1

Punic and Roman, Kelt, and Goth, and Greek :
This latter tempest comes to sweep away
All proud distinctions which commingling blood
And time's long course have fail'd to efface; and now
Perchance it is the will of Fate to rear
Upon the soil of Spain a Spanish throne,
Restoring in Pelayo's native line

The sceptre to the Spaniard.

Go thou, then,

And seek Pelayo at the Conqueror's court.
Tell him the mountaineers are unsubdued;
The precious time they needed hath been gain'd
By Auria's sacrifice, and all they ask

Is him to guide them on. In Odoar's namie
And Urban's, tell him that the hour is come.

Then pausing for a moment, he pursued. The rule which thou hast taken on thyself Toledo ratifies: 'tis meet for Spain, And as the will divine, to be received, Observed, and spread abroad. Come hither thou, Who for thyself hast chosen the good part; Let me lay hands on thee, and consecrate Thy life unto the Lord.

Me! Roderick cried;

Me! sinner that I am!.. and while he spake
His wither'd cheek grew paler, and his limbs
Shook. As thou goest among the infidels,
Pursued the Primate, many thou wilt find
Fallen from the faith; by weakness some betray'd,
Some led astray by baser hope of gain,
And haply too by ill example led

Of those in whom they trusted. Yet have these
Their lonely hours, when sorrow, or the touch
Of sickness, and that aweful power divine
Which hath its dwelling in the heart of man,
Life of his soul, his monitor and judge,
Move them with silent impulse; but they look
For help, and finding none to succour them,
The irrevocable moment passeth by.
Therefore, my brother, in the name of Christ
Thus I lay hands on thee, that in His name
Thou with His gracious promises may'st raise
The fallen, and comfort those that are in need,
And bring salvation to the penitent.
Now, brother, go thy way the peace of God
Be with thee, and his blessing prosper us!

V.

RODERICK AND SIVERIAN.

BETWEEN St. Felix and the regal seat Of Abdalazis, ancient Cordoba,

before were a better race, always praised and feared and respected by the Romans, loyal and faithful and true and reasonable and if the Goths afterwards were worthy of any estimation, they became so here: for as plants lose their bitterness and improve by being planted and translated into a good soil (as is said of peaches), so does a good land change its inhabitants, and of rustic and barbarous make them polished and virtuous.

"The Moors did not say that they came against the Christians, but against the Goths, who had usurped Spain; and it appears that to the people of the land it mattered little

Lay many a long day's journey interposed;
And many a mountain range hath Roderick crost,
And many a lovely vale, ere he beheld
Where Betis, winding through the unbounded plain,
Roll'd his majestic waters. There at eve,

Entering an inn, he took his humble seat
With other travellers round the crackling hearth,
Where heath and cistus gave their flagrant flame.
That flame no longer, as in other times,

Lit up the countenance of easy mirth

And light discourse: the talk which now went round
Was of the grief that press'd on every heart;
Of Spain subdued; the sceptre of the Goths
Broken; their nation and their name effaced;
Slaughter and mourning, which had left no house
Unvisited; and shame, which set its mark

On every Spaniard's face. One who had seen
His sons fall bravely at his side, bewail'd

The unhappy chance which, rescuing him from death,
Left him the last of all his family;

Yet he rejoiced to think that none who drew
Their blood from him remain'd to wear the yoke,
Be at the miscreant's beck, and propagate

A breed of slaves to serve them. Here sate one
Who told of fair possessions lost, and babes
To goodly fortunes born, of all bereft.
Another for a virgin daughter mourn'd,
The lewd barbarian's spoil. A fourth had seen
His only child forsake him in his age,
And for a Moor renounce her hope in Christ.
His was the heaviest grief of all, he said;
And clenching as he spake his hoary locks,
He cursed King Roderick's soul.

Oh curse him not!
Roderick exclaim'd, all shuddering as he spake.
Oh, for the love of Jesus, curse him not!
Sufficient is the dreadful load of guilt
That lies upon his miserable soul !

O brother, do not curse that sinful soul,
Which Jesus suffer'd on the cross to save!

