Class, /_// f cOc3t:%J Book z_x_____x-~ , IJatsi Ua : A TALE OF PALESTINE ■ BY J/ TAAFFE, ESQ. LONDON: FEINTED FOR J. M. RICHARDSON, CORNHILL. 1816. / ADVERTISEMENT. This Tale is intended as a relation of the life of a young Spaniard, and of his catastrophe in the battle of Tiberias, shortly after the conquest of Jerusalem. He bore the Oriflamb, or standard of St. Dennis, under Hugh-of-Tabary, when, contrary to the injunctions of Godfrey-de-Bouillon, that prince hazarded an action. Saladin with his Saracens was victorious. The gene- rous Saladin was always as noble in victory as he was mighty in the combat : it is to be lamented, that the crusaders deemed it derogatory to imitate even the vir- tues of an enemy. As to the crusades themselves, I neither condemn nor justify them: perhaps to repel the Turks from Christendom it was necessary to in- vade Asia ; yet the final achievement bore a miserable proportion to the immensity of the means employed : perhaps a profuse letting of blood was requisite to that age of grossness ; certain it is, that those strange expeditions were not in the end unsalutary to Europe ; from her disasters in Holy Land she reaped advantages, political and moral, which, in all probability, could never have arisen from her success. IV ADVERTISEMENT. In every point of view, the close of the eleventh, and the opening- of the twelfth century, present a most interesting scene of medley. It was the age of crusades both in Palestine and in Spain ; it was the dawn of letters — in the quaint logic of Bernard and Abeillard— in Eloisa's fervid imagination — and the earliest songs of the Trouveurs and Troubadours ; it was the age of easy belief — of the papal might — of love high exalted— of chivalry — and of its most puis- sant heroes — Tancred, Raymond, Henriquez, God- frey, and the Cid — Rodrigo Dias de Rivar — the Cam- peador — the blessed Cid. See Mr. Southey's incomparable translation of the Chronicle. February 10, 1815. ERRATUxM. Page 9, Line 19 — for Guimaras, read Guimaraousv Gentle Reader, about to honor the following pages with thine eye, earnestly art thou intreated to begin with correction of the hideous Errata — for which the Printer will probably plead the Author's absence, and against which the Author hoped he had a sufficient guarantee in the fairness of his M.S. — He was upon the banks of the Arno, and inhabiting the very apartment where Alfieri acted Saul for the last time, when his glance fell upon the passage in that singular man's life : — " Chi lascia dei Manoscritti non lascia mai libri : Nessun libro essendo veramente fatto e compito, s'egli non e con somma diligenza stampato, riveduto e limato, sotto il torchio, direi, dall'Autore medesimo. II libro puo anche non esser fato ne compito a dispetto di tutte queste di- ligenze ; pur troppo e cosi ; ma non lo puo certo essere veramente senz'esse." What better comment than the arrival of such a vo- lume the morning after by the Courier of France? Page 8 line 16 For female hand Read female hands 9 . . 17 many a clime ; many a clime, 9 . . 19 Guimaraes Guimaraes 9 . . 25 had writ had writ. 10 , . 2 Sertorious Sertorius 11 . . 2 Youths befel ; Youths befel, 11 . . 3 honor'd train, honor'd train ; - milky blow 16 . . 1 Milky blow, . . 16 . . 12 Find Finds IT . . 4 ever-during smile. ever-during smile: 19 last line on her ears, on her ears: 20 . . 6 wring'd wing'd 23 . . 9 the western a western 25 last line fai: fair: 37 . . 10 Sobreira's Sobreiras . . 37 . . 21 - fruits, and blooms the - fruits and blooms, the • . 39 21 play pay . . 42 . • 13 ribbans ribbons 43 . . 3 and th'Knight the Knight . . 44 . . 9 Knght Knight . . 46 . . 12 fav'rite son ; fav'rite son 46 . . 16 th' pomp the pomp . . 52 . . 16 Gariffa's Tariffa's . . 55 . . 10 boar; bore ; . . 58 . . 22 Come comes 60 . . 3 wary wavy . . 63 . . 9 welcom'd so ; welcom'd so ... 64 . . 8 E'en thou E'en then ... 64 20 torture-cry. torture cry . . 67 8 acid acrid - 67 . . 12 is inclin'd .his inclin'd . . 68 . . 22 Spain's war-a^ Spain was a . . 69 . . 9 Adjur'd-be tho'uvadjur'd Adjur'd-be thou adjured . . 70 . . 7 though * thou 73 . . 12 only meets only wreaths . . 74 . . 21 her woes, her her woe, is her . . 75 . . 10 Stuck Struck 76 . . 1 uncooth uncouth • . 76 . . 10 of the North : of the North, . . 77 . . 9 where the flame when the flame 88 . . 3 the doom her doom 11 Page 90 line 17 For awhile the gates Read awide the gates . . 91 . . 7 did yet yet did 93 . . 7 toward coward 95 7 expire 'pon expire upon . . 95 . . 13 Padilla, nor Padilla held, nor . . 97 9 'Til Till . . 99 . . 12 in Bysantium's on Bysanti u m . . 99 . . 15 Albars. Abars. . . 100 6 Her fears, her griefs, Her griefs, her fears. . . 104 . . 10 that holy their holy . . Ill 8 woop whoop . . 115 6 Burnt Burst . . 119 2 wary wavy . . 120 . . 19 wining whining . . 122 3 Stung Strung . . 126 5 nor less nor bless . . 127 . . 22 thy flower my flower . . 128 3 though through . . 133 . . 18 ebby eddy . . 134 . . 14 In Josaphat And Josaphat . . 139 . . 10 Saladin Saladin . : 145 . . 13 own pang one pang . . 160 . . 31 head heart . . 161 . . 18 longer long . . 170 . . 1 this day his day . . 179 . . 23 order of orders of . . 189 7 Pona Pena . . 192 4 wages usages . . 192 . . 22 was not was one . . 199 last line his armour their armour. . . 206 6 introduces introduced . . 206 . . 21 tenderness of her tenderness for her . . 213 3 endeared to endeared by . . 213 . . 16 would record could record . . 214 5 means mean . . 220 . . 24 then them . . 222 . . 17 Such was Such were . . 242 . . 4 by advancing and by advancing . . 245 . . 29 This His . . 257 4 diflficilcs difficilis . • 257 6 planicieo planicies . . 257 . . 11 Terre Sancte Terras Sanctae There are many other less important errors, particularly in the punctua- tion ; but no farther shall thy longanimity be trespassed upon than is abso lutely necessary. PADILLA; A TALE OF PALESTINE. CANTO I. PADILLA. Ohide not th' attempt my anguish to repress, Nor deem, fair trav'ller, that I feel the less. 1 To Scotland, thine, and thee — but not yet this, Not yet farewel, not yet — there still are hours For Fancy's decking, though with short-liv'd flowers Well with us, Lady, may my tale agree ; 'Tis sad and tender, like my thoughts on thee. II. Mueh Christendom, though vainly, wept the hour, When the cross bent, and rose the crescent's power : With impious valour there the Soldan stood, Dying his paynim scimitar in blood. b 2 4 PADILLA. Canto t* Where were ye warriors ? — In the bright career Beat your big hearts with ardour less sincere ; Forgetful of the day, when Godfrey led His mail-clad heroes o'er the hills of dead, Waving in triumph, through the battle-gloom, Your Christian banner, by the Saviour's tomb $ No ! — Ye were brave, though impotently brave> Your relics slumber in no honor'd grave ; None swerv'd of all the flowers of chivalry, None, save the foremost flower, entitled high 2 Of both the Gallilees and Tabary. The Soldanj on his throne, with gen'rous pride> Mid all his viziers, sate him by his side : Thrice twenty days the Saracens prolong Their gorgeous presents, made with prayer and song ; The next — and Saladin is hail'd on high. In habit meet— a flower of chivalry ! Blush, knighthood, blush ! for all thy honors stain'd , And sacred rites, by heathen hands profan'd : The bath, the coif, the robes of virgin white, The dark^brown sandals, and the faulchion bright ; The vest of crimson, with the zone of steel, And gilded spurs, that buckled on his heel ! — That lord of Gallilee may lightly feel ; Canto I. PADILLA. 5 But, what atones, whatever could atone, For knighthood's shame ? for Christendom's bemoan ? What nightly pilgrim pass'd Tiberia's brim, Had seen, and quak'd to see, their tainted corpses swim. Whose crests, whose chivalry were brightest there ? Who wore the spurs ? or who deserv'd to wear ? Who bore the oriflamb ? To whom belong The martial story and the poet's song ? Alonzo — Alonzo hotliest urg'd the fight, Despair adventuring more than valour might. Nor deem, fair Lady, mine — his sorrows light ! E'en he, the rugged Saracen, whose cheek The scar of Time and faulchion- fractures streak; (Seeming, like bastions, by his soul to glare And frown defiance to all feeling there.) E'en he — wiping the moisture from his spear, Hath almost smil'd, in finding it a tear. III. 'Twas Spain — Valencia — lovely Teruel, That softly echoes Guadalaviar's swell: Who in Alcazar there his sire might be ? " Castro-pf-the-rings," the Cid's first baron he. PADILLA. Canto I. There peace repos'd, and chieftains sought repose. When Valour's arm had hush'd their moslem-foes : There paid to Rodrigo their meet resort, Who, flower of knighthood, fled a dastard court, What time at Burgos he with dauntless port ; 3 True to his master's shade — his country's right, Tender'd Alfonzo there the solemn plight. Why rings th' Alcazar with a chime so gay ? The Cid shall do his vassal grace to day. And first the mitred prelate leads the way ; In triple rows the Acolythes await, Deacons and priests attend in sacred state : The silver lamps and massive tapers' rays, On wreathed pillar, arch, and buttress blaze ; Glitters the altar down each aisle aloof, Through clouds of incense curling to the roof; Swells the sweet choir its orisons on high, And the deep organ's solemn melody. Heedless of pomp the father pours his pray'r, Love, joy, devotion, mingling in his air : See by yon rail the reverend figure stand, With eyes uprais'd, low voice, and trembling hand; O'er his tall forehead snowy ringlets play, Beauteous though bent, and splendid in decay. Canto I. PADILLA. 7 For hopes long cross'd, and sighs resign' dly shed. Heaven surely lends a cherub to his bed — Child of his age, to be his darling stay, Smile on his knees, and in his bosom play. What waits the prelate in his purple chair ? The cornets flourish, clarions rend the air, Soars the loud chorus on a bolder wing, And arms and armour through the chancel ring : The sponsor's black-shield, gauntlets, helm, and spear, 4 Scarce, in their vests of blue, three pages bear ; Next stalks that sponsor — Cid : — I know him by 5 The sword Colada, and his bearing high : Unarm'd his head — his greaves and mail are dark ; So dark, the long black cross you faintly mark : In guise of steel succeeds a varied scene, Pages and squires, and lords and knights between. IV. How fair is childhood ! To his dimpling cheek, How young sensation daily adds a streak ! Thy pride, fair Teruel, thy flow'r of flow'rs, Alonzo's early bloom adorns thy bowers ! 8 , PADILLA. Ganto I. See through the vista, toddling by his dame, He owns his father — almost lisps his name : The lady-mother, who, with many a pray'r, Had watch'd her darling at his morning air ; Through the arch'd casement, smiling on the scene, Descends through tower and portal to the green. Courteous arose the boy, though some withal Proclaim'd him spoil'd by ladies in the hall : For still the urchin there his sport pursu'd, Wilder than meet ; yet, when in wildest mood, Flash'd his blue-eyes, his infant bosom swell'd, A word, a smile, the transient passion quell'd : [Like shadows flitting o'er Valencia's grass, So swiftly past, they scarce are seen to pass. Now seven sweet springs are gone, and he must go, 6 Go from the female hand that lov'd him so ! / How flash'd his glance, how throbb'd his breast that day, On truncheon, shield, and mimic arms' array ! Yet, ere his dame had press'd him to her heart, He turns the stair, as if in haste to part ; And, as his lady-mother's kisses swell, He seem' d to smile, though tears perchance befel. And what awaits him now ? far other scene Than gambols in the Jiall, or sports on green : Canto I. PADILLA. Q Long exercise, with strictest study join'd, To steel the frame and dignify the mind. To wave the falchion, bear away the ring, From barbed steed the lighter javelin fling; Couch the long lances, poize the ready shield, Rivet the helmet, close the armour steel'd : Such were the tasks, not undebatedly, Of more than twenty buds of high degree, In that old, splendid school of chivalry. Of various party they, as striplings use, r Each chose his company, or fain would choose. It pleas'd old Castro, that his darling still Went with de-Moniz, when they went at will. Wherefore ? — Perchance but for a name alone, The noble weakness of the noblest one ; For his was ev'n of fame that olden time, But of more high renown, through many a clime r^ Since him, the Lusian Regulus, whose grave 8 Is east of Guimarafcs, by Sousa's wave. The words of wisdom thrice each day in hall, 9 From sage, or heroes' lips, were heard to fall ; There e'en the Cid, the youths he lov'd so well, Haply of Valour's story deign'd to tell, What boldness, courtesy, and truth befit, 10 Or Jongleurs sung, what Troubadours had writ / 10 PADILLA. Canto L Of arms the theme began — of Amilcar, Of old Sertoripiis, and that Roman war; The martyr'd Merida — had follow'd well 11 The Paladine, Pelayo, and Martel ; But still the minstrel deem'd his dearest lay Inspiring love, that melts the soul away. 12 TROUBADOUR. The Spring's return, the pregnant seed, The trees with life and foliage moving, The vocal birds, the shepherd's reed, All Nature bids her bard be loving. Thy ladies, France ! in tent, or bow'rs, My heart, to leave them, felt severely ; It lov'd them well, delicious flowers ! But loves thee, Donna, far more dearly ! I've roam'd through beauty — trust me, fair, Few know her world and wiles so rightly ; Thine eyes are bright, but Mercy's air May make e'en thine to shew more brightly ! Canto I. PADILLA. H Spare we to tell — 'twere lengthen' d tale to tell, What pray'r and varied form our youths befelf 13 When knighthood nam'd them of its honor'd train; How fair Valencia, flaunting on the plain The Cid's black cross, redeem'd her paynim stain : What solemn tones beguiled the ear of Night, The lone cathedral, and the lunar light : How good old Castro view'd his darling flow'r Pace the long aisle, and wake the witching hour. Perchance to Fancy's eye it might have been Like that fam'd vision of the Gallilean ; The father's reverend figure, tall and fair, Had seem'd a Moses, or Elijah there. V. Since man should reap — th' unblest sojourner man — Tears when he must, but rapture when he can, Linger a little while ; — a little while Our story smiles, as summer gardens smile : The Lybian merchant ihus % upon the verge Of whirling death- winds and the sandy surge, In isles of verdure, by the gelid springs, Rests on the turf, and for a season sings : 12 PADILLA. Canto I, The exile thus, for whom th' Atlantic roars, Waits the last summons and the parting oars,— Oh ! seaborn Erin, how he loves thy shores ; Blessing those playful waves thy green breasts spurn — It is like death ! he never shall return ! Or thus, thou lady of my soul, e'en I Would fain retard the moments as they fly ; Taste, ere our parting, all that Fortune gives, And live for pleasure, while for us it lives. Scenes of delight, illusive visions rise ! Lend, playful brilliance, lend thy thousand dies ! Some sweet magician, or some angel-pow'r, (If such there be) prolong the fleeting hour ! Wander we, Lady, where the dewy balm, Lives unexhal'd amid the bowers of palm ; The forest-kings, whose clusters all assume Their coronets of gold and feathery plume : — c There stood, in view of city lawn and bay, Padilla's castle, Liria-of-the-laye, VI. And who that young Padilla ? Years of bliss Their infant years have rolFd, and still she is 1 * Canto 1. PADILLA, 13 Alonzo's chosen one. Her primal prayer Had flow'd upon her princely father's bier: But yet her mother linger'd here below, Dear to her heart as its own ruddy flow ; Her brother, too — her Ferdinand — but he Was, far i'th'westward, train'd beyond the sea ; Train'd to the red-branch chivalry — nor less 15 To arts and learning, in their last recess. Maid of the Ocean ! Fairy of the West ! Thou lovely Erin, in thy verdant vest ! Say shall I name thee, land, nor turn an eye Of filial homage to thy distant sky ? Isle of the poet, no ! thy name I say With heart too bursting, to forget thee aye- Isle of my parents ! — but I hush that string, It sounds of sadness, that I may not sing — Where was the bosom sear'd that beats not high, There was my home, and I was once a boy ? Sole hours of bliss ! if haply e'er they sped, Of harshness aught, the memory long is fled ; Their distant pictures soften on review In tints — like thine, Lorraine — of heavenly blue. There Ferdinand — there glide his hours along O'er Plato's god-like thought, or Homer's song : 14 PADILLA. Canto I. The gothic cloisters chill in matin hour, But yield him truth and Fancy's fairer flow'r ; Illumin'd is his page, though darkness lie On buttress, capital, or chancel high — Accoutred gallantly on manag'd steed, For some fair lady's love breaking a reed, Or kneeling to salute her hand in hall, 'Tis featly, knightly this — it is not all ; And you will love the friar and his cell, If science and the muses therein dwell : — Ah ! trust me, Ferdinand, his abbot's cowl Less blackly shews than shame and dullness scowl. Yes, letters lent to Erin early light, Follow'd — follow'd too soon by years of night ! In old Eamania minstrels roll'd along 16 Their country's glories in their splendid song ; In war, or peace, to tones of woe, or glee, Swept his bold harp each bright-rob'd crotary : Monarchs, in meet applause, with prelates join'd, And red-branch knights on golden shields reclin'd. By sainted Arran, when the moonbeam fell, 17 By lonely Fuaran-wave, or Croghan's dell, Like strains of mercy to each anthem-close The virgin hymn, or sweet hosanna rose ; Canto I. PADILLA. 15 Till seem'd the music, as it died on air, Now angels whispering — now their silent prayer ! New notes of gladness woke the pearly morn, The blithe kulinkry, and the hunter's horn ; 18 On groves of verdure smil'd the Shannon's sun, And sages taught where havoc's deed was done. Drop we the veil o'er bleeding Erin's plight ! With shrieks of horror through the troubled night Exulting murder hail'd the frequent shot, In hellish gambol round the blazing cot : — Drop we the veil ! Rest, fever'd spirit, rest, 19 Heaven breathe some anodyne to sooth thy breast 1 Thy wrongs are number'd — may thy peace succeed, And heal the wounds, so long have learn'd to bleed ; So future sons shall doubt the storied lore, Wond'rin^ in sadness how their fathers bore J VII. With Roman taste that castle well allied An antique vastness and baronial pride : Its gardens round, profusely gay and fair, So artful smile, no trace of art is there ; 1(3 PADILLA. Canto h But painted flowerage and the milky blbw^ — Jv Of citrons temper, the pomegranate's glow : In mazy dalliance, shrubs and tendrils wove^ Pendant as ringlets, arch their lithe alcove : And brightest birds, while warbling waters play, Trim the small wing, or tune their am'rous lay i And, hark ! what silver sounds are upon air ? Hush, Lady, hush! — our group of friends appear* VIII. De-Moniz first, the leopard on his shield, 20 And stars of golden in an azure field — Tall with his tinkling mail and courteously, Find all around him fair, as fair may be. His Spanish beaver nodding to and fro'j Its loops of silver, and its plume of snow ; His tawny sandals, capa lightly swung, And studded mercy* from his baldrick hung; While jovial hounds bay through the castle-court, Alonzo comes, with many a tale of sport : * The dagger miser icordia, mercy ;— because it shewed no mercy. Canto I. PADILLA. 17 Fresh from a-field he comes, with hunter-lance, Where sparkling health is up, and pleasures dance : On his good arm a lady leans the while, With mother-love, and ever-during smile; Star of the placid Night ! so smiles thy beam, Sleeps on the wall, and slumbers on the stream. The deep mantilla, with a decent grace, Infolds in purfled silk the matron's face ; But white her neck-ruff frills — so dazzling white, Like icy crests, they glitter in the light. How sweet, she deems, to breathe the ev'ning air, Her future son — her own Pad ill a there ! Calls both her children, and delights to trace, Fond fancy all ! some semblance in their face. IX. Light, as the visions when the cloud revolves, A glance pourtrays them there, a breath dissolves ; Pure, as her lily-hand, Padilla goes, With wreath' d carnation, pink, or mossy rose : " Sweets to the sweet, mamma, to me most sweet, " And you, fair sirs — but you shall sing, I vow, " Thou knight o'th' azure stars, and hunter thou." c IB PADILLA. Canto I, " Lo ! on my knees, young priestess of the spring, " I crave the flowery gifts thine altars bring :" And, at the word rehears'd in courtly way, Rings forth all blithly Moniz' roundelay. SONG. Lady ! mine eyes had deem'd thee fair, Were not thy form less brightly killing Than visions dress'd, as saints, in air, By fancy's touch, so warm and thrilling. Last night one seem'd upon the car, On Cynthia's paly car to ride ; Who, bending wav'd her arm afar, To place my pillow by her side. Our couches rock'd on embryo storms, Soft as some seraph's milky bed ; While clouds enwrapt our shadowy forms, In bosoming down and fringes spread : How sweet, methought, our lamp that bade Each trembling star with lustre glow ; How sweet to leave this world of shade, In pitying surely those below. Canto I. PADILLA. 19 But, oh ! how sweet, when some pale lover, Devoutly woo'd our orb of night ; Like old Elijah round to hover, And cast the gazer robes of light ! Spirit, farewel ! since morning beams Have burst intrusive on our joy, And think how oft in ev'ning dreams, Spirit, you've sworn to love your boy. Farewel ! 'till Cynthia's nightly car Again convey me to your sphere, Where unseduc'd I turn afar From forms that pass for beauty here. Alonzo next :— in wreathed cadence wove, Mingle his notes of valour and of love ; And, haply floating down the distant dale, Add new delight to love's delicious tale. The mountain-maid, a rose of bourgeon'd sweets, There meets her young lord, blushing as she meets ; Hears, in sobbing, his vows of passion hears, And sinks, with music melting on her ears/ c 2 20 PADILLA. Canto f. Far to the westward, just ere Cynthia's beam. O'er the blue heath ere silver lightnings stream ; Ere through the crisped Arbutes pale stars play,— So dies in summer-rest the sun away ; Sung to repose, like cradled babes to sleep, While wHng'd musicians tuneful vigils keep. SONG. " Douro ! when the sabres dancing, " Gleam'd like cressets o'er thy flood; " Douro ! when the coursers prancing, M Bore the Koran on through blood : a A knight his palace wildly gaining, " Hence my dove, my dove" he cried ; tc Hence, I hear the war-yell straining ! " The dove was flown — the palace void. H Now that Christian knight is bearing " For the shield a palmer-shell ; " Syria's lions soon uprearing, " Soon may give his midnight knell/'— Canto I. PADILLA. 21 Alhambra's harem flourish'd quaintly, Jasmin' d arch and oriels fair Drank the notes. — Hark ! far and faintly Female answers swell on air ! " Guzman ! Guzman ! sooth thine anguish ; " Soldier, hold a soldier's fame ; " Knight ! thy dove, though doom'd to languish, " Fondly true is still the same. " None shall tell her tale of ruin ; " Peril ne'er her soul shall strike ; "Whom all have sued is vainly suing; " Pain and pleasure spurn'd alike. u Guzman, may our voices reach thee ; " Here the cage thou seekedst, see ; " Here thy dove, we soothly teach thee, u Lives no more, or lives for thee." Not unheard the notes were streaming, Past the Caliph on his throne ; On his throne of crystal, beaming Bright with many a living stone. 22 PADILLA; Canto I. Bless thee, god-like Abderame ! Prince, you gave the lovers life ; Who their meeting may pourtray me ? " Husband, husband !"— " Oh ! my wife !" Spirit of mercy ! who from yonder sphere Sometimes, mid erring mortals, wand'rest here, Fair lovely missioner ! to bid us see, What angels are, and man perchance may be ! Thou deign'st, well deem we, woman's form to wear, Most like thine own, and dearest to thy care. 'Tis not the timid blue, 'tis not the blue Of eyes that swim, like violets wet with dew ; Nor yet the sigh, nor bosom, o'er whose snow, Like waves of crimson flame, the blushes go : — Though beauteous these, their less celestial train, Albeit unstain'd, seem conscious of a stain : But, when young beauty, like the sportive spring, Sheds as she flies the pleasures from her wing ; With glance of rapture, with a heart of glee, Fresh as the dawning, as the breezes free ; While in her carol all her soul o'erflows, And Health's fine pencil tints her limbs with rose : Canto I. PADILLA. 23 Creature so bright was ne'er of mortal birth, A guest — a fleeting denizen on earth. " Blest be thou holy one," we well may cry, Thou Nature's pattern — daughter of the sky ! From seats of moss, beneath the tulip tree, Unwonted music wanders on the lea, And ever as Padilla essays her air, Some wanton ringlet straggles from her hair. To the wild measures of the western star When tun'd, at length awakes her sweet guitar, With looks of doating, on her mother's eye She smiles a space, then flings her tresses by ; — Rest not her thoughts on thee, her brother, rest ? Speak through her glances? — flutter in her breast ? For thee this foreign lay was learn'd, for thee 21 Her fondest hope, far, far beyond the sea : — SONG. Weave, weave ye maids of Innisfail, 82 Your flowery wreaths and crowns of green ; Row, row ye youths of Innisfail, Singing down Nea's silver scene. 24 PADILLA. Canto I, Sing, sing ye maids of Innisfail, The fiery Dane is fled afar, And fairies, with the ruby mail, In moonlight mount their em'rald car. The black, black Earl, at rest once more, Pickets his greys in Haclem-hill, And there shall lie, long ages o'er, With all his troops enchanted still : Not but the chains and champing steed Shall nightly ring down Smarmor's dell, And scarlet grooms their coursers lead To water, far in Liny- well. Each seventh year on Curragh-more Shall Kildare peasants shun the course ; For mounted squadrons there shall pour With grass-green flag and bugles hoarse. 'Tis thus the black, black Earl shall wait His country's doom, in years of trance Again, when foe-men shout elate, To spring to life, and poize her lance : — Canto I. PADILLA. 25 Then weave, ye maids of Innisfail ! Your flowery wreaths and crowns of green; Row, row ye youths of Innisfail, Singing down Nea's silver scene ! X. Thus pleasure sped, and they believ'd its flowers; Laugh'd the bright hour, and hop'd still brighter hours So Java's victim, tainted by the breeze, Riots in death, unconscious of disease. XL 'Twas autumn, — evening : — lo ! the castle-bell Tolls from its eastern tower the twilight-knell ; The moon in silence, through the pictur'd pane, Bathes in the hall the slabs Mosaic stain ; While liveried guards, along th' embattled ridge, Close the great gateway — raise the trembling bridge. Within that eastern tower a sister's care Had dress'd her Ferdinand a chamber fair! 26 PAD1LLA. Canto I. 'Twas strange amid such gothic pile to see — Majestic, vast, too vast for symmetry — In Liria-of the-laye, 'twas strange to find A temple Venus' self had not declin'd; Venus, when moving, by the starry light, With all her graces, on the Paphian height. For the long aisle and arches pointed high Springs the fair dome, seeming a cloudless sky ; For oaken chair and saint's unwieldly pouch, The bronz'd Apollo, and the slender couch ; — Curves the light Grecian frieze with cornice crown'd, And pensile lamps effuse their silver round. Thence, through the forest one was seen to speed And down the dim slope urge his jaded steed ; Swings from his daggled mail the courier horn And thrice its flourish on the wind is borne. Throughout the castle straight is tumult all, — The bolts creak back harshly, the bridges fall ; " Heaven bless thee always, brother ! 'tis from thee !" Padilla cries, and bending on her knee, With clasped hands and rapture-swimming eye, Seems like a seraph lighted from the sky. The youthful lord of Deva's dark defile Had sped the letters from Ierne's isle : Canto I. PADILLA. 27 " A fleeting month, and Ferdinand shall prove " His mother's blessing, and his sister's love." And now that mother sheds, with fervent air, The tears of gladness and devotion's prayer : " And thou ! who join'd, ere rapt to choirs above, " An angel's virtue with a husband's love ; " Dear guardian spirit ! — for you surely move " Around us ever, though with tread so still — ■ " Approve our daughter's choice ; it was your will ! 66 Then take, Alonzo — take her son, and know " The gift more bright than monarchs may bestow, " Child of my pride ! — the treasure of my heart ! " But thou deserv'st her : more may words impart ?" " But thou my hope ! since hope was in the spring, a Light of my soul ! — my bosom's vital string ! " Wilt thou be mine ? — Wilt thou indeed be mine ?"— " Yes ! from this hour, Alonzo, I am thine." Ah, love ! Oh, luckless love ! whate'er my will, With all my wrongs I must adore thee still ; Thy blinded worshipper would gladly gain Thy fleeting rapture with whole years of pain ! 28 PADILLA. Canto I. XII. Moniz, how fares he ? — sorely doth he feel, Hung, like the savage, writhing on the wheel. With well-dissembled joy perchance he smiles, Perchance some scalding drop his cheek defiles : Pausing on torturing guilt his thoughts incline, Then hurl with conscience down the dark design : So paus'd the coward ere he fled from time, Hung o'er the gulf, and shudder'd at the crime, Spent his last glances with a curse on day, His eye-balls desperate grip'd and plung'd away, — From rock, with headlong speed, to rock he fell, Plash'd in the distant wave — then sunk to hell. Woe, Moniz, woe ! fly, luckless miscreant, fly, Far as the flaming zone, the polar sky ; There — at least guiltlessly — thy heart-strings eat ! If he receiv'd such warning, it was late. He, like a sister from her infancy, Had doted on the maid of laughing eye ; But now he burneth to an impious end : 'Twas treason to his friend;— he lov'd that friend. Moniz was handsome ; though his features bear Nought that commands a high respect, or fear. Canto I. PADILLA. 29 His was that comely look, that placid air, You dread no guile, nor hope much genius there. Dark were his eye-brows, but their depth was slight ; His eyes were dark, but never flashing bright ; Nor, like Alonzo's, might his forehead tell Of secret power, — of mind unreadable : — Good, gentle, kind, for vice too weak at worst, What passions bubble there will quickly burst. But he hath summon'd, with a fierce control, An effort from his soul ; — it tore his soul : Full gloomy prospect is beneath his eye, Yet will he dare it — not remorselessly. Wretch, thou art suffering ? — hope it not the worst : The deadliest pang of guilt is not the first. " He comes! he comes!" — he cried, from time to time, And, quite resolv'd, was still deferring crime ; " But he has landed, — now my soul, or never; K Or, wilt thou lose her and thy hopes for ever ? " No by " and fearful was the oath he swore; He sigh'd — that breast shall sigh for evermore. 'Tis night, 'tis midnight past : his chamber-door Opens in silence. Needs not ask, I ween, Who the dark lantern holds — himself unseen : 30 PADILLA. Canto I. But the light, flashing down that pass of stone, Shews one, the foremost, ill to look upon. Although in basest rags and want he be, You only shudder at the poverty The work of nature — not of misery — Of the low mind, instinctive of its due. That takes your charity in cursing you. Full on his features now the lantern threw His rugged features ; — see yon stubborn stone, Whose face the mason's sledge would break upon : 'Tis tractable that stubborn face to his : Of soul such utter dearth ! were't not for this, Here were the assassin of the painter's hand; But genius, spite itself, is in all it plann'd ! Same breadth of yellow cheeks, with many a trace Deep plough'd — as if in mock'ry of a face ; Each has the sunk eye glaring frightfully, But more is wildness in the painted eye ; Same angles of the mouth ; — red hairs too stand Thin on each forehead ; each has one clench'd hand : One too that grasps a naked knife : — but there The canvas speaks — and all is iron here. With such companion ! at such hour of night J What means their meeting? nought, I fear, of right. Canto I. PADILLA. 31 As down they go, the ruffian backward threw A look ; — the lantern pauses, wavers too. Oh ! then his muscles, though scarce mov'd the while, Took — what in hell perchance were nam'd a smile : And slow contracting in those lips of stone, That seem as of no human skeleton, Rings all the castle with his whistle shrill — " Hush ! friend I do beseech of thee be still." But when they came to where the postern lay, Was ushering from that narrow vaulted way, He could not — or he would not turn the key ; Then Moniz leaves his lantern on the clay — He tries — though rusted, it opes readily : But, lo ! that ruffian bends in passing by. Snatches the light, and stares him as he stood ; — Hah ! pale and trembling ! — Have they treated blood ? XIII. Forthwith the dawn, when down the mountain side In pale attire she moves — who would not ride, With hooded falcon on their gloves of buff, Hounds silver-leash'd, and wolf-dog in his iron ruff? 32 PADILLA. Canto L Castro exulted — for his bosom ne'er Rose more dilated in the morning air : When Moniz mark'd his rapture-beaming eye, More strengthen'd minds have felt less cruelly : — It smote that moment on his soul, like hell, To wrong the man, was loving him so well. Ah ! might he waver ! — soon that doubt is o'er! He fain would smile, but he shall smile no more. " Trust, my Alonzo, trust this anxious heart " In all thy fortune bears a brother's part ; " On thee, my friend, Heav'n's choicest blessings flow, " And I am — I am blest, when thou art so !" " Yes, Moniz, yes — thou ever kind and true — " O God ! Yes I am bless'd ! how dearly too ! " Friends, parents, country, all with me rejoice — • " E'en he, my monarch, with parental voice " Smiles on my love, and consecrates my choice : " Fly, fly, ye weeks, and soon my beauteous bride, " Soon shall a brother lead thee to my side." XIV. Swift flew the weeks — the glittering weeks away, And Hope, sweet star, illum'd each closing day : Canto I. PADILLA. 33 The livelong morning would Padilla stand, With silken signal, by the breezes fann'd ; And oft the lovers, at the midnight hour, Brighten the cresset in the warder's tower. Strange ! and more strange ! — moons wane as moons have wan'd, — No Ferdinand — and yet no Ferdinand. END OF CANTO I. Canto II. PADILLA. 35 CANTO II. I. JVocK-of-the-Cid !" (for still thou bear'st a name 23 Shall live — so doubly is it seal'd to fame ! — Outlive this Granite-mass, Time loves to spare) " Rock-of-the-Cid I" more wildly went on air, The shriek, arous'd thy lion from his lair ; Than lately ? — France ! Oh, France ! 'tis sadly said, Ruin, like thine, nor Goth, nor Moslem shed. The war-shriek it hath ceas'd : but shall we cease Blessing thee, Wellington, through years of peace? A lady from the west, of clear blue eye, Came with her offspring's shield of blazonry, Pleading, at England's throne, for honors due : — Nor listless she, nor slow ; but smiling, drew Her roll with snowy hand, and shew'd the name First in that many-languag'd roll of fame. That roll was written by the stainless tree, Standing at Freedom's shrine eternally : d 2 36 PADILLA. Canto II. Hope of the long-benighted foreigner ! For on its top a flame was burning clear ; And, though it blew, and cruel rains were sweeping, That small flame evermore was clearly creeping : — Small — but it hath at length, in God's own hour, Burst on the nation's kneeling to adore. Thou, pardon this intrusion, though unmeet ! Fain would I wreath a laurel for thy feet, Or spotless valour in his early grave ! Ill suits my voice with praises of the brave; Spain's war shall others sing : O, Wellington ! Thy wars, this later time — nor these alone ; But Xeres — and of yore what turbann'd hosts Vanish'd at Diva's stream, like wintry ghosts : A short, faint cry of struggling in a flood — Again the crescent wan'd — the cross arose in blood ! II. But now were gaily heard — they shall not long- The southern peasant's sweet guitar and song : Now black-ey'd virgins, by their fav'rites' side, Dwelt on th' impassion'd vow they seem to chide. Canto II. PADILLA. 37 With playful wiles, that beauty's bloom outlive, Or lend a grace e'en beauty fails to give. 