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llad satisfied his heart, and given it peace,
ADDRESSED TO A FRIEND.
Tus work is done, the fabric is complete;
Distinct the Traveller sees its distant tower, Yet ere his steps attain the sacred seat,
Must toil for many a league and many an hour. Elate the Abbot sees the pile and knows, Stateliest of convents now, his new Moscera rose. Long were the tale that told Moscera's pride,
Its columns' cluster'd strength and lofty state, How many a saint bedeck'd its sculptured side,
What intersecting arches graced its gate; Its towers how high, its massy walls how strong, These fairly to describe were sure a tedious sony. Yet while the fane rose slowly from the ground,
But little store of charity, I ween, The passing pilgrim at Moscera found;
And ofien there the mendicant was seen Hopeless to turn him from the conveni-door, For this so costly work still kept the brethren poor. Now all is perfect, and from every side
They tlock to view the fabric, young and old. Who now can tell Rodulfo's secret pride,
When on the Sabbath-day his eyes behold The multitudes that crowd his chapel-floor, Some sure to serve their God, to see Moscera more!
«'T was but a sorry welcome then you found,
And such as suited ill a guest so dear.
It glads me more to bid you welcome here,
Of answering joy relaxed Gualberto's brow; lle raised his hand and pointed to the pile,
« Moscera better pleased me then than now! A palace this, befitting kingly pride! Will holidess, my friend, in palace pomp
And pomp becomes the house of worship well.
When earthly kings in seats of grandeur dwell,
poor and sordid huts beseem the Lord of all ? « And
have reard these stately towers on high
And prompted by no worldly thoughts beside?
Still was the pilgrim welcome at your door?
Clothed ye the naked ? did ye feed the poor?
Who first abandon'd all to serve the Lord ?
Wild fruits and berries spread their frugal board,
« Enough of preaching,» sharply he replied,
Humility is made the cloak of pride.
« 0, Father, hear me! if this splendid pile
Bless it, O Father, with thy fostering smile!
But, Lord, if vain and worldly-minded me!
Have wasted here the wealth which thou hast leni, To pamper worldly pride; frown on it then!
Soon be thy vengeance manifestly sent!
The waters pause, and now they swell on hizbu;
The affrighted brethren from Moscera ilv.
So chanced it that Gualberto pass'd that way,
Since sainted for a life of holy deeds.
And, whilst o'er all its bulk his eye proceeds,
Him, musing as he stood, Rodulfo saw,
And forth he came to greet the holy guest;
Of Benedict, and each severe behest
« Good brother, welcome!» thus Rodulfo crics,
« In sooth it glads me to behold you here; It is Gualberto! and mine aged eyes
Did not deceive me: yet full many a year Hath slipt away, since last you bade farewell To me your host and my uncomforiable cell.
This story is related in the English artyrology, 1603.
It falls, the mountain bulk, with thundering sound ! Now do I bless the man who undertook
These monks and martyrs to biographize;
And love to ponder o'er luis ponderous book,
Where Angels now, now Beelzebubs appear, That from its base swept down the unholy house of And blind and honest zeal, and holy faith sincere. pride.
All is not very truth, and yet 't were hard
The fabling Priests for fabling to abuse;
What if a monk, from better theme debarr'd,
Some pious subject for a tale should chuse, This sure I know, that glad am I, in sooth,
How some good man the flesh and fiend o'ercame, He only play'd his pranks in foreigo ground;
Mis taste methinks, and not his conscience, were to
In after years, what he, good Christian, wrote,
As we write novels to instruct our youth,
Went travelling on, its origin forgot,
Till at the length it past for gospel-truth.
A fair account! and slouldst thou like the plea,
Thank thou thy valued friend, dear George, who taught
All is not false which seems at first a lie.
Fernan Antolinez,' a Spanish knight,
Knelt at the mass, when lo! the troops hard by
Before the expected hour began the fight.
Though courage, duty, honour, summond there,
fle chose to forfeit all; not leave the unfinish'd prayer.
But while devoutly thus the unarm'd knight
Waits till the holy service should be o'er,
Even then the foremost in the furious fight
Was he beheld to bathc his sword in gore,
First in the van his plumes were seen to play,
And Spain to him decreed the glory of the day.
The truth is told, and all at once exclaim,
His guardian angel Heaven bad deign’d to send;
And thus the tale is handed down to fame.
Now if our good Sir Feroan had a friend
Who in the hour of danger served him well,
Dear George, the tale is true, and yet no miracle.
