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The lion trampled by an ass
No; this all-school'd forbearance would surpass.

XLIV.
Insulted with a felon's chain,

From its vast bed profound with heaving throws This noble man must cross the main,

The mighty waste of weltering waters rose, And answer his foul charge to cold, ungrateful

O'er countless waves, now mounting, now deprest, Spain.

The ridgy surges swell with foaming crest,

Like Alpine barriers of some distant shore,
XLI.

Now seen, now lost amidst the deafening roar; By India's gentle race alone

While, higher still, on broad and sweepy base, Was pity to his suffering shown.

Their growing bulk the mountain billows raise, They on his parting wait,

Each far aloft in lordly grandeur rides, And looks of kindness on him cast,

With many a vassal wave roughening his furrow'd Or touch'd his mantle as he past,

sides. And mourn'd his alter'd state.

Heaved to its height, the dizzy skiff “May the Great Spirit smooth the tide

Shoots like an eagle from his cliff With gentle gales, and be thy guide !"

Down to the fearful gulf, and then And when his vessel wore from land,

On the swoln waters mounts again, With meaning nods and gestures kind

A fearful way! a fearful state He saw them still upon the strand

For vessel charged with living freight!
Tossing their dark arms on the wind.

XLV.
He saw them like a helpless flock
Who soon must bear the cruel shock

Within, without, the tossing tempest's rage : Of savage wolves, yet reckless still,

This was, of all his earthly pilgrimage, Feel but the pain of present ill.

The injured hero's fellest, darkest hour, He saw the fate he could not now control,

Yet swiftly pass'd its gloomy power; And groan'd in bitter agony of soul.

For as the wild winds louder blew,

His troubled breast the calmer grew;
XLII.

And, long before the mighty hand,
He trode the narrow deck with pain,

That rules the ocean and the land, And oft survey'd bis rankling chain.

Had calm'd the sea, with pious reverence fill'd The ship's brave captain grieved to see

The warring passions of his soul were still’d. Base irons his noble prisoner gall,

Through softly parting clouds the blue sky peer'd, And kindly sued to set him free;

And heavenward turn'd his eye with better feelBut proudly spoke the lofty thrall,

ings cheerd. “Until the king whom I have served,

Meek are the wise, the great, the good ; Who thinks this recompense deserved,

He sigh’d, and thought of Him, who died on holy Himself command th' unclasping stroke,

rood. These gyved limbs will wear their yoke.

XLVI.
Yea, when my head lies in the dust,
These chains shall in my coffin rust.

No more the angry tempest's sport,
Better than lesson'd saw, though rude,

The vessel reach'd its destined port.
As token, long preserved of black ingratitude !" A town of Christendom he greets,

And treads again its well-known streets ;
XLIII.

A sight of wonder, grief, and shame
Thus pent, his manly fortitude gave way

To those who on his landing came.
To brooding passion's dark tumultuous sway. And on his state in silence gazed,
Dark was the gloom within, and darker grew “ This is the man whose dauntless soul”-
Th’impending gloom without, as onward drew So spoke their looks—“Spain's power hath raised
Th'embattled storm that, deepening on its way, To hold o'er worlds her proud control!
With all its marshall'd host obscured the day. His honour'd brows with laurel crown'd,
Volume o'er volume, roll'd the heavy clouds, His hands with felon fetters bound !"
And oft in dark, dim masses, sinking slow,

XLVII.
Hung in the nether air, like misty shrouds,
Veiling the sombre, silent deep below.

And he before his sovereign dame
Like eddying snow-flakes from a lowering sky, And her stern lord, indignant came;
Athwart the dismal gloom the frighten'd sea-fowlfly And bold in conscious honour, broke
Then from the solemn stillness round,

The silence of his smother'd flame, Utters the storm its awful sound.

In words that all his inward anguish spoke. It groans upon the distant waves ;

The gentle queen's more noble breast O'er the mid-ocean wildly raves;

Its generous sympathy exprest; Recedes afar with dying strain,

And as his varied story show'd That sadly through the troubled air

What wrongs from guileful malice now'd, Comes like the wailings of despair,

Th'indignant eye and flushing cheek And with redoubled strength returns again : Did oft her mind's emotion speak. Through shrouds and rigging, boards and mast, The sordid king, with brow severe, Whistles, and howls, and roars th'outrageous blast. Could, all unmoved, his pleadings hear;

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Save, that, in spite of royal pride,
Which self reproach can ill abide,
His crimson'd face did meanly show
Of conscious shame th' unworthy glow.
Baffled, disgraced, his enemies remain’d,
And base ambition for a time restrain'd.

