Were closed at night; - that Zillah's life was foul, Yea, forfeit to the law.

Shame shame to man, That he should trust so easily the tongue Which stabs another's fame! The ill report Was heard, repeated, and believed, and soon, For Hamuel, by his well-schemed villany, Produced such semblances of guilt, the Maid Was to the fire condemn'd.

Without the walls, There was a barren field; a place abhorr'd, For it was there where wretched criminals Receiv'd their death; and there they fix'd the stake, And piled the fuel round, which should consume The injured Maid, abandon'd, as it seem'd, By God and Man. The assembled Bethlemites Beheld the scene, and when they saw the Maid Bound to the stake, with what calm holiness She lifted up her patient looks to Heaven, They doubted of her guilt. With other thoughts Stood Hamuel near the pile; him savage joy Led thitherward, but now within his heart Unwonted feelings stirr'd, and the first pangs Of wakening guilt, anticipant of Hell. The eye of Zillah, as it glanced around, Fell on the slanderer once, and rested there A moment; like a dagger did it pierce, And struck into his soul a cureless wound. Conscience! thou God within us! not in the hour Of triumph dost thou spare the guilty wretch; Not in the hour of infamy and death Forsake the virtuous! They draw near the stake,They bring the torch!-hold, hold your erring

hands!

Yet quench the rising flames! - they rise! they spread!

They reach the suffering Maid! oh God protect The innocent one!

They rose, they spread, they raged;-
The breath of God went forth; the ascending fire
Beneath its influence bent, and all its flames
In one long lightning-flash concentrating,
Darted and blasted Hamuel, — him alone.
Hark! what a fearful scream the multitude
Pour forth! - and yet more miracles! the stake
Branches and buds, and, spreading its green leaves,
Embowers and canopies the innocent Maid,
Who there stands glorified; and Roses, then
First seen on earth since Paradise was lost,
Profusely blossom round her, white and red,
In all their rich variety of hues;

And fragrance such as our first parents breathed
In Eden she inhales, vouchsafed to her
A presage sure of Paradise regain'd.

Westbury, 1798.

THE LOVER'S ROCK.

De la Peña de los Enamorados.

Un moço Christiano estava cautivo en Granada, sus partes y diligencia eran tales, su buen termino y cortesia, que su amo

nos,

hazia mucha confiança del dentro y fuera de su casa. Una hija suya al tanto se le aficiona y puso en el los ojos. Pero como quier que ella fuesse casadera, y el moço esclavo, no podian passar adelante como desearan; ca el amor mal se puede encubrir, y temian si el padre della, y amo del, lo sabia, pagarian con las cabeças. Acordaron de huir a tierra de Christiaresolucion que al тосо venia mejor, por bolver a los suyos, que a ella por desterrarse de su patria: si ya no la movia el deseo de hazerse Christiana, lo que yo no creo. Tomaron su camino con todo secreto, hasta llegar al peñasco ya dicho, en que la moça cansada se puso a reposar. En esto vieron assomar a su padre con gente de acavallo, que venia en su seguimiento. Que podian hazer, o a que parte bolverse? que consejo tomar ? mentirosas las esperanças de los hombres y miserables sus intentos. Acudieron a lo que solo les quedava de encumbrar aquel peñol, trepando por aquellos riscos, que era reparo assaz flaco. El padre con un semblante sanudo los mando abazar: amenaSava les sino obedecian de executar en ellos una muerte muy cruel. Los que acompañaran al padre los amonestavan lo mismo, pues solo les restava aquella esperança de alançar perdon de la misericordia de su padre, con hazer lo que les mandava, y echarseles a los pies. No quisieron venir en esto. Los Moros puestos a pie acometieron a subir el peñasco: pero el moço les defendio la subida con galgas, piedras y palos, y todo lo demas que le venia a la mano, y le servia de armas en aquella desesperacion. El padre visto esto, hizo venir de un pueblo alli cerca vallesteros para que de lexos los flechassen. Ellos vista su perdicion, acordaron con su muerte librarse de los denuestos y tormentos mayores qui temian. Las palabras que en este trance se dixeron, no ay para que relaturlas. Finalmente abraçados entresi fuertemente, se echaron del peñol abazo, por aquella parte en que los mirara su cruel y sanudo padre. Deste manera espiraron antes de llegar a lo bazo, con lastima de los presentes, y aun con lagrimas de algunos que se movian con aquel triste erpectaculo de aquellos moços desgraciados, y a pesar del padre, como estavan, los enterraron en aquel mismo lugar; constancia que se empleara mejor en otra hazaña, y les fuera bien contada la muerte, si la padecieron por la virtud y en defensa de la verdadera religion, y no por satisfacer a sus apetitos desenfrenados. MARIANA.

