It is to this man that the Spaniards universally impute the rain of their country.
Note 9. Stanza 1.
Which tells you whom to shun and whom to greet.
Note 10. Stanza li.
The ball-piled pyramid, the ever-blazing match, All who have seen a battery will recollect the pyramidal form in which shot and shells are piled. The Sierra Morena was fortified in every defile through which I passed in my way to Seville.
Note 11. Stanza lvi.
Foil'd by woman's hand, before a batter'd wall. Sach were the exploits of the Maid of Saragoza. When the author was at Seville she walked daily on the Prado, decorated with medals and orders, by command of the Junta.
Note 12. Stanza lviji.
“Sigilla in mento impressa amoris digituio
Note 13. Stanza lx.
Oh, thou Parnassus ! These stanzas were written in Castri (Delphos), at the foot of Parnassus, now called Alaxupa-Liakura.
Note 14. Stanza lxv.
Her strength, her wealth, her site of ancient days.
Note 15. Stanza lxx.
Baotian shades ! the reason why? This was written at Thebes, and consequently in the best situation for asking
and answering such a question; not as the birth-place of Pindar, but as the capital of Boeotia, where the first riddle was propounded and solved.
Note 16. Stanza lxxxi.
“Medio de fonte leporum
Note 17. Stanza lxxxv.
A traitor only fell beneath the feud.
Note 18. Stanza lxxxvi.
« War even to the knife !" “ War to the knife;" Palafox's answer to the French general at the siege of Saragoza.
Note 19. Stanza xci.
And thou, my friend ! etc. The honorable l*. W**. of the Guards, who died of a fever at Coimbra. I had known him ten years, the better half of his life, and the happiest part of mine.
In the short space of one month I have lost her who gave me being, and most of those who had made that being tolerable. To me the lines of Young are no fiction :
“ Insatiate archer! could not one suffice!
And thrice ere thrice yon moon had fill'd her horn." I should have ventured a verse to the memory of the late Charles Skinner Matthews, Fellow of Downing College, Cambridge, were he not too much above all praise of mine. His powers of mind, shown in the attainment of greater honours, against the ablest candidates, than those of any graduate on record at Cambridge, have sufficiently established his fame on the spot where it was acquired, while his softer qualities live in the recollection of friends who loved him too well to envy his superiority.
In Mr. Moore's Life of Byron, he says: “Originally the Page and Yeoman of the Childe were introduced to the reader's notice in the following tame stanzas ; by expanding the substance of which into their present light, lyric shape, it is almost needless to remark how much the poet has gained in variety and dramatic effect :
And of his train there was a henchman page,
Him and one yeoman only did he take
Of which our vaunting travellers have told,
“ In place of that mournful song 'To Inez,' which contains some of the dreariest touches of sadness that even his pen ever let fall, he had, in the original construction of the poem, been so little fastidious as to content himself with such ordinary sing-song as the following :
Oh never tell again to me
Of northern climes and British ladies!
Like me, the lovely girl of Cadiz.
Nor fair her locks, like English lasses, &c. &c. &c."
Come, blue-eyed maid of heaven !-but thou, alas !
years, that bade thy worship to expire; But worse than steel, and flame, and ages slow, Is the dread sceptre and dominion dire
Of men who never felt the sacred glow That thoughts of thee and thine on polish'd breasts bestow.”
Ancient of days ! august Athena! where,
Are sought in vain, and o'er each mouldering tower, Dim with the mist of years, grey flits the shade of power.
Son of the morning, rise! approach you here!
Vainly his incense soars, his victim bleeds ;
Bound to the earth, he lifts his eye to heaven
Regard and weigh yon dust before it flies :
Or burst the vanish'd hero's lofty mound;
skull from out the scatter'd heaps : Is that a temple where a god may dwell ? Why even the worm at last disdains her shatter'd cell !
Look on its broken arch, its ruin'd wall,
gay recess of wisdom and of wit,
Can all, saint, sage, or sophist ever writ, People this lonely tower, this tenement reft!
Well didst thou speak, Athena's wisest son!
There no forced banquet claims the sated guest,
Yet if, as holiest men have deem'd, there be A land of souls beyond that sable shore, To shame the doctrine of the Sadducee And sophists, madly vain of dubious lore; How sweet it were in concert to adore With those who made our mortal labours light! To hear each voice we fear'd to hear no more! Behold each mighty shade reveal'd to sight, The Bactrian, Samian sage, and all who taught the right!
There, thou!—whose love and life together fled,
flashes on my brain?
Be as it may futurity's behest,
Here let me sit
not be: nor even can fancy's eye Restore what time hath labour'd to deface.
Yet these proud pillars claim no passing sighUnmoved the Moslem sits, the light Greek carols by,
But who, of all the plunderers of yon fane
Yet they could violate each saddening shrine,