XLVIII.
With four small vessels, small supply
I trow! yet granted tardily,
For such high service, he once more
The western ocean to explore
Directs his course. On many an isle
He touch'd, where cheerly, for a while,
His mariners their cares beguile
Upon the busy shore. .
And there what wiles of barter keen
Spaniard and native pass between;
As feather'd crowns, whose colours change
To every hue, with vizards strange,
And gold and pearls are given away,
For bead or bell, or bauble gay !
Full oft the muttering Indian eyes
With conscious smile his wondrous prize,
Beneath the shady plantain seated,
And thinks he hath the stranger cheated ;
Or foots the ground like vaunting child,
Snapping his thumbs with antics wild.

Thus checker'd still with shade and sheen
Pass'd in the west his latter scene,
As through the oak's toss'd branches pass
Soft moonbeams, flickering on the grass ;
As on the lake's dark surface pour
Broad flashing drops of summer shower :-
As the rude cavern's sparry sides
When past the miner's taper glides.
So roam'd the Chief, and many a sea
Fathom’d and search'd unweariedly,'
Hoping a western way to gain
To eastern climes,-an effort vain ;
For mighty thoughts, with error uncombined,
Were never yet the meed of mortal mind.

LII.

At length, by wayward fortune cross'd, | And oft-renew'd and irksome strife Of sordid men,-by tempests tost, And tired with turmoil of a wanderer's life, He sail'd again for Europe's ancient shore, So willa high Heaven! to cross the seas no more. His anchor fix'd, his sails for ever furl’d, A toil-worn pilgrim in a weary world.

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LIII.

But if, at length, tired of their guests,
Consuming like those hateful pests,
Locusts or ants, provisions stored
For many days, they will afford
No more, withholding fresh supplies,
And strife and threatening clamours rise,-
Columbus' gentle craft pursues,
And soon their noisy wrath subdues.
Thus speaks the chief,—Refuse us aid
From stores which Heaven for all hath made !
The moon, your mistress, will this night
From you withhold her blessed light,
Her ire to show; take ye the risk.”
Then, as half frighten'd, half in jest,
They turn'd their faces to the east,
From ocean rose her broaden'd disk ;
But when the deep eclipse came on,
By science sure to him foreknown,
How cower'd each savage at his feet,
Like spaniel couching to his lord,
Awed by the whip or angry word,
His pardon to entreat!
“ Take all we have, thou heavenly man!
And let our mistress smile again!”

And thus the Hero's sun went down,
Closing his day of bright renown.
Eight times through breeze and storm he past
O’er surge and wave th’ Atlantic vast;
And left on many an island fair
Foundations which the after care
Of meaner chieftains shortly rear'd
To seats of power, servid, en vied, fear'd.
No kingly conqueror, since time began
The long career of ages, hath to man
A scope so ample given for trade's bold range,
Or caused on earth's wide stage such rapid, mighty
change.

LIV.
He, on the bed of sickness laid,
Saw, unappall'd, death's closing shade;
And there, in charity and love
To man on earth and God above,
Meekly to heaven his soul resign'd,
His body to the earth consign'd.
'Twas in Valladolid he breathed his last,
And to a better, heavenly city pass'd;
But St. Dominga, in her sacred fane
Doth his blest spot of rest and sculptured tomb

contain.

Or, should the ship, above, below,
Be fill'd with crowds, who will not go;
Again to spare more hurtful force,
To harmless guile he has recourse.
“Ho! gunner! let these scramblers know
The power we do not use :" when, lo !
From cannon's mouth the silvery cloud
Breaks forth, soft curling on the air,
Through which appears the lightning's glare,
And bellowing roars the thunder loud.

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LVI.