THE Maiden, through the favoring night,
From Granada took her flight;

She bade her Father's house farewell,
And fled away with Manuel.

No Moorish maid might hope to vie With Laila's cheek or Laila's eye; No maiden loved with purer truth, Or ever loved a lovelier youth.

In fear they fled, across the plain,
The father's wrath, the captive's chain;
In hope to Seville on they flee,
To peace, and love, and liberty.

Chiuma they have left, and now,
Beneath a precipice's brow,
Where Guadalhorce winds its way,
There in the shade awhile they lay; -

For now the sun was near its height, And she was weary with her flight; She laid her head on Manuel's breast, And pleasant was the maiden's rest.

While thus the lovely Laila slept,
A fearful watch young Manuel kept.
Alas! her Father and his train
He sees come speeding o'er the plain.

The Maiden started from her sleep;
They sought for refuge up the steep;
To scale the precipice's brow
Their only hope of safety now.

But them the angry Father sees;
With voice and arm he menaces;
And now the Moors approach the steep;
Loud are his curses, loud and deep.

Then Manuel's heart grew wild with woe;
He loosen'd stones and roll'd below;
He loosen'd crags; for Manuel strove
For life, and liberty, and love.

The ascent was perilous and high;

The Moors they durst not venture nigh;
The fugitives stood safely there;
They stood in safety and despair.

The Moorish chief unmoved could see
His daughter bend her suppliant knee;
He heard his child for pardon plead,
And swore the offenders both should bleed.

He bade the archers bend the bow, And make the Christian fall below; He bade the archers aim the dart, And pierce the Maid's apostate heart.

The archers aim'd their arrows there; She clasp'd young Manuel in despair; "Death, Manuel, shall set us free! Then leap below, and die with me."

He clasp'd her close, and cried, Farewell!
In one another's arms they fell;
And falling o'er the rock's steep side,
In one another's arms they died.

And side by side they there are laid,
The Christian youth and Moorish maid;
But never Cross was planted there,
Because they perish'd for despair.

Yet every Moorish maid can tell
Where Laila lies, who loved so well;
And every youth, who passes there,
Says for Manuel's soul a prayer.
Westbury, 1798.

GARCI FERRANDEZ.

This story, which later historians have taken some pains to disprove, may be found in the Coronica General de Espana.

PART 1.

1.

In an evil day and an hour of woe Did Garci Ferrandez wed!

He wedded the Lady Argentine,
As ancient stories tell;
He loved the Lady Argentine;

Alas for what befell! The Lady Argentine hath fled; In an evil day and an hour of woe She hath left the husband who loved her well, To go to Count Aymerique's bed.

2.

Garci Ferrandez was brave and young,
The comeliest of the land;

There was never a knight of Leon in fight Who could meet the force of his matchless might; There was never a foe in the infidel band Who against his dreadful sword could stand; And yet Count Garci's strong right hand

Was shapely, and soft, and white;
As white and as soft as a lady's hand
Was the hand of the beautiful knight.

3.

In an evil day and an hour of woe
To Garci's Hall did Count Aymerique go;
In an evil hour and a luckless night
From Garci's Hall did he take his flight,
And bear with him that lady bright,

That lady false, his bale and bane. There was feasting and joy in Count Aymerique's bower,

When he, with triumph, and pomp, and pride,
Brought home the adulteress like a bride:
His daughter only sat in her tower;
She sat in her lonely tower alone,
And for her dead mother she made her moan;
"Methinks," said she, "my father for me
Might have brought a bridegroom home.
A stepmother he brings hither instead;
Count Aymerique will not his daughter should
wed,

But he brings home a leman for his own bed."
So thoughts of good and thoughts of ill
Were working thus in Abba's will;
And Argentine, with evil intent,
Ever to work her woe was bent;
That still she sat in her tower alone,
And in that melancholy gloom,
When for her mother she made her moan,
She wish'd her father too in the tomb.

4.

She watches the pilgrims and poor who wait For daily food at her father's gate. "I would some Knight were there," thought she, "Disguised in pilgrim-weeds for me! For Aymerique's blessing I would not stay, Nor he nor his leman should say me nay, But I with him would wend away."

5.

