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Though nor high domes through all their portals
wide Each morn disgorge the flatterer's refluent tide; Though nor thy gaze on tortoise columns rest, The Ephyreïan brass, and gold-wrought vest: Nor poisoning Tyre thy snowy fleeces soil, Nor casia taint thy uncorrupted oil ; Yet peace is thine, and life that knows no change, And various wealth in Nature's boundless range, The grot, the living fount, the umbrageous glade, And lowing herds that sleep in soothing shade; Thine, all of tame and wild, in lawn and field, That pastur'd plains or savage woodlands yield : Content and patience youth's long toils assuage, Repose and reverence tend declining age : There hallow'd shrines, and, as she fled mankind, There Justice left her last lone trace behind.
DESCRIPTION OF THE HORSE.
As yet a colt he stalks with lofty pace,
First leads the way, the threatning torrent braves, And dares the unknown arch that spans the waves. Light on his airy crest his slender head, His belly short, his loins luxuriant spread : Muscle on muscle knots his brawny breast, No fear alarms him, nor vain shouts molest. But at the clash of arms, his ear afar Drinks the deep sound, and vibrates to the war: Flames from each nostril roll in gather'd stream, His quiv'ring limbs with restless motion gleam; O’er his right shoulder, floating full and fair, Sweeps his thick mane, and spreads its pomp of
hair : Swift works his double spine, and earth around Rings to his solid hoof that wears the ground.
THE CHARIOT RACE.
See at the signal, when the chariots bound,
Prone o'er loose reins they lash th’extended steed, And the wing'd axle flames beneath their speed; Now, low they vanish from the aching eye, Now mount in air, and seem to gain the sky: Nopause, no rest: where'er they sweep the ground Dust in thick whirlwinds darkens all around; Each presses each : in clouds from all behind, Horse, horsemen, chariots thund'ring in the wind, Breath, flakes of foam, and sweat from ev'ry pore Smoke in the gale, and stream the victor o'er. Thus glorious thirst of praise their spirit fires, And shouting vict'ry boundless strength inspires.
THE BATTLE OF THE BULLS.
Onward they rush, and from alternate blows, Down their gor'd sides the purple current flows; Front clash'd on front their battering horns re
bound: Olympus bellows, and the woods resound. The combat o'er, insatiate rage remains, The vanquish'd exile roams o'er distant plains :
Mourns o'er his shame, and each ignoble scar,
Cardinal Ximenes, Archbishop of Toledo, appointed by Ferdinand to be sole regent of Castile until the arrival of his grandson Charles in Spain, was descended of an honourable, not of a wealthy family; and the circumstances of his parents, as well as his own inclinations, having determined him to enter into the Church, he early obtained benefices of great value, and which placed him in the way