But then an old man, who had sate thus long
A silent listener, from his seat arose,

And moving round to Roderick took his hand;
Christ bless thee, brother, for that Christian speech,
He said; and shame on me that any tongue
Readier than mine was found to utter it!
His own emotion fill'd him while he spake,
So that he did not feel how Roderick's hand
Shook like a palsied limb; and none could see
How, at his well-known voice, the countenance
Of that poor traveller suddenly was changed,
And sunk with deadlier paleness; for the flame
Was spent, and from behind him, on the wall
High hung, the lamp with feeble glimmering play'd.

whether they were under Goths or Moors; or indeed it might not be too much to say that they preferred the Moors, not only because all new things and changes would be pleasing, but because they were exasperated against the Goths for what they had done against the Christians, (i. e. the Catholicks,) and for the bad government of King Witiza."

"You are not to think," says the Chronicler, "that Count Don Julian and the Bishop Don Orpas came of the lineage of the Goths, but of the lineage of the Cæsars, and therefore they were not grieved that the good lineage should be destroyed."-Chr. del K. D. Rodrigo, p. i. c. 248.

Oh it is ever thus the old man pursued, The crimes and woes of universal Spain

Are charged on him; and curses which should aim

At living heads, pursue beyond the grave
His poor unhappy soul! As if his sin

Had wrought the fall of our old monarchy!

As if the Musselmen in their career

Would ne'er have overleapt the gulph which parts
Iberia from the Mauritanian shore,

If Julian had not beckon'd them!... Alas!
The evils which drew on our overthrow,

Would soon by other means have wrought their end.
Though Julian's daughter should have lived and died
A virgin vow'd and veil'd.

Touch not on that,
Shrinking with inward shiverings at the thought,
The penitent exclaim'd. Oh, if thou lovest
The soul of Roderick, touch not on that deed!
God in his mercy may forgive it him,

But human tongue must never speak his name
Without reproach and utter infamy,

Even I.

For that abhorred act. Even thou... But here
Siverian taking up the word, brake off
Unwittingly the incautious speech.
Quoth he, who nursed him in his father's hall,..
Even I can only for that deed of shame
Offer in agony my secret prayers.

But Spain hath witness'd other crimes as foul:
Have we not seen Favila's shameless wife,
Throned in Witiza's ivory car, parade
Our towns with regal pageantry, and bid
The murderous tyrant in her husband's blood
Dip his adulterous hand? Did we not see
Pelayo, by that bloody king's pursuit,
And that unnatural mother, from the land
With open outcry, like an outlaw'd thief,
Hunted?

And saw ye not Theodofred,

As through the streets I guided his dark steps,
Roll mournfully toward the noon-day sun

His blank and senseless eye-balls? Spain saw this,
And suffer'd it!... I seek not to excuse
The sin of Roderick. Jesu, who beholds
The burning tears I shed in solitude,
Knows how I plead for him in midnight prayer.
But if, when he victoriously revenged

The wrongs of Chindasuintho's house, his sword
Had not for mercy turn'd aside its edge,
Oh what a day of glory had there been
Upon the banks of Chrysus! Curse not him,
Who in that fatal conflict to the last
So valiantly maintain'a his country's cause;
But if your sorrow needs must have its vent
In curses, let your imprecations strike
The caitiffs, who, when Roderick's horned helm
Rose eminent amid the thickest fight,
Betraying him who spared and trusted them,
Forsook their King, their Country, and their God,
And gave the Moor his conquest.

Ay they said,

These were Witiza's hateful progeny;
And in an evil hour the unhappy King
Had spared the viperous brood. With that they talk'd
How Sisibert and Ebba through the land
Guided the foe: and Orpas, who had cast
The mitre from his renegado brow,
Went with the armies of the infidels;
And how in Hispalis, even where his hands
Had minister'd so oft the bread of life,
The circumcised apostate did not shame
To shew in open day his turban'd head.
The Queen too, Egilona, one exclaim'd;
Was she not married to the enemy,

The Moor, the Misbeliever? 2 What a heart
Were hers, that she could pride and plume herself

"del gran Favila (que centella

significa) Pelayo, marcial llama, restauro el Leones reyno con aquella luz que alcanzo la victoriosa rama."

Cora de las Musas, p. 102.