She watches her handmaid the pittance deal;
They took their dole and went away;
But yonder is one who lingers still;
As though he had something in his will,
Some secret which he fain would say;

And close to the portal she sees him go; He talks with her handmaid in accents low; Oh then she thought that time went slow, And long were the minutes that she must wait Till her handmaid came from the castle-gate.

6

From the castle-gate her handmaid came, And told her that a Knight was there, Who sought to speak with Abba the fair, Count Aymerique's beautiful daughter and heir. She bade the stranger to her bower; His stature was tall, his features bold; A goodlier form might never maid At tilt or tourney hope to see ; And though in pilgrim-weeds arrayed, Yet noble in his weeds was he, And did his arms in them enfold As they were robes of royalty.

7.

He told his name to the high-born fair; He said that vengeance led him there. "Now aid me, lady dear," quoth he, "To smite the adulteress in her pride; Your wrongs and mine avenged shall be, And I will take you for my bride." He pledged the word of a true Knight; From out the weeds his hand he drew; She took the hand that Garci gave, And then she knew his tale was true, For she saw the warrior's hand so white, And she knew the fame of the beautiful Knight.

PART II.

1.

'Tis the hour of noon;

The bell of the convent hath done,

And the Sexts are begun;

The Count and his leman are gone to their meat.
They look to their pages, and lo they see
Where Abba, a stranger so long before,
The ewer, and basin, and napkin bore;
She came and knelt on her bended knee,
And first to her father minister'd she:

Count Aymerique look'd on his daughter down;
He look'd on her then without a frown.

2.

And next to the Lady Argentine Humbly she went and knelt; The Lady Argentine the while

A haughty wonder felt; Her face put on an evil smile; "I little thought that I should see The Lady Abba kneel to me In service of love and courtesy ! Count Aymerique," the leman cried, "Is she weary of her solitude, Or hath she quell'd her pride?" Abba no angry word replied; She only raised her eyes, and cried,

The wine hath warm'd Count Aymerique;
That mood his crafty daughter knew;
She came and kiss'd her father's cheek,
And stroked his beard with gentle hand,
And winning eye and action bland,
As she in childhood used to do.
"A boon! Count Aymerique," quoth she;
"If I have found favor in thy sight,
Let me sleep at my father's feet to-night.
Grant this," quoth she, "so I shall see
That you will let your Abba be
The daughter she was wont to be."
With asking eye did Abba speak;
Her voice was soft and sweet;
The wine had warm'd Count Aymerique,
And when the hour of rest was come,
She lay at her father's feet.

4.

In Aymerique's arms the adulteress lay;
Their talk was of the distant day,
How they from Garci fled away
In the silent hour of night;
And then amid their wanton play
They mock'd the beautiful Knight

Far, far away his castle lay,
The weary road of many a day;
"And travel long," they said, "to him,
It seem'd, was small delight;
And he belike was loath with blood
To stain his hands so white."
They little thought that Garci then
Heard every scornful word!
They little thought the avenging hand
Was on the avenging sword!
Fearless, unpenitent, unblest,
Without a prayer they sunk to rest,
The adulterer on the leman's breast.

5.

Then Abba, listening still in fear, To hear the breathing long and slow, At length the appointed signal gave, And Garci rose and struck the blow. One blow sufficed for Aymerique,— He made no moan, he utter'd no groan; But his death-start waken'd Argentine, And by the chamber lamp she saw The bloody falchion shine! She raised for help her in-drawn breath; But her shriek of fear was her shriek of death.

6.

In an evil day and an hour of woe

Did Garci Ferrandez wed!

One wicked wife he has sent to her grave; He hath taken a worse to his bed.

Bristol, 1801.

KING RAMIRO.

The remarkable story here versified is thus related in the Nobiliario de D. Pedro, Conde de Bracelos, son of D. Diniz, king of Portugal, a singularly valuable and curious work, published by the Coronista Mayor of that kingdom, Juan Bautista Lavaña, at Rome, in 1640. King D. Diniz reigned from 1279 to 1323.

