Yet shall thy name, conspicuous and sublime, Stand in the spacious firmament of time, Fixed as a star: such glory is thy right. Alas! it may not be: for earthly fame Is Fortune's frail dependant; yet there lives A Judge, who, as man claims by merit, gives; To whose all-pondering mind a noble aim, Faithfully kept, is as a noble deed;
In whose pure sight all virtue doth succeed.
CALL not the royal Swede unfortunate, Who never did to Fortune bend the knee; Who slighted fear; rejected steadfastly Temptation; and whose kingly name and state Have "perished by his choice, and not his fate " Hence lives he, to his inner self endeared; And hence, wherever virtue is revered,
He sits a more exalted Potentate,
Throned in the hearts of men. Should Heaven
That this great servant of a righteous cause Must still have sad or vexing thoughts to endure, Yet may a sympathizing spirit pause, Admonished by these truths, and quench all pain In thankful joy and gratulation pure.*
* See note to Sonnet VII., page 68.
Bavorische Staatsbibliothek München
Look now on that Adventurer who hath paid His vows to Fortune; who, in cruel slight Of virtuous hope, of liberty, and right, Hath followed wheresoe'er a way was made By the blind Goddess, - ruthless, undismayed; And so hath gained at length a prosperous height, Round which the elements of worldly might Beneath his haughty feet, like clouds, are laid. O joyless power that stands by lawless force! Curses are his dire portion, scorn, and hate, Internal darkness and unquiet breath; And, if old judgments keep their sacred course, Him from that height shall Heaven precipitate By violent and ignominious death.
Is there a power that can sustain and cheer The captive chieftain, by a tyrant's doom, Forced to descend into his destined tomb, A dungeon dark! where he must waste the year, And lie cut off from all his heart holds dear, What time his injured country is a stage Whereon deliberate Valor and the rage Of righteous Vengeance side by side appear, Filling from morn to night the heroic scene
With deeds of hope and everlasting praise; Say, can he think of this with mind serene And silent fetters? Yes, if visions bright Shine on his soul, reflected from the days When he himself was tried in open light.
Ан! where is Palafox? Nor tongue nor pen Reports of him, his dwelling or his grave! Does yet the unheard-of vessel ride the wave? Or is she swallowed up, remote from ken Of pitying human-nature? Once again Methinks that we shall hail thee, Champion brave. Redeemed to baffle that imperial Slave, And through all Europe cheer desponding men With new-born hope. Unbounded is the might Of martyrdom, and fortitude, and right. Hark, how thy Country triumphs! - Smilingly The Eternal looks upon her sword that gleams, Like his own lightning, over mountains high, On rampart, and the banks of all her streams.
In due observance of an ancient rite, The rude Biscayans, when their children lie
Dead in the sinless time of infancy,
Attire the peaceful corse in vestments white; And, in like sign of cloudless triumph bright, They bind the unoffending creature's brows With happy garlands of the pure white rose : Then do a festal company unite
In choral song; and, while the uplifted cross Of Jesus goes before, the child is borne
Uncovered to his grave: 't is closed,
The Mother then mourns, as she needs must mourn ;
But soon, through Christian faith, is grief subdued; And joy returns, to brighten fortitude.
FEELINGS OF A NOBLE BISCAYAN AT ONE OF THOSE
YET, yet, Biscayans! we must meet our Foes With firmer soul, yet labor to regain
Our ancient freedom; else 't were worse than vain To gather round the bier these festal shows. A garland fashioned of the pure white rose Becomes not one whose father is a slave: O, bear the infant covered to his grave! These venerable mountains now inclose A people sunk in apathy and fear. If this endure, farewell, for us, all good! The awful light of heavenly innocence
Will fail to illuminate the infant's bier; And guilt and shame, from which is no defence, Descend on all that issues from our blood.
The ancient oak of Guernica, says Laborde in his account of Biscay, is a most venerable natural monument. Ferdinand and Isabella, in the year 1476, after hearing mass in the church of Santa Maria de la Antigua, repaired to this tree, under which they swore to the Biscayans to maintain their fueros (privileges). What other interest belongs to it in the minds of this people will appear from the following
SUPPOSED ADDRESS TO THE SAME. 1810.
OAK of Guernica! Tree of holier power Than that which in Dodona did enshrine (So faith too fondly deemed) a voice divine, Heard from the depths of its aërial bower, How canst thou flourish at this blighting hour? What hope, what joy, can sunshine bring to thee, Or the soft breezes from the Atlantic sea, The dews of morn, or April's tender shower? Stroke merciful and welcome would that be Which should extend thy branches on the ground, If never more within their shady round Those lofty-minded Lawgivers shall meet, Peasant and lord, in their appointed seat, Guardians of Biscay's ancient liberty.
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