'Tis peace : — Valencia standeth royally, Crown'd with her burnish'd crosses in the sky ; O'er groves of turrets, gothic and Moresque ; O'er clustering cones and spires of Arabesque t They, catching the last sun-beams as they pass,- Blaze brightly forth, like diamonds in the gas. Fair Teruel ! adown thy woodland breast Groves of green olive, pale Sobreira*s rest — O painting ! to pourtray her southern pass, With visions gleaming like a magic glass ! In long perspective, to th' horizon all, Are Moslem minaret, and moorish hall ; La-Yesa, Guadalaviar's gentle wave, The curling smoke-wreaths, turrets glittering brave ; Towns, and the gothic fortresses between, Forest afar, and mist to blend the scene. Now almond shades on Guadalaviar's vale List the soft lute, or Love's more soft'ning tale ; The orange-fruits^and blooms the lemon-blow, And flowering aloes scent the stream below ; Through purple foliage plays the honied bee, And white sails sparkle on the distant sea. 38 PADILLA. Canto II. III. Pass we to busier scenes of arms and sport, 25 The tourney's splendour — Oviedo's court. Thus through all Europe, publish'd far and near, That tourney was. — Shall Ferdinand appear ? PROCLAMATION. Lords and ladies, fair and free, 26 For love, for arras, and courtesy ! Looks demure, and wily glances, Where hope, desire, and pleasure dances I Noble youths, so bold and gay ! Remembrance sweet and frolic play ! Richly rob'd and debonnaire — Listen lords and ladies fair : — On the day, the day of May, The beauteous, bright, and festive day, To Oviedo's court repair ; Your king proclaims a tourney there : The lists invite— your rights uphold— Love and honor wait the bold. Canto IT. PADILLA. 39 For there the flowers of Spain shall be, Knights and dames of high degree : — Twenty knights shall there begin. And twenty ladies lead them in. Ail arm'd alike ; in order due Each shall range her warrior true : Next, twenty squires shall grace the ring, And every squire his maid shall bring In meet attire : — and heralds there With plaudits loud shall rend the air. Bear, ye brave, your saddles hold, Love and honour wait the bold. Then shall be seen who wield the lance, Then shall be seen the lords advance, Of noble port and courteous air. Winning the hearts of ladies fair : Who bear them well and hardily, To them shall praise and glory be ; True love a tender notice shew, Teach their souls a softer glow ; And honour ptay the guerdon meet, For every best and bravest feat : — 40 PADILLA. Canto II. Fair tidings all, and truly told ! Love and honour wait the bold ! Heavens, what a sight ! How feebly words pourtray The dazzling glories that outshine the day! How stud the balconies, above, below, The gems of beauty, knighthood's mailed show ; Marshals, and many a hoary Seneschall, Each with his wand of gold and crimson shawl, Castille's wrought tabards, Leon's sergeantry, Bearing her sanguine lions proudly high ; Dukes, barons, pursuivants in ermine guise, Squires, kings-at-arms, and judges of the prize! High o'er them all are rear'd, in order meet, Alfonzo's throne, and Roderick's iv'ry seat; — That seat of iv'ry, at Valencia won, Was wrought in Bagdad for the Caliph's son ; That throne of brilliants had a blood-stone dome, Blood-stone from Mecca and the Prophet's tomb : — All, all is gorgeous, all — the plumes of white, Pavillions, purple flags, and mirrors teeming bright. Hark to the signal-trump ! The knights advance With gilded stirrups and their pennon'd lance ! Canto II. PADILLA. 41 Their blazon'd shields, and favours in their casque, Avouch, for ladies' love, a noble task : Their barbed coursers, pawing in their might, Neigh through the ring, and shiver with delight ; Couch'd are their lances — heralds ply their care — The minstrels' solemn chorus swells on air ! ONSET. Servants of love ! look round awhile, What angel-forms ! and how they smile ! Bear ye brave, your saddles hold, Love and honour wait the bold ! A pause succeeds ! — a moment's pause alone : So Caesar look'd upon his Rubicon, Then loos'd his eagles, and they took their flight ! The clarions flourish — " God defend the right." IV. The first unhors'd was by a Biscayer, Proud with his Arab dark and scimitar ; — His shield, that hung in church two nights so clear, 27 42 PADILLA. Canto II. On the fourth morning bore a cross of blue ; But since had been adjudg'd, " stainless and true." Murcians were five — and one from Portugal Came gaily on a sorrel, light and small ; His plume was ruby — Douro's grapes were seen Upon his housings and his shield of green; But in the second joust he found a knee, Losing his mistress with his vanity. Long did the conflict last, and all around Steeds, gauntlets, flowers of knighthood strew the ground ! Oh ! many a prayer was there and tear-drop bright Of many a lady, for her servant's plight; And many a one, her hood, rings, ribbrfns throwing, Bares her white bosom, lets her locks be flowing. " Here" — cries a grey knight, with a high falcade, — " Here for thee, princess" — and she sees him laid. Who shines in golden ? — Not his shield may tell, Till tears its gimp of lily as he fell : 28 'Tis — by the virgin, it is he ! — 'tis who ? Good night to Moniz' stars and azure-blue. The gothic dragon green, the vermil crown 29 Of France, and Matto's silver-pine are down, With Ansur of the lineage high, who bore 30 Canto II. PADILLA. 43 The figs, that never knew defeat before t But three, but two remain — they charge once more, " What ho !" and th£ knight-of-honour shakes his glove, 31 cc Ho ! for the ladies' love, the ladies' love." Check'd are the tilters ; each in full career Wheels with a demivolte and vailing spear ; — A moment they may breathe, a moment look, Then close the tourney with the ladies' stroke. One was a knight — a knight from Aquitaine ; Xll brook'd he waiting while his vassals train For Palestine, — so hither comes to gain Some meed of arms, for sake of his lady — His lady's sake, the Queen of Hungary. White was his armour, all ; his courser " Wold" Drank when a white-foal of the Danube cold ; Upon his bracelet is a milk-white glove ; And, bending t'wards it with a smile of love, — " Ha ! ha ! with our lord of St. Dennis' will, u This poor lance shall approve thee peerless still, " Saint of my orisons ! I swore so by, w Swore by the pheasant and our good lady ; 32 " Look to it, gallants, for your chivalry." 44 PADILLA. Canto II. The other is in black — save spurs of gold And pea-green favour in his helmet bold ; Though small, tough manhood's form, I ween, is here, And long have Moslem widows wept that spear : But few do know him, neither do he heed 33 His aventayle ; but only strokes his steed. " A joust," again the bugles sound a charge, " A joust, the ladies' joust, at large, at large." The lists they have been clear'd, and each good knght Has fetch'd a compass on his courser light ; They've made their rests — saluted royally ; They've run — they've met — their long spears fly; fly, flittering fly. Now, for your hopes of knighthood ! lances, lances — Blow, bugles, blow ! — each ready squire advances : Again the twain are arm'd, again they ride — Turn, Queen of Hungary \ Oh ! turn aside ! That thrust thy servant has receiv'd, that thrust, — It goes, — bracelet and glove are in the dust. Ho ! largess, largess ! — from the saddle-bow 34 Dips in a thrice that gentle knight below — Regains the glove, rises — Ah ! may not rise, The noble Wold is wounded, plunging, dies. Canto II. PADILLA. 45 Bursts from the dazzling crowd their eager cry ; Wave the bright streamers, caps and plumage fly, The peals of triumph rise, the choral song, And lords and ladies to the victor throng. And who is he, the victor of the field — The Cid's black cross emblazon'd on his shield I Who, but the beardless warrior of an hour, Hope of the Castro, knighthood's youngest flow'r? V. Ah ! who can paint — the parent's self beside — A mother's triumph, or a father's pride ? Castro's — the good one's tears of rapture roll To bless the child and lady of his soul ; Her husband's arm that lady-mother press'd Seeking, with pleasure's faintest smile, his breast. When first young Edward taught the world to name Cressy's black-prince, and Britain's day of fame, Not on his lilli'd casque the plumes outshone His modest bearing, and his gentle tone : 35 So meek, so winning, with his soils bespread, High up the royal star Alonzo's led ; 45 PADILLA. Canto II. But, as he'd kneel, that monarch on his throne Rais'd him with courtesy, was all his own : — " To-day, young man ? St. Isidro forfend ! a Sit by our side ? our vassal and our friend." VI. And now the Cid — his hundred knights between — Arose in greeting : wonder hush'd the scene. Stately his form ; nor less allur'd the sight, His bless'd beard streaming o'er his shoulder right ; The hand that dares, what none besides shall dare, 36 Had thinn'd that woven beard, and blanch'd its hair : So when a ship from distant conquest won, Bears thee, old England ! home some fav'rite son j Nelson or Howe — what glitter, though no more Her flags, her sails, her pennants, pictur'd prore ; And masts, that play'd with heaven — she yet shall keep Her stately course, th* pomp and ruler of the deep. A solemn gladness glistens in his eye : Nor, as he holds his matchless sword on high, Views he that two-edg'd blade, without a sigh — For there the Castillan, " full conyngelie," Canto II. PADILLA. 47 Had wrought in gold his country's tale of pride : 37 In might and splendour, down the southern tide, First were Phoenician navies seen to ride : — Next, in the distance, fickle commerce flies, Down furls her banner, flames salute the skies : Forth from that pyre the Roman eagle springs, Exults a season, wantons on his wings; Till glancing forth, and eager for the day, He shoots — and upward takes his dazzling way : Still holds his pinion, with no mortal force ; But clouds arrest him in his sun-ward course, Abrupt, rolling, while dimly-gleaming pear, The Vandal anlance and the Runic spear . — On the reverse, where gothic altars shine, Kings in their pride, and prouder priests recline ; For all confus'dly through the dusk were thrown, Monarchs and monks, the crosier and the crown : — Hah ! what awaits ? — The day, the bleeding day, The woes of Xeres, and the turban-sway ! Wave ! wave, Pelayo, wave thy flag of dread ! Him Freedom snatching from her sainted dead Bore through the tempest with unearthly tread, O'er peaked cliffs, by many a torrent lone, And crown'd the chieftain on her mountain-throne:— 48 PADILLA. Canto II. Th'eternal mountains answer to His sign, Marching to war with all their plumes of pine : Dark, dark Auseva, what a sight was thine I Asturias' rose — when rose th* unconquer'd one, What might the crescent hope ? — Its beam was done. " Farewell, Colada !" — such the chieftain's word — < On Bavieca, and with thee, good sword, c In tilt and battle, by the field and flood, 6 Oft have we stood, — nor there unfoughten stood ! ' Now youth becomes thee best, — though youth sup- < Not always valour, and there were of those 38 c Who starv'd thee, slaves, by sordid fear betrayed !- 1 Scarce ^ye campaigns thy noble thirst allay'd ! ' But he will honour thee : — my sword adieu ; 6 Be still, Colada — still the mighty and the true ! — 4 Well hath it pleas'd me, boy, thy brave display c Of my black cross, for thy device to-day ; — 6 Then take Colada — wear it worthily, 6 And that black guise one year, for love of me." Yes ! there be feelings words can ne'er impart, Too fine to draw, and flashing from the heart. Alonzo bow'd — the blade, with conscious pride, Castille's fair princess buckled to his side. Canto II. PADILLA. 49 VII. There is a vision like my angel-sprite, And kinder, truly, for it greets ray sight — Lady — 'tis thine upon a noted night ! Maidens awhile have pin'd, — bards dream'd awhile, But few have lov'd : — love is not volatile. Not thee — this vision of what once was thee Give but a pencil for its smile on me, And I will dwell — upon the picture dwell, Play with the page, and brighten what befel ; In dazzling colours clothe Padilla's form. Fairer than fancy — more than nature warm. Yet was she fair : — the darkness of her eye Glitter'd around — and, glittering, all was joy. The glassy fancy-work, the filmy dew You blow to nothing— she is frailer too ; Yet could you haply mark, or ween to mark, In e'en that frailness some soft passion's spark. Her satin sandal of the faintest blue A diamond o'er her ivory ankle drew ; The blue simar, wrapping her slender waist, Powder'd with pearl and gems, a cincture lac'd : 50 PADILLA. Canto II. Small was her rounded head — and, richly set, A crosslet pinn'd her clustering locks of jet. To her, Alonzo, not unfollow'd by The choral maids and minstrel's symphony, Tenders to her upon his bended knee The gold-fring'd scarf of green embroidery, Plac'd in his helmet black, when to the ring She gaily led his steed with silken string. " A largess ! largess !" — more the pennons wave — " Glory t'th' son o'th' brave— t'th' son o'th' brave !"* She was his queen — for her he craves the meed, 40 Touching her rosy lip — so chivalry decreed. Lover like me, if any love like me — Creature of passion ! nerve of ecstacy ! ? Twas the first kiss, most pure — perhaps most bright, That checks our fondness, yet insures it quite : He thrills, well might it be — through every pore Fainting with bliss — and almost dreaded more. VIII. And where is Ferdinand ? — Full eagerly Was every stranger view'd — that— was not he Canto II. PADILLA. 51 And high along Salvador's cloisters hung Shields, fifty shields, that his was not among. Still is the mother's hope, the sister's gay — Lovely in summer is the wat'ry way ; Green Erin's isle is far beyond the sea, And south-winds lately blew, though calmly — con- stantly. Yet once the tourney-eve did Castro's eye Gaze on an unknown blazon doubtingly : Unknown, for of its yellow gimple on, — 'Twas but a newly-dubb'd from Arragon ! So now he pales : — if Moniz too 'gin pale, 'Tis, that his brother-in-arms has cause to wail. At length fantastic fame, with muffled crown Steals, like a spial, whisp'ring through the town ; Whisp'ring of battle, conquest, and defeats — Her dubious tale perplexes all she meets : As when the beacon, like a distant star, Glimmers through fog — the sailor from afar Toss'd to the north, where hags with wizard-lore Expect the shipwreck on Ronalsa's shore, Braves the chill sleet ; and, straining on the view, Descries the light, yet almost doubts it too ; e 2 52 PADILLA. Canto II. The waters rave, the famish'd eagle cries, Flaps his grey wing, and hovers for his prize. IX. When silence muses on her purpled hill, Through mist and twilight by the mossy rill ; When finch and linnet sing their vesper-tale, And all the soul of flow'rs perfumes the gale, Who but has ponder'd on the streaked sky, Pourtraying there some object of her sigh ? — Dress'd the fond sketch in hues that baffle art — Friend of her being ? — brother of her heart ? Fever'd and faint he haply wanders on Through Indian climes, and conquers with the sun ; Who, king of nations, from his blazing car, Waves his broad ensign in the van of war. Haply her hero — cautious, silent, all — Paces the night-watch on Gfariffa's wall; How calmly sleeps below the tented-ground ! — See the blue-flash ! Resistless thunders sound Burst on the ranges — shatter all around — Through volum'd smoke the grenadiers defile, Close their bright ranks, and struggle up the pile : Canto II. PADILLA. 53 Flanking the breach, in serried line are set Above, beneath, the groves of bayonet : Near — and more near — may still no volley fly, Mute valour waiting, dark death pausing by ! So — ready — fire ! whole columns roll away, Swept, like the hurricane that clears the day — 'Tis o'er, 'tis o'er — one swoop, and all is o'er — Shout, England, shout, victorious evermore. Perchance, too rudely ! in his budding fame Cold ague shakes, or fever thins his frame, Down surly Tagus he endures with pain, The tentless shallop, and the midnight rain Four cheerless days — 'till sicken at his heart Life's ebbing pulses, trembling to depart ! Poor patient sufferer — thy fears dispel ; Reach but thy home, and all will yet be well ; Its breezes fan thee, and a mother's eye Chace the pale tyrant — hov'ring now so nigh. Who but in fondness for their wand'rers burn, Blessing the news that promise their return ? Unlike Padilla, may they never mourn ! With hopes like her's — for mercy say not lost ! Alas ! a scout arrives — the Christian host Late in the north had won a bloody boast ! 54 PAD1LLA. Canto II. Writhing with no unreal pangs, I trow — " This world," cries Moniz, is a world of woe : " Some drops of bliss may mock the parched lip — " Infernal drops ! they vanish, Castro, ere we sip." X. And with him was the scout, who, weak and old, Is shiv'ring in his tatter' d mantle-fold. — It is the same — but then they suited well That hour — that lantern — and that look of hell : — What means he here ? And now his red-eyes glow Methinks more keenly — but his speech is slow, Though not untutor'd in its tale of woe ; For all, broke with his own uncouthness so. " Hah ! waits the caitiff 'till my heart-strings go ? " What, what of Ferdinand ? — out, varlet, out !" " Ay, by St. Marco ! — and full soon I doubt. — u I serv'd your Ferdinand from infancy, " Faithful and base, as best a slave may be ; " Others perchance had plain' d— not so with me — " When gracious masters laud their vassal's wife, " True liege-men love the honour as their life. 41 Canto II. PADILLA. 55 " Good — it is good — frown, faith, an it do suit — " Another frown, by Marco, leaves me mute : " Off stormy Ortegal, some two months gone, " The port (in brief) our vessel scantly won ; " 'Twas all by Burgos we descried afar " The Christian war-flag — and wejoin'd the war. a By Mark ! 'twas gallant from the wings to see " Part like a storm the steel-clad chivalry ! " Our vested bishop, with his ringlets hoar, " The cross on high in front of battle boar ; " But vainly bore — while 'thwart the Moslem-van 42 " A chain, with massive fangs of iron, ran; — " Thrice on that chain our darkest war we spent, " Returning thrice, like clouds by thunder rent; " Again — it fell — ay, but my master fell : " Galin, he cried, my mother, sister, tell — " But gently tell it, — or their hearts will break;™ a To her this locket — to my sister take : " I charge her wear it to her dying-hour. — " By Marco, need I more ?" — — Alas ! no more ! XI. First in the womb when throbs her infant boy, The conscious parent how she sighs with joy ! 56 PADILLA. Canto II. Hah ! tiny stranger ! yet a season live — Blossom of love, awhile thy sweetness give ! Thee shall thy father — scarce with manhood's air — Hail into being, and in triumph bear. See palid beauty on her pillow rest, Hug, wildly fond, her baby to her breast, Kiss the small face, the fairy fingers raise, Smile on her lord, and melt him with the gaze . Come, daring pencil, dip in shades below, Reverse the picture, paint a mother's woe ! The widow droops, in blackest weeds, her head, Now widow'd twice — her only son is dead : — u My child ! my child !" anon the mourner cries, Leaps from her tranced gloom, and frenzied flies,— Then shrieking sinks at once : — the forky light So shoots its terror, and so sets in night. Lady, no further — mortal may not trace That cloud of horror brooding on her face ; — That cry so tearless — look of hopeless grief — That mute despair, that shudders at relief. XII. Immortal master ! Seer of passion's well ! Went unbequeath'd, Racine, thy matchless spell ? — Canto II. PADILLA. 57 Lo ! 'tis Arricia — through the twilight glooms With trembling step she hurries by the tombs, Bright o'er the temple on his scented wing, Where Hymen waits her virgin-offering. Hah ! — sudden fear her boding heart consumes — With blood the moisten'd pathway freshly fumes : — She comes — she sees — O God avert her eyes ! — A pale and mangled corse her Hypolito lies. To doubt, — poor sceptick ! — she awhile may try, And call her lover — though she sees him by : Soon undeceiv'd ! — since now, alas ! is given Her glance of sorrow, that accuses Heaven ; — Sobbing and cold she sends a fainting sigh, Drops at her lover's feet — and seems to die. So far'd Pad ill a : since my conscious strain Shrinks from a task, it never might attain. XIII. Weeks, months are flown, since grief, the spoiler came, Blanch'd her dear cheek, and dimm'd her mental flame ; Since first her couch the beauteous maniac fled, To pace the gallery with noiseless tread, 58 PADILLA. Canto II. Where her wan figure by the moon-beam's light Seem'd like a spirit gliding through the night. With ringlets loosen'd and her dark-blue eye, Upward she looks — how calm ! — how piteously ! Seated at length, along her brows of snow, Streams a full ray, that deeply shades below — So woe-struck all — so motionless her air — She'd seem of marble, were it not less fair. And oft she started, as her clouded mind Trac'd its fond phantom on the midnight wind; — Pale, pale in sooth, but smiling heav'nly kind. Unarm'd it comes — though on its shroud, I ween, Twine the red-branch, with Erin's tuft of green — And blood, she said, was oozing from its side ; For on that shroud a stain was redd'ning wide. Slowly she rises — slowly, tott'ring mov'd, With arms inviting, as to one belov'd ; While wildly — strangely mingle in her air, Mistrustful hope, and sadness, and despair : Then shortly stopping, as the vision fled, Deems it unkindly done — and waves her pensive head. XIV. East on the castle- terrace come the sun- He woos the flowers that round the lattice run, Canto II. PADILLA. 59 Till he may peep upon their leafy bed ; Then steals the tear-drop, morning loves to shed. In vain his softest glow that sun assumes, No more, no more, her cheek the light relumes ; Nor may Valencia's breath so prodigal, Of life so prodigal, one rose recal. Her ebon-couch — her feeble frame reclin'd — Her snowy fingers on her bosom join'd — Her locks of sablest jet and veil, that drew So strongly forth the paleness of her hue : — All, for an instant, bid the maid appear A saint in virgin-state upon her bier. But lenient time has come — her looks express A plaintive peace, a gleam of tenderness. Her aged mother, though the hand of grief Weigh on her soul too heavy for relief, Would fain her fated hour retard awhile To cheer her child with struggle for a smile : And much it sooths her, that no hectic streak Now, as she kiss'd it, mar her angel's cheek ; — The dove-like gentleness, pluming her crest, A season ruffled, nestles in her breast. It is not all : — sent, like a dream of pain, A thought, 'twould seem, comes crossing on her brain : 60 PADILLA. Canto IL Call it not frenzy — though in sooth there strays Some wildness still that flutters on her gaze : Fleet, wary, and uncertain, as the light Of autumn's landscape fading on the sight. " 'Tis true," she cried, " and it indeed were strange, " If aught, in one so doted on, could change : — " Yet, what is death ? — This little hand of mine, " My poor Alonzo, never may be thine : — a Grieve we not — grieve we not, my friend, my love, — " Though woe-worn here, we all shall meet above ! — " Forgive me, mother, when my brow, 'tis true, " Comes burning thus — I know not what I do. " Better became it, that with filial art ts I suck'd the death-drops from thy wounded heart ! — " I do, sweet mother ! I do strive — in vain, — " Well, well — the pang is past — I'm well again." Yet twice ere evening with her star of woe, Look'd with meet pity on the world below ; Twice, when she haply heard, or deem'd she heard The clank of armour, gateway, drawbridge stirr'd — " 'Tis he — 'tis Ferdinand, 'tis he," she cried, Flew from her couch — flung, flung the casement wide ; An instant changes — with a sigh profound Now wanders heavily her eye around : Canto II. FADILLA. 61 Long on her locket looks of mourning stray ; She kiss'd it next — then burst in tears away. And when the sun, in bright departure press'd His crown of glory on the mountain-crest ; With sudden start, that spurn'd Alonzo's aid, Along the twilight-stream or down the glade She glanc'd — and glimm ring, with a plaintive call Of brother ! brother ! fled the castle-wall : Seem'd to the traveller winding down the steep. Beneath were summer-meteors on the sweep ; Or better, some illusion of the eye — So swift she past — so brightly vanish'd by. XV. Romance ! fair traitress ! — if as false as fair — What child of thine hath ceas'd to love thee e'er ? How soon, enchantress ! did thy song, thy spell, Lure the young Castro to thy wayward cell ! — Thence — as he deem'd it — from the viewless brake Was heard the Trouveur's tale along the lake ; 43 While down the wave the swan, with arched neck, Mov'd like a queen with nations at her beck. 62 PADILLA. Canto II. The hoary steep that frowns o'er Teruel, The copse, the streamlet, and the broken dell ; The torrent foaming from its flinty bed, Though lonely now, were not untenanted : For, as he view'd, in rapture and amaze, That mountain bursting through its purple haze, Would knights and ladies on his fancy throng, As round he sail'd his little world of song. Despite its lessons rude, no after-time Hath swept away those visions of his prime : But, since in triumph laughing Love led on His captive — Ah ! too willing to be won ! — More often far, and in retreat from men His hand had borrow'd pencil and the pen ; Nor less the chisel, at whose magic sway Affection lives, and Sorrow weeps away : — Such well of yore the Grecian artist knew, And the young painter kindles to review. He — fond enthusiast ! startles from a dream, Where e'en his sleeping lingered on the theme ; From short repose he hurries to his toil, And faintly sheds a hesitating smile : Full on the bust, and many a midnight o'er Propt on his easel how he loves to pore ! Canto II. PADILLA. 63 A pause — a lengthen'd pause — he shifts the light- Pauses again — protracts the strange delight ; While o'er his face the flame reflected plays, And grief and wonder mingle in his gaze. What though perchance to seasons of distress Pursuits like these lend little manliness ; And though 'tis wisdom would perchance forego The darkest of all woe — fictitious woe — Yet well the wand'rer Hope was welcom'd so / Back to Alonzo's home — long to sojourn I For now unto the maid he saw return Heart-ease: — as when, though late, the vernal-time, Escap'd from winter and his surly clime, Comes with her timid step and flow'ry urn. Yes ! Hope returns — as Love too will return, Though ne'er, their lamps once quench'd, so brightly may they burn. Lady ! thou lov'st to ponder by the brine, When sweetly sleeping in the pale moonshine ; — By him 'twas most affected, when the light Scarce gave the canopy of waves to sight ; That curling, roaring, breaking, foam'd a-shore. Then proudly swept them back — in scorn he swore. 64 PADILLA. Canto II. So now he stands on the rock's outmost hight, Nervous and pale — the genius of the night ! His mantle on the wind, his forehead bare, He looks — nor deems how soon he shall be there : — Looks on the waters wild ; then sends along, Send sea-ward, his involuntary song: tc My muse ! my mistress ! — thou wert such to me, " E'en thou most faithful, when few others be : " Foul, foul, befal the tongue that rails at thee ! " Thanks for my hours of bliss most heavenly ! " Yet I will call thee while distresses bend, " No fabled goddess — but a real friend. " When not the night-winds that around me roll " Were darkness to the darkness of my soul; " When scarcely struggling sense could longer bear, " A moment shook, and waver'd on despair; " Recoil'd with horror as the eddying brain " Turn'd from its pest, yet sought to turn in vain : " So from the Puma would the courser fly " Swift o'er the desert with his torture/cry. '• In vain — the mischief, with her clinging claws, " Dabbles in blood, and to his vitals gnaws : " So by Spitsbergen, where the ice-hills shine, " Bursts in dismay the monarch of the brine; Canto II. PADILLA. (Jo u Lash'd by his tail the realms of water shake, " And Biscay fishers at the thunder wake,** a Wake in their sea-tost skiff, that never sleeps — " Down with his finny foe the monster sweeps " E'en to the courts — the holies of the deeps ; " Then upward flings him, madden'd with his pain, " In mighty ruin rolls and dies the main — " Angel of verse ! dear lenitive of woe ! " To thee my reason — yea, my life I owe." XVI. Thus far, and Moniz' curs'd with full success \ 'Tis oft a curse, yet never worshipp'd less : Her brother's riddance fell defers a space What — what but in the thought were death to face, A space defers, and " ever shall," he cried. And now, as if the fiends were on his side, He died — the only man he fears hath died ; Alike that murd'rer as the murder'd lies In his dark home, he recks not of their rise. What follows next ? The road is plain, I ween, And who have enter'd blood, will deeply in. F 66 PADILLA. Canto II. Yet lives his rival : — wherefore ? Is his life More proof? In Spain no other hireling knife ? Is it he loves him, whom he lov'd so late ? He doth not love him — no ; nor yet can hate : He hath no friend — he feels that he hath none ; But cannot quite forget, he once had one : — For friendship's memory — as of the dead — Awhile will linger, though itself be fled. The black remorse, the agonies of soul. The base may feel them not — the proud control : In weaker minds, that guilty passions tear, The scorpion-scourges — searching pangs are there. Liken not Moniz to his rapier-hilt ! That guilty breast, that seem'd not made for guilt, Was deeply racking and full cruelly : — And when he look'd upon that wrong'd lady, So sad — so jealous — so remorsefully — 'Twere plain, perchance, unto another eye : Still Castro doubts not. Was he therefore blind ? Ah ! rather own we, that the noblest mind In friendship as in love foresees not less, Though proudly with its own devotedness, It stake, it throw — content if losing it, That life shall with its dreams at once be quit Canto II. PADILLA. 67 XVII. Train' d as was Moniz' youth beneath their eye, Alonzo's parents long had lov'd the boy ; Nor might endure to see him wasting by. Wave we the circumstance, the hint, the sigh, — Push'd home, was solv'd at length the mystery. 'Twas a damn'd feigning scene — and cost his all : He felt within him, as if blood, like gall, Dropp'd acid as the Dead-sea on his heart : — To bid that pang of misery depart, He yet hath strength — hath for a moment so. All have their feelings and perchance less slow Than wisdom whisper'd,^is inclin'd to flow ! Yet must he feel for one, so fondly worn, Worn with his soul. — Had he not deeply sworn To live — to die too, as his brother will'd ? Bled in his goblet ? poiz'd his blazon'd shield ? 45 The flower, so sadly drooping, rose, 'tis true, Pad ill a rose : — yet thence his terrors grew. Yes ! she was lovely — bright, as morning bright : But, ah ! how youthful, thoughtless, and how light I v 2 68 PADILLA. Canto II. By early pride how future life was crost, When, on a single die, our hopes were stak'd and lost I Pity it were ! — 'Twould lessen much his fear, Were the rash union but deferr'd a year : — Then might he choose— or clasp her as his own, If not more worthy, yet they'd grant more known. So gloz'd the traitor— and the parents' mind, Marvel not lady, though such arts could blind. Yet how proceed ?— - Still, still his friend had shewn A soul for glory heated as his own : — Brethren in arms, became it fame they sought, From golden tourney to the field well-fought ; Laurel and blood, too true, might home bestow, And Moslem Bucar was no vulgar foe ; Yet had they hop'd— nor deem their ardour vain — To hail bright battle on his Syrian plain, ^ Plant their black-cross and triumph side by side : — Their Spanish chivalry should soon decide, If France alone be glory's blessed heir. The father ponder'd, with unwilling ear, The mother heard, and felt a mother's fear. Yet was she calm'd :— Spain's wa^ a troublous shore, Perils hung thickly, time seem'd fraught with more ; Canto IT. PADILLA. 69 While o'er the east, or pilgrims' taunts were vain, Less war, than splendour, held of late the reign. XVIII. No instant pang, though death be on its wing, To the 'numb'd victim may the bullet bring : — E'en so, the wretch, with wounds tearing the heart, May smile through ruin, nor reveal a smart. Struck at the tidings, with a single sigh Has Castro bow'd :— then in extremity, " Adjur'd— be thou adjur'd, Moniz, both " By friendship, and thy plighted brother-oath, " Leave not the land — but one, to me most dear, " See thou protect her with a brother's fear." Not e'en might Moniz, surely, fail to bless This last wild pledge of friendship in distress ? Alas ! to him alike what's thought or done— The feelings of his soul are all in one. XIX. Pass we the parting— when the parents, late, Burst o'er their child and fain would change his fate ; 70 PADILLA. Canto II. Nor sacriligeously presume to steal, Where love and holy sorrow draw the veil; Where thrice Alonzo, struggling for reply, Might speak, but with his agonizing eye ; And poor Padilla with that thought again, That very madd'ning thought of her sick brain, Sobb'd in his arms — " thougji only love of mine, " Too true 'twas told, I never may be thine." Fair in the west Valencia's turrets rose, As down the stately wave the vessel goes ; The black-cross knight, that o'er its side is bent, Seems living less, than bust or monument ! The crackling cordage and the seaman rude Bustle around :— to him 'tis solitude ! Cold, mutely poring, with unconscious eye, On glitt'ring billows— shallop skimming by. Morn of his life, so dark and dreary quite, What, what shall be the herald of its night? XX. " Ye, who the sickness of the heart endure, u Whom Hope deserts, and Time denies a cure ; Canto II. PADILLA. 71 " Till, as advancing on the road of fate, " Your minds start back to see it desolate : " Then, when your bosoms, heaving for relief, " Would vainly labour to unload their grief: " When the parch'd palate and the sunken eye u Portend no tear — but cold delirium nigh ; " And the false smile, that passes in a breath, " Like Heav'n's blue lightning, seems to herald death— " Come, come — with me these raving billows tread ; " Our rest, thou stormy world ! is with the dead." The song was Castro's, while the tempest's light, Sheeting the waves, his soul was with the sight ; But lowlier sunk, when peace was on the tide : And " wherefore sing ?" he said, " there was a guide " Whose taste could cheer me, and whose judgment chide : a Of her no more ; — My eye is jaundic'd quite ; " Nature, e'en nature's loveless in its sight. — " The heavens are starry; — in the leeward waves, " The moon her curly front of tresses laves ; " While o'er the left, the mountain and the sea w Blend coldly in their purple canopy. " All rest around, save restless me, I ween, " Pacing the deck-way— not to bless the scene : 72 PADILLA. Canto II. " And when, ere long, the sun leaps to his throne, " None here shall greet him ; — I am here alone.' ' XXI. Padilla's breast what floods of sorrow swell, What heart-wrung sorrow, is not mine to tell : Who, who may tell what bitter sacrifice Is young, is virgin love ? — And lo ! her mother dies. Now she indeed was cheerless and alone, Her brother— parents— lover— all are gone. Still reason staid ; — and strange it was to tell How one, of yore so fragile, bore so well ! The mind affrighted sinks at fate's first blow, But, rais'd again, will oft inure to woe. XXII. Friendship ! howe'er by saint or sage defin'd The balm of life, the med'cine of the mind :— But, no ;— not always false— I say not so ; Yet rarely to be found, and hard to know ! Canto II. PADILLA. 73 Hah ! e'en when found, what art thou but a flow'r Brilliant and frail— the plaything of an hour ? Scarcely, believe me lady, a friend appears In morning-life, who gilds its setting years. Eliza gone too ! — she who wont to be Friend — parent— sister — every thing to me ! Far other were the dreams, that sooth'd her boy, Her latest sorrow — but her early joy ! Dearly he thought to close his follies' scope, Rise from his faults, nor quite deceive her hope. Fond, fruitless wishes all !— e'en this poor line Meets not her eye— it only mfeetfc her shrine. Lady, I doubt not, no — her spirit's fled To brighter regions ; — but for me she's dead ! O'er her cold grave- stone, where I nightly creep, Have I not wept ? — and must for ever weep ? Ah ! it were better shun affection's strife. Damp the fine feelings that embitter life ; Flutter around, to all, with winsome art, Give hand and smile — but never give the heart. Would I then wish to yield thy memory ? 