2 For this fact there is the unquestionable testimony of Isidorus Pacensis. "Per idem tempus in Era 735, anno imperii ejus 9, Arabum 97. Abdalaziz omnem Hispaniam per tres annos sub censuario jugo pacificans, cum Hispali divitiis et honorum fascibus cum Regina Hispaniæ in conjugio copulata, filias Regum ac Principum pellicatas, et imprudenter distractas æstuaret, seditione suorum facta, orationi instans, consilio Ajub, occiditur; atque eo Hispaniam retinette, mense impleto, Alahor in regno Hesperia per principalia jussa succedit, cui de morte Abdallaziz ita edicitur, ut quasi consilio Egilonis Regiæ conjugis quondam Ruderici regis, quam sibi sociaberat, jugum Arabicum a sua cervice conaretur avertere, et regnum in vasum Hiberiæ sibimet retemptare."-España Sagrada, t. viii, 302.

Florez relates the story in the words of the old translation of an Arabic original imputed to Rasis. "When Belazin, the son of Musa, remained for Lord of Spain, and had ordered his affairs right well, they told him tidings of Ulaca, who had been the wife of King D. Rodrigo, that she was a right worthy dame, and right beautiful, and of a great lineage, and that she was a native of Africa; whereupon he sent for her, and ordered that beasts should be given her, and much

things that she could require, till she could come to him. And they brought her unto him, and when he saw her, he was well pleased with her, and said, Ulaca, tell me of thy affairs, and conceal nothing from me; for thou knowest I may do with thee according to my will, being my captive. And when she heard this, it increased the grief which she had in her heart, and her sorrow was such, that she had well nigh fallen dead to the ground, and she replied weeping and said, Baron, what wouldst thou know more of my affairs? For doth not all the world know, that I, a young damsel, being married with King D. Rodrigo, was with him Lady of Spain, and dwelt in honour and in all pleasure, more than I deserved; and therefore it was God's will that they should endure no longer. And now I am in dishonour greater than ever was dame of such high state: For I am plundered, and have not a single palm of inheritance; and I am a captive, and brought into bondage. I also have been mistress of all the land that I behold. Therefore, Sir, have pity upon my misfortunes; and in respect of the great lineage which you know to be mine, suffer not that wrong or violence be offered me by any one; and, Sir, if it be your grace you will rausom me. There are men I know who would take compassion on me, and give you for me a great sum. And Belazin said to her, Be certain that so long as I live, you shall never go from my house. And Ulaca said, What then, Sir, would you do with me? and Belazin said, I will that you should remain in my house, and there you shall be free from all wretchedness, with my other wives. And she said, In an evil day was I boru, if it is to be true that I have been wife of the honoured

Now seem'd for ever gone, for well he knew

Had wrought upon the King!... Hereat the old man,
Raising beneath the knit and curly brow
His mournful eyes, replied, This I can tell,
That that unquiet spirit and unblest,
Though Roderick never told his sorrows, drove
Rusilla from the palace of her son.

She could not bear to see his generous mind
Wither beneath the unwholesome influence,
And cankering at the core. And I know well,
That oft when she deplored his barren bed,
The thought of Egilona's qualities
Came like a bitter medicine for her grief,
And to the extinction of her husband's line,
Sad consolation, reconciled her heart.

But Roderick, while they communed thus, had ceased To hear, such painfulest anxiety

The sight of that old venerable man
Awoke. A sickening fear came over him:
The hope which led him from his hermitage

king of Spain, and now have to live in a stranger's house as the concubine and captive of another! And I swear unto God, whose pleasure it is to dismay me thus, that I will rather seek my own death as soon as I can; for I will endure no more misery, seeing that by death I can escape it. And when Belazin saw that she thus lamented, he said to her, Good dame, think not that we have concubines, but by our law we may have seven wives, if we can maintain them, and therefore you shall be my wife, like each of the others; and all things which your law requires that a man should do for his wife, will I do for you; and therefore you have no cause to lament; and be sure that I will do you much honour, and will make all who love me serve and honour you, and you shall be mistress of all my wives. To this she made answer and said, Sir, offer me no violence concerning my law, but let me live as a Christian: And to this Belazin was nothing loth, and he granted it, and his marriage was performed with her according to the law of the Moors; and every day he liked her more, and did her such honour that greater could not be. And it befell that Belazin being one day with Ulaca, she said to him, Sir, do not think it ill if I tell you of a thing in which you do not act as if you knew the custom. And he said, Wherein is it that I err? Sir, said she, because you have no crown, for no one was ever confirmed in Spain, except he had a crown upon his head. He said, This which you say is nothing, for we have it not of our lineage, neither is it our custom to wear a crown. She said, many good reasons are there why a crown is of use, and it would injure you nothing, but be well for you, and when you should wear your crown upon your head, God would know you and others also by it: And she said, You would look full comely with it, and it would be great nobleness to you, and be right fitting, and you should wear in it certain stones, which will be good for you, and avail you. And in a short time afterwards Belazin went to dwell at Seville, and he carried Ulaca with him, and she took of her gold, and of her pearls, and of her precious stones, which she had many and good, and made him the noblest crown that ever was seen by man, and gave it him, and bade him take it, and place it where it should be well kept; and Ulaca, as she was a woman of understanding and prudence, ordered her affairs as well as Belazin, so that he loved her much, and did great honour to her, and did many of those things which she desired; so that he was well pleased with the Christians, and did them much good, and showed favour unto them."-Memorias de las Reynas Catholicas, i. p. 28.