I am not one who scan with scornful eyes
Nor thou the legendary lore despise
If of Gualberto yet again I write,
Aconteció en aquella' batalla una cosa digna de memoria.-
Fernan Antoliper, hombre noble y muy devoto, oia missa al tiempo Plunged headlong down the dark and fathomless pro- pelea : por no desarla començada, se quedó en el templo quando se
que se dió señal de acometer, costumbre ordinaria suya antes de la found ?
tocó a la arma. Esta piedad quan agradable foesse á Dios, se en
tendió por un milagro. Estávase primero en la Iglesia, despues es' Era amigo de pobreza, en tanto grado, que sentia macho, que condido en su casa, temia no le afrentassen como á cobarde. En los Monasterios se edificassen sumptuosamente: y assi visitando el tanto, otro á él semejanto, és á saber, su Angel bueno, pelea entre de Noscera y viendo un edificio grande, y elegante, buelto a Rodol- los primeros tan valientemente, que la vitoria de aquel dia se atripbo, que era alli Abad, cou el rostro nyrado le dixo: Con lo que buyó en gran parte al valor de el dicho Antolinez. Confirmarov o hos gastado, siguiendo tu parecer, cu este majnitico edificio, las milagro las señales de los golpes, y las manchas de la sangre que se' quitado el sustento a muchos pobres. P'uso los ojos en un pequeño hallaron frescas en sus armas y cavallo. Assi publicado el caso, y arroyo, que corria alli cerca, y dixo, Dios Omnipotente, que suelos sabido lo que passava , quedó mas conocida la inocencia y esfuerço hacer grandes cosas de pequeñas criaturas, yo te ruego, que voa por
de Autolinez.- Mariana. medio de este pequeño arroyo venganza de este gran edifirio. Dixo
Perhaps this miracle, and its obvious interpretation, may leave esto, y fuese do alli como abominando el lugar; y siendo oido, el suggested to Florian the circumstance by wbich his Gonsalvo is arroguelo comenzó a crecer, y fue de suerte, que recogiendo un
prevented from combating and killing the brother of bis mistress. wonte de agua, y tomando de atràs la corriente, vino con tan grande Florian was fond of Spanish literature, impetu, que llevando piedras y arboles consigo, derribo el edificio.- Cerca de Santisterpo de Gormaz, a la ribera del rio Ducro.Flos Sanctorum, por El Maestro Alons, de Villenas.
How first impelld he sought the convent-cell;
Save when a falling leaf came fluttering by, A simple tale it is,' but one that pleased me well. Save the near brooklet's stream that murmurd quietly.
Is there who has not felt the deep delight, Fortune had smiled upon Gualberto's birth,
The hush of soul, that scenes like these imparı? The heir of Valdespesa's rich domain.
The heart they will not soften is not right, An only child, he grew in years and worth,
And young Gualberto was not hard of heart. And well repaid a father's anxious pain.
Yet sure he thinks revenge becomes him well, Oft had his sire in battle forced success,
When from a neighbouring church he heard the vesperWell for his valour known, and known for haughtiness.
bell. It chanced that one in kindred near allied
The Catholic who hears that vesper-bell, Was slain by his hereditary foe;
Howe’er employed, must send a prayer to Heaven. Much by his sorrow moved and more by pride,
In foreign lands I liked the custom well, The father yowd that blood for blood should flow,
For with the calm and sober thoughts of even And from his youth Gualberto had been taught
It well accords; and wert thou journeying there, That with unceasing hate should just revenge be sought. It would not hurt thee, George, to join that vesper
prayer. Long did they wait; at length the tidings came That through a lone and unfrequented way,
Gualberto had been duly taught to hold Soon would Anselmo, such the murderer's name,
Each pious duty with religious care, Pass on his journey home, an easy prey.
,- for the young man's feelings were not cold,
He never yet had mist his vesper-prayer. « Go,» cried the father, « meet him in the wood ! »
But strange misgivings now his heart invade, And young Gualberto went, and laid in wait for blood.
And when the vesper-bell had ceased he had not pray'd ? When now the youth was at the forest shade
And wherefore was it that he had not pray'd ? Arrived, it drew toward the close of day;
The sudden doubt arose within his mind, Anselmo haply might be long delay'd,
And many a former precept then he weigh'd, And he, already wearied with his way,
The words of Bim who died to save mankind; Beneath an ancient oak his limbs reclined,
How 't was the meek who should inherit heaven, And thoughts of near revenge alone possess'd his mind.
And man must man forgive, if he would be forgiven.