'Tis now— Eliza— all I hold of thee ! Angel of mine ! — for, surely if there be An angel province, it was thine for me— 74 PADILLA. Canto II. How to thy sacred lessons do I owe Much that I know, and all the best I know ! How thrill'd my infant bosom at thy praise Of worth recorded in those ancient days — Scipio who triumph'd — Regulus who died — And Cato's god-like strength — without his pride ! How — as through Smarmor's groves we oft would go. Till, from the well-lov'd height, we view'd below The gold west glowing, and the twilight star Marching from sea-ward in his diamond car — Thy words reveal'd, with heav'nly wisdom fraught, Such mighty truths surpassing mortal thought ! — What noble end was man's !— His home on high, Here thou but deem'dst his journey to the sky, Where virtue reigns, and all the good are met : Who thus forgets thee, may his God forget ! Did friendship sooth Padilla ?— God above, When unprotected woman weeps her love, Is there not something, Maker, in her spell Of pearly tears, to melt a, heart of hell ? — Moniz, 'mid all her woe|, her worst of woe ! True, he had mingled in her sorrow's flow ; Nor quite devoid of manhood's nobler part, Her person little, would achieve her heart. Canto II. PADILLA. 75 For this he curb'd alike his joys and hate, He feign'd a tear for e'en his rival's fate ; Wept at her feet, and lick'd the dust below : Unhappy, untaught mortal ! not to know Submission and the abject plaints of earth Please infant love — but never gave him birth. At length, arising from his posture low, The blush of pride, like lightning on his brow, His eye-balls rolling wild, his mutter'd curse, Stuck to her bosom fear, and 'boded worse. Looking around, she gather'd what distress Is the soul's feeling of its loneliness : The drowning ship-boy, in a midnight sea Was not more desolate, more lone than she. Her castle — once so vocal with the lay Of lord, of Troubadour, of lady gay ; Whose little foot-page, like a child of morn, Announc'd her palfrey by his silver horn — Was but a prison now, where Moniz reign'd Reign'd uncontroll'd ; and, when the bridge unchain'd, Tell in the twilight hour, 'twas but a scout With rumours of the Moor warring without. The grey domestics of her train no more Were seen ; and, as she pass'd the corridore, 76 PADILLA. Canto II, Unknown and unco6th faces met her eye. Moniz had deign' d each soothing art to try ; Those unavailing, fear he deem'd must do : — That mind, so seeming weak, he little knew. XXIII. Calmly she sate : save, when he ventur'd name Her all-ador'd, a glance of horror came So pale and wildly, it a moment sought To read his soul, and pluck its very thought. But, prouder feelings quick returning forth, Light, like the fitful crimsons of the north 1 Her cheek so burning, eye so flashing bright, It strangely suited one so airy-light. " O God !" she kindling cried, " O God of bliss ! " Have I then liv'd to hear a threat like this ? " Am I alone ?— alone I cannot be ; u Or has not my Alonzo bled with thee ? u Art thou not his by ev'ry dreaded tie " Of Heaven and man ? And durst thy villainy " To name his very name, and mean me wrong ? " Upon thy soul thou durst not !— Fool ! how long Canto II. PADILLA. 77 " Paltry, preposterous fool, must this endure? " Know, I am his beyond the hopes of cure — " By love, by maiden vow, by all am his : " Or, were this heart to deem of him amiss, " And meanly jealous trust thy damning lie, " What might it do, but break indignantly ?" — No more did Moniz hear : but held that form, Bright in its wrath, as angel of the storm. She, whe#£ the flame of spirit, fiercely brief, Fainted within her, melted in her grief. XXIV. Again, though faintly, Scotland's highlands peer 47 — Scenes early honor'd ! — since how sadly dear ! Shall we not turn, to breathe a last adieu, Ere quite they vanish in the distant blue ? Majestic north, farewell ! farewell once more Strange land of Freedom, Poetry, and Lore ! By limpid Tay what thousand wonders dwell ! Far-fam'd Dunsinane, Killicranky's dell ; Thy palace Scone, the pride of former years, And scenes of Scotland's hope, and Scotland's tears ! On Ness, or Leven, when short summer peers, 78 PADILLA. Canto II. Peers on each frozen lake and snowy height, Not Spain — not India shews a beam more bright. And thee, Loch-lomond thee — but thou wilt blame The hand untutor'd, and its daring aim ; Like Oza, when it ventur'd on thy state, Fearing, unholy hand ! that Hebrew's fate : His fate — aspiring vainly to retrace The mountain grandeurs of thy dwelling-place. Ah ! mother, were the brush e'en feebly true, You'd love your child the more, such heav'nly scene he drew ! Lady, so sad ? — Yet sadness well, I ween, Accords bleak Lanark, with thy cheerless scene ; Where one scath'd birch lies lifeless on the waste, Roars wintry Anan, howls the lurcher past ; And a rare shepherd-boy, with meagre flock, Cowers in his grey-strip'd plaid behind the rock. Not with us, lady, always far'd it so ; Deeply we drank of rapture, as of woe : Recall's! thou ne'er ? — so oft recall'd by me ! — By Oatland's shadowy wave, what joys wont be; When, haply thus, each absence of a morn Lent a new lay to greet thee on return : Canto II. PADILLA. 79 SONG. Thou lovely Thames ! how brightly beam Thy waters, like some silvery lyre ! How soft the music of thy stream, As if an angel wak'd the wire ! And will thy waves be always bright ? And always sweetly warbling so ? Thou lovely Thames ! 'twould grieve my sight. To see thy stream more rudely flow. Full many a love — but none like ours — Thy summer-barks have gaily borne ; Thy rose and lilies lent their flow'rs, And elms and plane their foliage worn. Belinda ! seem'd these hours of bliss Foredoom'd upon thy peace to prey, I'd court no longer scenes like this, But mourn, in exile, far away! Yes ! though I twin'd thee in these arms — Less closely, Thames, thine osiers twine — And rav'd and fainted o'er thy charms, Till all my life and soul was thine ; 80 PADILLA. Canto II, I'd seek no more for rapture's sigh, No more enfold thee, beauteous flow'r ; But shrink and pine — perchance to die — And almost bless our parting hour. XXV. Now fifteen weary days the sun had been On his unvaried round ; nor had he seen Paoilla's foe return : — yet she no more Might bide to venture from her chamber-door. 'Twas that same chamber, dress'd in happier hours. The Greek rotunda and the sculptur'd flowers. He, whom it waited, died ! — and sorrow's sprite Had thrice denTd it on his wings of night ! — Such thoughts of mourning, and the silent air Kept a strange variance with the gayness there : And, when the alabaster lamp and vase, From their bronze tripod shed a silver blaze All on the silken couch and pale cheek there, It seem'd a sepulchre — vain, vain repair Of sorrow ling'ring so, e'en wisdom's eye Will not ungently chide the piteous mockery. Canto II. PADILLA. 13 Not but, by times, to one so buoyant quite, A dream of hope, a star upon her night Rose for a moment ; — then she gaz'd on high, With rapture flutt'ring in that dark-blue eye : So, when the south monsoon — whose clouds combine Beyond Sumatra, Ceylon, and the Line — Weighs upon Siam, on the watry waste Weighs on the wat'ry waste, all black and vast ; While, spite his hundred slaves and golden shed The snow-white elephant droops down his head, ** — Come but a breeze, keen o'er the trackless lee, Where Tartars prick, or China's fields of tea, The deluge ebbs— and Nature, like a bride, Puts off her weeds a space, smiling in pride. Alas ! how transient what could thus beguile Padilla's gloom ! and when she mus'd awhile On all she suffer'd, all she fear'd from fate, Her traitor-guardian, her imprison'd state ; Or, might she flee, yet whither could she flee ? — Her brain went turning, and she felt despair, Entwin'd within her, shed his venom there ; His dark misgivings, and those doubts of woe, That wretches know, and e'en the good may know, G 82 PADILLA. Canto It And, hark ! she started : on the marble-way I said 'twas night, and by the pale lamp's ray — Ling'ring and softly steps were heard to pass. Can this be Moniz ? — but how changed, alas ! How chang'd from him — him fair and courteous all, Bright in the tourney — brighter in the ball I Half had she deem'd a spectre wander'd by — So bending was his form, so sunk his eye Of darken'd red ; so ill would paleness speak The damp, the unfleshy whiteness of his cheek— Shew'd not the fev'rish panting of his frame, A life still glowing, and a soul of flame. " Padilla !" — while he trembl'd on her name He sunk into a seat — " Padilla, see ; " See, luckless lady, what is come of thee ! " Have I not woo'd thee with a lover's care ? " But thou regard'st me as the passing air. " Well, woman is a nettle, rudely pluck'd — " A stingless thing. — The tigress, all unsuck'd, " Wild from her midnight walk, that finds no more " Her whelps, and frights the forest with her roar, " Felt grief nor rage like mine. — Yes ! my rack'd soul, " Ere thus resign'd to ruin and control. Canto II. PADILLA. 83 " Rav'd round its prison, like a sp'rit of sin, " Howling for exit from the flames within ! " Am I not sorely scath'd ? — I could not bide, a In sooth I could not ; for my utmost pride, {t Thy love, though hopeless quite, to quite resign ; u Or stab thy heart, although it makes thee mine. — " For there's a secret, none shall else divine ! — a Hast thou no pity for my fallen state ? " But I too much have suffer'd ! — It were late : u Sought e'en thy love to ease this tortur'd brow, " 'Twere vain. — Not Heaven's sweet rain might cool it now ! " Look, look, Padilla — let me bare this face — " Shews it no seal of crime ? — No Cain-like trace ? " Is all still human here ? may nought declare " The man of blood ? the ruthless murderer ? w Ay, ay, Padilla — of thy brother's blood 1" Deem you she fainted ? and what living flood Still stain'd her cheek ran coldly to its source ?— She chang'd not— no ; — perchance depriv'd of force : But, fair and tranquil, as the wonders seen Along the path, where pestilence has been Scaring the Red-sea with his breath of flame — Death lies on all, yet all appear the same : g 2 S4 PADILLA. Canto II. 'Twere fearful, sooth, to touch her as she lay, Lest, like those lifeless forms, to dust she fall away. He, were it only for thy pangs, Remorse, Had, like the comet, held his impious course ; That scorns to tremble, though it fright the sky : But feelings, wilder than the tempest's cry, War in his breast, and burst alternately ! — With his last words resistless fury broke, His nerves were iron, and a demon spoke ; While, in the socket of each redden'd eye Seem'd every passion rous'd for mastery : Now strength and rage are sunk upon his air, — His limbs go trembling : — sorrow, love, despair, Speak as they pass unutterably there ! But most his look was piteous, when he bore His slow hand from his side :— that hand was bath'd in gore ! 49 " Padilla, see !— this heart at least can bleed ! " Might I but weep too ! — that were strange indeed ! " Maid, could I weep ! O maid, I'd weep for thee : — " This sad confession seals thee unto me. " Ruin'd alike, methinks beneath this ray " We each might stare each other's life away Canto II. PADILLA. 85 " To marble.— Rather, rather live awhile : " A nuptial bed remains us to defile ; " And though hereafter angels should deplore " That sulli'd bosom is itself no more; " Though from this breath thou should'st imbibe a dole, — " Dole of its hell, and horror, past control, " Take his long watch, and walk upon thy soul ; — " E'en so, 'tis something, that thou shalt be mine. " Stains not my head that brother's blood of thine ? " Thy lover — but sponge, sponge such hopes from thee, " E'en now he reads— and from this hand you see " His Moniz 7 treason ! — what from all my mind u Lost with her honours, what remains behind, " But love, but rav'ning love and constancy ? " I cut through friendship — 'twas my Gordian tie. " Yes, proud one, yes— I e'en am blasted so : " And all for what? To prune my purpose now ? " Tortures of mine ! whose bleeding witnesses " Ooze with a sweat, and bathe my side like this ! " I go — I go — and, like the Cobra's prey, " Corrupt by piece-meal, and dissolve away ! u Yes ! Lady, I dissolve; — but fiercer come " My ardent spirits, challenging their home 86 PADILLA. Canto II " Of fire. — And, though that angel-smile, alas ! " Might only flout this wreck of what I was, — (C Smile, if thou durst, and I will pluck it me, " Like the last eastern rose, quitting its tree " To scent no banquet — but embalm the dead. " But thou wilt hate me more ! — Be comforted, " My soul, though going on the jaws of Fate, " She cannot hate me as myself I hate. " You know me, Lady, not of that fat mould, {i Whom jeering priests have fitly styl'd their fold tc In this besotted time : — when I do swear, " Came nightly to me, since I last was here, " Thy mother, as she liv'd, do thou revere u No brain-sick coinage! — and so sadly spoke, " Ay, all her looks, another heart had broke. "• I grinn'd — I struck— at nothing, said my stroke ; " I madden'd — still 'twas there ; — I roll'd to ground— " Still changeless sadness on her cheek was found : — " Then 'twas I gnaw'd my flesh in my despair : " Accurs'd, accurs'd, begone ! this outward air " Is not for thee. Yet come— but when she's blest, " Come, see the riot of thy daughter's breast ! " Her kiss of bitterness, her sob of woe, " And other tenderness than lovers know : Canto II. PADILLA. 87 H Or if, sweet ghost, it be a dreary joy, " Call thy own God to blast me from his sky :— " To rob me of my prey, there is but he. " O thou eternal God ! — since such there be — - Much am I stricken : yet, awhile on high u Hold thy red-arm; — for I would justify " Such portion of thy wrath as ne'er was huiTd ! u Set as the mark to teach a guilty world - How with Omnipotence ^'twere vain to vie : — " If, in thy magazines, do truly lie - Infinite vengeance — infinite as crime. u Away, away — no more we trifle time : " Nor tales, Padilla, like a suitor tell : " Three days, and thou art mine !— 'Till then, fare- well." XXVI. The moon was up ; and, from her starry dome. Tipping with gems Alhambra's curly foam : But Guadalaviar's wave, serenely bright, Shew'd where her silver mirror lay that night. Queen of the skies ! though others have it so, Thou ne'er didst sympathize with mortal woe ! 88 PADILLA. Canto II. Else were a maid in Liria-of-the-laye To dim the lustre of thy tearless way. 'Twas the third night — the vigil of Ike doom : — .A How calm — how colourless — the cold beams come Along the pictured and banner'd hall, Where trophies rare and 'scutcheons deck the wall ! Lo ! in that armory there now was seen A sight full fair, though sadly fair, I ween. Is it a lady ? or alone some flower Of Fancy's pencil on the lovely hour ? — Softly she glides — and, from the buttress-height, Has ta'en a suit of silver, small and light ; Alonzo's, when a page. — Appears, the thought Her trembling presence, strength, and couragebrought ! The white-plum'd casque — but, ere it fit her head, Thrice her dark tresses on her shoulders spread :— Turning to knot them — Moon ! — she lifts an eye That views thy state, methinks, rebukingly. Now cap-a-pe — 'tis now a page so bright. White is her pennon'd spear — her faulchion white ; She all is silver- white, from spur to crest; All — save the small round blazon on her breast, Castro's half lion, rampant in its gold And th'azure rings Janazio won of old, 50 Canto II. PADILLA. 89 With English Arthur and his barons bold : Shewing so brilliant, yet so stilly there, Like magic vision on the midnight air. And, hush ! that vision moves ! — Yet all is mute : No tread betrays her with her beaver' d boot. She breathes, — the oiled portals glide ; — she downward turns, By Moniz' chamber, — there a light still burns ; — By hound — by centinel — yet not a cry ; — Or drugs, or wine, their senses stupify. Along the gallery is death's repose, Why hold her breath ? why doubtful as she goes ? 'Tis lest the gnat, her fancy conjures nigh, Awake the castle as he buzzes by ; — 'Tis, lest the westward window, shedding there A painted ray, be lamp upon the stair. The noble staircase is descended now ; Where knights and bearded princes, many a row, In guise o'th'olden courts — a vaunted line ! — Tell from their frames what art is most divine. They, like the guardians of their orphan-child, She saw, and was consol'd — the pictures smil'd. 51 On the last step she lingers,^ — and may soon Mount on the breezes — mingle with the Moon — 90 PADILLA. Canto II. If earthly aught, her flight is at at end. Ten armed figures on the floor extend In sordid rest : the leap, too wide, below Shews not a cranny for that fairy toe ! Yet may she venture from the midst — with fear — To move the gauntlet of yon cuirassier. Pausing between, she thrice that gauntlet takes, And drops again, as he in slumber shakes ; At length 'tis on his mailed breast — and, lo ! With outstretch'd lance, she places there her toe ; Then rests — on tip-toe rests — for staringly Full on her visor is that ruffian's eye : But still his wilder'd brain the banquet steeps, He mutters — crosses for the ghost — and sleeps. Instant she springs — she lights — no sound might tell ; The falling feather not more noiseless fell. XXVII. cur Rais'd the portcullis stands — awhile the gates- The drawbridge down, too — and a courser waits : He, by the silver stirrup, bent and grey, 'Tis old Antonio — how his features say— Canto II. PADILLA. g\ « Virgin of virgins ! from this vale of woe " Thy servant goes resigned ! — Yet, oh ! yet, oh ! — " And this last lightning serves it but to shew (i My noble mistress must unguarded fly ? — u Mistress of mine ! yet take thy courage high, " And take, my child, — though God will be with you — " It never .did y&k harm ! — an old man's blessing too." She bends — 'twas seeming all — no sound might be — None — save his dying kiss upon her knee, Or morning's earliest breeze her plume above ; And, o'er the drawbridge, as she 'gins to move, That hemp-shod courser oft erects his ears, Scar'd, not beneath him his own hoof he hears. XXVIII. A ship was distant on Valencia's bay : " For Antioch ?" — " Yes ! and holds her sacred way " With sun-rise sparkling on the full sail's edge." — " I am a page, with the pope's privilege." — At once the boatmen leap ; with twice twelve oars Their bark receives, and shoots her from the shores: — " Hoist — hoist yon signal on the pinnace-head ! " The purple streamer, with the cross of red ! 92 PADILLA. Canto II. " Row, jovial hearts ! we on the vessel gain !" — 'Twas done.— Padilla sails along the main. XXIX. Smooth was that azure main : — a God, 'twere said By paynim bards, had rais'd his placid head, O'er ocean look'd, and bade the waves be still : Old, unenlighten'd times, what fables fill ! — Little our sailors reck'd of waves or wind, Their way was sacred ! 52 and their saint was kind I END OF CANTO II, Canto III. PADILLA. 93 CANTO III. I. ± hotect me, Heaven! — 'Tis Fortune's final blow! " You, Lady, you — on whom I doated so ? " My own — own — little woman — who at will " Bade, with a touch, my inmost fibres thrill? " What, fall'n for ever ? — What, reduc'd to this " My budding joys ? my little dream of bliss ? " Weak — wretched— toward heart ! — whose guidance long " Led me a- wrong, and leads me yet a-wrong : — "Oh! I could pluck thee, traitor, as I feel, " Hot from my side, and sear thee with the steel! " Come words of flame, be mine — but she is stone ; u And I, who mourn for both, may mourn alone. " Yet might she mourn — and half my anguish cease, " Could whispering promise bid her u part in peace!" 94 PADILLA. Canto III. " Lady, begone ! — I shed no curse on thee — u Enough the scornings — none shall fall from me ! u What, thriftless — thriftless — squander, in a thrice, " The faithful heart — the gem without a price ? " For ever — cruel, cruel — must I on ? — " Lady, for ever — yes — begone — begone !" Forgive me, Aninhas, if such plaints befel, Even then, when dearer accents might be well : But grief, recorded thus, shall all be o'er ; And I shall sigh, and thou shalt chide no more. "Tis now some two years gone since Albion's strand Heard me reluctant, as I left her land : — " The distant tropic, or the battle's strife, " Though death to millions, may to me be life : — u Blow, breezes, blow — and thou free, fickle sea, Ci Make me — oh ! make me fickle, and as free !" Am I yet free ? those dark eyes say not so ; Lost they would have, but found would have me too : Well, let it be — for we have sail'd upon The moonlight Douro's wave, and wandered on From far Batalha— there we lingered much; 53 You blush'd to think how Frenchmen could be such — Even to the rock — the Cid's and Teruel : But where the Alcazar stood, no stone might tell. Canto III. PADILLA. 95 And when we come, Aninhas, where you own A tie more sacred by the flow'ry Rhone, 'Twere hardship — passing hardship — could we part Without a sigh; but, talk not of the heart. To stroll with young love on his flowery way, Be pleas' d and piqu'd a thousand times a day ; Live in an eye, expire 7 pon a kiss, Or pine like God ! was manhood made for this ? — Wisdom, I court thee not— 'twere vain as ever— So sorely wounded, thou forgivest never : But of all nonsense love is the most wrong, The fool of Folly. — I'll unto my song. II. ■'(ld.sU, Onward Padilla, nor^ coasting France, 5 * Left unenhail'd the Mother of Romance : Though all now desolate : — by Languedoc Were heard but rippling waves around the rock ; And off thy shores, Provence, she wonder'd more, And vainly listen'd for a Troubadour. Still were the scented groves, as still might be, Save convent-knell for deaths beyond the sea ; 9(5 PADILLA. Canto III. Or the bride-widow, from her dim light tower, Who wept and pray'd away her lonely hour — And these the words the baby on her knee Shall learn to lisp — " All father's lost with thee." 55 III. Immortal Rome ! 5f) What, mistress of the world, Shall fate, nor ages, see thy glories furl'd? No more thy men of mighty mind are seen, Thy Pompeys, Scipios, e'en thy Gods have been : Still thou shalt live ; beneath thy rolling eye Creation withers, 'til but doubtingly We blame his boast, who swore, upon thy throne, To awe mankind suffic'd his horse alone. Padilla's ancient faith, exalted high, These bolder times have nam'd credulity ; Yet could e'en she condemn the phantom dire Rising, disastrous, from the Caesars' pyre : For he was shapeless, as of mongrel race, Ashes and blood defile his changeful face ; Trembling, and foul with years, his cassock-hem He stains — unconscious of his rheum and phlegm; " Servant of Servants" he is styl'd by them, Canto III. PADILLA. 97 Who, crouching — scourging — hail, with dol'rous cry, His hempen girdle of humility : But on his brows a crown was seen to tower, Beneath his wither d hand the nations' cower ; Judge by his voice — it suits an infant's bell ; Yet were his mandates of an import fell : Wind-like, and wing'd, they travers'd all the sky, Gath'ring their sound and fury as they fly; 'Til Norse-men pause them at their bloody feast, And the mild Bramin trembled in the east: And ever and anon as backward hurl'd Those mandates roll, like thunder, o'er the world — Exulting, from his lethargy of age, That phantom, starting, ap'd immortal rage ; Kings were his footstool ! Many a land renown'd Now lying, as she sail'd, our maid around, She look'd with sorrow — for what age, so dead, Has left the classic story quite unread ? She look'd with sorrow for those scenes of old Her fancy drew, so lovely to behold, But blood and blasphemy might now reveal, — Wild " arm of iron" — English " cut the steel" 57 — 98 PADILLA. Canto III. Franks, Lombard barons, Grecians, Turks, and he Who saw the " White- Knight" ride in Sicily :— Fanatics, cannibals, in deeds of ruth The most remorseless when their cause was truth ! " There Carthage stood," she said; "thence, fiercely wide, w The funeral pile came bearing down the tide " Its tragic tale of Tyrian Dido's sword — " Who bled for him her generous soul ador'd : " He, pious hero, on his lofty poop 58 " Gather'd sweet sleep. IV. * v " The sun was seen to stoop " Ruddy and westward Bugaroni's steep, " 'Tis not his lamp that lingers on the deep ?" — Deem'd had she better what so feebly shone The fairies' lantern for their Oberon : — But soon more shines that feeble, feeble light ; r,y And now its tufted lustre trembles bright ; Now gathering — winding to tremendous size, Scares the mid air — or wavers, ere it rise, Canto III. PADILLA. 99 Like some great snake with many a lambent tongue Licking the waters : — now supremely strong Curling and coiling, as in monstrous play, It fires th'horizon all, then shoots away Upward — and, having mingled with the sky, Drops from the blazing breach, and stands on high, Flaming and fashion'd, like in burnish'd gold Some giant column of Corinthian mold, Bearing a lady, with a cross of fire. Her face heaven's brightness hides, and is her tiar ; But all is dazzling ; not more dazzling-bright Arose the virgin in Bysantium's height, What time began the nightly escalade, Warning the Khacan, more than mortal aid 60 Baffled his Albars. On the wondrous sight Padilla gaz'd, and thought on Tabor's light : — She gaz'd, when from her glory bending mild That lady smil'd — her very mother smil'd, Leant o'er the cross, and wav'd her radiant arm ! — Sign well remember'd, and that oft could charm To joy her daughter of the laughing eye, Amid the lilies in her own country ; And last repeated, but most solemnly, h 2 100 PADILLA. Canto III. When rose th' expiring parent to reveal Those truths mysterious the pure sp'rit doth feel, When fluttering for its home. At that dear sign, Padilla judg'd she had not long to pine Below : — but most that mother's smile was dear ! Her fears, her griefs, I have not painted here ; Those for the lonely maid the heart must speak, These were unfelt at first — and one most weak Could lighten so, when her affections came, You mark'd her air of frenzy and of flame ; Nor mov'd, for wonder, though that lovely form Rush'd to its ruin wilder than the storm ! 'Twas thus she threw her on the world alone, Reckless of self, and thought not but of one : Oh ! time brings thought ! — and, in her troubled eye, Much might be read ; but most a feeling high Of filial pride, and injur'd dignity! — • Judge then if, agoniz'd by doubt awhile, Judge if she doats on that approving smile. And, her guitar unhanging from the mast, Not uninspir'd her trembling music past, Sad in its sweetness as the prelude-hymn, Warbled melodious, when the cherubim — Canto III. PADILLA. 101 Who, startling Heav'n, in their eternal strain, Had paus'd — attun'd their golden harps again ; Ere Grabriel knelt, they boded from his sigh Man's fall. It ceases, — for afresh, on high Tkat lady rising, veils her face from sight In glory intense. Heaven closes : — all is night ! The sailors, gazing on that vision bright, Wail'd o'er the waters for a ship on fire : They, when it fled, but saw the wreck expire, Turning them pale at ocean's mournful close : And, for Padilla's soul dissolving woes, Marvell'd a page should troll the battle-strain At Roncesvalles heard, and once again 61 Where Norman William left the Saxon slain, — When u far more seemly were the virgin's prayer " For souls departed — if they Christians were." V. Speed, lady, speed ; — nor Venus, nor the doves. In Paphos dwell ; — there is no isle of loves : Speed, lady, speed ; though flutter down the flood Arabian breezes,— Foh !— they smell of blood ! 102 PADILLA. Canto III. 'Twas eve — 'twas banquet ; — for that ship at sea Was proud with fifty flow'rs of chivalry — The moon seen from their canvas canopy, Smiles on her couch of waves, that gently swell ; Of all the deities, who lov'd so well These isles and waters, and with loosen'd zone — Yes, all are vanished, save this fickle one. But gleesome is the ship as lighted hall, And song, and story, are sent round to all : " Sir Knight, whose mistress loves thy silver oak, " And proudly shews each fringed spear it broke, " Maintaining, through all Europe in assail, " Her peerless charms, we crave thee for a tale." — " My red-cross warriors command your knight ! — " Europe," he said, " shews many a glorious sight; " But, fair above them all, from land to sea, 62 " Is Lusia's boast, th'unmatch'd Arabida. " From tide-swept Troya 63 winding ere the light, " With noon, or nearly noon, we gain'd that height : " It was the stillest scene ! save now and then " A bell just toll'd, and it was still again ; " Nor light, nor shadow broke the gen'ral glow, " The sun — like God — was viewing all below : Canto III. PADILLA. 103 " The convent mid-way down, the forestry " Like amphitheatre exalted high ; " The beds of myrtle, with arbutes between " In fruits, and flow'rs, and foliage ever-green ; u The round white chapels 64 through the shrubs that peep, " Tipping with silver every airy steep ; " The spiry cypress, scattered to and fro, u The Muncho's rock, e5 and ocean blue below. " Day clos'd, and vespers ; m — scarce the moon- " light bay " Reveal'd its vessel on her noiseless way ; " The fire-flies sparkled through their leafy nave ; 6i I held the rugged stair-way to the cave. " Wide to the silver-sea it lay below, " With crystal vault, and crystal portico, — " How lonely all ! — when, from the inner gloom, u A sigh steals, feebly murmur'd through the dome. " There one small lamp, upon the flinty ground, " Lent a pale glimmer to the damps around ; " A man — though scarce he seem'd a man — within, " Kneels by a cross, with book and discipline ; " A hairless wolfskin wraps his loins ; his head, 104 PADILLA. Canto III. " And legs beneath, are foul and bleeding red ; " He speaks — would rise, — shall rise — but with the dead!" , THE MUNCHO'S TALE.** Stranger — stranger — you cause me fear ! Seldom hath mortal ventur'd here. Oh a ghost of the tomb I seem to gaze — My hour, I know, is near ; — Or on a vision of younger days. Stranger— that image that you saw Shrin'd by the monks in that holy place, I ne'er again, for awe, May look upon her virgin-face ! — But take this book and twine, Each thicken'd with my gore, Hang them beside her shrine — And say they were us'd 'til life was o'er — And say what death was mine : — That forty years have pass'd away, And still this frame receiv'd no care ; But from the wild hogs snatch'd their food, And drank the brackish spray ; Canto III. PADILLA. ]Q5 Knelt on the rock, till my knees were bare, And shoulders clad in blood : — My lips have mov'd, but to groan and pray. Yet once the Lord of Ennismore, Could break a lance by Tara's scarp, When — for that silver-oak — I bore, Bound in a shamrock's verdant braid, The red-branch and the harp ; And she, whose scarf I wore, Was Erin's brightest maid, And soon to be my wife : — And, oh ! I lov'd her — though how well I dare not think — I may not tell — * But far beyond my life ! — 'Tis wondrous, surely ! stranger, see, There's dew upon this clotted brow, And still this heart beats high ; — ■ Not but remorse may ever be, And fitliest I avow, With sinner such as I ; — Not but the voice of blood, That spoke of old, beyond the flood, Should always have its cry : 106 PADILLA. Canto III. But sure through each distress, Through every scourge, from age and pain, 'Tis strange that love should thus remain, Nor bruis'd and bleeding linger less : 'Tis strange, that, when the sun Has set its last on this grey head, And to that judgment-seat, I dread, Ere morning I must go, One thought of her should wring me so ! — But, Christ !— thy will be done ! O'Reilly at my banquet set, To Mary durst his flame unfold ; — What, though the chief was young and bold, What, though the kingly-coronet Was on his shield of gold ; And, though his martial fame was high, Nor honour's self more bright than he- - His pride was in his eye, — He could not love like me. But Mary's sire, in haughty mood, Preferr'd my rival's hand ; I liv'd to hear his insult rude, And Mary yield at his command ! Canto III. PADILLA. 107 What could my mind that hour uphold ? — What but its purpose dark and bold, That made me wildly blest; When, at Dunbroady's altar-stone, The starting tear, and heaving breast, Betray'd her still my own ? — The crowd retires — the nuptials o'er — When sudden at the chancel-door The lights are quench'd — a cry of pain — O'Reilly bites the ground ! Yet, stranger, deem him not as slain, The dagger, though in darkness free, Sought less to slay, than wound — And, through the tumult soon 'twas found The bride had fled to sea. Yes, we were on the crystal-tide, Yes, I felt a lover's thrill, And quick my mantle flung aside; When " truly," she replied, u That I have lov'd and love thee still, " May well remain unsaid : 108 PADILLA. Canto III. 6i Or else should Mary's eye " Its glances dart on high, " And catch at lightning from the sky " To strike and blast thee dead : " And know, the hand that wields a knife, " Even were I not another's wife, " That hand and I must part. — " O'Reilly ! though in shame to me, " Though one less worthy hold this heart, " It — husband — bleeds for thee! " And thou, bright queen, whose name I bear" (And on the cabin-floor her pray r Address'd the silver image there) " Bright queen of heaven I swear, " Nor this, nor mortal-man beside, " Whate'er betide, shall soil my pride, " But death shall have a virgin-bride." Tears, vows, and rage, — they all were vain, But brutal force might now remain :-*- And now that hour of guilty force was near, Canto III. PADILLA* 109 When ocean's roll So grimly came, as well with fear Might strike the stoutest soul ; — 'Twas more than mortal, since I know. And, when the waters broke, Sent like a cloud of pitchy smoke From hell that boil'd below, How sank my soul with awe M- For, on the forky light, ^ hat bluely quiver'd through the night, My eyes the maid and image saw. — And wilder horrors round me wound, When staggering down, I truly found, Nor maid, nor image there : — Then rushing back I felt despair : — But, oh ! what sight was then ! — — For on yon convent-height Was seen that image blazing bright, No thousand beacons shed such light ; And so the eye might ken, Between the billows upward hurl'd, Convulsive, like a bursting world, A deep and glassy glade ; 110 PADILLA. Canto III. Wherein the ship was steady laid As swan that in the smooth lake laves ; And still the sailors wept and pray'd — Still watery mountains o'er them shone ; And still the vessel held her on, Like Israel, through the waves. Yet then — even then — and ere I'd pray I call'd on Mary ; — none beside Had seen her on the lightning glide ; All deem'd her swept away. 'Twas o'er — nor did my spirit burst; But soon I humbled to the dust, And, bless'd be Heaven, that deigns impart Repentance to the sinner's heart. Stranger ! — the hand of death Is closing cold on me ; Receive my parting breath And in thy " de profundis" be The Muncho from Arabida. Canto IIL PADILLA. HI VI. Asia ! what greeting may befit thy name ? Cradle of man — his glory, and his shame, Redemption, judgment, paradise, and grave ! — Land of the wise, the prophet and the slave ! Slave of the slaves, who thirteen masters bore ! ea Land of a God ! — of crime and idols more ! — Nor seem'd a riddle less the motley troop Raising the diex-volt for their battle- woop ;#> By Antioch late they lay, as all agree, And yet may lie — while Daphne's castalie, 70 Runs cold from strangers lawless as their war 71 — For Bonillon's skill, nor wily Adhemar Averts pale famine 72 with his woe of woes; God metes impartial unto friends as foes, And, granting miracles, denies them bread ; Nor mailed St. George, who glitters o'er their head ; Nor the three martyrs, on their steeds of light Prompt at the croises' call, who fly to fight, And quell the Great-Turk, want and pest may quell ! — 'Tis as if Europe upon Asia fell, Or one world cross'd another in its sphere ! 112 PADILLA. Canto III. By Syria's shore, — by Gaza now they steer, — While sailors tell of Helen's deed of fear, 73 When the sea-dragon watch'd in Sataly ; — Now scarcely deem what saintship it might be To tempt thee, Jaffa, on thy glassy sea, Though sails— nor oars— nor rudder lent their aid ! 