El Rey D. Ramiro o segundo de Leom, ouvio falar da fermosura e bondade de huma Moura; e como era de alto sangue irmã de Alboazar Albucadam, filha de D. Zadam Zada, bisneta del Rey Aboalli, o que conquereo a terra no tempo del Rey Rodrigo, Este Alboazar era Senhor de toda a terra desde Gaya atd Santarem; e ouve muytas batalhas com Christaōs, estremadamente com este Rey Ramiro; e el Rey Ramiro fez com elle grandes amizades por cobrar aquella Moura, que el muyto amava; e fez emfinta que o amava muyto; e mandoulhe dizer que o queria ver, por se aver de conhecer com elle por as amizades serem mais firmes; e Alboazar mandoulhe dizer que lhe prazia dello, e que fosse a Gaya, e hi se veria com el. E el Rey Ramiro foyse là em tres gales com fidalgos, e pidiolhe aquella Moura que lha desse, e falaia Christam, e cazaria com ella; e Alboazar the respondeo, tu tens molher, e filhos della, e es Christaō; como podes tu casar duas vezes? Eel the dire, ca verdade era, mas elle era tam parente da Rainha D. Aldonza sua molher, ca a santa Igreja os partiria. E Alboazar juroulhe por sa ley de Mafamede, ca lha nom daria por todo o reyno que elle avia, que a tenha desposada com el Rey de Marrocos. Este Rey D. Ramiro trazia hum grande Astrologo que avia nome Amao; e por sàs artes tiroua huma noyte donde estava, e levoua ds galės que hi estavam prestas, e entrou Rey Ramiro com a Moura em huma galè. A esto chegou Alboazar, e alli foy contenda grande entre elles; e desparecerom hi dos de Rey Ramiro vinte dous dos boms que hi lerava, e da outra compakna muyta : e el levou d Moura a Minhor, e de ahi a Leom, e bautizoua, e posthe nome Ortiga, que queria tanto dizer em aquel tempo, como castigada e ensinada, e comprida de todos os bens. Alboazar terese por mal viltado desto, e pensou em como poderia vingar tal deshonra, e ouvio falar em como a Rairha D. Aldonça, molher del Rey Ramiro estava em Minhor. Postou sás naos e outras velas, o melhor que pode, e mais encuberto; e foy à quelle lugar de Minhor, e entrou a villa, e filhou a Rainha D. Aldonça, e meteoa nas naos com donas e donzellas que achou, e das outras companhas muytas, veyose a o Castello de Gaya, que era em a quelle tempo de grandes edificios e nobres paços.

A el Rey Ramiro contarom este feyto, e foy em tamanha tristeza que foy louco kūs doze dias: e como cobrou seu entendimento mandou por seu filho o Infante D. Ordonho, e por algūs seus vassallos que entendeo que eraõ para graō feyto, e meteose com elles em cinco galės, ca nom pode mais aver, e nom quiz levar galeotes se nom aquelles que entendco que poderiom reger as galės, e mandou a os fidalgos que remassem em lugar de galeotes; e esto fez elle porque as galės erom poucas, e por irem mais fidalgos, e as galės irem mais aparadas para aquel mester para que ia; e el cubrio as galès de pano verde, e entrou com ellas por Sam Joao de Furado, que agora chamaō Sam Joane de Foz. Aquel lugar de huma parte e outra era a ribeyra cuberta de arbores, e as galès encostouas so as ramos dellas; e porque eraō cubertas de pano verde, nom pareciao. El deceo de poyte a terra com todos os seus, e falou com o Infante, que se deytassem so as arbores o mais encuberto que fazer podessem, e por nenhuma guiza nom se abalassem, até que ourissem a voz de seu corno, e ouvindoo que The acorressem a grað pressa. El vestiose em panos de tacanho, e sua espada, e seu lorigō e o corno so hi; e foyse deytar a huma fonte que estava so o castello de Gaya. E esto fazia Rey Ramiro por ver a Rainha sa molher, para aver conselho com ella, como poderia mais cumpridamente aver direyto de Alboazar, e de todos seus filhos, e de

toda sa companha; ca tinha que pello conselho della cobraria todo, ca cometendo este feyto em outra maneyra, poderia escapar Alboazar e seus filhos: e porque el era de grao coraço, punha em esta guiza seu feyto em graõ ventura; mas as cousas que sao ordenadas de Deos, vem a aquello que a elle apraz, e nom assim como os homes pensað.