Slow sank the glorious sun, a roscate light
Troubled at heart, almost he felt a hope,
So as he mused adown the neighbouring slope
And now he knows the man so much abborrd, Save where the west relain'd the last green light of even. His holier thoughts are gone, he bares the murderous
sword, Cool breached the grateful air, and fresher now
The fragrance of the autumnal leaves arose; « The house of Valdespesa gives the blow! The passing gale scarce moved the o'erhanging bough, Go, and our vengeance to our kinsman tell!»And not a sound disturb'd the deep repose,
Despair and terror seized the unarm'd foe, Llamòse el padre Gualberto, y era señor de Valdespesa, que està
And prostrate at the young man's knees he fell, entre Sepa, y Florencia : seguia la milicia ; y como le matassen un
And stopt his hand and cried, «Oh, do not take su deudo cercano injustamente, indignados, assi el hijo, que era ya A wretchied sinner's life! mercy, for Jesus' sake!» hombre, como el padre, con mucho caydado buscavan ocasion, como vengar aquella muerte. Sucedió, que veniendo à Florencia el hijo,
At ibat most blessed name, as at a spell, con un criado suyo, hombre valiente, y los dos bien armados, à ca
Conscience, the God within him, sinote his heart. vallo, vió su enemigo, y en lugar que era impossible irseles: lo qual considerado por el contrario, y que tenia cierta su muerte,
His hand, for murder raised, unharming fell; descendió de un cavallo, en que venia, y puesto de rodillas le pi He felt cold sweat-drops on his foreluead start; dió, juntas las manos, por Jesu-Christo cracificado, le perdonasse
A moment mute in holy horror stood, la vida. Enternecióse Juan Gualberto, oyendo el nombre de JesuChristo crucificado; y dixolo, que por amor de aquel Señor, que Then cried, « Joy, joy, my God! I have not sled his rogó en la Craz por los que le pusieron en ella, él le perdonava.
blood!” Pidióle, que se levautasse, y perdiesse el iemer, que ya no por enemigo, sino por amigo le queria, y que de Dios, por quien bacia esto, He raised Anselmo up, and bade him live, esperava el premis. Passo adelante Gualberto: y viendo una Iglesia
Apd bless, for both preserved, that holy name : en un monte cerca de Florencia, llamada de San Miniato, que era de Monges negros, entró en ella para dar gracias á Jesu-Cbristo nuestro And pray'd the astonish'd foeman to forgive Señor por la merced, que le havia hecho en favorecerle, de que per The bloody purpose led by which he came. donasse, y no tomasse venganza de su enemigo: púsose de rodillas Then to the neighbouring church he sped a way, delante de un Crucifixo, el qual, viendolo él, y otros que estavan
Ulis over-burden'd soul before his God to Jay. presentes, desde la Cruz inclinó la cabeza à Gualberto, como apradeciendo, y dándolo gracias, de que por su amor haviesse perdonado la vida à sa enemigo. Descubrióse el caso, y fuo público, y muy ce He ran with breathless speed, -he reach'd the door, lebrado, y el Crucifixo fue tenido en grande reverencia en aquella With rapid throbs his feverish pulses swell, -Iglesia de S. Miniato. Quedó Juin Gualberto de este acaecimiento, trocado en otro varon, y determinó dexar el mundo, y las cosas pe
He came to crave for pardon, lo adore recedera, de él.- Ftos Sanctorum.
For grace vouchsafed; before the cross he fell,
And raised his swimming eyes, and thought that there He saw the imaged Cbrist smile favouring on his prayer.
Or on some half-demolish'd tomb,
Mark the clear orb of night
A blest illusion! from that very night
The monk's austerest life devout he led ; And still he felt the enthusiast's deep delight,
Seraphic visions floated round his head; The joys of heaveu foretasted fill'd his soul, And still the good man's name adorys the sainted roll.
Nor will I not in some more gloomy hour Invoke with fearless awe thine holier power,
Wandering beneath the sainted pile
And clattering patters all around
Και παγάς φιλέoιμι τον εγγύθεν ήχον ακούειν Ατέρπει ψοφέoισα τον άγγικoν, ουχί ταράσσει.
Faint gleams the evening radiance through the sky,
The sober twilight dimly darkens round;
But sweeter 't is to wander wild
Now the pleased eye from yon lone cottage sees On the green mead the smoke long-shadowing play;
The Red-breast on the blossom'd spray
Warbles wild her latest lay,
Wing, in long files vociferous, their way. Calm ContemPLATION, 't is thy favourite hour!
Come, tranquillizing Power!
O CONTEMPLATION! when to Memory's eyes
I view thee on the calmy shore
And whiten o'er his breast; And when the Moon with softer radiance gleams,
And lovelier heave the billows in her beams.
When the low gales of evening moan along
Listening the mellow murmur of the trees Full-foliaged, as they lift their arms on liigh, And wave their shadowy lieads in wildest melody.
Or lead me where amid the tranquil vale The broken stream flows on in silver light;
And I will linger where the gale
O'er the bank of violets sighs, Listening to hear its soften'd sounds arise; And hearken the dull beetle's drowsy flight,
And watch the horn-eyed snail Creep o'er his long moon-glittering trail, And mark where radiant through the night Shines in the grass-green hedge the glow-vorm's
I extract the following picture of consummate borror from the notes to a poem, written in twelve-syllable verse, upon the campaign of 1794 and 1793; it was during the retreat 10 Deventer. - We could not proceed a hondred yards witbout perceiving the dead bodies of men, women, children, and horses in every direction. One scene made an impression upon my memory which time will never be able to efface. Near another cart we perceived a stout-looking man, and a beautiful young woman with an infant, about seven months old, at
be breast, all tbree frozen and dead. The mother had most certainly expired in the act of suckling her child; as with one breast exposed, shu lay upon the drifted snow, the milk to all appearance in a stream drawn from the nipple by the babe, and instantly concealed. The infant seemed as if its lips bad but just then been disengaged, and it reposed its little head upon the mother's bosom, with an overflow of milk, frozen as it trickled from tbe mouth; their countedances were perfectly composed and fresh, resembling those of persons in a sound and tranquil slumber.»
The following description of a field of battle is in the words of one who passed over the field of Jemappe, after Dumourier's victory.-.lt was on the third day after the victory obtained by Gen. Damourierover the Austrians, ibat I rode across the field of battle. The scene lies on a waste common, rendered then more drsary by the desertion of the misorable hovels before occupied by peasants. Every thing that resembledh a buman babitation was desolated, and for the most part they had been burnt or pulled down, to prevent their affording shelter to the posts of the contending, armies. The ground was ploughed up by the wheels. of the artillery and waccons; every thing like herbage was trodden into mire ; broken carriages, arins, accouirements, dead horses and men were strewed over the beata. This was the chinl day after the
Thee, meekest Power! I love to meet,
As oft with solitary pace The shatter'd Abbey's liallowed rounds I trace,
And listen to the echoings of my feet.
battle: it was the beginning of November, and for three days a bleak On many a carcase shine the dews of nicht, wind and heavy rain had continued incessantly. There were still re
And a dead silence stills the vale, maining alive several hundred of horses and of the human victims of Save when at times is heard the glutted Raven's scream. that dreadful fight. I can speak with certainty of baving seen more than four hundred men still living, unsheltered, without food, and without any human assistance, most of tbem confined to the spot Where some wreck'd army from the Conqueror's miclit where they bad fallen by broken limbs. The two armies had pro
Speed their disastrous flight, ceeded, and abandoned these miserable wretches to their fate. Some
With thee, fierce Genius ! let me trace their way, of the dead persone appeared to have expired in the act of embracing each other. Two young French officers, who were brothers, bad
And hear at times the deep heart-groan crawled under the side of a dead horse, where they bad contrived a
* Of some poor sufferer left to die alone, kind of sbelter by means of a cloak; they were both mortally wound
Dis sore wounds smarting with the winds of night, ed, and groaning for each other. One very fine young man had jnst
And we will pause, where, on the wild, strength enough to drag bimself out of a hollow partly filled with water, and was laid upon a liule billock groaning with agony; a
The mother to her frozen breast, grupe-shot had cut across the upper part of his hely, and he was keeping On the heap'd snows reclining, clasps her child, in his bowels with a handkerchief and hat. Ne begeed of mo for God's
And with him sleeps, chill'd to eternal rest! sake to end his misery! be complained of dreadful thirst. I filled him the bal of a dead soldier with water, which be pearly drank off at once, and left him to that end of his wretchodness which could Black Horror! speed we to the bed of Death, not be far distant..
Where he, whose murderous power afar I hope I have always felt and expressed an honest and christian
Blasts with the myriad plagues of war, abhorrence of wars, and of the systems that produce them; but my ideas of their immediate borrors fell infinitely sbort of this authentic
Struggles with his last breath; picture.
Then to his wildly-starting eyes
The phantoms of the murder'd rise;
Then on his frensied ear
Their groans for vengeance and the Demon's yeli 'Ερχομεναν εκύων ανά τ’ήρια, και μελαν αίμα.
In one heart-maddeping chorus swell;
Cold on his brow convulsing stands the dew,
And night eteroal darkens on his view.
Horror! I call thee yet once more!
Bear me to that accursed shore,
Where round the stake impaled the Negro writhes.
Assume thy sacred terrors then! dispense
The blasting gales of Pestilence !
Arouse the race of Afric, holy Power!
Lead them to vengeance! and in that dread hour
When ruin rages wide,