74 a 'Tis not the crescent — no — by Michael's blade ! " Yon castle-banner — mark it floatingly — " There, there — it is — it is — see, warrior, see — " By all the saints ! it is the cross of red" — The pilot shouts, and landward turns their head. VII. The heart that starting throbs with hope and fear, More high and wildly throbs its whole career- Like the blue dove, that shoots along the sky, And less may dally when her home is nigh :— Thus ill Padilla brooks it, though to view The sights around her be as strange as new. The shores were thronging with a rabble-rout To hail the strange knights with their diex-volt shout : Canto III. PADILLA. 113 And, 'mid that rout was many a joyous dame, 75 Though not of such as chivalry may name. How poor the Persian turban suits his head, Yon northern savage, with his beard of red ! How rude the Servian ! — and how fierce the Hun, His locks of yellow, with his sheep-skin on ; He tells his beads — by Mary he may well — Once they were diamonds for a king to tell ! Such was their show — half spoil — half nakedness : — Nor were their tongues less various than their dress ; Various as when, in every gorgeous guise The wilderness sends forth its deputies ; — Kentucky scarce, for all her vast extent, Receives the myriads — nature's parliament. Yet might you gather, through that out-cast press And phrase uncouth, their tale of wretchedness : — What griefs consum'd them by the " Bad-Citye !" 76 The Danes o'erthrow 77 — the Grecian's perfidy ;— What martyr'd heroes went the first to bliss — Foulcher-of- Orleans — Gautier-pennyless — And all the victims of that fatal fight ! In death more happy ; — since their fragments white 78 Builded a wall, and Nice at length was ours, Despite her " iron hands" — her thousand towers — i j!4 PADILLA. Canto III. And that " white lake" the wandering Arab loves, When sunset colours all his palmy groves, The silent wave — and every pinnacle Of the " Gold Palace" where the Genii dwell ! How sore they suffered it were long to tell ; — What mighty snakes, like fiery Lucifer, Curled high and brightly through the sultry air, Fast by the flowery fount that armies shun As death more cruel than from thirst or sun : — Woe, for the serpent of Eleutherie ! 7g — — And sight most monstrous unto mortal eye, Woe for the Grecian-fires that burn unquench- ably! 80 They told of Raimond's holy butcher-work — To flesh his spear, five hundred of the Turk Their ears and noses gave ! 81 O Antioch ! What words of theirs might paint thy battle-shock ? — Yet Antioch shew'd more paintless and more dread, When the young mother on her baby fed^ And knighthood's heart a moment seem'd to die ! 8? — But eastward flam'd a sabre in the sky, 83 — Christ lent his lance, and blessed Adhemar From heaven itself brought succour to their war. Canto III. PADILLA. 115 Then, then they came — away the red-cross came O'er Judaea, like her sun of flame. 'Twas east of Emaus they might first behold With all her turrets, like a line of gold, The sainted city's self! — no transports rude Burnt at the sight; but, o'er the multitude Came silence hovering, like a cloud o'th'north ; While on the sands their tears of joy rain'd forth The burning sands, where all their sins were shriven ! ^ — And longer had they knelt, but one from heaven Arm'd at all points, and with his anlance set, Light, like a sun-beam, upon Olivet. What need they more ? — or who shall strive with God ?■— Again his throne is in his old abode : And well — for Zion's bloody lustral-rite — The Great-Turk far'd, as far'd the Amalecite I 35 VIII. Castro ! the brightest name of years long sped ! — Hail for thy mighty dead — though all be dead ! For him the younger chief, 86 whose high disdain Sought a new banner on the bloody plain, i 2 116 PADILLA. Canto HI. Aljubarrota; — him of India's weal ; — Him of the river ; — him too of the wheel, Dubb'd by De Gama, who to Mount-Sinai Came from the Red-sea with his chivalry ! Nor only heroes from that stock have sprung, But one more loved — more lovely— not unsung. Fair Iilez ! Fair — alas ! — fair — luckless bride ! 87 No rest is thine, where all have rest beside. Thy relics wrong' d ! — thy sepulchre burst wide ! By whom ? — by whom but those it last should be, Knighthood's first-born — the pinks of courtesy ? She, like a flower 88 — again pluck'd from its bed, And by no virgin fingers — hung her head ; Pluck'd ere her time she seem'd — and still, 'tis said, Look'd with such languour, and an odour shed TeAder and fresh, as life that moment fled. I saw — I tasted of the fount that bears Her loves — her title — not miscall'd " of tears !" Weep daughter of Mondego, — nor alone Your Inez* wrongs — you now may weep your own ! Padilla admiring that of all this crew None told of Castro " It is wondrous too : c; And once I knew him, when through Old Castille " In feats of arms his black-cross lov'd to deal." Canto III. PADILLA. 117 " Hah ! mean you him, the darling of the field, " Him of Valencia, with the black-cross shield ? — u No tongues but boast of him, — though few, I ween, Ci With better right than John-of-Kendal-green \ " His coming shines not, 89 but o'erwhelms the fight ci Like his own Ebro when it foams through night ; " Or, as that mountain it is death to see, " Where sorcerers yearly meet in Westphaly : 9° " Full hard it went, when with his Spanish pow'r 6i He join'd our English horse by c David's tow'r.' a Faith ! 'tis a heart of fire in danger's hour ; " His looks at other times will sadly lower ; " And all at court — though wherefore none may ask — u Admire he wears no favour in his casque : " There, too, King-Godfrey loves to hold him near, " As first Lord-Chamberlain and Buffetier." 91 IX. Jerusalem — though why I do not know — My ear receives thee like a name of woe : As in thy sorrows, when the Prophet's hymn Wept thee, Jerusalem ! — Jerusalem ! 92 118 PADILLA. Canto III. Ye groups of palm ! ye verdant fans that play By Wadi's hallow'd well, and Ramlas way ! 93 Rocks ! cedars ! and ye brooks that sparkling run ! Ye meads of rose, and wonders of the sun ; Whose songs and sweets round Solyma arise, Early and pure as Abel's sacrifice ! All — all — but chiefly thou, O Calvary \ Set like a blaze of diamonds in the sky: Thou throne of God ! O pardon, pardon thou — Pardon the lonely maid, who pass'd thee now ; Nor kiss'd the sacred walls, but hurried by, Fear in her heart, and wildness in her eye ! " This very hour the king and chieftains here tt Hold solemn session in the sepulchre."-— Such are the tidings stop her as she hies By Omar's mosque. 94 — " Then warrior lead," she cries, " Lead me — O lead me by Golgotha's way " To join the council — I have much to say !" There in the splendour of their high estate, A thousand chiefs in Helen's chapel wait : Canto HI. PADILLA. 119 And from the dome a solemn light illumes The shining of their steel and wary plumes ! But not in silence wait that martial croud ; And, the maid entering, thus she hears aloud: — " What this to me ?" — she look'd — that youthful air, And the brown ringlets on his forehead fair, Were well becoming of the " silver-bow ;" But he was harness'd as a-battle now ; And for love's light his blue eyes flash again With fiery wrath and virtue's high disdain : — " What this to me ? — nay Peter, Peter, nay " The hermit's whimpering tone resume I pray. " The kite's a-thirst for blood ? — yet hark thee, kite — " I'll shake my lash, 'twill ease thy appetite ! u Am I not Tancred ? — Is the hand forgot " That cramm'd the oath down, traitor, in thy throat ? 9 " J " What ! and forgotten too the part you bore " In Antioch's garden with that Grecian w ; " When, but for this good two-edg'd blade, the Turk " Had come uncall'd and spoil'd your shrieving work ? — " Who is it, wolf-like and ungorg'd with gore, " Whose jaws, yet dripping blood, would howl for more ? — 120 PADILLA. Canto III. " Who would have blood ? — enough has run to swill " The bloatest gut , — but thou art hungry still — " Hungry and lean, I warrant, as a cat " Whose stomach yerks, forsooth ! from too much rat '. " Thou yellow ruffian, worse than Turk or Jew — " So foul, that at the sight a witch might spew — " How my heart loathes thee, slave ! — nay, fawn no more ; " Or, fawning cur, I whip thee from the floor : — " Say thou hast dar'd me — and dost live to tell ; — a Then urge no more — for, mark me, mark me well, " Lift but a finger 'gainst my prisoner, 96 " One little finger ; and, by Heaven ! I swear " This dagger here shall fetch thy filthy soul, " Were kings and prelates hugging round thy cowl!" That " fawning cur" you might not miss to find, Foul in his aspect, fouler in his mind : Mark how he cowers ! — can that leaden face See no disgrace, but in the rope's disgrace ? — And mark his wining smile ! — although a sneer Seem most his bearing, not unmanned by fear. But, lo ! 'tis silence — save a rustling sound As through the twilight all unhelmet round : Canto III. PADILLA. 121 And ne'er was nobler port than his I ween, Now vailing lowly to such greeting-scene. Of middle years he seems — or else 'tis care Has lined that stately brow ; his head is bare — For, oh ! he might not bide by mortal borne, A golden crown, where Jesus wore his thorn ! Mild is his eye — so mild, you'd scarce, I trow, Figure its dark-glance in the battle's glow ; Or deem — so slightly shews his brawny force — What wondrous prowess mark'd his metor-course, When all before his blade went withering. Needs not to name him ; — who misknows the king ? — " And more Sir Vidamme," these hisentrance speak — a Well be the Lord of Gallilee awake. " And, as he holds our love, aloof from fight " Attend our power on Thabor's vantage-height : — " High reasons urge us, and that lord should know " Who meets Saladin, meets no common foe ! — " But how is here ? — have none, princes, addrest " The gallant gentleman ? — the stranger-guest ? — " That he should longer unsaluted be, u Were question truly of our courtesy !" — Ye few, ye hapless few, who once have known — For such comes deathlike once ? thank Heaven, alone :— 122 PADILLA. Canto III. Ye who have known that moment's agony, When love, grief, terror, and expectance high^ Stung to their utmost pitch compose despair — Image -within — for ye can image there — Padilla's thoughts ; but ask not me to shew, That they be paintless best yourselves do know. E'en from the first, her courage winded high Had shewn throughout a fearful constancy ; And, even so fragile, through the wild winds ruth The lily liv'd — I know not how in sooth ! Much had she borne, for all her tender hue, And brav'd — although th' interminable blue Of water shuddering to look upon — Her long, her cheerless way 5 or cheer'd alone By love's dim light and once that other light, Sweet — though presaging — sweet and mournful quite. On she had hurried — for the dizzy brain Told her how nature might not long sustain : — But, when she enter'd in that chapel proud, Proud with its gilded dome and princely crowd The struggle nigh was o'er ; — before her sight Swims a strange cloud, and yet she sinks not quite ; But desperate with life's last energies Calls all her sp'rits, and sends them to her eyes, Canto III. PADILLA. 123 For one glance more ; then, as the king draws near, And that last glance shews no Alonzo here, Further she may not strive ; and, from the day, Turning her sickly look — she reels — she faints away. " His casque unbar — unbar his haubergeon, " Poor youth ! unharden'd to an eastern sun !" — They did — and down her mail of silver all And pale, pale face the jetty ringlets fall, And fall profusely — as to veil them — o'er Her ivory neck and breasts that heave no more. All gaze in wonder, while a sneer half breaks The hermit's shifting smile — but Godfrey speaks : u Foul fall the unknightly tongue, the heart of stone " Blames thee unheard thou lovely, lovely one ! — w Scarce will St. John's good Rector need our prayer 97 u To lend meet wardship to a charge so fair : M And you, Sir Knight, Knight of the Red-branch, you " Will place her — deeming it an honour due " The flower of a land you love so well — " (Ho! guards there!) in the palace of the "Hospital." XL The streets are still- -the temple's night-watch set, Padilla's death-like slumber lasted vet; — 124 PADILLA. Canto III, All hush around the purple Ottomane — Her eyes one moment open — close again ! Her eye-lids close ; — but not ere she has seen Bent o'er her couch a stranger's manly mien ; And, by the gold-lamp mark'd — though glancingly — His eager looks, and pity of his eye : 'Tis not Alonzo holds that silent stand, And strangely views her locket in his hand. I do not say there is a sympathy, A secret needle, or some mystic tie, That guides the heart, and bids the mother's eye Doat on her unknown child — she wists not why ; But this is sure, where kindred natures be, Slight process needs — they mingle readily. Again she sees — she speaks — " His wondrous though — " Too wondrous, surely," — yet her doubtings go — A word, a look — a word none understand — " 'Tis he — His he !" — it was indeed her Ferdinand. XII. Skim we the story : — in Toledo's fight He bore him true — but in no martial plight Canto fit* PADILLA. 125 Albeit, they fairly judg'd him in the grave, Robb'd of the token which his parents gave. His eyes had look'd their farewell to the west, Nurse of the blooming maids and red-branch crest, And look'd from Guadarama's rocky hold On Tajo's winding wave and endless wold : 'Twas eve — when orange groves more freshly shew In golden fruitage and their balmy blow- Conscious of home, to breathe that balmy air He laid aside his helmet and his spear ; Swift from the ambush'd brake five bravos sped, And his own slave he plac'd him at their head — " Die, thou must die !" — " 'Tis passing I can die :" — But poorly judg'd he that slave's villainy : — Naked and bruis'd he bound him to a tree, And — " spread the cheer, my friends, 'twill sure be good " To hear the night-wolves howl, and lap his blood." 'Twas said — when down the lea the crescent shone, And, lo ! the Moslem horse came thundering on : He saw the ruffians whiten at the sight, Spring from their sordid meal, and mount for flight ; But with their mercies, cursing ere they fled, They stabb'd his bosom thrice, and deem'd him dead! 12(] PADILLA, Canto III. Young- Ali doated on his prisoner ; Nor Nubia less, who fann'd with sister care His fever'd lip, nor let his life retire : He bless'd her, — who that glance of humid lire Could know, nor less the lovely Infidel ? — Judge then, if language might his horror tell, When from Toledo's flight they took to sea, And Afric-winds repelling furiously, They struck their crescent to the Christian fleet, And both were murder'd — " foully at my feet. " Aye murder'd, sister, and they did the deed " In Heaven's own name ! — Oh ! cursed be such bloody creed!" What might he do ? — the ships were Genoese Bound for the east, — he with them pass'd the seas, And took the cross before beleagur'd Nice. XIII. " Thy death — oh, Ferdinand ! — what sacrifice " Seem'd not thy death ? — but just then came a shade, " My mind felt strangely happy, yet afraid: " They call'd me sick, and truly it might be, u But all my thoughts were, brother^ upon thee !" — Canto III. PADILLA. 127 Their mother's death she wept and told it o'er, And how no sickness sooth'd her as before — Her wanderings, Moniz' wrath — 'twas he who sped The slave and ruffians would have left him dead ; And how he own'd it all to break her heart ! She chose and trembled while she chose her part ; 'Til came their mother's spirit to her eye, And sweetly smil'd, and beckon'd her on high : But griefs were gone — and now, with soul at rest, She'd lie for ever on her brother's breast : — How she had borne so long, 'twas Heav'n could tell ! — With grief and horror fraught what answer fell ?— They who had known Alonzo's speaking face, Where some fine feeling ever held a trace, Had deem'd, perchance, Padilla's brother tame • Nor felt he quick — but when he felt was flame : It were most idle hop'd I to pourtray His bursting pang, now rage and sorrow sway. And— " weep not, sister ; do not weep," — he said — " Yes, on this bosom lean thy languid head; " Call me thy sun-beam peeping from a show'r, " To chase, like Hope, the rain-drops from thy flow 'r; " Poor thing! — poor injured thing! — these tears remove; " You loved Alonzo then ? — you still do love ?" 128 PADILLA Canto III. " Brother, some moments' space or hours agone, " No griefs unstrung me — I could move alone ; " Fearless, alone, though toil and dangers move, " And call the world to witness of my love ! " But, folding thee, I feel the woman break, — " My heart is ever kind — but I am weak : u Kiss my pale forehead, bid it think no more — " Think thou for me — and, when I wildly pour, " Thus pour my soul of fondness at thy feet, " And swear I love him — do as is most meet!" u Ah ! hope not, sister, — hope not but to find a Change in his mien, and even in his mind. 16 The youthful peace — the calmness of his life " Is fled ; t he lives but in the scenes of strife — " Else dark and silent : though, uncertain quite, " Times are he starts and glares with sudden light, " As if impregnate by this fiery clime : — " 'Tis Fortune's hand hath done the work of Time. " The night-breeze whisper'd — else was heard no sound " From city, sea, or Antioch's tented ground — " When, by my couch, all black from plume to glaive, u A knight in mournful mood this letter gave ; u Then wav'd his hand, and muttering, as in pain " — < Of this no more!' — we never spoke again." Canto III. PADILLA. 129 LETTER. The Cyclop's isle is on your lee — For not before — for not before, My trusty villain swore This writing you should see : — Read on : — with all his cruelty That Cyclop was a saint to me. Now. many a night youVe sail'd the brine- But two shall not depart, Ere he you deem'd so truly thine Has struck, like palsy, to the heart The man who lov'd him well ! A shriek — it soon is hush'd — befel — A murderer stains a maiden's charms— A snake winds in her ivory arms — A worm— a tad-pole of the tomb Is feeding on her virgin-bloom I Two nights — two nights, and this is done — Oh ! when her kiss my kisses meet, And breast to breast, and feet to feet — When rapture sends her dying tone, K 130 PADILLA; Canto III, And all entranced we li( Oh ! shall it not be doubly sweet To think I hear thy plaintive cry Cursing me in thy agony ? I would be curs'd ! — nor idly deem That blind upon my crimes I go ; For, urg'd by bolder oaths, I trow, Than many have the soul to know, I feel a joy — a lurid gleam — That springs, to find my deed of woe So dark, so damn'd — it well may seem As if the fiend, your priesthood feign, Were on his path of night again. Yet hold not, Moniz shuns to view, Or haply he forgets the due Of faith forsworn, and love betray'd ; Or thinks to be securely brave : — My friend was not that abject slave, Would leave a wrong unpaid. — Fling woe and woman to the air ; And, by the God you paint on high, Canto III. PADILLA. 131 My bosom shall be open-bare, Nor stint to take thy dagger there — But teach thee how to die. Yet would you shun despair and sin And rightly deem there is no hell Like that we bear within ? — Return not to thy native shores, Not Castro e'en to ring my knell, Or curse the maid your soul adores ; — But, brightly brief be honour's thrall, Falling — as Moniz cannot fall ! " We spoke no more : — and, while the banquet-tone On love or friendship dwells, he speaks to none ; c Though, when at intervals the veering theme 6 Be country, honour, worth, or battle-fame, 6 His mind will flash awhile, as I did say, i Quick, wild, and measureless, soaring away c Till all admire — admire almost to fear ; c As if — and it may be an after-year — i On some new Icarus' advent'rous flight 6 The nations gaz'd with terror and delight. K 2 J 32 PADILLA. Canto III. " Yet, in that burst unearthly, when so high " His soul is burning in his clear-blue eye, " E'en then I've marked him, how a cloud of pain " Swept o'er his glowing cheek, and quenched at once his strain. " Oh ! 'tis a-field he shines — nor only there ; " For, when in council others are his care, " Full oft hath Godfrey styl'd and meetly styl'd " His judgment temper'd, as his courage wild. " But I have been where none beside have been — " 'Twas when he deem'd his lonely mood unseen, " He held and kissed a picture — 'twas of thee, " Smiling with truest love, if such there be. a That smile would pass — and he would turn be- hind " Disorderly — and stare upon the wind — " 6 Hence, spectre — hence, with all thy painted blooms " ' Smile not on me ; — go, smile amid thy tombs ; " i Hah ! flowery ruin, must we nightly meet ? " i Sapt to the life, I know thee for a cheat — " < Hence, hence — I say — thou art not mine, I swear — " 4 That blush is false — I know its sickly air ; — 66 ' Thou art not she I lov'd — thou art not she — " ' But this is mine, and shall for ever be.' — Canto III. PADILLA, 133 u And then he'd kiss sgain, so fond and fervently I " 'Twas passion's heaving", 'till its tide came on " Of frenzy, that I would not think upon : — u Oh ! he is changed !" " Alas ! we both are so, " Brother of mine; — but henceforth joy shall flow: " Yes, on this bosom he shall lose his pain, " Bless his fond wife, and be himself again. " Or if 'tis late — and hearts thus broken all " Must fall, we shall at least together fall : u Like two young reeds, whose stems the wild-vines climb " Light on Alhambra in their sunny prime ; " And o'er whose gay heads, shaking like a bower, " The water lily waves her virgin flower; — " They, when the torrent foams along its course, " They bend, but still that wild-vine twines them close " Or, though they break — and, severed by the spray 5 u Are pelted wide the tendril links them aye ; u Till, on some ebby meeting as before, " They closelier cling like us, and are no more." XIV. But where is Castro now ? — where should he be ? - In Tabor's camp with Hugh-of-Tabary. 134 PADILLA. Canto III. And zephyr fluttering on his morning-air Delights to lead the maid and brother there. Her armed guise is gone ; — but, sylph-like all, Adown her courser's side the white-robes fall ; And well that dun Alraschid, who did bear The Soldan-queen, becomes a fairer fair : Conscious of beauty, though of heart so high Padilla reins him as she'd rein a fly; — He toss'd his silver mane, and passaged light Like martial-triumph or some pageant bright. For all her cares that lady must not tread The queen of cities, quite unaltered : There Cedron's flood — the tomb of ifachary — In Josaphat are all beneath her eye ; And here the " Golden-gate" and Temple shew 98 The red-cross waving o'er the crescent now. And soon they come, where many a lovely land 99 Breaks with its rills the long expanse of sand ; — Not but through all the waste of war is seen, Crums 100 ravag'd vines are black by turns and green. And palms are branchless e'en to Jordan's shore : The " Rose of Jerico" shall bloom no more. Thus, thus it is ; — since eldest Cain began, Blood follows blood ! — will man be always man ? Canto III. PADILLA. 135 On Gilboa falls no dew ; — but when they look Be-northward Esdrelon, to Kison's brook, And verdant Carmell — where the sailors tell Of Gazelles drinking by « Elijah's well" 101 — Much is her brother charm'd to view the streak Of fearful joy, that wandered on her cheek. And beauteous truly was that fearful gaze — So morning trembles through the mountain-haze— But spoke no strengthen'd mind ; before the storm Can she have stood ? she now is like her form, That seems for life too sensitive a flow'r, Shrinks from the breeze, and dies before the shower. Again she chang'd, and felt her heart beat high, Smil'd through her tears, and caught her brother's eye, Who shews the mountain, whence they soon shall see Dazzling in sun the tents of Tabary, And now they upward wind, while nature greets — Greets them through all her wilderness of sweets — Her oaks, her plane-trees, by the bubbling springs, Fruits, myrtles, flowers, and every bird that sings. Favor'd of summits ! How from Tabor's height 91 The varied world is laid before the sight ! Look to the west — where ships upon the brine At distance blaze, like sun-beams of the line : — 136 PADILLA. Canto III. Then turn your eyes, when rested, to go forth In one unbroken journey from the north Over the Euxine and the crested snows Of Libanon, where most the cedar grows, 102 Even to Judaea and the asphaltic sea, Red Mecca's wave, and blessed Araby ! Then turn again ; — upon this mouldering stone, Here, it is stated, was Jehovah's throne ! And he was glorified, who mildly chid His murderers — " they knew not what they did" — But we, the insects, shall assume his brand, And arrogate a more supreme command ! But, lo ! Padilla — ere she gains that height — On Jordan's waters, where they wander bright Beyond blue Hebron, and the groves beneath, Gazes a moment ; — may she gaze 'til death ! XV. " Lost— by St. Dennis!— Hah! false Tabary!"— Thus Ferdinand — and, with disorder'd cry, Dashes the golden spurs and slacken'd rein : Then heeds his sister, how she shrieks amain, And flings the courser on his croup again. Canto III. PADILLA. 137 For, as he tops that mountain-height, are spi'd, Adown through Gallilee and Tabor's side, The fragments of a battle scatter'd wide, And, in the sun, the crescent glitt'ring bright, Advances slowly on in pomp of fight ; And squadrons, wheeling from the left and right, Burst on the broken ranks, that vainly fly — And " Mahomet, Mahomet," is the battle-cry; And Grecian death-rockets are blazing high, Like shells, or lightning, through the troubled sky. No Christian line is rallied — all is rout; Like the last trumpet is the victor-shout : — But through the war a diex-volt murmurs still As through the tempest's roar the boatswain shrill ; — It is the Oriflamb. On yonder hill Five hundred guard it — each a banner'd knight ; Nor turns that gallant phalanx unto flight, - But fronts, like wounded lion, to the fight, Making the mountain-fortress in the rear : St. George be with them now ! — O Raimond for thy spear ! Again a yell, as of the rending sphere !-•• Above, emerging from their ambush green, 138 PADILLA. Canto III. And swiftly filing down each flank are seen Ten thousand turbans with their dazzling sheen. The circle's closing round — what wait ye more ? — On, flowers of chivalry — on, onward pour ; On, like the Cedron in his winter- roar, And gain that mountain-hold ! Alas ! 'tis o'er ; — Alas ! the Oriflamb may never fly ! Again that phalanx halts devotedly, With lances grouping, like the cypress, high ; Again their Oriflamb salutes the sky, Again is feebly heard the diex-volt cry — They may not conquer — but can nobly die. Saw you the black-cross? — but Padilla sees, Falls on Alraschid's neck ; — swift as the breeze Forth with his lovely charge that courser flies ! 'Tis late : — with five death-wounds Alonzo lowly lies. The paynims starting at the vision bright, Thus in her white-robe glancing through the fight, Arrest their sabres at the blessed sight — Deeming her sure some virgin of the light For ever by the diamond-table given, 103 To crown believers with the joys of heaven ! 'Tis late — a shaft has gone its cruel flight — Her heart-blood trickles down her robe of white. Canto III. PADILLA. 139 XVI. There is a season sacred unto woe ! Yea ! when the moon is in her summer-glow ; Far in the silent valley read my theme ; Read — as I write it — by the lonely beam. The sun hath fled, and with his swiftest flight. As he could feel remorseful for the sight His ev'ning had illumin'd. — All below Serenely lies; — -nor murmurs friend or foe Along the silvery field of battle -work. There Saladin, and many a bearded Turk, Lean on their lances mutely ! — 'Mid his foes, As marble motionless, and mute as those, Is yonder Ferdinand ? — He doth not lend One word of wailing for his sister's end. Why gaze they so ? — upon that sand are laid A lover dying, and a bleeding maid ! Dying ? — alas ! that cheek, that eye of his So damp — so glaz'd — even now are spiritless. Touch — touch her not ; she ne'er again may rise ; Her life-blood runs : — but touch her, and she dies ! 140 PADILLA. Ca^to III. And yet, but for that blood in N which she swims; So deep — so crimson — that her iv'ry limbs Scarce glimmer though ;— and, but for something, so I know not what — beneath her long locks now - On elbow rais'd, her look were grief— not pain — Watching his trance, who scarce shall live again. Thus innocence may die ! — 'Tis death ? — Indeed ? — And o'er them kneels — I know him by his weed, His shaven crown, the mildness of his eye, And by the crucifix he holds on high — " Children, depart in peace — your sins are shriven — " Your loves were holy — there is rest in heaven-^- " Into thy hands, O Lord, their souls be given !" So pray'd the friar, to awake the dead ? — Yea ! — at the words Alonzo lifts his head ; And, though the blood burst freshlier from his side, Seems as relief was in that bursting tide : He turns — " Hah, thou, my love !" — and, as he turns, His cheek is faintly ting'd, his glance too burns ; Ay, with such life, so brightly burns, you'd swear The very rapture of his soul was there. " My own Padilla! — 'Twas a dream I knew " Beli'd her so, who e'en to death is true ! Canto HI. PADILLA. . 141 " I see thee, touch thee, — yes— nor question more ; " I would not waste this hour — this precious hour. u Ah ! dearest, sweetest, so — look so again ! — " Nay ! if thou smilest, death shall lose his pain ! a Yet life, with thee, were lovely ! — It is o'er ! " Hah, bleeding* too ? — well then we part no more. " Thou too, my brother, — Ferdinand — draw near: (i Much would I say — but must be brief, I fear ! " Receive this sacred trust" — and from his vest He drew the Oriflamb ; for, wildly prest, In death devoted, as in all the past, He clasp'd his sword and banner to the last; — " Return it home, though broke — unconquer'd ever — " And swear that paynim touch shall soil it never ! " It turned not, Ferdinand, from battle-fray; " And — if 'tis stain'd — it is my life-blood, say. u I weaken, — haste, — I soon shall be at ease : — " Nay ; brother, kneel — and when this blade he sees, " My Cid, my master, only father — now — " Tell him of all — I beg his blessing too ! " And thou, Collada, take my dying word ; 6 J I hope I have not wrong'd thee, O my sword ! " Forgive me, love — thou aye forgivedst me — " Forgive one word, one thought, on aught but thee ! 142 PADILLA. Canto III. " Thou wert not spar'd, I see — yes, wounded sore — u But cannot blame, who join us evermore. Ci We part no more — with thee, my wife, my wife, " All life were dear ; — why not eternal life ? " Yet now to die is hard ! — How bright the moon, " Bright as in Spain : — we shall not see it soon. " Nay, speak not, love — 'twould haste thine end, I fear ; — u I'd first expire — and thou shalt kiss me here, " Till both our souls together go — wilt thou ? Ci Nay, holy friar, I'm her husband now !— u Call it not death — 'tis rapture we shall sip." She answer'd not ; — but sunk upon his lip ! Just then her cheek a waving glory took, — 'Twas but an instant that unearthly look ; It was the soul that, flutt'ring, ere it flee, Play'd on her features : — further none might see. For, as she falls, her long hair loos'ning o'er, Closes the scene on both for evermore ! XVII. So soft the sand, the silence of the night Scarce heard his hoof— till, bursting on the sight, Canto III. PADILLA. 143 Springs through the ring that courser with a bound. He stops — a muffled knight is on the ground — Flings up his vizor — " Moniz' self, I swear" — " Aye, slaves, — yet, hold — your work is finished here"— Then opes his bloody mantle with a sneer, And strikes again the mercy that they see Plung'd in his side, hilt-deep and greedily. Nor was that sneer of his unmix'd with woe; For, as he look'd upon the victims low, His gaunt frame slightly shook — then stifFen'd there No man — no statue — but himself despair. How oft will chance in nature's spite misrule, Making a villain where it found a fool ! Or shift the scene, to mitigate complaint, And where it found a villain make a saint ! Pois'd on its pivot life an hour is still, A word — an atom — turns it good or ill. What trifles that thus mock my keenest ken, Ye sages say had chang'd the fates of men ? — How Caesar had a tyrant-Brutus hurl'd, Or Hampden been the Cromwell of the world? Moniz from birth was one of common mind, With just that virtue unto good inclin'd : 144 PADILLA. Canto III. A mind so feeble, if it held* I shoot 'Twas friendship ;— but it took no harden'd root : And, but for one disastrous passion, still That, like the night-shade creeping— creeps to kill; He might have livM along the stream of time Unnoticed, like the crowd, for worth or crime* Needs but a moment to arouse the snake In all his terrors from the peaceful brake ; — A moment — yes — and Moniz stood prepar'd A fiend — Or angel — reckless what he dar'd. They ne'er had deem'd, who knew him long and best, To find such force — such wildness in his breast: And, could he yet survive — who see him then Shall scarce believe, what ne'er return again, His storm of soul— his page of madness; — tear That page of life, and all is feeble there. He was a murderer — at least in thought — And nature sickens at the crimes he wrought : Yes — yes, that moment of devotedness Left him no mortal man — but more or less ; Nor prone to ill was he — nor heart of steel — But one — one wish his fiery soul could feel : Men he had seen, and what pursuits they run, He deem'd them right — but knew himself but one : — Canto III. PADILLA. 145 For this he'd shun no act — the most sublime, Or worst of crimes — yet scarcely hold it crime : This was his all ; — let God his lightning throw To combat this, and he had brav'd the blow. He could have lov'd — at least if it be love, Abandonment of self — below — above — And when she dies, it is his sole relief To shed at once the drops of life and grief- He could have lov'd her — and, once wildly prest, Close to the burning heart consumes his breast, Had he unclasp'd her I — no, not in the abyss Of Etna's flame — but felt it cool to his. Save her own pang — ten thousand deaths were light ; And yet he'd rather kill than lose her quite. That — that were hell : — so now on death he went, With frame exhausted — but a soul unspent ; He goes on death — he fain would hope to rest — Then leans one hand upon his bleeding breast ; One on his saddle-bow ; — his eye-balls cast, Like dying lamps, their brightest and their last. " 'Tis done — even more perchance than I had done — u And now I sing my death-song — not alone. L 146 PADILLA. Canto III. u Yet, when assur'd no blood was on my brow, " I came with other wherefore say so now ? — " Lo ! round my tomb what beauteous ruins reign \ — " Nay, Ferdinand, 'tis vain — that look is vain." Vain, vain indeed his flash of agony — Despair that instant quench'd it in his eye ; — 'Twas all that one — that hopeless flash ; — his eyes Return to earth — who, who shall see them rise I Oft wrong'd we hate ; — one wrong; supremely great Begets — I know not what of horror — 'tis not hate. " Is life a tempest ? — as its bolt was I — " Like it I blaz'd, I kill'd — like it I die :— u It flew, 'tis nothing, shall be nothing ever. — " Hear ye ! — It sings the sleep that wakens never !" Nor Turks, nor Christians, but in sooth they hear A warbling melody enchants their ear ; Strange what it be — so sweet ? — so distant too ? — Held it, who knew Padilla's tale of woe, The same she play'd, that music of the sky, Not unprophetic of her destiny. All have their various thoughts; — but, right or wrong, None dared believe it quite a mortal song. Canto III. PADILLA. J47 " Nature 'tis meet — for I have worshipp'd thee, " My first — my last — my only deity ! u Thy child — thy lover goes 104 — 'tis meet and well " To hymn his last — his brightest festival. " Oh ! I am weary ! — Give my soul for ever u Death — utter death ; — new worlds — new worship- never!" No — not for worlds— I would not longer dwell On the dark parting of that spirit fell ! But he is gone — and silence reigns again— A moon-light silence on the warrior-men : And still the lovers lie — and still that pall Of long, black ringlets veils their face from all. XVIII. The gentlest travellers ! — and are they gone ? If so, the moment was reveaFd to none : But, like that melody was warbling by, Divinely sweet, and surely from on high, It play'd— you scarce might hear its softest swell^— And, when it ceas'd, you seem'd to hear it still : — Even so they must have gone — for not a breath Told of their journey— though from life to death. l2 148 PADILLA Canto III. But day is in the east — yet cold each hour They grew — nor rose like every other flower. u Christians 'tis past — they know no mortal care !" The friar said and rose — Peace to the lovely pair ! NOTES NOTES TO CANTO I i. Nor deem, fair traveler, that I feel the less. Par. i. line 2. At least the two first cantos are supposed to be related in a jour aey from Scotland. Hence the breaches in the narrative. None, save the foremost fower, entitled high Of both the Gallilees and Tabary, Par. ii. line 14. Hugh " Chatelain de St. Omer n was one of the barons who accompanied Godfrey of Bouillon to Jerusalem, where his services were repaid by the lordships of Tabaria, and of the Gallilees.