The brightest rays of cheering shed,

That point to immortality ?
Now all the bold companions of his toil,
Tenants of many a clime, who wont to come,

LXII. (So fancy trows,) when vex'd with worldly coil,

A twinkling speck, but fix'd and bright, And linger sadly by his narrow home;

To guide us through the dreary night, Repentant enemies, and friends that grieve

Each hero shines, and lures the soul In self-upbraiding tenderness, and say,

To gain the distant happy goal. “Cold was the love he did from us receive,”—

For is there one who, musing o'er the grave The fleeting, restless spirits of a day,

Where lies interr'd the good, the wise, the brave, All to their dread account are pass'd away,

Can poorly think, beneath the mouldering heap,

That noble being shall for ever sleep?
LVII.

No; saith the generous heart, and proudly swells,Silence, solemn, awful, deep,

“ Though his cered corse lies here, with God his Doth in that hall of death her empire keep;

spirit dwells.”
Save when at times the hollow pavement smote
By solitary wanderer's foot, amain
From lofty dome, and arch, and aisle remote
A circling loud response receives again.

LADY GRISELD BAILLIE.
The stranger starts to hear the growing sounds,

WHEN, sapient, dauntless, strong, heroic man! And sees the blazon'd trophies waving near ;a Ha! tread my feet so near that sacred ground !"

Our busy thoughts thy noble nature scan,

Whose active mind, its hidden cell within, He stops and bows his head :-“ Columbus resteth

Frames that from which the mightiest works begin; here!”

Whose secret thoughts are light to ages lending, LVIII.

Whose potent arm is right and life defending, Some ardent youth, perhaps, ere from his home

For helpless thousands, all on one high soul deHe launch his venturous bark, will hither come,

pending :Read fondly o’er and o'er his graven name

We pause, delighted with the fair survey, With feelings keenly touch'd, -with heart of flame; And haply in our wistful musings say, Till wrapp'd in fancy's wild, delusive dream,

What mate, to match this noble work of heaven, Times past and long forgotten, present seem.

Hath the all-wise and mighty master given ? To his charm'd ear, the east wind rising shrill,

One gifted like himself, whose head devises Seems through the Hero's shroud to whistle still. High things, whose soul at sound of battle rises, The clock's deep pendulum swinging, through the Who with glaved hand will through arm’d squadblast

rons ride, Sounds like the rocking of his lofty mast;

And, death confronting, combat by his side; While fitful gusts rave like his clamorous band, Will share with equal wisdom grave debate, Mix'd with the accents of his high command.

And all the cares of chieftain, kingly state ? Slowly the stripling quits the pensive scene,

Ay, such, I trow, in female form hath been And burns, and sighs, and weeps to be what he has

Of olden times, and may again be seen, been.

When cares of empire or strong impulse swell LIX.

The generous breast, and to high deeds impel; 0! who shall lightly say that fame

For who can these as meaner times upbraid, Is nothing but an empty name!

Who think of Saragossa's valiant maid ? Whilst in that sound there is a charm

But she of gentler nature, softer, dearer, The nerve to brace, the heart to warm,

Of daily life, the active, kindly cheerer ; As, thinking of the mighty dead,

With generous bosom, age, or childhood shielding, The young, from slothful couch will start,

And in the storms of life, though moved, unyieldAnd vow, with lifted hands outspread,

ing; Like them to act a noble part ?

Strength in her gentleness, hope in her sorrow,
Whose darkest hours some ray of brightness borrow

From better days to come, whose meek devotion 0! who shall lightly say that fame

Calms every wayward passion's wild commotion ; Is nothing but an empty name!

In want and suffering, soothing, useful, sprightly, When, but for those, our mighty dead,

Bearing the press of evil hap so lightly, All ages past, a blank would be,

Till evil's self seems its strong hold betraying Sunk in oblivion's murky bed,

To the sweet witchery of such winsome playing ; A desert bare, a shipless sea ?

Bold from affection, if by nature fearful, They are the distant objects seen,

With varying brow, sad, tender, anxious, cheerful, The lofty marks of what hath been.

This is meet partner for the loftiest mind,

With crown or helmet graced,-yea, this is womanLXI.

kind! 0! who shall lightly say that fame

Come ye, whose grateful memory retains Is nothing but an empty name!