Aconteceo assi, que Alboazar Albucadaō fora a correr monte contra Alafons, e huma sergente que avia nome Perona, natural do França, que aviaō levado com a Rainha servia ante ella: levantouse pella manhã, assi como avia de costume de lhe ir por agoa para as maōs a aquella fonte, e achou hi jazer Rey Ramiro, e nom o conheceo. El pediolhe na Aravia da agoa por Deos, ca se nom podia de alli levantar; e ella diolha por huma aceter; e el meteo hum camafeo na boca, e aquel camafeo avia partido com sa molher a Rainha por a metade; e el deose a bever, e deytou o camafeo no aceter. E a sergente foyse, e deo agoa à Rainha, e ella vio o camafeo, e reconheceo logo, e a Rainha perguntou, quem achara no caminho? e ella respondeo, que nom achara ninguem; e ella lhe dice que mentia, e que o nom negasse, e que lhe faria bem e merce; e a sergente lhe dixe, que achara hi hum Mouro doente e lazerado, e lhe pedira agoa que bebesse por Deos, e que lha dera; e a Rainha dire que lhe fosse por elle, e o trouxesse encubertamente. E a sergente foy la, e dizelhe, homem pobre, a Rainha minha senhora vos manda chamar, e esto he por vosso bem, cà ella mandara pensar de vos. E Rey Ramiro respondeo so si, assi o mande Deos. Foyse com ella, e entrarom pella porta da camara, e conheceo a Rainha, e dizelhe, Rey Ramiro que te aduce aqui? e el lhe respondeo, o vosso amor. E ella lhe dize, veste morto: e el lhe dize, pequeña maravilha, pois o faço por vossso amor. E ella respondeo, nom me has tu amor, pois de aqui levaste Ortiga, que mais prezas que a mi; mas vayte hora para essa trascamara, e escusarmeey destas donas e donzellas, e irmeey logo para ti. A camara era de abobeda, e como Rey Ramiro foy dentro, fechou ella a porta com grande cadeado. E elle jazendo na camara, chegou Alboazar, e foyse para sa camara; e a Rainha lhe dixe, se tu aqui tivesses Rey Ramiro, que lhe farias? O Moura respondeo, o que faria a mim; matalo com grandes tormentos. E Rey Ramiro ouvia tudo, e a Rainha dire, Pois senhor, aprestes o tens; cà aqui esta fechado em esta trascamara, ca ora te podes della vingar a tua vontade.

Rey Ramiro entendeo que era enganado por sà molher, que jď de alli nom podia escapar se nom por arte alguma; e maginou que era tempo de se ajudar de seu saber, e dize a graō alta voz, Alboazar Albucadam, sabe que eu te errey mal; mostrandote amizade, levy desta caza ta irmā, que nom era de minha ley ; e me confessey este pecado a meu Abade; e el me deo em pendença, que me veesse meter em teu poder o mais vilmente que pudesse; e se me tu matar quizesses, que te pedisse que, como eu fizera tam grande pecado ante a tà pessoa, e ante os teus, em filhar ta irmā, mostrandote bom amor, que bem assi me desses morte em praça vergonhosa; e por quanto a pecado que eu fiz, foy em grandes terras soudo, que bem assi fosse a minha morte soada por hum corno, e mostrada a todos os teus. E hora te peço pois de morrer ey, que faças chamar teus filhos e filhas, e teus parentes, e as gentes desta villa, e me faças ir a este curral que he de grande ouvida, e me ponhas em lugar alto, e me leyres tanger meu corno, que trago para esto, a tanto, atá que me saya o folgo e a alma do corpo. Em esta filharas vengança de mi, e teus filhos e parentes averaō prazer, e a minha alma serà salva. Esto me nom deves de negar por salvamento de minha alma; que sabes que por ta ley deres salvar se poderes as almas de todas as leys.

E esto dezia el, por fazer vir alli todos seus filhos e parentes, por se vingar delles; ca em outra guiza nom os poderia achar em hum; e porque o curral era alto de muros, e nom avia mais que huma porta por hu os seus aviaō de entrar. Alboazar pensou no que lhe pedia, e filhou delle lastima, e dire contra a Rainha, Este homem rependido hè de seu pecado; mais ey eu errado a elle ca elle d mi; graō torto faria de o matar, pois se poè em meu poder. A Rainha respondeolhe, Alboazar, fraco de coraçõ, eu sey quem he Rey Ramiro; e sey de certo, se o salvas de morte, que lhe nom podes escapar que a nom prendas del; ca el he arteyroso a ringador, assi como tu sabes. E nom ouviste tu dizer, como el tirou os olhos a D. Ordonho seu irmaō que era mòr de dias, por o deserdar do Reyno? e nom te acordas quantas lides ouveste com elle, e te venceo; e te matou e cativou muytos bons? e ja te esqueceo a força que te fez de te irma? e em como eu era sa molher, me trouxeste, que he a mòr des