* Not long after the conquest of the ' holy city,' Hugh was van- quished by Saladin, and made prisoner. I am aware, that it may be urged, that this event took place after Godfrey's death ; and, although such a chronology be perhaps disputable, I will not con- test the point, but acknowledge the probability of a slight ana- chronism. * Gallilee is divided into Upper and Lower Gallilee. JJpper Gallilee bordereth upon Tyrus, otherwise called Galilea Gentium, or heathenish Gallilee. Lower Gallilee lieth near imto the lake of Tiberias, and to Nazareth." (Mem. Remarks on the Jews. p. 51.) 152 NOTES. The whole is related in one of the most ancient morsels of " Ro- mane " poetry extant : — " 'Tis well to hear a wise man speak,— His lips disclose what all should seek, Wisdom, worth, and courtesy: 'Tis well to bear him company. " By prudent men, says Solomon, Their deeds are always purely done ; Or if they sometimes wander wide — Their doctrine by their deeds belied, — Since less through choice than chance it be, Light is the sin— the pardon free." After this preface our fabler begins his tale : — " Of a prince of paynim land, A firm and loyal * Sarrazin' — His vassals name him Saladin." To stop the triumphs of this paynim, Hugh of Tabary advances with a numerous body of knights. After an obstinate encounter, however, (for " Well they fought on battle day,") the Christians were completely overthrown, and Hugh himself made captive. — '* Through the streets they led him in, And took him straight to Saladin; He at once saluting Hugh, for all ' his latin' well he knew — ' Sir Hugh, (by Mahomet I swear) Right glad I am to see you there.' " And so he informs our " flower of chivalry," that he may choose between death and ransom. The latter being preferred, Saladin NOTES. 153 rates the sum at 100,000 besants. So much money the other utterly denies his capability of raising- ; but the objection is overruled, by the Saracen's conviction, " that not a prince of Christendom, but would gladly join in making up the ransom of so renowned a knight." " Then Hugh replies, ' And even so; Yet how depart me hence I'd know? Behold me here in bondage vile.' The soldan answer'd with a smile — * Your honour, Priuce of Tabary, Your word and faith be pledg'd to me, That ere two years your ransom's here, Or you return a prisoner: But this, and you may hence depart!'" The generous proffer is accepted, and, with an obeisance, Hugh turns to go : — " But to his chamber Saladin, And by the hand hath led him in ; And there hath spoke him fair and free, With winning words and courtesy, — ' I urge thee, Hugh, both by thy law, And by the God you serve with awe ; I urge thee, tell me how and why Are dubb'd your knights of chivalry V ' I may not, sire ! 'twere shame and sin :* * And wherefore so V cries Saladin. c Noble sire, it may not be ; A holy order's chivalry, Nor suits unchristian soul like thee. 154 NOTES. What vests may veil a carrion side 1 The richest only shew more wide The foulness they were meant to hide : 'Twere deed as ill, and idle too, To dub a paynim prince like you ; High blame such office would befal, And sinful it were dcem'd by all.' " " No such matter," returns the Soldan : " no one can condemn you ; you are ray prisoner, are you not ? — ' I'm free to force thid- 247. NOTES. 177 English and French knights, bareheaded, except a chaplet of fine pearls, which was round his head. He conversed with them all .... but when he came to Sir Eustace de Ribeaumont — a strong and hardy knight, whom he had encountered in the battle — he said with a smile, "Sir Eustace, you are the most valiant knight in Christendom that ever I saw attack his. enemy, or defend himself: I adjudge to you the prize of valour above all the knights of my court, as what is justly due to you. Sir Eustace, I present you with this chaplet, as being the best combatant this day, either within or without doors ; and I beg of you to wear it this year for love of me." To such examples of courtesy and honour were added descrip- tions of the air and accomplishments of a finished knight. His arms were to be handsome, and of high price ; and his saddle, shield, and the pennon of his lance, were to be of one colour. In no part of his costume, in fine, should any glaring contrast be ob- servable : a great mixture of tints is ever inelegant. Thus, in the Arcadia, Phalantus of Corinth " was all in white, having his bases and caparisson embroidered with a waving water. " Nestor was in black ; Philiphus had his furniture and armour of a sea-colour, and Clitiphon's were all over " gilded with gold." Nothing more ennobles the presence than a beautiful head of hair: a flower of knighthood should wash his hair very often. His linen should be fine and white ; his shoes, hose, vest, should be particularly attended to, and his robe should be short, and wide across the breast. By the eyes and hands a man is often judged ; there should be a softness and dignity in them both. A princely munificence was ever to be displayed, and all castles should have their gates thrown open, not to lords and ladies only, but to grooms, strollers, jongleurs, and retainers of every description. — The best guides in such points are Vidal, and the Troubadour, Amaud de Marsan, the Chesterfield of chivalry. 178 NOTES-. 11. The < martyr' d-Merida' had followed well The Faladine, Pelayo, and Martel. Par. iv. line 56. Menda underwent a horrible carnage from the Moors: henee it was ever after called, " Metida de los Mctrtyres." Charles, sirnamed Martel, or the Hammerer, defeated the Sara- cens in a great engagement between Tours and Poictiers. This was the age of submissive credulity, and, according to the assertion of Paul the deacon, three hundred and seventy five thou- sand of the enemy perished. 12. Inspiring love, that melts the soul away. Par. iv. line 59. Love after all is lord paramount in chivalry, — from Perceforest, Anadis de Gaul, and the Provenpaux, to the pages scarcely less ro- mantic of Froissart. Hence, TJie courts and parliaments of love, the strangest surely of all the whims of strange man. The decrees of those tribunals, where sovereigns were not ashamed of presiding, w r ere executed with a rigour, unknown to any other jurisdiction of the age. Richard the First introduced them into England, and Germany received them from the Emperor Frederic Barbarossa. They were protected by the Pope at Avig- non, and a celebrated French lawyer wrote to defend them, " on the authority of the Roman code and the decisions of the fathers of the church." Which should you prefer — the death of your mistress, or that she were married to another? Who should be most blamed — he who boasts of favours he never was granted, or he who publishes what he really received ? Had you an assignation at night with your, mistress, whether NOTES. 17& aught you to like most— to see me leaving her apartment when you were entering; or, to see me entering when you were leaving her? Such questions, and a wilderness of mystic matters that I dare not quote, were daily argued in those courts, and decided without appeal. The love of ladies and that of the Almighty where always named together, and considered of quite equal obligation : and you listened to treatises professing " The art of gaining a mistress, of pleasing her when gained, and of how to quit her when you please, with a demonstration of the world's vanity, and how one ought to serve God.— See Fabliaux (Le Grand) T. 2. The Troubadour's song is in some manner an imitation of the Troubadour Arnaud Daniel. 13. What prayer and varied form oar youths befel, 77 hen knighthood narrCd them of its honoured train. Par. iv. line 73. For an account of the various ceremonies used in conferring knighthood, see our own historians — Hume, Henry, Robertson, Godwin. It is only necessary to remark, that they were different in different ages and circumstances. Thus Hugh of Tabary obliges Saladin to no vigil of arms in the church, as was elsewhere so cus- tomary, although he enjoins his hearing of mass and fasting upon Fridays. St. Pelaie is inclined to distinguish between the military chivalry and the religious: perhaps M. de Chateaubriand is very right in holding, that there are grounds wanting for the distinction. The principal order of knighthood were, those of Malta in the east ; in the west and north the Teutonick order ; and the knights of Cala- trava, including those of Alcantara and St. James-of-tbe-sword, in the south of Europe. Whatever minor varieties might exist, their principal features were tlie same: the profession with them all was an impressive scene, and attended by the solemnities of religion. M '2 180 NOTES. 14. Their infant years have rolPd, and still she is Alonzo's chosen one. Par. vi. line 2. Jn the same castle with the pages many noble ladies were also educated, and they were encouraged in forming those romantic at- tachments, for which the age was so remarkable. Thus Amadis de Gaul* sees in the court of King Languines that lovely Oriane, with the brightness of whose beauty all Scotland was dazzled : and as " child of the sea" feels, ere his twelfth year, the first warmth of pas- sion, never to be extinguished. The ladies were no longer what they were in the most polished days of Rome, when " women were considered," says Madame de Stael, " in no other light than as slaves, intended by nature for that unhappy state." They now, on the contrary, enjoyed every advan- tage of the youths around them, and received an education, which made them worthy of the heroism they were to inspire. The Chastoiement des Dames appears to be of the 11th or 12th cen^ tury; and, although tedious, it presents a gratifying picture of that distant period. The counsels of Robert de Blois are both beauti- ful and prudent. His lovely auditors were to be gentle in their manners, and their speech and conduct were to be purity itself. They were to be courteous, though reserved, inviolably candid and religious. Love is attended with many dangers ; they who know it best, arc to be most deplored ; it shakes the resolutions of the strong, and turns the wisest into fools — he will not counsel them to love: iC Je ne vous lo, ains vous deffent Amer. Cil qui plus y entent Et qui plus en cuide savoir Est li plus fols a l'estevoir." * Am. de Gaul. T. 1. p. 91.-— a Amsterdam, 1750. NOTES. l&l Their affections once engaged, they were to be all fidelity, and, " should other suitors address you," continues he, " tell them, my heart, gentle knight, is given where it ought, tohirri to whom my faith is plighted :" — u Celui aim-je que amer doi A cui j'ai promise ma foi Cil l'aura qui le doit avoir." " Be ye thus, fair ladies, amiable and virtuous, as you are beauti- ful ; and let even your looks be sacred to him :"— t* Cil a cui vous estes toute."* Nor was the sex untinctured with the literature of the times. Azalais, Donna Castelloza, Madam Clara, and the Countess of Provence, were among the Troubadours of foremost rank. But the tender and sublime Eloisa was a prodigy more astonish- ing: and, " inf the twelfth century, science unlocked to her those treasures, which the female candidates of modern times would perhaps ask of her in vain. The latin and Greek tongues were familiar to her : she was acquainted with the best authors of an- cient Rome : had been deeply initiated in the philosophy of the age, and knew what the wise men of antiquity had taught. She was gentle and mild as innocence ; learned as the most learned of her time : her soul was Roman, and her heart was a heart of fire." But the political struggles were at that period very frequent : even females might have been in situations, where enervation would have been ruinous. Hence they were not permitted to lose sight of the courage natural to their noble birth ; and neither Tasso, nor Sir Philip Sydney, with his " hapless fair Parthenia," is at variance with probability. History affords many instances of delicate ladies * Les grands Fabliaux (Barbazan). t Life of Abeill, p. 75—6. 182 NOTES. appearing on emergency in battle, like that Countess of Montford, " equal" says Froissart, " to a man ; for she had the heart of a lion, and with a rusty sharp sword in her hand she combated bravely." 15. Trained to the Red-branch chivalry — nor less To arts and learning, in their last recess. Par. vi. line 9. Let me not be blamed for thus dispatching Ferdinand in quest of letters and knighthood to Ireland. I treat of the eleventh century. From years too dim to be discernible history turns with a look of calm regret, and leaves to the poet his legitimate domain. Would lie then be criminal in saying, " I have been to the garden of ob- livion, and, behold ! I bore away these flowers, for I saw they were belonging to my country." To Ireland, however, such a fanciful courtesy was unnecessary ; nor has she of these latter ages been accustomed to receive .many free gifts. Conscious of an antique wreath, and of its unfading na- ture, she looked with a melancholy pride only to have it handled — for so the dust would have been shaken, under which it lay for so many years of neglect and misery. That has not been done ; she is without an historian, and. with the exception of Vallancey and O'Connor, none have even glanced at her antiquities. Enough, notwithstanding, has been ascertained for my present purpose. By the barbarians overrunning the Roman empire, Ireland, it is known, was unattacked, perhaps unnoticed : neither did the wild Saxons invade her: and while England, in common with the rest of Europe, was suffering from those hordes, the islet of the west remained unprofaned by any foreign force. At a very early pe- riod, too, it had been converted to Christianity ; since we find a Bishop Paladius, and St. Patrick, sent thither before the middle of the fifth century— not to sow the faith, but to prune it : " mediantc a NOTES. 183 doctrina dos quaes," says the Portuguese annalist, " forao alunii- adasaquellas gentes." With only these data — the independence of Ireland and her Christianity — might we not confidently pronounce her, the last re- treat of learning' ? I speak not of her ecclesiastics : but were there no persons in Spain, Gaul, or even England — had Rome and the Roman spirit so completely vanished, that not one of her sons was capable of preferring verdant fields, freedom, religion, and the arts, to ignorance, slavery, and the ferocious rites of the north ? It were an absurdity to suppose — How stand facts ? " Such* was the en- couragement given to the cultivation of letters by the princes of Ireland, and so great was the concourse of students thither from all parts, that was a man of literature missing on the continent, the answer was — " amandatus est ad disciplinam in ffibernia" — So in tiie life of Fulgentius : — * Exemplo Patrum commotus amore legendi Ivit ad Hibernos sophia mirabili claros." In the college of Mayo Alfred the Great imbibed his virtues, and there too he procured teachers for his newlj -erected university of Oxford. Pavia and Paris are indebted to Ireland for their first professors, Clement and Alcorn: the subtle doctor and Yirgilius, the learned bishop of Strasburgh, were both Irishmen. That a Danish invasion occured on close of the eighth century is very true ; but it was not of a nature to smother literature. This is clear from Eric of Auxerre's letter to " Charles le chauve," — Why do I speak of Ireland? That whole nation, almost despising the dangers of the sea, are continually visiting your dominions with a great company of philosophers, &c. — " Neque enim," says Mura- tori, f* Silenda laus Brittanniae, Scotiae, et Hibemice, quae studio Ii- * Plowden,Encjclop. YalJan. O'Conn. Rede, LTIist. de France, et passim, et Arch. Peerage, v. 2. p. 10 — 12. Muratorii Antiqui. Italia?, Diss. 43. Fabliaux du xi. Siecle ct du xii. passim. 184 NOTES. beralium artium eo tempore antecellebant reliquis occidentalibus rognis ; et cura praesertim mouachorum qui literaram gloriam alibi aut languentem aut depressant in iis regionibus inipigre suscitarent atque tuebantur." But the brightest age for Ireland dates from 1002, when the ce- lebrated hero, Brien Boromh, having entirely reduced the Danes, commenced bis reign as monarch of the whole island. He, who had won in person twenty-five pitched battles, spent the remainder of his long and glorious course in cultivating all the arts of peace. Churches and schools were erected — the decayed universities re- paired, — bridges and public works of every description multiplied. With Brien's immediate successors, exertions of a similar nature were unabated, and the crown of Ireland arrived at a maturity of splendour upon the brows of Morto-more, sirnamed the Great. None ever swayed the sceptre with more wisdom than this monarch: and when, from his age, he deemed himself unequal to the cares of government, he surrendered the throne, and betook himself to his retirement of Lismore. — This event took place in 1116. Thus the eleventh century, elsewhere gloomy, was in Ireland a period of splendour and happiness. There were virtuous princes to be found ; men of worth and of learning from every country re- sorted thither ; there were established laws ; the red-branch knights, with their shields and collars of gold, displayed all valour and cour- tesy ; so, that " had a beautiful maiden, adorned with Jewells, travell- ed throughout the kingdom alone, no attempt would have been made upon her honour or her treasure." 16. In old Eamania minstrels rolTd along Their country's glories in their splendid song. Par. vi. line 41. Eamania was the great national council before Tara. This coun- cil embraced the three free estates of the kingdom, — the monarchy, the clergy, the knights and nobles. It was hoi den annually, and the NOTES. 185 history of twelve months was there presented for correction. To compose this history was the duty of the Crotaries, or Bards. Their compositions were in a kind of recitativo, accompanied by their harps. The wise and valiant could not have been past by unpraised ; but the Crotaries were obliged to adhere to considerable simplicity ; and, since every member of Eamania had a right of checking their mistakes, it is probable, that records, so scrupulously criticised, were neither glaringly partial, nor very incorrect. The Crotary was distinguishable by a bright- striped robe, and his profession was esteemed illustrious. 17. By sainted-Arran, when the moon-beam fell By lonely Tuaran-wave or Croghan's dell. Par. vi. line 47. Endus, Lord of Ergall and llosnal, obtained a grant of the island of Arran, wherein he erected a monastery, afterwards so venerated as to bear the name Arran-of -Saints. A romantic cell near the water Tuaran, and encompassed with woods, is highly venerated by the Irish : as is also another called Croghan's Dell, near the black- water in the county Kerry. In this grotto was composed the austere Law of Kiaran, and the stalactical exudations are much esteemed by the country people, as possessing many virtues. The erection of schools and convents was the current religion : their numbers in Ireland exceeded calculation, and one Luanus alone is said to have founded a hundred of thein. I think Butler, naturally enough, hak^ canonized him for it. 18. The blithe kulinkry, and the hunter's horn; On groves of verdure smiVd the Shanon's sun. Par. vi. line 54. The kulinkry, or dancing hero. That Ireland, but particularly along the banks of the Shanon, was 186 NOTES. once profusely wooded, is sufficiently evident from her bogs. In these the whole process is observable, from the sound trunk to peat fully formed. The trees, in a large bog, lie invariably in one direc- tion, as if they had been purposely felled, and I have been assured, that, in many instances, the traces of an axe are distinctly seen. " They travelled along the foot of a mountain," says Palmerin (B. 1. p. 215), " thinking it a goodly land: for it was full of lofty trees, such as Ireland is still wooded with." The natives have a saying to this purport : — She was twice a forest, and twice a bog, and will be again a forest before the end. ? 9: Drop we the veil! — Rest, fever 7 d spirit rest. Par. vi. line 61. That Ireland has not sinned, I do not say : that she has been sinned against, who may deny? A system was earned on for years, ill serving to conciliate a people of fiery feelings, and, perhaps, of no very calculating judgment. There are men, who may be emi- nently dangerous, yet the easiest in the world to reclaim : there are some men, with an appearance of unsteadiness, whose attachment is well worth securing — when a ; mall matter may gain a friend, who would rather die with you than survive you. What would tranquillize my country ? — If the measure termed Emancipation, why is it withcld ? Withheld, noble-minded England, by you? — you, who are lavishing your bounty upon all : — upon the Spaniard, who detests you for a heretic — on the Sicilian, stabbing you in the dark — on the Hollander, whose hatred is not less dead- ly, because less open — on a multitude of nations, who, with itch- ing palms and moulhs, gaping for jour money, are ever greedy to condemn you. Ay ! and strike at you, if they only durst. Let England, as she will, sow her kindness in foreign soils ; yet her best harvest shall be ingratitude. I appeal to facts : the governments she most upheld, are they not the bitterest of her enemies ? NOTES. 187 20. the leopard on his shield, And stars of golden in an azure field. Par. viii. line I. They are the arms of the Monizes. — " In azure, five stars golden, of seven rays and forked • crest, a leopard azure, with a star of the arms on his head." (Brazao Liv. III.) 21. this foreign lay was learned, for thee. Par. ix. line 122. The ancient Irish ministrels, no doubt, wrote generally in Gaelic; I am told it possesses an energy and sweetness that well accord with poetry : but that, occasionally, they composed both in Romane and in Provengal is clear from their ranking among the Troubadours and the Fablers. Since they are described, as travelling to the different courts, and with a simple notice of their country, it cannot be ques- tioned, that their tales and songs were in the usual languages of the day. Thus, in the Lai du Buisson D'Epine* we are told of " an Irish Trouveur, who, entering the hall after banquet, sung the Lai of Alix and that of Orpheus."f id ons. Le Grand regrets his inabi- lity to discover those two celebrated poems, " qui etaient celebres et dont il est souvent parle dans les poesies du terns." Do they exist in Ireland ? 22. Weave, weave ye maids of Innisfail. % Par. ix. line 124. This song is built on a romantic superstition of the Irish, There * Fabliaux (Le Grand) T. 4. p. 106. f The Lai du Buisson d'epipe is of the twelfth century — proba- bly those of Alix then and of Orpheus were of the eleventh. % Innisfail, Icrne, Erin, or Ireland. 188 NOTES, is a black Duke, or Earl, who is enchanted in the hill of Haclem, in the county Louth. He is said to have last appeared when Brien Boromh expelled the Danes, and he is to reappear whenever Ireland Is infested with a powerful enemy. I have never met any one who saw this black Earl ; but it is not at all an uncommon thing to stum- ble on some of his retinue ; one person told me that, coming down the road on a summer evening, and hearing the tread of horses, and a noise of the creaking of new saddles, he knew it was the Earl's stud. There were many thousand horses, all grey, and shod with silver, and the grooms were in scarlet jackets. This person did not speak to the grooms, being in great fear of mind. Not unfrequently the peasants, when at labour, hear a voice from the opposite side of the hedge asking, " is it time V and they are very careful to answer, " no, not yet." One unlucky yes might dissolve the enchantment, and then the black Earl and all his mighty army would burst from the hill. — For, only a single night each year, is the Earl permitted tq come to life ; and he employs it in reviewing his troops, on the great Currash of Kildare. That night is well known, and no peasant ven- tmes to intrude on the parade, NOTES TO CANTO It " Rock-of-the-Cid F (for still thou bear*st a name Shall live— so doubly is it seaVd to fame. u - Outlive this Granite-mass, Time loves to spare.) Pai\ i. ling I* This renowned knight is indeed transmitted to fatality with two imattaintable titles — his own story and the tragedy of Corneille. There is a rock at Teruel, still named " Pona del Seyd-" it was on the pinnacle of this that his " alcazar*" castle, formerly stood. After some residence at Teruel, the Cid ; aroused by the miseries of Ms fellow Christians, rushed down, like a lion from his den, upon Va- lencia. The Moors were expelled from the whole provincej and the Cid henceforth resided in its beautiful city. 24. But now were gaily heard — they shall not long — ■ The southern peasant's sweet guitar and song. Par. ii, line L Not long did the happiness of Valencia endure ; for, upon the Cid's decease, 1099, it again fell into the Moors' possession. Yet, not even in death was the good Cid forgetful of his people : I believe he is the only general, whose remains led out his army to 'battle, after the mighty soul had fled. AH the women and property of the Christians had been placed on mules, or waggons, for the put- 190 NOTES. pose of retiring into Castille ; but, in order to facilitate their retreat, it was necessary to check the Moors, encamped in the vicinity. For this purpose the Cid's corpse was prepared, according to his own dying' advice; and, being cased in mock armour, Was raised on horse- back, and kept upright by two boards — one before and the other at his back. When the Moors saw his presence leading on the Christ- ians so, they were troubled sorely, saying : — " Behold the good Ruy Dias has come to life : and yonder he is upon Bavieca, and with his white-beard and coladain his hand I" — The consequence was a great -victory ; King Bucar, with, I believe, thirty-five other kings of the Moors, perishing on the field. The Christians, after this, marched on quietly towards Castille : but were met half-way by the King D» Alfonso, who came lamenting for his good vassal the Cid. 25. The Tourney's splendour Par. iii. line 2. The Tourney, as every body knows, was the grand spectacle of chivalry : " Festa publica cortesaa e militar." The more solemn of them were proclaimed a year and a day before hand, and not a court in Europe but, if possible, was present. Budaeus deduces the Tour- ney from some celebrated deeds of arms performed by young cava- liers, in the plains of Troy, on occasion of the nuptials of the Princess Ilione, daughter of old Priam, with Polymnestor, King of Thrace. Hence, he says, the title Troia agnrina, in low Latin Tarneamina. Bet Bluteau gives another etymology : " the jousts were single en- counters ; but, since in Tourneys large squadrons were engaged, each one might be said to turn in skirmish, torneava,* torneamen- tuni" — Tournament. " Who shall decide," &c. The real invention of Tournaments is arrogated to France ; and, indeed, her claim is generally allowed. In the eleventh century they are described as arising there ; whence, passing into England, * Vocabolario, T. 5. p. 212, NOTES. 191 and ail Christian Europe, they were finally received by the Grecian emperors, by the Saracens of Asia, and by the Spanish Moors. In the history of the Peninsula, however, there are not wanting in- stances of regular Tourneys somewhat earlier. The Arabian an- nalist, Albucacim Abentarique, mentions a magnificent one, given by the Spanish king at Toledo in 712.* * I think Mr. Scott, in notes to his D. Roderick, speaks of this history of Abucacim as spurious : but, by the Spanish and Portugese critics it is highly prized. I have not been able to peruse the origin- al ; but I have read two translations of it — one in French, and the other by Miguel de Luna. Albucacim deals little in the marvellous ; at least, he vouches for only what he has seen, and he sees nothing that is incredible. The whole story of the enchanted tower, &c. he expressly gives as " very strange," and not upon his own authority, but upon that of " many Spaniards" just as capable of inventing that kind of falsehood as all the other Christians at the time in Eu- rope. — Florinda's letter to her father is curious : — " My tender recollections and sorrow for absence from my father's sight, whom, with reason, I love so much, are causes of my writing this long importunate letter. It will bear you a piece of news — for me new enough, however it be old in Spain ! And of all the won- derful transactions in this palace, this I am to relate is the most re- markable — and what never before occurred to a king : and it is — that while I was sitting on a table foolishly and careless, and still preserving the ring enclosed in my letter, with the emerald set into it, (jewel of mine ! and held by all my friends in a just esteem) down upon it fell the royal cutlass, and broke it, unfortunately, in two. The green stone is divided in the middle, nor am I able to amend it. So great is the confusion this disaster has occasioned me, that never can my tongue be able to express it in all my life ! Father ! O my dearly loved father ! apply some remedy to my sufferings, if possi- ble : lor I feel, that there is in Spain not one who can remedy them. ■VI v poor mother is not very w r cll, and I, in like manner. God hold' vou ever in his gnard.— Toledo, on the third of December, Bra 750.' 192 NOTES. 26. Lords and ladies, fye. Par. iii. line 5. They are a translation from the MS. of Enstache Des-champs, as quoted by Mons. de St Pelaie in his notes. Here, however, as well as in the many instances where that gen- tleman is my authority for the wages of chivalry, memory is my principal guide ; for I have not seen his books since I quitted Eng- land. They had been sent to me, when in Lisbon, and, with them, two E. Reviews, the Giaour, and the Bride of Abydos. Upon their arrival in the Tagus, being myself confined to my bed, I commis- sioned a friend to bring my little parcel to me : but, by some inad- vertency or other, it fell into the hands of the Inquisition. As to the English productions I despair of them ; but every exertion was made to recover the others, nor did I suspect they could have been withheld. But nine months elapsed in vain : " Adhuc sub Judice lis est ;" the reverend fathers have not as yet been able to decide, whether the memoirs on ancient chivalry be heretical or not. My translation is from Miguel de Luna, word for word, and he, I believe, was faithful to his text. The Frenchman appears to have a little wantoir'd on the matter. Such, according to Albucacim, was Florinda's real letter to the Count Julian: as to Marinna's fine epistle, it is invention. By the way, there are some who exculpate the unfortunate D. Roderick in all this transaction. Laymundus, who was not of his chaplains, wrote a short chronicle of the downfall of Spain, wherein he shews, that neither Florinda, nor the monarch, were in fault; but attributes it entirely to the infernal passions of Florinda's mother, and one Bemigotha, her intriguing Abigail. NOTES, 193 27. . - - His shield, that hung in church two nights, #c. Par. iv. line 3. For some nights previous to opening- the lists, eacli candidate for glory was obliged to suspend his shield and coat of arms in the neighbouring church. There the ladies viewed them at leisure, and had the right of excepting against any knight, by marking his shield. An appeal lay to the judges, who were bound to hear witnesses, and to decide impartially. That the Christians of Spain should have exhibited both in their horses, weapons, blazonry, and other ornaments, their Moorish tro- phies, is natural enough : even in England it was one of the ways by which a villain was made a noble, — " yif he kill a Sarsyn, he may wear the Sarsyn'scotarmure."* 28. Till tears its gimp of lily, as he fell. Par. iv. line 21. It was not unusual for the young knights of ouly a year's standing, to cover their shields with a gimp, or gimple of white or yellow. This real or affected humility was meant to shew, that they did not esteem themselves worthy of publicly displaying their family coat of aims, until they should have been distinguished by some achieve- inent. 29. The gothic dragon green, the vermil crozon Of France, and Mattos silver-pine, Sfc, Par. iv. line 24. It is a dispute among historians, whether the ancient arms of * Book of St, A loan's. o 194 NOTES. France were three toads, or three vermil crowns in a silver field. Paulus Emilius is of the latter opinion.* The Mattos, a very distinguished family of the Peninsula, bear in a field of vermil, a silver pine between two golden lions, battant and armed in azure. 30. With Amur of the lineage high, zoho borls The Jigs, $c. Par. iv. line 2S, The Figueiroas, or Figuiredos, are of the most antique nobility of either Castille, Portugal, or Galicia. Their original apellation was Ansur ; but their present one, as well as their arms, was gained on the following occasion. — The Christians residing in the Moorish possessions were well enough treated, or, at worst, only had to pay some pecuniary con- tributions : f — but all Spaniards were not thus happy. Those pro- * Liv. 1. Ay. de Gestis Franc,. Liv. I. t On this subject there is a curious document given by de Brito : " Alboacem Iben Mahumet, Alhamar Iben Tarif belator fortis, vincitor Hispaniarum, dominator, Caballarise, Gothorum, et magna* litis Roderici, &c. — " Ego ordinavi quod Christiani de meas terras pecten dupliciter quam Mauri et de Ecclesiis per Singulas XXV pesantes de bono argento" — the monasteries are to pay 50, and bishopricks 100 besants, and the Christians are to appoint a magis- trate of their own to judge according to the Christian code — " et non malabunt hominem sine jusu de Alcaide, seu Alvazile Sarraceno ; sed ponent ilium apres de Alcaide et monstrabunt suos Juzgos, et ille dicebit bene est, et dabunt ei pro bene est, V pesantes argenti et matabunt Culpatum." — If a Christian murders a Moor he is to be punished by Moorish law. — " Si esforciaverit Sarracenam Virginem, sit Maurus et recipiat illam, sin matent eum ; si fuerit de Marite NOTES. 195 vinces, where the Caliphs could exert only a kind of military supe- riority, were dreadfully persecuted. Of all their grievances, per- haps, the most intolerable — certainly the most ignominious, was an matent eum." — A Christian entering into a mosque, or cursing Al* lah or Mahomet, let him become Moor or die. — " Bispi de Chris- tianis non maledicant Reges maurorum, sin moriantur. Presbyteri non faciant suas missas nisi portis cerratis sin peiten X pesantes argenti. Monasteria quae sunt in meo mando, habeant sua bona ini pace, et pechen preditos L pesantes, Monasterium de montanis, qui dicitur Laurbano, non peclie nullo pesante ; quoniam bona in- tentione monstrant mihi loca de suis venatis, e faciunt Sarracenis bona acolhenza et nunquam inveni falsum, neque malum animum, in illis qui morant ibi ; et totas suas hereditates possldeant cum pace et bona quiete sine rixa et sine vexatione neque forcia de Mauris ; et veniant et vadant ad Colinbriam cum libertate per diem et per noctem, quando melius velint aut nolint; emant et vendant sine pecho." After some further privileges the decree thus equitably closes: — " etutomnes sciant, faciam Cartam Salvo conducto et do Christianis ut habeant illam pro suo juzgo et mostrent cum Mauri requisiverint ab illis. Et si quis de Sarracenis non sibi observarit nostrum juzgo, in quo fecerit damnum componat pro suo avere, vel pro sua vita et sic juzgo de illo, sicut de Christianis, usque ad sangui- nem et vitam. — Fuit facta Karta de juzgo era de Christianis 772 : Secundum vero Amios Arabum 147. Luna 13. dulhija. — Alboacem Iben, &c. — rogatu Christianorum firmavi pro more -f- et dederunt pro robore duos equos optimos et Ego confirmavi totum." — The tolerant notions of this worthy Musulman might not discredit princes of a greater pretence to civilization. The Annotator to La Clede— T. 2. p. 195— questions the authen- ticity of this paper, upon no good grounds. He himself commits a gross error in calling the " Era de Christianis," the Christian era, which it certainly was not— as well as in calling 772 A. D. the 116th Regit a. Brito calls this date 772, that of Cajsar; which o2 We NOTES. annual tribute of- 100 noble virgins. These were, however, occa- sionally retaken by the gallantry of some devoted knights. One Goesto Amur was the most renowned, who rescued six, that were already on their way for Cordova. The exploit took place in a "Cerca," or fig garden, and Goesto Ansur, having broken his sword, tore up a fig-root, and, attacking the Moors, carried off his lovely prize. The scene of his victory is to this day called " Figueiredo das Donas." The following is a very ancient ballad on the subject, as it is still sung by the vintagers in Beira. 'Twas all amid the figs,* The fig-trees all around, Six maidens I would find, Six maidens found ; I wish'd to creep me nearthera, Near them I did creep ; I wish'd to see them weeping — I saw them weep. Awhile and I would ask them, I ask'd them in awhile, would be 734 of Christ, and indeed 115 of the Hegira— not 147. But until we arc more certain of what was the era employed at that time in every part of Spain, an obscurity of arranging the Hegiras precisely with the Christian computation, cannot be allowed to throw doubts upon records, with all the other proofs of genuineness. In fact, similar difficulties occur regarding almost all the oldest Spanish pa* pers, wherein an Hegira and a Christian date are found together. See that multifarious production, the Espana Sagrada — passim. * " No figueiral figueiredo A no figueiral entrey Seis Nina3 encontrara Seis Niaas encontrey, &c. NOTES. 19^ Who could thus have wrong'd them, With law so vile 1 ? Twas all amid the figs, The fig-trees all around, And whence the wrong said one We have not found ; But woe the land doth bear A bad king crown'd ! And had I skill in arms, Infante, I do not say, That man should do this wrong — No ! by my fay ! Adeos, boy, Adeos : I know not, boy, not I, Should you now be replying. If I reply! Twas all amid the figs, The fig-trees all around, No ! by my fay ! I answer'd 3 I'll hold my ground. The eyes of that dear face Dearly will L buy, And over distant lands Behind thee fly, And on the long, long, ways Be ever nigh ! Tongues uncouth and strange, I will speak them all ; Moors perceiving me, Soon shall fall. 108 NOTES. 'Twas all amid the figs, The fig-trees all around, A Moor was guarding there. The Cerca-ground ; 111 he threaten'd her, 111 his threats I bore, Tearing at the root, The root I tore : Then beating down the Moors, Down I beat the whole; The maidens I would steal, The maidens stole, And her who spoke I sung, And to my bosom wound All amid the figs And fig-trees round. In memory of this exploit Goesto Ansur and his descendants arc named the Figueiredos, and assume upon their shield five fig leaves for five of the fair ones, and the sixth is represented by their crest — a fig-leaf also. 31. u What ho ! " and th y knight of honour shakes his glove. Par. iv. line 29. Ere commencement of the Tourney the ladies always chose a knight, styled the knight of honour, and gave him a glove, which he held on a wand, called the ladies 1 wand. He stood in some con- spicuous place, and stopped the combat whenever he pleased, by lowering the wand. He here lowers it in order that the two re- maining champions should, as was usual, end the Tournament with a joust in honour of the ladies, NOTES. 199 32. Swore by the pheasant and our good lady. Par. iv. line 47. The peacock and the pheasant were very distinguished in the spectacles of chivalry. A mantle of their feathers was in a myste- rious esteem, and the chief of the Troubadours was crowned with their plumage. But the vow made upon those birds was the most extraordinary ceremony. St. Pelaie gives an interesting account of one, at the court of Burgund} r , for the purpose of stirring up a new crusade. After a pompous banquet the King-at-arms of the golden-fleece, preceded by a long file of officers at arms, and carrying on his head a pheasant alive, which was ornamented with a golden collar, pearls, and precious stones, advanced towards the Duke of Burgundy* and offered him the bird. The duke, having listened attentively to the king at arms, placed his hand upon the pheasant's head, pronounced his vow, and then wrote it on a parchment, and it was read aloud. It began thus: — " I vow to God my Creator, and to the glorious Virgin, his mother, and after these, to the ladies and the pheasant, See." 33. Neither doth he heed His atentayle ; Par. iv. line 53. It was, naturally enough, esteemed a valorous feat to be able to endure long that immense iron pot, the helmet ; particularly with- out raising the visor, or aventayle. Thus in the tale of " Tliree knights and the shift ;" — " Who is the gentle bachelor born amid swords, suckled in a helmet, rocked on a shield, fed with the flesh Of lions ? In quest of adventures he will pass the English seas, or climb the summit of Mount Jura. His enemies fly before him like straw before the wind. He overturns at the first joust horse and horseman ; he often too wounds thorn in spite of his armour. So 200 NOTEtf. long can he support the helmet that he sleeps in it: it is unto him as a pillow."* Here we see the occasionally wounding his foe enumerated" among the wonders of this redoubted knight. In fact, the plate armour became at last so perfect a defence, that battles were won and lost without the shedding of blood. A Cavalier un- horsed lay immovable as a turtle upon his back, and was therefore a prisoner unto the victors ; but he was totally unassailable by any knightly weapon. Thus Froissart tells of some Flemish knights, whom the Genoese archers attempted to put to death ; but not a crevice could be found to introduce the point of a dagger, although they were rolled about and all the joints of their armour tried : — so that sledges were sought for, to beat them into pieces. Death to such warrior ensued more frequently from suffocation than any thing else. In the duel between Annesly and Kattrington, the latter expires without having received a scratch. 34. Ho ! largess, largess I— from his saddle-bom Dips in a trice that gentle knight belozv — Regains the glove, rises Par. iv. line 67* Largess, largess! was the cry at any distinguished feat of arms 5 and surely the lifting up of a glove from the ground in the manner described, with steel at all points and in a gallop, was no easy one, Jt was, however, a performance of many celebrated riders : and I * " S'abat cheval et chevalier Et souvent le crieve par force : Et puet tant le h'eaume endurer, Qu'a dormir ne a sommeiller Ne li coiwient autre Oreiller." Fabliaux ( Le Grand) I. J . p. 162, not£s. 201 liavenow before me Galvam's Art of Horsemanship, wherein it is treated of in a separate chapter, and elucidated by a drawing. " Esta cavallaria," says the author, " tern grande servicopara c ca- valleiro tomar do chao as armas e mais cousas sem se descer, e mel- hor se defender pelejando," 35. His modest hearing, and his gentle tone. Par. v. line 10, The courteous humility and gentleness of chivalry was an en- gaging feature. What is more gratifying than the picture drawn by Froissart of our Black Prince, who, at so young an age, had been the hero of the proudest fields Britain ever won?* It required a more than common education to prepare the mind to receive all that followed success at a Tournament, without being puffed up. But modesty was the reigning character : like the Che- valier Ba) ard, who, after his victory in Piedmont, said, " the honour he had gained was solely owing to the sleeve which a lady had given him," . 36. The hand that dares, what none besides shall dare, Had thinrfd that woven beard, . Par. vi. line 5. The Cid was ever remarkable for a long beard, which he wore * " He made obeissance to his royal prisoner, attended at his table with every mark of humility, and would not sit down to it in spite of all his intreaties for him so to do, saying — that he was not worthy of such an honour, nor did it appertain to him to seat himself at the table of so great a king or so valiant a man, as he had shewn himself by his actions that day." 202 NOTES. plaited and tied with a string over his shoulder. There seems to have been much veneration attached to this beard : so much so, that it stands recorded, how no mortal ever touched it. Seeing the Cid was a married man, I do not very well understand how that could be : such however is the story, and it is fully corroborated fcy what befel a Jew in the Cathedral of Toledo. Finding himself alone there, he advanced towards the body of the Cid — which for many years remained undecayed sitting in his ivory chair over against the great altar — and he said unto himself: — that is the good Rny Dias, whose beard no person ever touched; now that he is dead I think I may venture. The sacrilegious fingers were only approaching the Cid's blessed chin, when his right hand rising, half drew colada from the scabbard, upon which the wretch- ed Hebrew, as well he might, fell back with horror.* 37. his country's tale of pride. Par. vi. line 1?. The verses following are intended as a glance at the early history of Spain : the settlement of Phoenicians — the Roman sovereignty — the irruption of northerns — the gothic kingdom — the Moorish oc- cupation of the land — the re-establishment of Christianity at Au- seva. By Xeres perished the flower of the Spanish nobility in eight days of battle. During the first seven, the King D. Kodrigo had been continually spiriting his troops, decorated as he was roy- ally, with a sceptre, a crown of gold upon his head, and on his feet * The Cid had been in progress to be canonized : but, from the failure of funds, or some other reason, the matter never went far- ther than his Beatification. This was a man who even in boyhood killed his adversary in a duel : and who, in the course of a long career, held the lives of his fellow creatures and of sparrows in pretty equal account. NOTE'S. 203 sandals of golden tissue, sparkling with precious stones ; and lie was drawn in a car of ivory, according to the mode of Gothic mo- narchs : but, on the last day he had mounted his beautiful charger, Orelia, and flung himself into the hostile squadrons, to regain the field or die. Whether he did so die was never ascertained, although many fables went : such as his having been guided for several days by a milk-white cloud, and his having at last settled on a high soli- tary mountain, where, after a long time of penance, he finished his devotions rather oddly — by burying himself alive, with a snake, which he had reared for that purpose. — What in truth became of him is unknown : but his regal insignia were found on the banks of the Guadelete, and many years afterwards an antique stone was discovered in the vicinity of Viseu with this inscription: — Hie re- quiescit Rudericus Ultimus Rex Gothorum.* The hopes of Spain now rested on D. Pelayo, who had made hiB escape into the Asturias, where he inhabited a small cave. A few hundred followers soon collected round him ; and, upon the ridgs of Diva's hoarse torrent he was proclaimed king with all the gothic ceremonies. Having performed- a vigil of arms, and several reli- gious rites, he was finally placed standing upon the shield he had so often wielded in battle, and so was raised aloft by his " rich men" and other nobles, with loud shouts of Real, Real, Real for the King Don Pelayo. He then threw money to the people, and belted his sword upon his thigh, thereby intimating, that this earth held no one meet to do so for him : and, on the day of his being " raised King, 17 no Hidalgo in his dominions could be armed a knight. * Of the small numbers that escaped from Xeres, some made for the sea ; where they embarked and took refuge in an island, off the western coast of Portugal, since called The Forgotten Island Although it be laid down in some antique Charts, and former navi- gators describe it as " rich and well cultivated, with seven bi- shoprics, and the best and happiest people in the world," yet no one has of late years been able to rediscover it. 204- NOTES. Scarce was the ceremony over, when the Moorish Allans were distinctly heard, and in a few moments the enemy was fronting the mouth of the cave. With the respect due from one brave man unto another, the General Alchaman solicited Pelayo to surrender, pro- mising him riches and honours as he could desire, and representing the impossibility of resisting an army, with a handful of old men and boys only. — A. short space rectified the mistake: seventy thousand of the Pagans perished by Christian valour, and seventy three thousand were overwhelmed by the mountains, which, as God directed, took no trivial part in the combat. Three thousand Moors, in fine, were permitted to escape, as witnesses to the miraculous vic- tory of Auseva. 38. and there to ere of those> Who starved thee, slave I Par. vi. line 51. The Cid alludes to the scurvy conduct of the Infantes of Carrion, to whom he had married his daughters and lent his swords Colada and Tizona. He got back his daughters ; but, to regain his swords, a more consequential affair, the Cortes of the kingdom were con- voked. There the monarch presided in state ; and the Cid's state was scarcely inferior, in his ivory chair, with his hundred knights of honour. Ample justice was done, by restoration of the celebrated blades, and utter discomfiture of the Infantes, who above all were disgraced in the duel, with which the business terminated. With regard to the horse JBavieca, known both to history and to romance, he was bred on the banks of the Mondego — " nos sua- dosos campos do Mondego" — according to the Portugese chroni- clers. NOTES. 205 39. Glory f tti son o* tK brave !- Par. vii. line 31, It was a usual plaudit : for, according to the maxims of chivalry, no one could be judged a truly brave man, until after his decease, 40. She was his queen— from her he craves the meed. Touching her rosy lip — so chivalry decreed. Par. vii. line 32. " Le prix accorde— writes Mons. Le Grand—" au plus brave, d'apres le suffrage reuni des Princes, des Dames, des Herauts, et des Juges, et presentt avec un baiser, par la Reine du Tournois, le Vainqueur reconduit aux ciis du peuple et au son des instruments, desarme par les Dames les plus qualifiees, mangeant a la table da Roi, son nom celebre par des Chansons et inscrit sur les regitres des officiers d'armes, &c. — In fact this kiss, to which the victor had a right, was esteemed the brightest reward. " It was found that Mons. de Charolois had the best deserved," writes de Couci, " Then the officers at arms led two ladies, who were both princesses, to deliver the prize to the said Lord de Cha- rolois, who kissed them, as was the custom to do, and as is the law of knighthood." Such was the brilliant Tournament * not less dear to our fore- * The Tourneys, always more or less dangerous, were sometimes very bloody ; hence the Pope had preferred many a bull against them. But neither bulls nor excommunications, on other matters omnipotent, were availing here, and Rome at last knocked under. The accidents, however, were on some occasions so dreadful, and principally the death of the King of France, that the Pope again 206 NOTES. fathers than the Olympic games were to the Greeks: yet among these a father expired with joy on beholding his son the victor. But men wax wiser in their generations, and we can laugh to scorn Henrys, Edwards, Bayards, and them all, when they become such triflers. 41. True liege-men love the honour as their life. Par. x. line 1G. Chivalry, which introduces so noble an equality among gentle- men, by creating a certain contempt of wealth and curbing the in- solence of rude power, had but little influence on the lower classes. These remained about as miserable as the Russian boors of the pre- sent day. — All the world know what were the privileges assumed by the lords, and even the ecclesiastics of Scotland : similar were the usages of Spain. In the " Assizes of Jerusalem' 7 the nobleman is prohibited from interfering with the daughter of his vassal ; but not a word is said cf the vassal's wife: she was at the disposal of her husband's lord. But the lady and her daughter were equally protected, and the vas- sal dared on no account aspire to either of them, nor to his master's sister; on the contrary, he was bound to defend them by evcry^ means in his power. In fact, the law in favour of the vassal's daughter seems to have sprung less from tenderness of her re- puted father's feelings, than from the contemplation of her being, probably, partly noble. Of this the slightest suspicion was sufficient to secure to her respect, until all became forfeited by marriage with a Serf, or even the richest villain.* ventured with his anathema, and public opinion yielded. Tourna- ments were then laid aside, after having been for more than six centuries the chief glory and ornament of the whole civilized world. * " Sc il" — the noble — " gi charncllement a safille ou la requerre de folic ou seuffie ou consent que autre li face il ment sa foi vers lui." Ass. de Jer. ch. 217. NOTES. 207 42. ■ 'thwart the Moslem-van A chain, with massive fangs of iron, ran. Par. x. line 27. Mariana describes this Mahometan mode of defence in the bat- tle of Toledo : it was also practised by Miramolin, the Green Emir of Africa, at Tolosa. In consequence of the King of Navarre hav- ing broken the chain on this latter occasion, chains form the royal arms of Navarre. 43. Was heard the Trouveur's tale, fyc. Par. xv. line 6. Trouveurs and Troubadours seem to be sometimes used by us synonimously ; but their language was as different as their coun- tries. The former were composers of tales and romances princi- pally, and they flourished in Brittany, Normandy, France proper, and in England, after the conquest : the Troubadours were southerns, and their compositions almost exclusively songs. These boast the honour of having given rise to Italian poetry, and Petrarch and Dante had their masters in Provence. In Spain, Trouveurs and Troubadours were each well known and held in high request : — M Nul Vassal ne doit a la feme de son Seigneur ne a set fille re- querre vilainie de son corps, ne seuffrir ne consentir a son essientne a son pooir que autre li fasse : ne a sa Soeur tant com elle est De- moiselle en son hostel." — Chap. 205. — Yet the assizes of Jerusalem were an improvement of the feudal code, were drawn up by most Christian Godfrey, solemnly approved of by the church, authen- ticated, each page, by the patriarch's signature, and religiously pre- served in the archives of the holy sepulchre. 208 NOTES, as were also the Arabian fablers, introduced by the Caliphs— and who were, perhaps, the original inventors of romance. Richard, Cueur-de-Lion, is improperly classed among Trouba- dours ; it is more than probable, he did not understand a word of Provencal. He wrote in French, or " Romane" tongue, and both he and his minstrel Blondel were truly Trouveurs. 44. And Biscay fisher s Par. xv. line 80* Let it be recollected, that the earliest whale fishers in the north were carried on by the inhabitants of Biscay. 45. Bled in his goblet? poiz'd his blazoned shield? Par. xvii. line 10. The " Brotherhoods in arms" were contracted by a religious tow, and impressed by many solemn ceremonies — such as an exchange of shields, and each knight having a Tein breathed, that both their Mood might mingle in the same cup. Every thing was in common between brethren in arms ; even love was to yield to friendship : only loyalty was superior to a link so sacred. When our Edward meditated his expedition against France, he created his order of the round table, in hopes of alluring the French warriors to his cause. But those brave knights, \* ell aware of the true duties of profession, preserved their loyalty inviolate, " and thus the monarch beheld, in the succeeding war, his brethren in arms arrayed," says Rapin, " against him." The separation of Carvalai and Du Gues- elin in Castile, upon a similar occasion, is interestingly pictured : — " Adonc basiercnt li uns l'autre— moult fut pitieuse la departie," NOTES. 209 46. To hail bright battle on his Syrian plain. Par. xvii. line 36. It is very true, that few Spaniards were in the wars of Palestine ; they had a full meal of crusading at home. There were, however, some, who accompanied Raimond of Toulouse on the first crusade, and notably, Bernard, Archbishop of Toledo, and the good Egas Moniz, uncle to our Moniz. There is, however, Fernando Lopez, who asserts positively, that Alfonso VI. had himself sent forces to Holy-land, and that their leader, the Count D. Henriquez, was named by Pope Urban one of the twelve captains of the ex- pedition.* Nothing was more common throughout Europe, than a journey beyond sea for a year and a day — the usual duration of the chival- rous adventures. 47. Again, though faintly, Scotland's highland's peer. Par. xxiv. line 1. We were now,-it is supposed, in Scotland, in Lanarkshire. * Certainly neither Fleury in his Ecclesiastical History, nor the author of the Spirit of the Crusades, mentions a word of this cap- tainship : but when Monsieur La Clede would prove its impossi- bility, " because D. Alfonso, the count's son, was born in 1094, and Jerusalem taken by the Crusades, in 1092," I do not know how he could commit such an error. Jerusalem was taken in 1099. As to the birth of D. Alfonso then, it might have been in 1094, and yet in Spain : but neither is by any means certain. Barbosa brings forth D. Alfonso in 1109; the Gothic Chronicle only in 1111; and some contend, that he saw light in Palestine, and was baptized by Egas Moniz in the river Jordan. (See La Clede, liv. v. p. 36 — 7.) p 210 NOTES. 48. The snow-white elephant • Par. xxv. line 20. * L'Elephant blanc, ou le premier elephant du Roi de Siam, est servi par plusieurs Mandarins et par cent esclaves dans uh pavil* lion dont les larabris sont dores. Deux bassins d r or massife lui servent d'auges. Cet elephant avait cause plusieurs guerres entre 1'etatdeSiam, et les puissances Voisines." (H. Mod. de Maury, t. ii. p. 232.) 49. he bore His slow hand from his side ; that hand zvas batlHd in gore I Par. xxv. line 100. Two French gentlemen were losing at play ; one gave vent to all his feeling, in such a volley of imprecations, as is not unfrequent at the gaming-table, and cried to the other :— " How can you sit there so quietly? You are losing like myself, and you do not curse." That other turned round his head slowly, and, opening his waist- coat, drew forth his hand a little, " le diable n'en rien perd," said he : his hand and side were all in blood. 50. Arid th* azure rings Janazio won of old. With English Arthur and his barons bold. Par. xxvi. line 30. All the Castros bear rings for their arms — thirteen, nine, or six." These latter, as some will have it, are only marks of cadency, and the thirteen rings distinguish the elder branch of the family. Such genealogists deduce the origin of the Castros from Janazio the NOTES. 211 brave, one of our King Arthur's knights of the round table. That valorous captain received from Arthur himself his device of rings, representing the round table by their figure, and, by their number, King Arthur with his twelve knights companions, in honour of the twelve apostles. " Besants, money struck at Bvsantium. Though properly of gold, they are represented of all colours," says the View of Heraldry.* Surely this is a mistake. The besant is always gold, (yellow,) or silver (white,) and where a figure of its shape is to be found, not metal, such is truly no besant, but a ring, arruela, or tortao, in French torteau.f The Castros of the thirteen rings bear — in gold, thirteen of these arruelas, or rings azure : crest, a half-lion of gold, armed in azure, with the rings of the arms on the shoulder. 51. -The pictures smiVd. Par. xxvi. line 51. Let the reader smile too if he please : but let him recollect many such relations by grave historians. Let him also know, that in the nineteenth century the features of many pictures at Rome were seen to move, and their eyes to roll up and down, to right and left. Yea! and the whole was recorded in a big book, with ten or twenty explanatory plates, and it was translated into English and the other modern tongues, and it is still circulating throughout Europe. * Chap. ii. p. 83. f " Arruelas sao sempre de cor por diil'erenca, dos Besantes que sao de metal Besantes sao semelhantes a mocJas de ouro ou prata sem cunho." Brazao, liv. iii. v 2 212 &OT.ES. 52. Their zcay was sacred !- Par. xxix. line 6. The sacred way, " la voie, sacree," was the usual form of speech m speaking of the voyage beyond sea, or crusade to Palestine; And surely that sacred way presented a curious spectacle — kings- princes, boors, clergy, gentry, women, children, pell-mell as they could go. Every link was broken; fathers, mothers, husbands, sons, brothers, wives, were quitted and abjured joyfully. All in- terests were sacrificed — all calls of blood, of conjugal tenderness, of love, of friendship, were rejected — every tender sentiment was stifled, and all those connexions crashed, which, until then, had appeared so indestructible. On they went, warriors, robbers, priests, and murderers ; the bishop in his purple, the cowled monk, the serf, lawyer, knight, hermit, and shameless female, sheathed in steel, and prepared by turns for the combat and for prostitution. All ranks, sexes, and passions, were let loose j piety, debauchery* the pure nobility with the vilest rabble, the casque, the gown, the censer, the lance, haircloths, disciplines, cross-bows, swords, and a crowd of nuns, who had burst their cloisters, and some of whom were reserved for strange adventures — " des aventures qui s'ac* commodoient bien mal avcc leurs veux." (L'Esprit dcs Crois. t. 3.) NOTES TO CANTO III 53. From far Batalha, there zee linger' d much, You blush? d to think how Frenchmen could he sucji. Par. 1. line 36. This exquisite specimen of architecture is known to every Eng- lishman, by Mr, Murphy's drawings, It has sadly suffered. A most civilized nation, and one endeared to so many ancient and* most honourable recollections—dear to Britain, sometimes as a friend, but oftener as a rival, she was proud of — why must I at- tribute to that nation, destruction so wanton, so barbarous? Ba- talha is little better than a heap of ruins — Alcobac,a is no more. Massena, it is said, sent express orders to burn them both to the ground, and two companies of soldiers were so employed at Al- cobaca. Twenty six days did the work of mischief continue ; yet so massive, so city-like was that pile of eight centuries, that a part of the church still exists, and a few of the ancient monuments, al- though greatly broken. The excuse for this outrage was the monks' known hostility to the invaders, and their flight to Lisbon. Yet, if in former visitations they had lost all their property — and I would record an anecdote, which ought to make more than one general blush — if, moreover, a price had been put upon their heads, they surely had reason to fly. They saved nothing but their heads, and, to their honour be it told, their library.* * 1 must not forget this library. Mr. Murphy, in a very un- wonted vein of jocularity, doth remark, that there were probably more pipes of wine in the cellar, than books in the convent. That the wine was very plentiful, and sufficiently good, I have no doubt ; 214 NOTES. They are the poor and mendicant friars, that are the curse of Portugal. Grovelling in sloth and the grossest ignorance, they are perhaps as profligate as ignorant, [and are ruinous, in a. double sense, by withdrawing from the soil the arms born to till it, and for all the means, but most necessary occupations, of life, and then supporting them upon the labour of others."* Nor is this all : they are not only the drones and leeches of their country, but, while they suck its dearest blood, are infusing poison in its stead. For they live upon deception, and fright and fool a credulous, most un- educated people, into a multitude of base superstitions and ido- latry, It is not so with the parochial clergy — least of any with the richer religious orders : these arc almost capable, if they durst, of opposing the torrent of corruption. They have, however, little influence, where there is a besotted prince — a nobility, poor, igno- rant, proud of their ignorance — and a peasantry naturally amiable, but unenlightoned altogether, and who give their confidence to priests, low-born and stupid as themselves. I have spoken in the provinces with many Benardines, Benedictines, Augustines, who lamented the degradation of their country, and I have found them every where the best landlords in it. Drawn from the highest class, and better than the class from which they are drawn, because less poor and dependent, their idleness could not be so injurious to the I found it so : it is clear it was Mr. M's best acquaintance. For had the gentleman inquired, he must have learned, that the property of Alcobaca in printed volumes is very immense, and that its ma- nuscripts form, after the Torre de Tombo, the most ancient and nu- merous collection in the kingdom. As an artist, Mr. M — is above all praise of mine ; but, when leaving his delicate pencil, he under- akes to write travels, O Mr. M— ! Mr. M— ! the Lord deliver me from Mr. M— ! * Hence the importation of grain for eight months consumption out of twelve, in a country not half populated, and naturally the most fertile in Europe, and the employment of Gallegos, and other oreigners, to the amount of from forty to fifty thousand at least. NOTES. 215 community — and they are not wholly idle. They read a little, and exert ? boundless hospitality, living like a society of private gen- tlemen, neither remarkable for vice, nor pretending to be much better than their neighbours. Precluded altogether from any ex- travagant expenditure, their funds are always in good order, and present to the prince his only sure resource. I am, in fine, convinced, that a reduction of the richer convents of Portugal, under its exist- ing government, would be the finai blow to that devoted land ; what little remains of agriculture,* revenue, and of all civilization, would vanish : the whole nation would beeome more and more corrupt, and an age of utter barbarity ensue. Such were the ideas of the Marquez de Pombal, and he had certainly builded on them- It was his ruin. What will become of the loveliest climate, the finest soil, and the best situated for commerce ? Time and chance, spite of a con- gress, are often masters : but assuredly become so, when a govern- ment is too feeble for decision. Brazil will probably be unlinked from its parent, either by detaining the family of Bragauza, or form- ing a republic, with the Americas of Spain. The situation of Por- tugal is more slippery. Yet, this much may be foreknown, that either to France, England, or even Spain, she would be an easy, but most dangerous acquisition ; and that she can never return to be a very independent state. 54. nor, coasting France, Left umnhaiVd the Mother of Romance. Par. ii. line 1. " Most of our metrical romances are translated from the French," says Mr. Wharton. " The French," says Mr. Godwin, " have a just claim to priority over all the European nations, in the inven- * I know that lands, now producing scarcely any thing to the fidalgos possessing them, produced some years ago, when in the Ijriars' hands, one hundred fold. 216 NOTES. tions of romances of chivalry, and the production of every species of offspring of the imagination," (Life of Chaucer, v. 2). ,-Dante calls French the * mother of romances, and of the fine deeds of the Trojans, and of King Arthur,' and Brunetto Latini preferred it to the Italian, " parcequc la parlure en est plus dclitable et commune 55. " All father" 's lost with thee" Par. ii. line 12. AVhen we consider that the Count of Thoulouse, bore away to the first crusade, and from Provence alone, one hundred thousand combatants, with a multitude of women, children, old men, priests, &c. we are to be astonished, that any inhabitants were remaining. In fact, all France and Italy were reduced to a state of much deso- lation. Whether there arose a permanent good thence is another question ; but the immediate effect of the crusade was to depopu- late the fairest portion of Europe. There is some natural feeling in the manner those misfortunes are described in the " Sire de Crequi ;" and the pictures drawn of his wife's sorrow, and his child's remark on his return, are affecting : et Li Sire print sen fieus, en sies bras le preissoye Le joesne Demiziel foert bel enfain estoye Et disoy : chey dont vous que ma kiere dame Merfc Plouroye disant — tout eist per du avceuk vos peres." 56. Immortal Rome ! Par. iii. line 1. Vice and luxury led on as usual to ruin, and the empire of Rome passed away. The fall of greatness is at all times awful ; but, upon the fall of Roman greatness, we dwell with not more solemnity than tenderness. The land of the Caesars and of Cicero, of Virgilr NOTES. 217 Horace, Livy, is associated with many dear and youthful recollec- tions. Over its misfortunes we cannot but indulge a sigh;, even an honest indignation may mingle with our regret. Withal, let us not be unjust : the Romans were their own destroyers. " They had survived," says Mr. Gibbon, " the loss of virtue and of honour." It would have been a flattery to have ranked them with men, whom a courtly sycophancy designated as Barbarians. Nature acts kindly by her children : a people grow wicked, and grow weak together, and the period of consummate criminality is providentially the period of their downfall. The elevation of Augustus had been ruin to the commonwealth, and the empire dissolved with the death of Constantine. But not for this did Rome sink into oblivion ; and she may boast of a pecu- liar destiny in having escaped the neglect attendant on decayed power. To a teniperal succeeded a spiritual dominion, when the Vatican arose from the ruins of the capital. On this subject there will be a variety of ideas : but there is, I believe, no one .who would defend the despotism of the popes ; and they who most harshly censure it, will forgive it much, for whatever of wisdom, or of virtue, was achieved, when it checked the fury of an Attila, or restrained the ferocity of times that followed, when, in opposition to brutal force, it asserted the prerogatives of the mind, and finally restored to us the arts and letters. Erected of so flimsy a material as opinion, its danger was less from its instability. It was barba- rous too, if you will, inasmuch as it could have been formed only in a dark and barbarous age, and was certain to melt away as civili-* zation rose. Was it not, in fact, the fabric of circumstances, and distinct from the religion it indecently made its instrument ? Tt was indeed less the work of priests, and of the talents and ambition occasionally invested with the Tiara, than that of short-sighted princes, who, to compass some immediate, paltry end, nursed up an authority, shortly to trample on their own. The ecclesiastics, on the contrary, were at the beginning its stoutest opposers, and there is something interestingly plaintive in the tone, with which they sometimes sought to withstand its encroachments : but particularly 218 NOTES. in that address, where, with the feelings of husbands and of fathers; they protest against the decree of celibacy ; " because they were not angels, but men." The clergy were, however, left to the Pope's mercy, and the law passed : which to them was an infringement of the rights of nature, and to all legitimate government, was a blow no sovereign ought ever to have permitted. The papal tyranny became at length so excessive, that no words can too severely re- probate it ; but, ere we confuse it with the religion of any time, let us recollect, that the countries most jealous of their reputation for exclusive orthodoxy, have been seen to oppose it always with suc- cess ; especially when their rulers had a grain of spirit. Such in- stances are to be found in every history. I will only notice one, and it is of the first years of the twelfth century, and among the most superstitious pope-ridden people in the universe — I mean the Portuguese. They call it the story of the black bishop and the cardinal. Its hero, however, is D. Alfonso Henriquez, the gallant soldier, proclaimed first King of Portugal, on the edge of battle. But what must have been the religious credulity of a character, who considered himself as an object of miraculous favours* from infancy? who engaged in a perilous war, and penetrated to the fatnesses of Algarve, in quest of the relics of a fabulous saint ? authenticated, he judged by a flock of rooks said to hover over them, and which relics by the bye he could not discover when he got there ! who seriously ascribed this disappointment to the saints having hidden his body, being unwilling to go to Braga, and preferring to wait for a conveyance to Lisbon ? who wrought him- self to a belief, that the Almighty in person had appeared to him in the field of Ourique ? who related a long and familiar conver- sation that there took place between them, and how the royal arms of Portugal were the invention of the Godhead ? who, in fine, not only credited and told all this, but transmitted it in an affidavit to posterity ! an affidavit taken before all the clergy and magnates * By the straightening of his legs. He had been bom bandy. NOTES. 