That faithful servant to his father's house.
She then for whose forgiveness he had yearn'd,
Who in her blessing would have given and found
The peace of Heaven,.. she then was to the grave
Gone down disconsolate at last; in this
Of all the woes of her unhappy life
Unhappiest, that she did not live to see
God had vouchsafed repentance to her child.
But then a hope arose that yet she lived;
The weighty cause which led Siverian here
Might draw him from her side; better to know
The worst than fear it. And with that he bent
Over the embers, and with head half raised
Aslant, and shadow'd by his hand, he said,
Where is King Roderick's mother? lives she still ?

God hath upheld her, the old man replied; She bears this last and heaviest of her griefs, Not as she bore her husband's wrongs, when hope And her indignant heart supported her; But patiently, like one who finds from Heaven

"The issue of this was fatal to Abdalaziz. In Albucacim's history, it is said that he was converted by this Christian wife, and for that reason put to death by his father. Others have supposed that by means of her influence he was endeavouring to make himself King of Spain, independent of the Caliph. A characteristic circumstance is added. Egilona was very desirous to convert her husband, and that she might at least obtain from him some mark of outward respect for her images, made the door of the apartment, in which she kept them, so low, that he could not enter without bowing."Bleda, p. 214.

"Deixam a Abdalaziz, que de Bellona

Mamara o leite, por Rector da Hesperia; Este caza co a inclyta Fgilona,

Mulher de Dom Rodrigo, (o gram miseria !) Tomou Coroa de ouro, e a Matrona

Lhe deu para a tomar larga materia, Foi notado a misera raynha

Cazarse com hum Mouro tam asinha."

Destruicam de Espanha, p. 237.

The character of this Queen is beautifully conceived by the author of Count Julian :

"Beaming with virtue inaccessible

Stood Egilona; for her lord she lived,

And for the heavens that raised her sphere so high:
All thoughts were on her all beside her own.
Negligent as the blossoms of the field,
Arrayed in candour and simplicity,
Before her path she heard the streams of joy
Murmur her name in all their cadences,
Saw them in every scene, in light, in shade,
Reflect her image; but acknowledged them
Hers most complete when flowing from her most.
All things in want of her, herself of none,
Pomp and dominion lay beneath her feet
Unfelt and unregarded: now behold
The earthly passions war against the heavenly !
Pride against love; ambition and revenge
Against devotion and compliancy-
Her glorious beams adversity hath blunted,
And coming nearer to our quiet view,
The original clay of coarse mortality
Hardens and flaws around her."

A comfort which the world can neither give
Nor take away.... Roderick inquired no more;
He breathed a silent prayer in gratitude,
Then wrapt his cloak around him, and lay down
Where he might weep unseen.

When morning came,
Earliest of all the travellers he went forth,
And linger'd for Siverian by the way,
Beside a fountain, where the constant fall
Of water its perpetual gurgling made,

To the wayfaring or the musing man

Sweetest of all sweet sounds. The Christian hand,
Whose general charity for man and beast
Built it in better times, had with a cross
Of well-hewn stone crested the pious work,
Which now the misbelievers had cast down,
And broken in the dust it lay defiled.
Roderick beheld it lying at his feet,
And gathering reverently the fragments up,
Placed them within the cistern, and restored
With careful collocation its dear form,..
So might the waters, like a crystal shrine,
Preserve it from pollution. Kneeling then,
O'er the memoria! of redeeming love

He bent, and mingled with the fount his tears,
And pour'd his spirit to the Crucified.