Dear recollection of her tender pains Then memory of the mighty dead

To whom your oft-connd lesson, daily said, To earth-worn pilgrim's wistful eye

| With kiss and cheering praises was repaid ;

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To gain whose smile, to shun whose mild rebuke, With stealthy steps I gaind the shade
Your irksome task was learnt in silent nook, By the close-winding staircase made,
Though truant thoughts the while, your lot ex- And when the surly turnkey enter'd,
changing

But little dreaming in his mind
With freer elves, were wood and meadow ranging ;-| Who follow'd him so close behind,
And ye, who best the faithful virtues know Into this darken’d cell, with beating heart, I
Of a link'd partner, tried in weal and wo,

ventured.” Like the slight willow, now aloft, now bending,

IV.
But, still unbroken, with the blast contending, Then from the simple vest that braced
Whose very look call’d virtuous vigour forth, Her gentle breast, a letter traced
Compelling you to match her noble worth ; With well-known characters, she took,
And ye, who in a sister's modest praise

And with an eager, joyful look
Feel manly pride, and think of other days,

Her eyes up to his visage cast,
Pleased that the playmate of your native home

His changing countenance to scan,
Hath in her prime an honour'd name become ; As o'er the lines his keen glance pass’d.
And ye, who in a duteous child have known She saw a faint glow tinge the sickly wan;
A daughter, helpmate, sister, blent in one,

She saw his eyes through teardrops raise
From whose dear hand which, to no hireling leaves To heaven their look of silent praise,
Its task of love, your age sweet aid receives, And hopes fresh touch undoing lines of care
Who reckless marks youth's waning faded hue, which stress of evil times had deeply graven there.
And thinks her bloom well spent, when spent foryou; Mean while, the joy of sympathy to trace
Come all, whose thoughts such dear remembrance Upon her innocent and lovely face
bear,

Had to the sternest, darkest skeptic given And to my short and faithful lay give ear. Some love of human kind, some faith in righteous

Heaven.

I. Within a prison's hateful cell,

What blessings on her youthful head Where, from the lofty window fell,

Were by the grateful patriot shed, Through grated bars, the sloping beam,

(For such he was, good and devoted,

And had at risk of lise promoted
Defined, but faint, on couch of stone,

His country's freedom and her faith,
There sat a prisoner sad and lone,
Like the dim tenant of a dismal dream.

Nor reckoning made of worldly skathe,)

How warm, confiding, and sincere, Deep in the shade, by low-arch'd door,

He gave to her attentive ear With iron nails thick studded o'er,

The answer which her cautious sire Whose threshold black is cross'd by those

Did to his secret note require :Who here their earthly being close,

How after this with 'quiries kind, Or issue to the light again

He ask'd for all she left behind A scaffold with their blood to stain,

In Redbraes' tower, her native dwelling, Moved something softly. Wistful ears

And set her artless tongue a-telling, Are quick of sense, and from his book

Which urchin dear had tallest grown, The prisoner raised his eyes with eager look,

And which the greatest learning shown, “ Is it a real form that through the gloom appears ?”.

Of lesson, sermon, psalm, and note,
II.

And Sabbath questions learnt by rote,
It was indeed of flesh and blood,

And merry tricks and gambols play'd The form that quickly by him stood;

By evening fire, and forfeits paid, Of stature low, of figure light,

I will not here rehearse, nor will I say, In motion like some happy sprite ;

How, on that bless'd and long-remember'd day, Yet meaning eyes and varying cheek,

The prisoner's son, deserving such a sire, Now red, now pale, seem'd to bespeak

First saw the tiny maid, and did admire, Of riper years the cares and feeling

That one so young, and wise, and good, and fair, Which with a gentle heart were dealing.

Should be an earthly thing that breathed this nether “ Such sense in eyes so simply mild !

air.

VI.
Is it a woman or a child ?
Who art thou, damsel sweet? are not mine eyes

E’en let my reader courteously suppose,

| That from this visit happier days arose; beguiled ?”

Suppose the prisoner from his thraldom freed, III.

And with our lay proceed. « No; from the Redbraes' tower I come ; My father is Sir Patrick Hume ;

VII. And he has sent me for thy good,

The damsel, glad her mission'd task was done His dearly honour'd Jerviswood.

Back to her home long since had blithely gone ; Long have I round these walls been straying And there remain'd, a meek and duteous child As if with other children playing;

Where useful toil, with play between, Long near the gate have kept my watch

And pastime on the sunny green, The sentry's changing time to catch.

The weeks and months of passing years beguiled.

VIII.

XIII. Scotland the while convulsive lay

Pleased had you been to have beheld, Beneath a hateful tyrant's sway;

Like fire-sparks from the stricken stone, For James's bigot mind th' ascendant gain's, Like sunbeams on the raindrop thrown, And fiercely raged blind ruthless power;

The kindling eye of sweet Griseld, While men, who true to conscience' voice remain'd, When thus her mother spoke, for known Were forced in caves and dens to cower;

Was his retreat to her alone. Bereft of home, or hold, or worldly wealth,

The wary dame to none beside
Upon the bleak and blasted heath,

The dangerous secret might confide.
They sang their glorious Maker's praise by stealth, “O fear not, mother! I will go,
Th’ inclement sky beneath.

Betide me good or ill:
And some were forced to flee their native land, Nor quick nor dead shall daunt me; no;
Or in the grated prison's gloom,

Nor witch-fires, dancing in the dark,
Dealt to them by corruption's hateful hand, Nor owlet's shriek, not watch-dog's bark,
Abide their fatal doom.

For I will think, the while, I do God's blessed will.

I'll be his active Brownie sprite,
IX.

To bring him needful food, and share his lonely And there our former thrall, the good,

night.” The firm, the gentle Jerviswood Again was pent with sickness worn,

XIV Watching each pulse's feebler beat

And she, ere stroke of midnight bell, Which promised, ere the fated morn,

Did bound her for that dismal cell;
The scaffold of its prey to cheat.

And took that haunted, fearful way
Which, till that hour, in twilight gray

She never by herself had past,
And now that patriot's ancient, faithful friend,

Or e’en athwart its copse-wood cast Our maiden's sire, must to the tempest bend.

A hasty glance, for dread of seeing He too must quit his socia) hearth,

The form of some unearthly being. The place where cheerful friends resort,

But now, far other forms of fear And travellers rest and children sport,

To her sacred sight appear, To lay him on the mouldering earth;

And, like a sudden fit of ague, move her ; Through days of lonely gloom to rest his head

The stump of some old, blasted tree, With them, who, in those times unblest,

Or upright stone, or colt broke free Alone had sure and fearless rest,

To range at will the dewy lea,
The still, the envied dead.

Seem lurking spy or rustic lover,
XI.

| Who may, e'en through the dark, her secret drift Sad was his hiding place, I ween,

discover. A fearful place, where sights had been,

XV.
Full oft, by the benighted rustic seen ;
Ay, elrich forms in sheeted white,

She pauses oft.-" What whispers near?
Which, in the waning moonlight blast,

The babbling burn sounds in my ear.

Some hasty form the pathway crosses :
Pass by, nor shadow onward cast,
Like any earthly wight;

'Tis but a branch the light wind tosses. A place, where midnight lights had shone

What thing is that by churchyard gate, Through charnel windows, and the glancing

That seems like spearman tall to wait? Of wandering flame, on church-path lone,

'Tis but the martyr's slender stone

Which stands so stately and alone:
Betray'd the hour when fiends and hags were dancing,
Or to their vigil foul with trooping haste advancing.

Why should I shrink? why should I fear?
A place, whose gate with weeds o'ergrown,

The vault's black door is near.” Hemlock and dock of deep dull green,

And she with icy fingers knock'd, That climbing rank the lintels screen,

And heard with joy the door unlock'd, What time the moon is riding high

And felt the yawning fence give way, The very hounds went cowering by,

As deep and harsh the sounding hinges bray. Or watch'd afar with howling moan;

XVI. For brutes, 'tis said, will see what meets no human

But to describe their tender meeting,
eye.

Tears shed unseen, affection utter'd
XII.

In broken words, and blessings mutter'd,
You well may guess his faithful wife

With many a kiss and kindly greeting, A heart of heavy cheer had then,

I know not; would my feeble skill Listening her household's hum of life,

Were meeter yokemate to my will ! And thinking of his silent den. “0! who will to that vault of death,

XVII. At night's still watch repair,

Then from the struck flint few the spark, The dark and chilly sky beneath,

And lighted taper, faint and small, And needful succour bear?

Gave out its dun rays through the dark, Many his wants, who bideth lonely there !" Ton vaulted roof and crusted wall:

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