219 of his kingdom, and by the cross, and the mostholy gospels S* When a sovereign like this, and who had moreover made himself a vassal of the Roman see, could check that see when it would control his measures, we may judge how the power of the popedom grew, This D. Alfonso had been obliged, for the safety of his crown, to adopt harshness to his mother — a very dangerous, abandoned wo- man. She, however, by her intrigues, and those of her favourite, obtained, that the Pope should send the Bishop of Coimbra, then at Rome, with an order for her release. Upon the bishop's ar- rival, D. Alfonso inquired, what authority had the Pope to interfere with his sovereignty? " Be assured,'' said he, " that in this I will not obey either his holiness, or any other man on earth." Imme- diately the king and kingdom were laid under interdict, and the bishop fled. Informed of this D. Alfonso walked to the cathedral, where he ordered the canons to assemble, and elect a new bishop ; but, upon their demur, they were put out of doors, and he said he would himself procure one. Whereupon going down the clois- ters, he espied a black priest, and having inquired his name, and as to whether he was a good clergy man* he learnt that there was not a better in Spain : — " D. Solomon," cried the king, u thou shalt be bishop, and I command thee to say mass as such without delay." — " That cannot be, sire,'- answered the negro, " for I have not been ordained bishop." — " I have ordained thee bishop," re- turned the monarch, " so put on thy vestments, or I will cut thy head off with this good sword." When these transactions were noised at Rome, D. Alfonso was presently adjudged to be a heretic, and a cardinal was sarcastically * " Ego Alfonsus Portugalliae Rex, &c. — Coram vobis doiu> Viris Episcopo Bracharensi et Epis : Colimbriensi et Theotonio reliquisq : magnatibus officialibus Vassalis Rcgni mei in hac cruce aerea et in hoc libro sanctissimorum evangcliorum juro cum tactu manmun mcarum quod Ego miser peccator vidi his-ce oculis in- jlignis verum Dominum mostruni Jcsum Christum," &c. &c. 220 NOTES sept " to instruct the King of Portugal in the faith." Upon this persons drawing near Coimbra, the Portugese fidalgos said to their king : — " Sire, here comes to you a cardinal of Rome from the Pope, who is displeased with you for having made a bishop, and he has received great honour in every part he passed through, and all the kings have kissed his hand." — " Let him take more care with me," replied D. Alfonso. " I know not the cardinal nor the Pope, who coming to Coimbra, and stretching out his hand for me to kiss here, in my own house, shall not have both hand and arm cut from the shoulder with this sword : and this he cannot escape." Upon en- tering the city, the cardinal was told those words, and he felt much fear thereat ; and the king did not go out to meet him, and the cardinal took it as a bad sign. He nevertheless went presently to the palace, and the monarch received him with — " Cardinal, why have you come to my land? or what riches do you bring me for all these wars I carry on day and night against Moors ? If by venture you bring any thing to give me, give it ; and, if not, return as you came." — " Sire," said the cardinal, " I am come from the holy Father to teach you the faith of Christ, which, he is informed, you do not understand." — " Certainly," rejoined the sovereign, " wo have the same books of faith here that you have at Rome, and well we know the articles of faith ;" and upon tins he repeated all the articles, word for word, as they were written, with their explanat- ions, and " then he believed, and would, please God, continue to believe as firmly as the Pope himself."* Returning to his inn, the cardinal ordered barley to his beasts, and at midnight summoned * On such subjects, indeed, D. Alfonso appears to have been particularly sore ; since we find him at Ouriquc, assuring God Of his perfect orthodoxy, and suggesting the greater propriety of ma- nifesting himself to the Moor, who seeing might perhaps believe H* " Dixique nihil turbatus, Quid tu ad me Domine ? Credenti enim xh fidem augere ? Melius ut te videant infideles et credant quam Ego, &c. notes; 221 the clergy to the place, and in their presence excommunicated the whole of Portugal, and mounting his animal rode off. Before day- break he had made two leagues. Up rose the king, and said to his fidalgos — " Come with us, we are going to return the cardinal's visit." But upon their telling him, that the cardinal Mas already gone, and had left the kingdom ex- communicated, he called in great indignation to have his horse sad- dled ; and, buckling on his sword, made such haste, that he over- took the culprit near Poyares. Riding at bim, he caught hi with one hand by the collar, and with the other drew his sword— " Give me here thy head, traitor." But upon intercession of his fidalgos who came up, he desisted, only ordering the cardinal to undo all he had done ; for, if not, his head should never leave that spot. The terrified man yielded, protesting, that if they would not hurt him, he was ready to perform every thing that could be de- sired. " What I desire is, that forthwith you dis-excommunicate as much as you have excommunicated, and that you leave behind you all your gold and silver, and beasts, and that you send me from Rome a bull, promising that Portugal shall never be excommuni- cated, which I conquered with my sword. And you shall give me tins nephew of yours here in pledge, until the bull's arrival, and if it arrive not before four months, I shall take off Ins head. That I am a heretic is evident from these marks, that I received in such a battle, and these in such a city, and these in such a town, that I took all — for the service of God and against enemies of our faith : and, to carry on the warfare in future, I take from you this gold and silver, and these beasts, of which I am much in want." So he took all the gold and silver, and all the horses and mules excepting three ; " and now, cardinal, you may continue your journey ; it is the favour I require of you." Gteatly was the Pope offended at promise of the above mention- ed bull, and he asked how any one could presume to stipulate for a favour, which only the apostolic see could grant? *' Ah ! holy fa- ther," replied the cardinal, " I only say that, were the chair of St. Peter mine, I would most willingly have yielded it, to escape from 222 NOTES. his hands. And you, too, if you had seen coming upon you a cava- lier, strong and furious as that king, and if he had one hand at your collar, and the other out-stretched to cut off your head, with his horse not less ungovernable than himself, and now with this hoof, now with that, scraping in the earth as if he were digging your grave — indeed, holy father, you also would have given up both bull and popedom." Upon this, the pope wrote a bull, as the cardinal directed ; and the cardinal dispatched it to Portugal before the expiration of four months ; and the king sent back the cardinal's nephew very honourably, and with many presents out of the privy-purse ; and the cardinal was evermore a great friend of the king; and he did every thing the king applied for in Rome ; and engaged the Pope to expedite another bull, granting to the king full authority for making bishops and archbishops within his own dominions, as he might choose. 57. Wild " arm-of-iron 1 — English u cut-tJie-steel,'' Franks, Lombard barons, Grecians, Turks, and he Who saw the" White-Knight" ride in Sicily. Par. iii. line 3&. " Fier-a-bras," " Bras-de-fer," " TaiJle fer." Such was some of the barbarous appellations of the day. " Rogerthe Norman' 7 was the wor- thy, to whose succour the miraculous " white-knight" came; whom Roger, properly enough, set down to be St. James or St. January, I forget which. In fact, the miserable scene of confusion presented for several centuries in Italy, Sicily, Sardinia, &c. is too shocking to look back to. As for the Normans, those religious brigands, we have them described by Leo IX. in colours more frightful than Huns, or Ostrogoths: "That strange and undisciplined nation, the Normans, destroys every thing with a rage and cruelty unheard of, and a worse than heathen impiety against the church of God. Not a sentiment of humanity belongs to the barbarians, who spare NOTES. 223 neither sex, nor weakness, nor old men, nor children; but mas- sacre every creature falling into their hands, with tortures horrible as they are novel. Profaners of the most sacred rights, they go on in such a hardihood of vice, that each day adds crime to crime, enor- mity to enormity. 58. He, pious hero, on his lofty poop Gathered sweet sleep. Par. iii. line 48* " iEneas celsa in puppi, jam certus eundi Carpebat Somnos." On such a subject something of repugnance may be allowed in a lady's mouth. To others, it will perhaps appear, that Virgil never more displayed an exquisite judgment than in this pasasge, where his hero is shewn to be so passive an instrument of the gods ; who alone could build the Roman empire : — " Tantse molis erat Romanam condere gentem." 59. But soon more shines that feeble, feeble light. Par. iv. line 5. This is an attempt at imitating some of the strange apparitions of the day. 60. Warning the khacan, more than mortal aid Baffled his Abars. Par. iv. line 22. The Abars, who, with their kan, or khacan, had invested Con* stantinople, under the Emperor Heraclius, after having threatened 224 NOTES. an assault for many nights, raised the siege, and retired for ever. The reason did not fail to be recorded : each time, when the lad- ders were placed, and all were quite ready, there appeared a fe- male figure of majestic stature, and more brilliant than the sun, who walked round upon the walls, and drove back the assailants, with a terrible frown. " At last/' write the Greeks, " the barba- rians made off, seeing the blessed virgin of the Christians had de- clared against them," 61. the battle-strain At Roncesvalles heard, and once again Where Norman William left the Saxon slain. Par. iv. line G6. The song or dirge of Roncesvalles was performed at the battle of Hastings, when " Cut-thc- Steel," William's first minstrel on the occasion, went chanting it a-horseback in front of the armj.* 62. But, far above them all, from land to sea, Is Lusia's boast, th' unmatched Arabida. Par. v. line 20. Arabida is a solitary convent, not far from Setubaf, or St. Ubes, as we murder the name in English. The verses convey a very- poor idea of one of the most interesting scenes imaginable. When * " Taille-fer, qui moult bien chantoit, Sur un cheval qui tost alloit Devant eus alloit chantant De PAllemagne, et de Rollant, Et d'Olivier, et de Vassaux Qui mounuent en Rains chevaux/' (Du Cange Gloss.) NOTES- 225 1 visited it, it appeared in all the sublimity of seclusion : not a whisper was to be heard — not a breeze moved the light leaves of the cork tree — the eterual cypress was as still as the death it com- memorates : not a bird — not an insect stirred. When from a little above the convent you cast your eyes around that magnificent range of scenery — shrubs, rocks, white-walls, trees to the very sky — it seemed some stupendous theatre, with a blazing mirror for its drop-scene ; so unrippled quite, so insufferably brilliant, lay the sea before you. Nature in her most wrathful mood, never was, in my view, more awful, than in the grandeur and quiet of that lonely spot. You felt as if there was not another living creature in the universe ; it was a feeling, not of admiration, not of content, but of proud, irresistible, terrible delight: it recalled forcibly Cowper's lines, " I am monarch of all I survey," &c. In three visits to Arabida, it was always the same. I have sat for hours upon a rock, amid stillness the most profound ; nor — with the exception of once that I entered the convent — do I remember ever to have heard other sound there, than very infrequently the tolling of a small bell. 63. From tide-swept Troy a—" Par. v. line 22. Opposite to Setubal is the site of ancient Troya.* This town * But Brito says otherwise, holding that the ancient Setubal was destroyed by the Moors, and stood on the spot now called Troya — which latter name is mere invention of the fishermen upon the coast. This ancient Setubal was, according to him, the first erected city in the Peninsula ; being founded by Tubal, shortly after the deluge, while Noah reigned in Italy. This honour, how- ever, is contested by Terragona, Tudela, Biscay, and, indeed, by almost every province and sea-port in Spain. Knotty and right Q 226 NOTES. was overwhelmed iu an earthquake. It presents at present a bank of sand, where medal hunters may scratch, not uuprofitably, 64. The round white chapels Par. v. line 32. These white chapels are little octagon or circular towers, scat- tered on various projections of rock ; and, although larger, are not unlike the jutting turrets, so remarkable in some ?incient, or some modern-ancient architecture— as Hcrriet's hospital, near Edinburgh. They are called the " Convento velho," " old convent :" for al- though now occupied by some trumpery images only, they were once the real cells of the monks. It is of latter years that the King of Portugal founded the present habitation, a good deal lower down the mountain. The appearance of these white structures, peeping from amid the myrtles, laurel, gymsystus, arbutus, is exceedingly picturesque, and will catch the attention of every traveller. By travellers, however, Arabida is seldom visited; although I am in- clined to place it much superior to Cintra, or even Ponte de Lima. By the bye the arbutus, alway.s beautiful by the Lake of Killar- ney, or on Wicklow mountains, is in Portugal a shrub of far supe- rior beauty. Both the fruits and flowers grow to a fuller size ; the former, w r hen ripe, are by no means ungrateful : they are sold in the market in Lisbon, and are supposed by the peasantry to intoxicate presently. 65. The Muncho's rock. Par. v. line 35, notable are the discussions with which Brito commenceth this his history of Portugal : he proveth, in teeth of the learned Septem- brisers, Lyra, Rabi, Eliazer and Zambuja, that the world began on Sunday, March 21st. -NOTES. 227 There are many of these munchos or hermits around Arabida. They live in huts, and profess poverty, beards, and filth, the most revolting. Whatever might formerly have been their ascetic virtues, they bear no very good reputation now a-days. There was an Englishman, named Smith,* among them latterly. This fellow came a few years ago to Portugal, and, some how or other, contrived to make a noise by his pretended conversion from heresy. In fine, the prince assisted at his abjuration, and, convinced of his good faith, granted him a pension, and had a hermitage built for him near Arabida. This was to be sure no very splendid endowment, r,ince his pension, as I understood, amounted to about four-pence a day, and the hermitage which I have seen was nothing more than the most miserable of all possible cabins. The rascal lived in it about three years, not quietly. The monks all along complained of his seldom appearing at church, and he kept up correspondence with a pedlar of no very dubious reputation. He at last eloped, suspected of several robberies, and after having swindled various persons to a considerable amount of money :- for which ourmuncho left as pledges, half a dozen wives and children in different parts of the province. 66. Day clos'd, and vespers Par. v. line 36. On my second journey to Arabida, I delayed until moonlight ; when I descended to the cave through a thicket of the most fra- grant shrubs. Then I first saw the fire-flies in perfection : they quite illuminated the path as they flew past. Towards the bottom you have some stairs cut in the stone, at the expense, as they told me, of an English gentleman, who had been there some years before. The cave itself is a stupendous dome, with a portico to the sea, supported by four petrified columns of prodigious dimensions. In * He had been condemned for felony at the Old Bailey. Q? 228 NOTES. the interior they have erected a small chapel, where a lamp is al- ways burning ; but no one now inhabits there. It was a peaceful, but not silent scene: even then, the waves, for all they were so smooth, produced no slender echo. This cave in a storm must be surely one of the most terrific resorts in nature. 67. The Muncho's Tale. • Par. v. line 51. This is not to be put wholly to the author's imagining, it is pretty exactly the legend of the convent. The Irish gentleman so mira- culously snatched from peril, built a little chapel for the image on its rock, and entering into himself, spent the remainder of his days in the cave in strict penance. Induced by his sanctity, disciples soon gathered around, when each one raising a cell apart, the ** Convento velho" became formed. The ship's crew established themselves at Belem, and their descendants go annually in a pro- cession to Arabida, where three days are spent in feasting. The image still occupies her chapel ; but her only glory now remaining, is a full-bottomed flaxen wig, becomingly curled, greased, and powdered, an enormous hoop, and a robe of pea-green satin, em- brodercd with orange lilies. This " Nossa Scnora da Arabida," is of high celebrity in Portugal, and there is a muncho near the convent, who carries on a trafic, no doubt tolerably lucrative in a species of amulet, which, having touched the image, is to preserve the wearer from I know not what disasters by land and water. 68. Slave of the slaves, who thirteen masters bore ! Par. vi. line 5. Asia has been called the " country of servitude." In early times it was thrice conquered by the Scythians, and has since been by NOTES. 229 turns in possession of Medes, Persians, Greeks, Romans, Arabs, Moguls, Turks, Tartars, and others, whose barbarous names I can- not recollect. 69. Raising the Diex-volt for their battle-whoop. Par. vi. line 8. " Dieu-le-veut," " God wills it ;" or in the jargon of the times, " Diex-le-volt," or " Deux lo volt." 70. * Daphne's Castalie' ! Par. vi. line 10. This fount, of course not the poetic one, was celebrated through- out antiquity for its oracles. Adrian, who visited it in a sickness, dipped in its waters a leaf of laurel, which prophesied — perhaps oc- casioned his subsequent elevation to the empire. It is in the envi- rons of Antioch. 71. Runs cold from strangers lawless as their war. Par. vi. line 11. I, once for all, repeat, that I give no opinion upon the justice or the policy of the Crusades. As to the atrocities committed during them, there can be but one mind : I might recount some, were they not calculated to chill the blood. It is, however, to be hoped, that never again, in holy or unholy war, any Christian princess will have to tell of ten thousand men living willingly upon human flesh, and esteeming no luxury more to their palate, than a fresh child spitted and drest before a slow fire.* * Alex. Liv. x. 230 n6tes. 72. pale famine - Par. vi. line 1&. Assuredly, those crusaders Were strange persons. Not an affair, but the three martyrs distinguished themselves in their ranks, and St. George was professedly their generalissimo, as he is this day of the Portuguese. Withal, no wretches ever endured more ; and whole armies were swept away by pestilence, distress, and famine. Men expecting, to be fed with manna, like the Israelites, or like Elijah in the desert, might consider any human precautions as un- necessary, perhaps impious : but why not have taken a commis- sariat from heaven, as well as their Etat major? Is it, that like the Americans,* they did not think of commissaries ? or is it, that this class of gentlemen were never in very heavenly repute ? 73. Helen's deed of fear, When the sea-dragon watch'd in Satahj. Par. vi. line 23. A Levant story. This sea-dragon had for many years infested the coasts of Asia-minor; but was at last conquered by the Em- press Helen. That gallant lady sailed out to meet him, and, upon his appearing, conjured him away for ever, with the assistance of some relict ; I believe a nail of the cross. Previous to this achievement, no 3hip could navigate those seas in safety. 74. Though sails — nor oars— -nor rudder, lent their aid. Par. t i. line 27. It was Lazarus and Mary Magdalen crossed the sea at Jaffa, in * Marshall's Life of Washington, v. ii. p. 247, NOTES. 231 a boat without any of the above appendages. In the life of Leo IX. we read of an extraordinary little dog, who frequently ex- claimed De us meus ; and of a w r ell known cock at Benevento, that burst from its shell, crying Papa Leo, Papa Leo. 75. And ''mid that rout was many a joyous dame. Par. vii. line 9. Of the multitudes* gone on the crusade, you may form some idea from the letter addressed by the bishops, who accompanied them to their brethren in Europe. It is dated 1097, and describes the expedition, after so many disasters, as still containing one hundred thousand knights (cavalry) besides an innumerable body of com- mon soldiers, (infantry). A reinforcement is however called for, and the bishops at home are desired to send as many men as pos- sible : but no more women. The manner of recruiting is thus pointed out : " in every house containing two people, one must take the cross ; whoever refuses, let him be anathematized, deprived of Christian burial, and undergo all the thunders of the church." That no more women were requisite, is not astonishing : but it is horrible to reflect on what numbers of them were already in the east, drink- ing to the dregs of every misery and vice. It would appear incre- dible to such as have not toiled through the disgusting chronicles of that period, and all who have will be well content that I go no further. * By none, they are held less than nine hundred thousand fight- ing men, and one author (Fulcher of Chartres, himself a crusader, and chaplain to Godfrey's brother), estimates the whole armies at six millions of souls. " Ere, reaching the numbers of the crusaders,*' writes Anna Comena, " you shall have counted the stars sparkling in the firmament, the grains of sand upon the sea-coast 7 tfefc leaves and flowers that appear in spring." 23% NOTES. 76. What griefs consumed them by the u Bad-Citye/' Par. vii. line 25. This < Bad-Citye,' " Malleville," for it is known by only that name in history, was somewhere in Hungary. To take this Chris- tian town, and cut the throats of all its inhabitants, was the earliest, indeed the only exploit of the first army of the crusaders. Tins was commanded by Peter, the hermit, the original preacher of the war. When Peter had appeared before Godfrey, " at the head of such a nameless horde without discipline, or the smallest morals," says the historian of the crusades ; " the prince was naturally ter- rified, since the least disaster it threatened, was immediate famine. Wherefore, it was requested, that this Canaille should precede by some months the more respectable crew; and they did so, having for Generals Peter, and his Lieutenant Gautier, pennyless" or " lack money f " Sine habere," " sans avoir." What must not have been the horrors perpetrated by such savages let loose in myriads upon Europe? — Neither did themselves escape. Destruction of every nature persecuted their march ; and when their sorry rem- nants approached Constantinople, the infidels would have commi- serated then plight. Alexis received them with the utmost pity, and intended to have detained them until arrival of the grand army. The barbarians, however, recovering their vices with their strength, even on the third day, began disorders ; and, being shortly after, re- inforced by some new hordes of robbers, set about plundering houses, churches, &c. and, after a general butchery of Jews, were seen butchering all to right and left, without distinction of rank or religion. If the hundreth part of A. Commena's narrative be true, the Almighty never permitted such a scourge before, or since , Hence, the Greek emperor was constrained to transport them be- yond the Bosphorus, when he would have acted justly in exter- minating them. So far from any such feeling, he gave them pro- visions and his best advice, that they should remain tranquil until: Godfrey's arrival* This was impossible to attend to, and Gautier- NOTES, 233 pennyless — Peter seems to have been absent on some adventure — ■ led his army into a situation near Nice, where the Soldan cut them all to pieces. 77. The Danes overthrow — the Grecian's perfidy. Par. vii. line 26. These were the Danes of whom Tasso writes, and who perished with their brave prince to a man. Not one escaped to bear the lamentable tale : the crusaders received it from their slayers. The perfidy of the Greek was a favourite declamation among the holy warriors. What proves this perfidy ! After having had his city sacked, his subjects slaughtered, his revenues wasted, his throne, and even his person insulted, when a low-bred ruffian sat Tauntingly by his side ; after having suffered more than all this from fellow-Christians and allies, Alexis treated them to the end with civility. 78. In death more happy ; since their fragments zvhite Builded a wall, fyc. Par. vii. line 30. When Godfrey of Bouillon approached Nice, he visited the plaii, where G autier-pennyless had fallen. It was a melancholy seem of bones. These were afterwards gathered, and in a curious mode of warfare, erected into a wall, very serviceable during the siege. Like the Mahometans, the crusaders in general believed, that all dying in battle l won the palm of martyrdom/ however, enormous their iniquities. During the siege of Nice, one of the most dreadful weapons of the Saracens was an instrument called the i iron hands,' which clawed a knight body and bones to the top of the walls. The ' White-lake' (Ac-sou) as it is now named by the Turks, was the 234 NOTES. lake Ascanius. It washes the towers of Nice, (Js-Nik) and is es- teemed very full of wonders. 79. Woe for the serpents of Eleutherie ! Pan vii. line 42, When the crusaders, expiring with thirst, drew near to the river Eleutheria (now the Yalana), they found it so guarded by serpents that they retired. But the most extraordinary thing about those 4 fire-serpents/ was the cure for their bite ; which cure, if we believe Albert Canon, of Provence, could scarcely be wanting, where a lady and gentleman were together. Now this Mas a useful excuse, and well suited to the crusaders: but what occasion for flight? they might have bid defiance to a thousand Eleutherias. 80. Woe for the Grecian fires that burn unquenchably ! Par. vii. line 44* The famous Greek-iire r uncxtinguishable by water, was unknown to the Latins, and the Greeks were prohibited by their most sacred ;t\vs, from either making it themselves, or revealing the secret of its composition. The Saracens, notwithstanding, had become mas- ters of it, and it was the most frightful of their arms. 81. 'To flesh his spear, five hundred of the Turks Their ears and noses gave ! Par. vii. line 46. This was the celebrated Raimond of Tasso. He had brought his wife with him from Spain, and, with some noble qualities, was a great fanatic. A savage, one Peter of Roas, presented him vtith a lance, covered from one endto the other with the ears and noses of infidels he had slain. KoTfiS. 235 82. When the young mother on her baby fed, And knighthood's heart a moment seem'd to die. Par. vii. line 50* Imagination may scarcely equal the sufferings the crusaders brought upon themselves by their intemperance and profligacy, par- ticularly at Antioch. They had destroyed, in a few days, what provisions might have lasted them for months, and a famine sue* ceeded, unequalled quite in the history of man. Cats, rats, dogs, were soon at an enormous price ; the newly-buried Saracens were dug up, and their half-corrupted members devoured greedily: more than one mother fed upon the baby, nature intended she should have been suckling. That the spirit of the boldest knights should have sunk in such misery, is not strange ; but it is atrocious, that the effects of their own crimes, should have been laid at God'S door, whom they blasphemed, and whose injustice even the ecclesi- astics denounced bitterly, and refused many days to say any prayers to him. Here, it is likely the crusade were over but for the Prince of Tarentum, who forced out the soldiers, by setting fire to theif quarters, and thus destroying above three thousand houses, palaces^ and churches. 83. J3ut eastward flam' d a sabre in the sky, Christ lent his lance, fyc. Par. vii. line 51 * A prodigy was the never-failing resource of the princes of the crusade. You are stuffed with them to loathing — the apparitions of saints and angels in every battle — the flaming sabre pointing to the east— the bloody meteors— the Caliph and the flying hill— the reiterated juggle of the lance— the ghost of Adhemar, saying, " I am now in Paradise after having been a short while in hell, where 23(3 NOTES. iny hair and beard were much singed, for having had some doubt about miracles"— the sacred sheep— the spirit on Mount Olivet, and a thousand others. 84. The burning sands, where all their sins were shriven. Par. vii. line 62. It was believed, by at least the rabble of the crusaders, that a sight of Jerusalem was remission of all their past offences. 85. The great-Turkfard asfar'd the Amalecite. Par. vii. line 70* The recorded carnage at the taking of Jerusalem is beyond all credibility. Seventy thousand Mahometans, according to an Ar- rabian historian, perished in the temple alone: a torrent of human blood, carrying with it legs, arms, heads, &C. rolled impetuously along the streets, and as high as a horse's shoulder : nothing escaped from the soldier's fury— the infant Was poignarded upon its mother's bosom, or snatched from her, to have its brains beaten out against a wall — and then the crusaders washed their red hands, and march- ed bare-foot in procession to the holy sepulchre \ 86. For him the younger chief, fyc* Par. viii. line 3. I have said, that there are different ways of explaining the va- rieties in the rings of the Castros. In the field of Aljubarrota, ac- cording to some, D. Pirez de Castro the younger, unwilling to bear the same pennon witli his cousin, who appeared in the Castilian line, demanded of the King of Portugal a new coat of arms— thirteen rings in a golden field. NOTES. 237 D. John de Castro was the celebrated viceroy of India. The Castros of the river — " in silver, nine rings vermil, between two rivers waving in silver : crest, a half-sea-horse, white, rising from a wave." The Castros of the wheel — - a in silver, six rings azure : crest, the wheel of knives of St. Catharine, in memory of Don Alvaro, hav-< ing been armed a knight, in front of Mount Sinai, by D. Stephen de Gania, when he was at the Red Sea," 87. Fair Inez I Fair — -alas I— fair — luckless bride / No rest is thine, where all have rest beside. Par. viii. line 1 1, The tale of Inez de Castro is generally known : may it be allowed me to recapitulate it ? — She was daughter of a Castillian nobleman, who had retired into Portugal, and she was there particularly attached to the person of D. Constantia, wife of the Infante D. Pedro. D. Pedro was not blind to the charms of the lovely Inez ; yet, during the life-time of the princess, he stifled his passion. It is certain, that not even Inez had the least suspicion of it. But the days of Constantia soon closed, and if any thing could have rendered the fair Castillian fairer in the Infante's eyes, it was the tender sorrow with which she mourned her mistress. Inez was of royal birth,* and by education too was deserving of a throne. After some months D. Pedro and she were privately married, and they lived together most happily — alas ! for no very long time. Both king and people became alarmed at this con- nexion : it was ambition in the former — in the latter a blind hatred of every thing not Portugese. Many alliances were proposed to the Infante ; but he contrived to elude them all. * She was D. Pedro's cousin. 238 notes. The monarch resolved at length upon extremities, and selecting a time when his son was a wolf hunting, repaired with some con- federates to Coimbra. The unfortunate Inez was then in the nun- nery of St. Clare : it stands upon the Lisbon side of the Mondego, very near the palace. She had been partly brought up in this nun- nery ; and, always continuing to love its innocence and peace, was wont, during the occasional absence of her husband, to retire thither with her children. Informed of the king's unexpected visit — not to the Infante's palace ; but to her — she felt it was mysterious : perhaps she felt some presentiment of her fate. However that may be, she took her little ones, to shew them to their grandpapa, w ho was waiting her arrival in the " quinta," or villa, since called " Das kagrimas," or " the Villa of Tears." That villa still exists, and still retains its name : it is situated on the same side of the river as the convent and palace, and about a quarter of a mile from the palace gate. No sooner had she reached it, than she was seized, and, with her delicate hands bound behind her, led into the royal presence — w here, throwing herself on her knees with her babies, " Que ii\o queridos tiuha e tao mimosas," she gave occasion to the pathetic scene of Camoes: " Para o Ceo Cristalino levantandq Com lagrimas os olhos piedosos Os olhos, &c. The king, in turning from a sight so piteous, was not superior to a tiger, and, a moment hardening his nerves, he cooly assented to, the murder of his daughter-in-law.* After this act of horror, ant|, f " Contra Inez os brutos matadores No colo alabastro que sostinha As obras co que amor matou de amores A'quelle, que depois a fez Rainha— - NOTES. 