A Moor came by, and seeing him, exclaim'd,
Ah, Kaffer! worshipper of wood and stone,
God's curse confound thee! And as Roderick turn'd
His face, the miscreant spurn'd him with his foot
Between the eyes. The indignant King arose,
And fell'd him to the ground. But then the Moor
Drew forth his dagger, rising as he cried,
What, darest thou, thou infidel and slave,
Strike a believer? and he aim'd a blow

At Roderick's breast. But Roderick caught his arm,
And closed, and wrench'd the dagger from his hold,..
Such timely strength did those emaciate limbs
From indignation draw,.. and in his neck
With mortal stroke he drove the avenging steel
Hilt deep. Then, as the thirsty sand drank in
The expiring miscreant's blood, he look'd around
In sudden apprehension, lest the Moors
Had seen them; but Siverian was in sight,
The only traveller, and he smote his mule

And hasten'd up. Ah, brother! said the old man,
Thine is a spirit of the ancient mould!
And would to God a thousand men like thee
Had fought at Roderick's side on that last day
When treason overpower'd him! Now, alas!
A manly Gothic heart doth ill accord

With these unhappy times. Come, let us hide
This carrion, while the favouring hour permits.

So saying he alighted. Soon they scoop'd
Amid loose-lying sand a hasty grave,
And levell'd over it the easy soil.
Father, said Roderick, as they journey'd on,
Let this thing be a seal and sacrament

Of truth between us: Wherefore should there be
Concealment between two right Gothic hearts
In evil days like ours? What thou hast seen
Is but the first fruit of the sacrifice,
Which on this injured and polluted soil,
As on a bloody altar, I have sworn

To offer to insulted Heaven for Spain,
Her vengeance and her expiation. This
Was but a hasty act, by sudden wrong
Provoked but I am bound for Cordoba,
On weighty mission from Visonia sent,
To breathe into Pelayo's ear a voice
Of spirit-stirring power, which like the trump
Of the Arch-angel, shall awake dead Spain.
The northern mountaineers are unsubdued;
They call upon Pelayo for their chief;
Odoar and Urban tell him that the hour

Is come. Thou too, I ween, old man, art charged With no light errand, or thou wouldst not now Have left the ruins of thy master's house.

Who art thou? cried Siverian, as he search'd The wan and wither'd features of the King. The face is of a stranger, but thy voice Disturbs me like a dream.

Roderick replied,

Thou seest me as I am,.. a stranger; one
Whose fortunes in the general wreck were lost,
His name and lineage utterly extinct,
Himself in mercy spared, surviving all; ..
In mercy, that the bitter cup might heal

A soul diseased. Now, having cast the slough
Of old offences, thou beholdest me

A man new born; in second baptism named,
Like those who in Judea bravely raised
Against the Heathen's impious tyranny
The banner of Jehovah, Maccabee;
So call me.
In that name hath Urban laid
His consecrating hands upon my head;
And in that name have I myself for Spain
Devoted. Tell me now why thou art sent
To Cordoba; for sure thou goëst not
An idle gazer to the Conqueror's court.

Thou judgest well, the old man replied. I too Seek the Cantabrian Prince, the hope of Spain, With other tidings charged, for other end Design'd, yet such as well may work with thine. My noble Mistress sends me to avert

The shame that threats his house. The renegade
Numacian, he who for the infidels
Oppresses Gegio, insolently woos
His sister. Moulded in a wicked womb,
The unworthy Guisla hath inherited
Her Mother's leprous taint; and willingly
She to the circumcised and upstart slave,
Disdaining all admonishment, gives ear.
The Lady Gaudiosa sees in this,

With the quick foresight of maternal care,
The impending danger to her husband's house,
Knowing his generous spirit ne'er will brook
The base alliance. Guisla lewdly sets
His will at nought; but that vile renegade,
From hatred, and from avarice, and from fear,
Will seek the extinction of Pelayo's line.
This too my venerable Mistress sees;
Wherefore these valiant and high-minded dames
Send me to Cordoba; that if the Prince
Cannot by timely interdiction stop

The irrevocable act of infamy,

He may at least to his own safety look,
Being timely warn'd.

Thy Mistress sojourns then With Gaudiosa, in Pelayo's hall?

Said Roderick. "Tis her natural home, rejoin'd
Siverian Chindasuintho's royal race
Have ever shared one lot of weal or woe:
And she who hath beheld her own fair shoot,
The goodly summit of that ancient tree,
Struck by Heaven's bolt, seeks shelter now beneath
The only branch of its majestic stem
That still survives the storm.