239 with clothes still besprinkled with blood, the king mounted his horse and rode home to dinner — " muito socegado," " very quiet- fy," says an historian, as if nothing had happened. Informed of this atrocity, B. Pedro turned furious, and, in his first despair, put to fire and sword the entire province of Entre- Douro e Minho : were it not for the queen, and the Archbishop of Braga, the whole of Portugal was ravaged. By them he was per- suaded of the cruelty of punishing a whole unoffending people, for the crimes of a few, and was at last reconciled to his father at court ; where, contrary quite to the natural candour of his cha- racter, he assumed a dissimulation that deceived every one. Time, it was thought, had dried his tears, and healed the anguish of his heart; his pillow remained the sole confident of an immortal passion : it was asserted by many, that he had solemnly sworn to pardon the murderers of his wife, and there were not wanting some who had the temerity to assign her a successor in his affections, The king, however, was right in bestowing considerable sums upon the criminals, in order to enable them to emigrate ; and, pre- vious to his death, they took refuge in Castille. It was two years from the tragedy of Inez, when D. Pedro as- cended the throne of Portugal. But he has little to be thankful for to mankind, who poisoned his existence, and have not done him even posthumous justice. His reign is left a blank in the Monarquia Lusitana — Duarte Nunez is prejudiced — and La Clede misinformed shamefully: the only respectable history of his life re- mains in manuscript. For three years did the monarch continue to dissemble, and seemed occupied with public affairs only. Among them was a very advantageous treaty with Castille : but in it was a secret article, stipulating, for the deliverance up of the As espadas banhando e as brancas flores Que ella dos olhos seus regadas tinha Se incarnicavao fervidos e irdsos No futuro castigo nao cuidosos." Lusiad, C. Ill, 240 NOTES. three assassins, Die-go Lopez Pacheco, Alvaro Gonsalvez, and Pe* dro Coelho. The first, being- out hunting, received intimation of his danger from a beggar, with whom he changed clothes, and es- caped into Arragon ; the two latter were sent prisoners to Por- tugal. It was now that D. Pedro gave full rein to the feelings controlled for five long years, and his eyes, the first time, sparkled, since the loss of Inez. He had the means of vengeance in his power, and he exulted furiously, unboundedly. Certainly, what his victims un- derwent, is unparallelled in the annals of human sufferings. The scene of horror was the town of Santarem, where the monarch pre- sided at all their torments, with an almost supernatural im- placability. His banquet spread before them, he eat, he drank, he scoffed with the bitterest sarcasms, to see the quivering limbs of two wretches enduring with dreadful constancy. At one moment he seemed bent upon a more tremendous feast, when starting from table, he thrust a blazing torch in the face of the expiring man, and roared for vinegar and onions to eat that Coelho (rabbit.) Their tortures at last ended, by having their hearts cut out — one at his side, the other at the chest : and their bodies were publicly burned, and their ashes flung to the winds of heaven. This solemn act of vengeance, and the transports he displayed, would have assuaged, as it was thought, the king's sorrows: on the contrary, they every day grew more lively. Summoning the Cortes of the kingdom, he swore to his having been privately espoused to D. Inez de Castro in Braga, before the Bishop of Guarda, and his Reposteiro Mor, and these confirmed his declaration with their oaths. Upon this he had the deceased lady solemnly proclaimed queen ; he had her children legitimized, and he gave great riches to all who had had good fortune to have served her. Inez was then lifted from her grave, arrayed fondly with royal robes and the diadem of Portugal on her head, and she was placed upon the throne with a retinue of noble ladies attendant. In a few minutes D. Pedro arrived with Ins regalia also, and whatever NOTES. 241 Was most magnificent in his court. Entering that gorgeous apart- ment, he made a low, but silent bow : it would have been too sad a mockery to have spoken, where not all the art of man could have produced an answer : and ascending the steps respectfully, and with a look of calmness, he took his seat by the corpse's side, while the fidalgos of the land paid it homage as their sovereign ; each in his turn kneeling upon both knees, and kissing its withered hand. But man cannot long deceive himself in spite of all : Inez was no more ; her cold remains must return to the sepulchre. In this ceremony was displayed a magnificence never before or since witnessed in the Peninsula. The best artists had been sought for through Europe, and had finished two mausoleums of virgin, marble and sculpture the most exquisite, in the royal burial church of Alcobap a. Thither the Queen of Portugal was conveyed from the nunnery of St. Clare, on an ivory car, followed by the nobility —the men in hoods, the ladies in white mantillas and trains : and, finally, what was the pomp may be conjectured, when we know, that the whole road, at least sixty-eight miles, shewed two closed files of soldiers, holding blazing torches, which were lighted, be- fore the funeral left St. Clare's, and continued burning until the last rites were paid at Alcobapa.* It was all unavailing : vengeance he found was delusive, and every hope he caught at; — like one unwilling to believe that ano- ther has the power to stab his peace of mind curelessly.f He at * Dona Inez left behind two sons and a daughter, from whom descended, immediately, the kings of Spain, Portugal, Sicily, and, one way or other, her blood is flowing through every royal family in Europe. f La Clede's story of D. Maria is an unworthy fiction. I know that D. Pedro is reputed to have had one son (D. John I.) after Inez' death. The best Portugese antiquarians, Fernando de Pine, and Manoel, de Faria, E. Sousa, think otherwise ; holding D. John's birth to have been early, and before his father's marriage with his R 242 NOTES. length became convinced, thathe was single amongst men j and ni# comfort beyond the grave. He henceforth considered himself as little appertaining to the earth, and sought only to prepare for 1 the sky, by religious and literary occupation by advancing the welfare* of his people. Nor were they ungrateful for his care ; and the King D. Pedro is characterized as the mostperfect sovereign, that ever bore the Portugese sceptre. By some barbarians he has been misnamed " the cruel ;" but his vassals assigned him a more ho- nourable and well-merited title, that of " justiceiro," or " the just." ithat the murderers of Inez should have suffered death was most becoming : perhaps he endeavoured to regret the aggravated manner of its infliction.* Certain it is, at least, that during the re- mainder of his life, her memory led him to virtue only. In aim* siori to Iter, he adopted his device, a staf, with the motto u montrat iter," " it shews the way/* She was indeed the star on which he gazed, the real ruler of his destiny. Hence, when he frequently visited Alcobac,a, and sat for days, Within the tomb prepared for himself by her side, his people had learnt by experience that it was no indulgence of futile grief. He seldom returned to court with- out having resolved on some great good ; he had been meditating first wife, D. Constantia. At all events, this charge against so true a lover is more than very doubtful ; but even taking it as cor- rect, what further does it prove, than that before the calmness of his despair, he had for a moment tried every human mode of refuge from bis sufferings? It would not do ; and, so far from debauchery, he led a life of the most austere self-denial. La Clede, from igno* ranee, no doubt, does him crying injustice. * This is nearly certain: and the survivor of the three assassins is the single instance of a great criminal going unpunished during the reign of D. Pedro. About a year before he died he pardoned D. Lopez Pacheco, recalled him home, and restored his confiscated fortunes. NOTES. 243 ch his high duties, and the best means of reforming the manifold abuses of his kingdom. If he was severe, his severity was most necessary, and always well directed ; for it fell only on those great villains whose example was most destructive to good morals, and whom other princes had feared to punish. If in his tine face were the indelible symptoms of a broken heart, yet that heart was kind to the unfortunate, and, when most sinking with his own unhappiness, he was only the more desirous that all others should be happy. He was consequently as beloved as he was respected, and it is almost romantic, what w& are told of the public sorrow at his death — when every poor man wept for his protector, and bade Ms children pray, for they had l ost a father : in fine, it is said of him, as the Romans said of Ti- tus, " He ought not to have been born, or he ought never have died." Don Pedro was the handsomest, most accomplished knight of his day : in his early youth, and when he first courted Inez, he had been remarkable for his dancing, and, far from sorrowful or choleric, was of the gayest, most unruffled temper imaginable. He Was a musician and poet too : some of his verses are extant. But all his exertions failed to control the passion rankling at mV heart ; he spent the remaining six years of a short reign in every princely virtue ; nothing cheered his desolation. He pined away, 88. She, like ajlozcer, again pluctfd from its bed. Par. viii. line 16. I have said, that some of the monuments at Alcobaca escaped utter destruction. Among them are the two mausoleums of D. Pedro and his queen. They are very beautiful, and are parallelo- grams of about three yards in length, and eight feet high. They stand a yard from each other, in centre of a small chapel, off the r 2 244 NOTES. great aisle of tlie chureh. Both are of wMte marble^ and in ?: similar taste ; only that of D. Inez is a little more curiously orna- mented. D. Pedro's is raised from the pavement about two feet, upon six couchant lions, and all its four faces or sides are exquisitely sculptured : the subjects scriptural. On top reclines D. Pedro upon his back. A giant figure, in armour, with a very profuse beard, and his hands in act of drawing from the scabbard a huge sword. He wears moorish spurs, and his feet rest upon a couch- ant bull-dog, with a collar and head turned up towards its master. There are the remains of another animal, apparently a small spa- niel ; but it is broken. On either side of D. Pedro kneel three angels, large as men, and with their broad wings, forming a very fan- ciful group. He is crowned, and the arms of Portugal repeated thirty two times, form a kind of cornice, or frame-work, round the upper parts of his monument. Donna Inez appears reclining at full length also, and crowned ; but above the crown is a canopy, resembling a city, of the most ela- borate workmanship, and so delicate, as to imitate a parcel of fine lace, or webs, that a breath would derange. She is in full dress, with a diamond necklace, and a wreath of small roses seemingly. Her hands are on her breast, one naked, playing with her necklace, the other with a glove on, and holding the glove of the naked hand. Her feet are concealed by her robes, and beneath them couches a dwindled bull-dog, that looks expiring with grief and famine. There were also two diminutive spaniels, but scarcely any thing of *hem now exists. Six great angels kneel round D. Inez, in the same way as round D. Pedro : two are holding on her crown — two are raising her shoulders from the pillow — and two bear censers and frank-incense boxes, such as are used in churches. There is a cornice of blazonry, but it consists of the arms of Portugal, and of the castros of the six rings alternately. The four faces of her monument are, if possible, still more exquisitely chiselled than the king's. In the lengths is represented the life of Christ, and in the ends his crucifixion and the last judgment. One of the blessed, NOTES. 245 nearest the throne of God, was probably intended for D. Inez — the head is knocked off. The whole is raised, not upon lions, but upon six uncouth, couching", humanish figures. They miscai them sphinxes : they are only the same disgusting mockeries of map, &Q frequently seen in ancient castles. Some resemble kings, others monks ; but they are degradingly ugly, and with tails like ba- boons. They were, without doubt, intended as satirical, and full well did such bitter scoffing become the monarch, erecting these monuments in his mortal anguish, and in utter contempt of the weakness and villainies of his fellow-creatures. These beautiful specimens of art are of the whitest marble I ever saw, and I do not know if there be in England any thing so dehV cately wrought. The most elaborate parts of the imperfect chapels in Batalha equal them, in every thing, but the materials. The French let nothing escape, however sacred ; every tomb was broken in search of treasures. At Pombal, General Loison chalked upon the wall, " Respectez ce tombeau," but it did not prevent the poor marquez from being pulled from his coffin,* and losing his gilt spurs. Irretrievable injury has been done to the mausoleums of D. Pedrp and of Inez — the latter particularly : for in the hurry to get it open, not merely one hole was made, but both the longer sides were attacked at once, and nearly quite destroyed The unfortunate queen was then dragged forth, and almost dis- membered altogether. Having been well embalmed, she was not jn a decayed state : but this has been converted into a miracle, and one person assured me, that she looked as beautiful as if she were only just expired, and that a heavenly odour emanated from her remains, * This coffin, for the Marquez Pombal, the only prime minister of talent that Portugal has seen for centuries, never received Christian burial ; neither the government, nor his own heirs, have been will- ing to go to the expense of a little " dust to dust." He lies in Pombal church, covered with his pall, in the same manner as the day o his decease. Ingrata Patria! 246 NOTES, # Assi como a bonina, que cortada _.,,_ Antes de tempo foi, Candida e bella Sendo das maos lascivas mal tratada Da menina, que a trouxe na capella Q cheiro traz perdido e a cor murchada, Tal esta morta a pallida donzella, Secas do rosto as rosas e perdida A branca, e viva cor co'a doc,e vida. 1 As filhas do Mondego a morte escura Longo tempo chorando memorarao, E por memoria eterna em fonte pura As lagrimas choradas transformarao : O nomc Hie puzerao, que inda dura, Dos amores de Inez, que alii passarao ; Vede, que fresca fonte rega as flores, Que lagrimas sao agoa e o nome amores.^ c. iii. P A fonte dos amores," " the fountain of Joves," is in the garden of the " villa of tears." There must be some metallic nature in the water, which, however, is perfectly limpid and tasteless — folf all the stones are red : the people of Coimbra tell you with the queen's blood. This colour is not belonging to the stone, from which I broke off a bit, and found to be a greyish slate, stained on the surface only. It was " tne fountain of loves," that supplied the palace and the nunnery of St. Clare, and that still waters the gardens and orange-groves on the banks of the Mondego. This is done by means of a small stone conduit, eighteen inches wide, in winch was running a fresh streamlet of about two inches deep, when I was there. It is still called, " o cano dos amores," " con- duit of loves ;" and by it, they say, D. Pedro and D. Inez carried on their correspondence during an imprisonment which the former underwent for awhile, in consequence of his father's displeasure at his not marrying. D. Inez, living in her " villa of tears," had a little boat of cork, and a long string. Into this boat she put her Jetter, and, at an appointed hour, let it into the conduit. D. Pc- NOTES. 247 dro received it in the palace, from the conduit's mouth, and D. Inez drew back the answer and boat with her string. The " fountain of loves," is now pointed out by a marble slab, inscribed with the latter of the above cited two strophes of Ca- moes. This was done by Sir N. Trant, to whom Coimbra, and indeed the north of Portugal, owe their existence. But the tra- veller must be aware, that St. Clare's nunnery was not formerly on the hill, where it now stands, but about half a mile nearer to the river. Some ruins of its church exist there : the palace is quite gone. The church has nothiug remarkable ; but beneath it is a very great curiosity. While I was there, an old woman mentioned that there were some arches below too ; and, upon my expressing a desire to see them, she smiled at my simplicity, and said they were full of water. The secretary of the university, who was my Cicerone, had never heard of any such arches, and called it all non- sense. At my request, however, we proceeded down, where we were well repaid the trouble ; for, tlirough part of a window above ground, we saw into another church, on which the ruined one is built.* This lower church is quite uninjured, excepting the being more than half buried in water, and it is of the very richest Sa- racenic architecture. In Coimbra they shew you some carotty locks, purporting to be those of D. Inez ; but they are no such thing. I have had in my hands her real hair, cut by' a gentleman from her head, when with the assistance of some peasants, he replaced her in her strait and violated territory : it is fine as silk, and of a light auburn. * A similar mode of building was resorted to at the bridge. It is erected upon two others, which successively sunk in the sand . and, before thirty years, it will be necessary to construct a fourth; One nunnery of St. Clare was raised upon an older one ; at last the " maids of heaven" preferred ascending the hills, to remaining on ^o bad a foundation, moreover exposed to occasional inundations pf the Mondego. 248 NOTES. 89. His coming shines not- Par. viii. line 33. " Far off his coming shone." Milton. 90. -that mountain, it is death to see, Where sorcerers yearly meet in Westphaly. Par. viii. line 35. The Brochen, famed at present for its silver and lead mines, had formerly a more formidable celebrity : being the great rendezvous of all witches and magicians. They assembled there, without fail, one night annually. But Westphaly 's most terrible meeting, was not even that upon the Brochen. Humanity has known no scourge so dreadful as " The secret and free tribunal" or " The courts of Westphaly" — at least if it be not equalled by the Inquisition of the present day in Spain. In those courts was neither accusation nor defence ; only a name was read, and each judge touched, in silence, a string hang- ing in the apartment. This was the sentence, and the convict did not even know he had been tried, when some one passing him pro- nounced the fatal words — " as good bread is eaten in other lands as here."* No matter what was the victim's rank, his couutry, character, or religion ; he had now no resource, excepting, perhaps^ the scarcely possible one, of escaping from all Christian territories ; for the members of the tribunal scattered throughout Europe and parts of Asia, were bound by oath, not to rest until they had hunted him down to death. Alibi ita bonus comeditur panis, ut hie.' NOTES. 249 91. As first Lord-Chamberlain and Buffetier. Par. viii. line 44. Buffetier — " Dapifer," or Ci Trinchante," was the noblest employ- ment under the crown. Egas Moniz was Buffetier as well as " Ayo," or governor to the King D. Alfonso Henriguez. As in thy sorrows, when the prophet's hymn Wept thee, Jerusalem ! — Jerusalem ! Par. ix. line 4, " Jerusalem ! Jerusalem ! convertere ad Dominum deum tuum." " Great, wonderful, and glorious things are said and written of thee, Jerusalem — city of God — holy — beloved !" 'Tis so old Friar Pantaleon begins his description. 93. By Wadi's hallowed well, and Ramla's way. Par. ix. line G. " Au couchant de Jerusalem est la vallee Wadi AH, ou vallee de mystere."— Atlas Hist. T. 5. No. 23. liamla is thirty miles from the holy city, and ten from Jaffa. At Jaffa, Friar Pantaleon is shewed the immense stones to which An- dromeda was chained when Perseus saved her from the sea monster. " I affirm only what I know ; for I saw with mine own eyes, and touched with my own hands, the bases of the column she was fast- ened to : and they are formed of the solid rocks, that run into the sea, and are wrought with great curiosity of Corinthian foliage."* * " Com grandissima curiosidadc de folhagens de obra Corin- thian (Itin. da Terr. Sant. 1591.) 250 NOTES. *' In Judae, between Ramla and Jerusalem, are exceeding fat pastures. There are palm-trees of vast revenue, and Rabbi Simeon asserts, u tliat he had in his garden a mustard-stalk so big, that he used to climb up, as into a Jig-tree." — Mem. Remarks, p. 9. 94. Omar's mosque- Par. ix. line 20, There is something magnificent in the destiny, which, through, the changes of masters and of religion, has still kept this spot consecrated to divine worship. The edifice erected by Solomon, and rebuilt by Cyrus, perished with the Jewish people : after them the Christians took their turn, and Helen caused it to be raised a- new. Whether this building of Helen was removed by Julian, I do not know ; but, upon Omar's becoming possessor of Jerusalem, the site was vacant.* The present splendid structure was created by liim, and it is, after Mecca, the chief temple of Mahometanism. It is called the Temple of Solomon, or Omar's Mosque. Of many whose itineraries I have read, from Sacramento, Pantaleon, and the English pilgrims, down to Mons. de Chateaubriand, not one has, entered its interior. As to its exterior this is composed of a square, the eastern side of which, Pantaleon found a little more than six hundred paces. * The city capitulated, and the mussulmans committed no dis- order. " Omar only, with great modesty, required of the patriarch a spot, whereon he could build a mosque. The patriarch shewed him the stone of Jacob, and the spot, whereon the temple of So- lomon had been built ; upon which the Christians, out of hatred to the Jews, had been accustomed to throw their filth. Omar began himself to clear the ground, and his pious example was followecj. by the several chiefs of his army." (Asiatic Annual Re£, 1800, p. 108.) NOTES. 251 This eastern side is of turf, with a few trees ; the three others are flagged, with the whitest marble, and so smooth, that when it rains you cannot hold your feet. In centre of this square rises a smaller one, which, as well as the stairs up to it, is in like manner of the finest white marble. Here in the middle 3 ou see the temple of Solomon, an octagon, very glorious and lofty. To the half way up it is clothed in great slabs of very exquisite marble, marvelously polish- ed : thence to the first moulding on top is all rich Mosaic, in many inventions of branches, roses, and other flowers : and the first moulding is a crown richly fashioned ; above which is the roof cu- riously shaped in form of a large thistle — but it is now covered with lead, like the church of the holy sepulchre. Moreover, upon its pin^ nacle, where Christians have a cross, there is a tail, thick bar o> silver, with exceeding great balls, gilded and sinning mightily, and above them a very large and very beauteous concave half-moon— * the arms of the Great Turk. " As to the interior of this temple," continues the Friar,* " I did * " Quanto ao interior deste Templo, eu o nao vi, porque a nen- hurn christao he licito entrar nelle . . . Digo entrar com animo de dar fe do que esta dentro ; mas algumas horas havendo obras que fazer, entrao alguns Christaos da terra, com cal pedra e area, como alguns me affirmarao haverem por vezes entrado : e do que soube destes e de alguns Mouros nossos Amigos e familiares e em parti- cular de hum Genizaro que tinhamos em Casa das portas a dentro que nos tinha dado o Grao Turco para nossa guarda a peticao do* Senhores Yenesianos, que sao os mais cpntinuos bemfeytores do* lugares da Terra Santa, o qual Genizaro era meu particular amigo, fallando todos de huma maneyra me affirmarao ser o Templo de dentro feyto ao modo de huma Claustra de Religiosos, redonda e feyta toda de arcos, e Columnas de finissimo marmore bianco bor- nido e da mesma maneyra, he pedra toda a mais fabrica, scm algu- ma outra pintura e de Columna a Columna enfiadas rauj tas e muy ricas alampadas, que ardern de continuo assim de dia como de; 252 NOTES. not see it ; because it is not lawful for any Christian to enter there-? in. I say for the purpose of relating what it contains : but by seasons, there being work to be done, some Christians of the coun- try have entered with lime, stone, and sand, as some affirmed unto me, they had entered at times. And from what I learnt of them, and of some Moors, our friends and familiars, and in particular of a janissary living in our house, and whom the Grand Turk had given to us as our guard, at request ofjhe Venetian lords, who are the most continual benefactors.©! the stations of Holy Land — which ja- nissary was my particular friend — a!l agreeing in one manner af- firmed to me, that the temple within resembles a religious cloister ; that is, round and formed of arches and columns of the finest white polished marble ; and in similar style every thing else within is of stone, without paintings or any colouring whatever ; and, from co- lumn to column are hanging many and very rich lamps, that burn incessantly, as well by day as by night : and they affirmed to me, that they passed six hundred. There is in the middle of the temple a little elevation, like a rock, surrounded with a very rich flight of stairs. Of this rock, the Moors narrate divers fabulous things, which I will not here treat of, holding them to be false !" This de- scription agrees tolerably with that of Pere Roger : but there is al- ways the deficit complained of by Mons. Chateaubriand, and until we know how the columns arc disposed, it is impossible to pro- nounce on the architecture of the temple. noyte : e me affirmarao passarem de seis centas. Tern no meyo do Templo huma pequena altura a modo de rocha cercada de redor com humas grades riquissimas. Desta altura contao os mouros di- versas cousas flabulosas, das quaes nao quero aqui tratar, pelas ter porfalsas." NOTES. 253 95. Am I not Tancred"? Is the hand forgot That crammed the oath down, traitor, in thy throat® Par x. line 17. The modest and high minded Tancred is immortalized by Tasso. He was indeed the most generous spirit of his age, and the im- petuosity with which he refused his homage to the emperor was becoming a young hero. Peter, the miserable preacher of the cru- sade, had been disheartened early, and had, in fact, deserted the siege of Antioch. Informed of this, and apprehending the effect it might cause among the soldiery, Tancred leaped on horseback, and over- look the deserter some leagues off. Publicly led back, and covered with every outrage and opprobrium, the wretched hermit was con- strained to swear, in face of the whole army, that he would accom- plish his vow, by never abandoning the expedition, until the holy sepulchre should be delivered. I have said, that the debauchery of the crusaders was unequalled: but, particularly during the first siege of Antioch. Alberon, Arch- deacon of Metz, and some other ecclesiastics, paid for their impru- dnce dearly. 96. Lift but a finger 'gainst my prisoner. Par. x. line 35, Cruelty, cowardice, and fanaticism go well together. The base Peter, who had run away at Antioch, figured principally in the mas- sacres at Jerusalem, and had already irritated Tancred to the ut- most, by the murder of three hundred Turks, to whom the Italian banner had been sent as a protection. According to this miscreant it would have been like Saul pardoning A gag, to have spared any of the Saracens, and he accordingly called on the ferocious multi- tude to destroy the prisoners, and so " avert the anger of God !" The inhuman butchery was perpetrated before the eyes of Tancred, 254 NOTES. and in spite of his prayers and threats. Indignant— maddened, at sd cowardly a breach of faith, the gallant prince was very near turn- ing his arms agaiust his merciless companions. 97. Scarce will St Johns good Rector need our prayer *. Par. x. line 109. One Gerard was then rector of the hospital of St. John's of Je- rusalem— the cradle of the knights of Malta. 93. And here the " Golden-gate" and temple shews Par. xiv. line 17. The celebrated Golden gate is in the eastern side of the square of the temple. It was of cedar of Libanon, covered with plates of gold, and alone survived the conflagration under Titus. Many are the mysteries attached to this gate ; which has for many years been walled up by the grand Turk. Pantaleon seems unaware why : — it is, for a prophecy saying, that a Christian prince shall enter by it — (on a Friday, I think) and retake Jerusalem. For the honour of the Mussulmans, I must observe, that Pan- taleon expressly denies that the grand Turk received a shilling of revenue from the holy sepulchre. An English writer says, " this tribute is worth to the Grand Signior 8000 ducats yearly." Such ideas, the friar says, are absurd, H the truth being that, at no period did the tax amount to ,£350 a year; nor was this laid on originally by the Saracens, but by the Christians ; and, when the great Turk took Jerusalem from the Soldan of Egypt, he highly disapproved of such a custom, and he was induced to continue it solely because it was a Christian practice ; but every crusado of that NOTES. 255. money teas ever (as it still is) employed in the support of an hospital for the poor"* 99. And soon they come, where many a lovely land* Par. xiv. line 19. The territory of Judea was never very generally fertile, even in the best days of Israel: but we should not believe all Palestine to be in the state of barrenness that Mons. Chateaubriand describes t between Jerusalem and Saba, and the Dead Sea. On the contrary, nothing is more lovely than many spots towards the North, through- out Samaria and the Galilees. Sacramento in his " Viagem Santa" tells you of the plains of Esdrelon, eight leagues long by five wide, being richer and better cultivated than the finest parts of his native country. Mr. Biddulph also found the Galilees extreme pleasant, and so besprinkled with variety of flowers among the green grass, that they seemed to smile in their faces, and as it were to laugh and sing, as the psalmist expresses it. * " E porque a opiniao de muytes Christaos destas partes he que, O Grao Turco consente serem visitados estes santos lugares, pelo interesse que delles tern como eu algumas vezes tenho auvido dixer : saybao os que, isto lerem que nao he tal cousa, porque O interesse por muyto que fosse, em nossos tempos nunca chegou a tres mil cruzados, e todos os tributos que se levao, sc gastao em hum hospital de Pobres. Nem O Grao Turco poz estes tributos, antes os puzerao os Christaos, no tempo que a Terra Santa era sua; e O Grao Turco quando tomou a terra ao soldao do Egypto re- provou muito aquellc mao costume ; mas deyxou-o near por Ihe aflirmarem que os Christaos O haviao posto e ordenado e nao por outro respeyto." (Itin. p. 113.) 250 NOTES, 100. Crum's ravaged Dines are black by turns and green. Par. xiv. line 22* North and north-west of Jerusalem, says the geographer fcus- clung. (T . viii. p. 289.) is the valley of Cram ; it has beauteous fields and laughing gardens, shaded by olive, fig, apricot, and almond trees: it is the most agreeable spot in the environs of the city. 101. And verdant Carmell, where the sailors tell Of Gazelles drinking by Elijah's well. Par. xiv. line 20* Mount Carmell is four leagues north-west of Thabor. The sea washes its feet ; and so majestically docs it rise, that Pantaleon dis- covered it shortly after leaving Cyprus, long before any other part of the coast was visible. Innumerable flocks of sheep, goats, Ga- zelles, wander along its ever verdant sides ; all the bravest game, hare, partridge, quail, are in abundance for hawking or for hunt- ing ; the olive and the laurel arc on its declivities ; the pine and oak shadow its summits ; springs every where are seen bubbling, and streams seen running — principally towards the lovely dales and bills that lie between the villages of Bustan and Deii. There, too, is the fountain of Elijah ; its water is sweet and limpid. Sacramento tells of many ruins of edifices, superb palaces and churches, that he found on mount Carmell : there was a city, there, as he says, erected by St. Helen. This lady was the greatest builder I have heard of, and, beside the temple and holy sepulchre, erected about 150 great churches, convents, and cities, in Holy Land* According to the " Two Eng- lish Pilgrims," she was daughter to King Coel, who built Col- chester, and called it by his name. '* But the friars denied it. 7> (p. 73.) NOTES. 257 91. Favor' d of summits! How from Tabor's height The -varied zcorld is laid before the sight! Par. xiv. line 47. " Tabor mons est pulcherrimus in medio Gallilaeae campo mira rotunditate ex omni parte equaliter finitus ; cujus altitiido 30 stadiis consurgens que in mare navigantibus procul spectanduin, se exhibit accensu difficiles et septentrionali tractu inaccaesa est : in vertice autem, viginti sex stadiorum campestris planicieo patet : estque coeli temperie saluberrimus vineis olivis variisque arbustis et fructiferis arboribus totus undique consitus rore perpetuo irrigus arborum frondibus versesicoloribus herbis semper vividis atque suavi omnigenum florum odore fragrantissiinus." (Adrich. Theatrum, TeiTe sancte p. 149.) 102. — Liba?ion, where most the cedar grows. Par. xiv. line 54. u About four in the afternoon we set forward for mount Libanon, and two hours riding from Tripoly, pitched our tent at the village Coffersinue. The road to this village is very pleasant, through a forest of olive trees, and in the valleys and gardens are mulberries for the silk- worms. About nine next morning we came to Eden, a small village, and very pleasantly seated. We went to the bi- shop's house, a most miserable ruinated cottage, who, coming to bid us welcome, appeared more like a dunghill raker than a bishop. We enquired whence the village had its name ? The Maronites, who inhabit the mountains, say, this was the place where Adam committed the sin of eating the forbidden fruit ; but the bishop told us it was in heaven, where were three trees, Adam being for- bidden to eat one of them, which was the fig-tree: but after *258 NOTES. having eaten, lie fell down from heaven among those cedars, which arc two hours* riding from the bishop's house, and there began to till the ground : but the bishop being very ignorant, we forebore to enquire farther. About five in the morning we rose from thence, and about eight came to the cedars, all that remain of them being in a very small compass. We spent some time in cutting sticks, and setting our names to the great trees." (Journey to Jeru. by fourteen English, in 1669.) Alas! the Oriflamb may never fly I Par xv. line 34. This redoubted standard is known to every one. I cannot tell whether it was in the first crusade. Since it had been a present from heaven to Cloris, or Charlemagne, it was of course uncon- querable, and it always held the front of battle. When the Ori- flamb was reared, not even the king's banner was accounted of: in- deed, it was no longer called banner, but simply, a royal pennon.'' The most brilliant of the flowers of chivalry were selected to com- pose the small squadron that guarded the Oriflamb, and the ho- nour of carrying it was esteemed as flattering as that of chief com- mander. Since all the confidence of the soldiery was attached to it, it was very necessary that it should be bravely borne, and even in retreat should still face the enemy. " C'est le serment que fait le chevalier a qui le roi bailie l'Ori- flamme a porter. Vous jurez et prommettez sur le precieux, corps de J. C. sacre ci present et sur le corps de Monscigneur St. Denis et ses compagnons q'ici sont que vous loyalement en votre personne tendrez et gouvernerez l'Oriflamme du roi monseigneur qui ci est, k l'honneur et profit de lui et son royaume ; et pour doute de mort ne autre avanture qui puisse venir ne la delaisserez et ferez partout votre devoir comme un bon et loyal Chevalier doit fairc, &c." (Du Gang.) NOTES. 250 103. -some virgin of the light For ever by the diamond-table given, Par. xv. line 47. " There, says the Prophet (in Paradise) are to be found as many goblets as are stars in the firmament. The angel Gabriel shall open the gates to his faithful Mussulmans. The first thing seen shall be a diamond-table, that seventy thousand years would be necessary to walk round. Then shall each believer receive a le- mon, in the instant of raising it to his nose, to taste of the perfume, there shall spring from it a girl of ravishing beauty : he shall embrace her with transport, and that very drunkenness of love shall endure for fifty years without interruption. Thence shall the happy couple pass into their eternal palace, where shall be eat- ing and drinking, and all sorts of delight for ever. Amen. 104. Thy child — thy lover goes Par. xvii. line 96. " Nature put on mourning. Thy child, thy lover, draweth near his end." (Werter). FINIS. DOVE, Printer, St. John's Square, Clerkcnwell. s* '0' Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide Treatment Date: May 2009 PreservationTechnologies A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 111 Thomson Park Drive Cranberry Township, PA 16066 (724) 779-2111 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 014 549 113 7 #