Thus they pursued

Their journey, each from other gathering store
For thought, with many a silent interval
Of mournful meditation, till they saw
The temples and the towers of Cordoba
Shining majestic in the light of eve.
Before them Betis roll'd his glittering stream,
In many a silvery winding traced afar
Amid the ample plain. Behind the walls

And stately piles which crown'd its margin, rich
With olives, and with sunny slope of vines,
And many a lovely hamlet interspersed,
Whose citron bowers were once the abode of peace,
Height above height. receding hills were seen
Imbued with evening hues; and over all
The summits of the dark sierra rose,
Lifting their heads amid the silent sky.
The traveller who with a heart at ease
Had seen the goodly vision, would have loved
To linger, seeking with insatiate sight
To treasure up its image, deep impress'd,
A joy for years to come. O Cordoba,
Exclaim'd the old man, how princely are thy towers,
How fair thy vales, thy hills how beautiful!
The sun who sheds on thee his parting smiles
Sees not in all his wide career a scene
Lovelier, nor more exuberantly blest

By bounteous earth and heaven. The very gales
Of Eden waft not from the immortal bowers
Odours to sense more exquisite, than these
Which, breathing from thy groves and gardens, now
Recall in me such thoughts of bitterness.
The time has been when happy was their lot
Who had their birthright here; but happy now
Are they who to thy bosom are gone home,
Because they feel not in their graves the feet.
That trample upon Spain. "Tis well that age
Hath made me like a child, that I can weep:
My heart would else have broken, overcharged,
And I, false servant, should lie down to rest
Before my work is done.

Hard by their path,
A little way without the walls, there stood
An edifice, whereto, as by a spell,
Siverian's heart was drawn. Brother, quoth he,
'Tis like the urgency of our return

Will brook of no retardment; and this spot

It were a sin if I should pass, and leave
Unvisited. Beseech you turn with me,
The while I offer up one duteous prayer.

Roderick made no reply. He had not dared
To turn his face toward those walls; but now
He follow'd where the old man led the way.
Lord in his heart the silent sufferer said,
Forgive my feeble soul, which would have shrunk
From this,.. for what am I that I should put
The bitter cup aside! O let my shame
And anguish be accepted in thy sight!

VI.

RODERICK IN TIMES PAST.

THE mansion whitherward they went, was one
Which in his youth Theodofred had built:
Thither had he brought home in happy hour
His blooming bride; there fondled on his knee
The lovely boy she bore him. Close beside,
A temple to that Saint he rear'd, who first,
As old tradition tells, proclaim'd to Spain
The gospel-tidings; and in health and youth,
There mindful of mortality, he saw
His sepulchre prepared. Witiza took
For his adulterous leman and himself
The stately pile: but to that sepulchre,
When from captivity and darkness death
Enlarged him, was Theodofred consign'd;
For that unhappy woman, wasting then
Beneath a mortal malady, at heart
Was smitten, and the Tyrant at her prayer
This poor and tardy restitution made.
Soon the repentant sinner follow'd him;
And calling on Pelayo ere she died,

And by the pangs

For his own wrongs, and for his father's death,
Implored forgiveness of her absent child,..
If it were possible he could forgive
Crimes black as hers, she said.
Of her remorse,.. by her last agonies,..
The unutterable horrors of her death,..
And by the blood of Jesus on the cross
For sinners given, did she beseech his prayers
In aid of her most miserable soul.

Thus mingling sudden shrieks with hopeless vows,
And uttering franticly Pelayo's name,

And crying out for mercy in despair,

Here had she made her dreadful end, and here
Her wretched body was deposited.

That presence seem'd to desecrate the place:
Thenceforth the usurper shunn'd it with the heart
Of conscious guilt; nor could Rusilla bear
These groves and bowers, which, like funereal shades,
Oppress'd her with their monumental forms:
One day of bitter and severe delight,1

1 I have ventured to borrow this expression from the tragedy of Count Julian. Nothing can be finer than the passage in which it occurs.

"Abdalazis. Thou lovest still thy country?

"Julian.

Abdalazis,

All men with human feelings love their country. Not the high-born or wealthy man alone,

Who looks upon his children, each one led
By its gay hand-maid, from the high alcove,
And hears them once a day; not only he
Who hath forgotten, when his guest inquires
The name of some far village all his own;
Whose rivers bound the province, and whose hiils
Touch the last cloud upon the level sky: