When I disclose my hidden griefs, the tale May more than wisdom or reproof prevail. O, may it teach thee, till all trials cease,

To hold thy course, though sorrowing, yet in peace: Still looking up to Him, the soul's best stay,

Some bread and water, nature to sustain,
Duly was brought when eve return'd again;
And thus I knew, hoping it were the last,
Another day of lingering life was pass'd.

"Five years immured in the deep den of night,

swept away!

"Where fair Seville's Morisco turrets gleam On Guadilquiver's genuiy-stealing stream, Whose silent waters, seaward as they glide, Reflect the wild-rose thickets on its side, My youth was pass'd. O, days for ever gone! How touch'd with heaven's own light your mornings shone!

"E'en now, when lonely and forlorn I bend,My weary journey hastening to its end, A drooping exile on a distant shore,

I mourn the hours of youth that are no more.
The tender thought amid my prayers has part,
And steals, at times, from heaven my aged heart.
"Forgive the cause, O God!--forgive the tear,
That flows, e'en now, o'er Leonora's bier;
For, midst the innocent and lovely, none
More beautiful than Leonora shone.

"As by her widow'd mother's side she knelt, A sad and sacred sympathy I felt.

At Easter-tide, when the high mass was sung,
And, fuming high, the silver censer swung,
When rich-hued windows, from the arches' height,
Pour'd o'er the shrines a soft and yellow light,
From aisle to aisle, amid the service clear,
When Adoremus' swell'd upon the ear,
(Such as to heaven thy rapt attention drew
First in the Christian churches of Peru)
She seem'd, methought, some spirit of the sky,
Descending to that holy harmony.

" Boots not to say, when life and hope were new,
How by degrees the soul's first passion grew:
I loved her, and I won her virgin heart,
But fortune whisper'd, We, a while, must part.
"The minster toll'd the middle hour of night,
When waked to agony and wild affright,
I heard the words, words of appalling dread-
The holy Inquisition !'-from the bed

I started; snatch'd my dagger, and my cloak-
Who dare accuse me?'-none, in answer, spoke.
The demons seized, in silence, on their prey,
And tore me from my dreams of bliss away.
"How frightful was their silence, and their shade,
In torch-light, as their victim they convey'd,
By dark-inscribed and massy-window'd walls,
Through the dim twilight of terrific halls;
(For thou hast heard me speak of that foul stain
Of pure religion, and the rites of Spain)--
Whilst the high windows shook to night's cold
blast,

And echoed to the foot-fall as we pass'd!

Once as the grate, with sullen sound, was barr'd,
And to the bolts the inmost cavern jarr'd,
Methought I heard, as clang'd the iron door,
A dull and hollow echo from the floor:

I stamp'd: the vault and winding caves around
Return'd a long and melancholy sound.
With patient toil, I raised a massy stone,
And look'd into a depth of shade unknown;
The murky twilight of the lurid place
Served me, at length, a secret way to trace.
I enter'd, step by step; explored the road,
In darkness, from my desolate abode;
Till, winding through long passages of night,
I saw, at distance, a dim streak of light :-
It was the sun-the bright, the blessed beam
Of day! I knelt-I wept-the glittering stream
Roll'd soft beneath me, as I left the cave,
Conceal'd in woods above the winding wave.
"I rested on a verdant bank a while,

I saw around the summer landscape smile.
I gain'd a peasant's hut; nor dared to leave,
Till, with slow step, advanced the glimmering eve.
Remembering still affection's fondest hours,

I turn'd my footsteps to the city towers;
In pilgrim's dress, I traced the streets unknown:
No light in Leonora's lattice shone.

"The morning came; the busy tumult swells;
Knolling to church, I heard the minster bells:
Involuntary to that scene I stray'd,
Disguised, where first I saw my faithful maid.
I saw her, pallid, at the altar stand,

And yield, half shrinking, her reluctant hand:
She turn'd her look-she saw my hollow eyes,
And knew me,-wasted, wan, and in disguise;
She shriek'd, and fell-breathless, I left the fane
In agony-nor saw her form again;

And from that day, her voice, her look, was given
Her name, her memory, to the winds of heaven.
"Far off I bent my melancholy way,
Heart-sick and faint, and, in this gown of gray,
From every human eye my sorrows hid,
Unknown, amidst the tumult of Madrid.
Grief in my heart, despair upon my look,
With no companion save my beads and book,
My morsel with affliction's sons to share,
To tend the sick and poor, my only care-
Forgotten, thus I lived, till day by day
Had worn nigh thirteen years of grief away.
"One winter's night, when I had closed my cell
And bid the labours of the day farewell,
An aged crone approach'd, with panting breath-
She bade me hasten to the house of death.

"I came with moving lips intent to pray,
A dying woman on a pallet lay;
Her lifted hands were wasted to the bone,
And ghastly on her look the lamp-light shone;
Beside the bed a pious daughter stands
Silent, and weeping, kisses her pale hands.

"Feebly she spoke, and raised her languid head 'Forgive, forgive! they told me he was dead!

But in the sunshine of that dreadful day,
That gave me to another's arms away,

I saw him-like a ghost, with deadly stare;
I saw his wasted eyeballs' ghastly glare;
I saw his lips-(0 hide them, God of love!)
I saw his livid lips, half muttering, move,
To curse the maid, forgetful of her vow;
Perhaps he lives to curse-to curse me now!'

"He lives to bless!' I cried; and drawing nigh,

Held up the crucifix: her heavy eye

She raised, and scarce pronounced-Does he yet live?

Can he his lost, his dying child forgive?—

Will God forgive-the Lord who bled-will He? Ah, no! there is no mercy left for me!'

I need not say the sequel--not unmoved
Poor Indiana heard thy tale, and loved-
Some sympathy a kindred fate might claim;
Your years, your fortunes, and your friend the

same:

Both early of a parent's care bereft,

Both strangers in a world of sadness left,

I mark'd each slowly struggling thought-I shed
A tear of love paternal on each head,
And, while I saw her timid eyes incline,
Bless'd the affection that has made her thine!
"Here let the murmurs of despondence cease:
There is a God-believe-and part in peace!"

Rich hues illumed the track of parting day
As the great sun sunk in the western bay,
And only its last light yet lingering shone,

The awful moment of despair to paint.

She knew me her exhausted breath, with pain, Drawing, she press'd my hand, and spoke again. "By a false guardian's cruel wiles deceived, The tale of fraudful falsehood I believed;

mand,

And bade me take the rich Antonio's hand.

I knelt, implored, embraced my guardian's knees
Ruthless inquisitor! he held the keys

Of the dark torture-house.* Trembling for life,
Yes I became a sad, heart-broken-wife!
Yet curse me not! of every human care
Already my full heart has had its share.
Abandon'd-left in youth to want and wo!
O! let these tears, that agonizing flow,
Witness how deep e'en now my heart is rent:
Yet one is lovely-one is innocent!
Protect-protect'-(and faint in death she smiled)-
'When I am dead--protect my orphan child!?
"The dreadful prison, that so long detain'd
My wasting life, her dying words explain'd.
The wretched priest, who wounded me by stealth,
Barter'd her love, her innocence, for wealth.

"I laid her bones in earth: the chanted hymn Echoed along the hollow cloister dim:

I heard, far off, the bell funereal toll,

Still lead you in the paths of peace and love:
To-morrow, and we part; when I am gone,
Raise on this spot a cross, and place a stone,
That tribes unborn may some memorial have
(When I far off am mouldering in the grave)
Of that poor messenger, who tidings bore,
Of gospel mercy, to your distant shore."

The crowd retired-along the twilight gray,
The condor swept its solitary way;
The fire-flies shone, when to the hermit's cell
Who hastens but the minstrel, Zarinel?
In foreign lands, far from his native home,
'Twas his, a gay romantic youth to roam
With a light cittern o'er his shoulders slung,
Where'er he pass'd he play'd, and loved, and sung
And thus accomplish'd, late had join'd the train
Of gallant soldiers on the southern plain.

soul!'

Far o'er the western ocean I convey'd, And Indiana call'd-the orphan maid: Beneath my eye she grew--and, day by day, Seem'd, grateful, every kindness to repay.

66 Renouncing Spain, her cruelties and crimes, Amid untutor'd tribes, in distant climes, 'Twas mine to spread the light of truth, or save From stripes and torture the poor Indian slave. I saw thee, young and innocent—alone, Cast on the mercies of a race unknown; I saw, in dark adversity's cold hour, Thy virtues blooming, like a winter's flower; From chains and slavery I redeem'd thy youth, Pour'd on thy sight the beams of heavenly truth; By thy warm heart and mild demeanour won, Call'd thee my other child-my age's son.

Whose trusting love my careless heart betray'd, Say, may I speak?"

"Say on," the father cried; "Nor be to penitence all hope denied." "Then hear, Anselmo! From a very child

I loved all fancies, marvellous and wild;
I turn'd from truth, to listen to the lore
Of many an old and fabling troubadour.
Thus, with impassion'd heart and wayward mind,
To dreams and shapes of shadowy things resign'd,
I left my native vales and village home,
Wide o'er the world a minstrel boy to roam.

"I never shall forget the day-the hour,-
When, all my soul resign'd to fancy's power,
First, from the snowy Pyrenees, I cast
My labouring vision o'er the landscape vast,
And saw beneath my feet long vapours float,
Streams, mountains, woods, and ocean's mist re-

mote.

My mountain guide, a soldier, poor and old, Who tales of Cortez and Balboa told,

Won my young ear, when pausing to survey
Th' Atlantic, white in sunshine far away,
He spoke of this new world,-rivers like seas,
Mountains, to which the mighty Pyrenees
Were but as sand-hills-ancient forests rude,
In measureless extent of solitude,
Stretching their wild and unknown world of shade!
Full blithe he then described the Indian maid-
Graceful and agile as the marmozet,

Whose eyes of radiance and whose locks of jet, Though bow'd by want and age, he never could forget.

"My ardent fancy follow'd while he spoke Of lakes, savannahs, or the cataract's smoke, Or some strange tale of perilous wandering told, By waters, through remotest regions roll'd: How shone the woods with pomp of plumage gay, And how the green bird mock'd and talk'd all day!

"Imagination thus, in colours new,

This distant world presented to my view;
Young, and enchanted with the fancied scene,
I cross'd the toiling seas that roar'd between,
And, with ideal images impress'd,

O'erhung with icy summits :--to be brief,
She was the daughter of an aged chief;
He, by her gentle voice to pity won,
Show'd mercy, for himself had lost a son.
The father spoke not:-by the pine wood blaze,
The daughter stood, and turn'd a cake of maize.
And then, as sudden shone the light, I saw
Such features as no artist hand might draw.
Her form, her face, her symmetry, her air-
Father thy age must this recital spare--
She saved my life-and kindness, if not love,
Might sure in time the coldest bosom move.
Mine was not cold-she loved to hear me sing,
And sometimes touch'd with playful hand the
string:

And when I waked some melancholy strain,
She wept, and smiled, and bade me sing again:
And sometimes on the turf reclined, I tried
Her erring hand along the wires to guide;
Then chiding, with a kiss, the rude essay,
Taught her some broken saraband to play;
Whilst the loud parrot, from the neighbouring tree,
On laughing echo call'd to join our glee.

"I built our hut of the wild-orange boughs,

"Still to romantic fantasies resign'd,

I left Callao's crowded port behind,

She raised her eyes with tenderness, and cried, 'Shall poor Olola be the white man's bride?

threw

Upon the lessening summits of Peru. Some sheep, the armed peasants drove before, That all our food through the wild passes bore, Had wander'd in the frost smoke of the morn, Far from the tract-I blew the signal hornBut echo only answer'd. 'Mid the snows, Wilder'd and lost, I saw the evening close. The sun was setting in the crimson west; In all the earth I had no home of rest; The last sad light upon the ice-hills shone ; I seem'd forsaken in a world unknown; How did my cold and sinking heart rejoice, When hark! methought I heard a human voice. It might be some wild Indian's roving troop; Or the dread echo of their distant whoopStill it was human, and I seem'd to find Again some commerce with remote mankind. The voice is nearer, rising through the shadeIs it the song of a rude mountain maid? And now I heard the tread of hastening feet, And, in the western glen, a llama bleat. I listen'd-all is still-but hark! again Near and more near is heard the welcome strain: It is a wild maid's carolling, who seeks Her wandering llama midst the snowy peaks. Truant,' she cried, thy lurking place is found.' With languid touch I waked the cittern's sound, And soon a maid, by the pale light, I saw Gaze breathless with astonishment and awe: What instant terrors to her fancy rose ! Ha! is it not the spirit of the snows? But when she saw me, weary, cold, and weak, Stretch forth my hand, (for now I could not speak,) She pitied, raised me from the snows, and led My faltering footsteps to her father's shed; The llama follow'd with her tinkling bell: The dwelling rose within a craggy dell,

When thou art sad, I will kiss off the tear:
Thou shalt forget thy father's land, and see
A friend, a sister, and a child, in me.'
So many a happy day in this deep glen,
Far from the noise of life, and sounds of men,
Was pass'd! Nay! father, the sad sequel hear;
'Twas now the leafy spring-time of the year-
Ambition call'd me: True, I knew, to part,
Would break her generous and her trusting heart-
True, I had vow'd-but now estranged and cold,
She saw my look, and shudder'd to behold-
She would go with me-leave the lonely glade
Where she grew up, but my stern voice forbade.
She hid her face and wept,- Go then away,'
(Father, methinks e'en now I hear her say,)
Go to thy distant land-forget this tear-
Forget these rocks,-forget I once was dear.
Fly to the world, o'er the wide ocean fly,
And leave me, unremember'd, here to die!
Yet to my father should I all relate,
Death, instant death, would be a traitor's fate!'
"Nor fear, nor pity, moved my stubborn mind
I left her sorrows and the scene behind-
I sought Valdivia on the southern plain,
And join'd the careless military train :-
O! ere I sleep, thus, lowly on my knee,
Father, I absolution crave from thee."

Anselmo spoke with look and voice severe,
"Yes! thoughtless youth, my absolution hear.
First, by deep penitence the wrong atone,
Then absolution ask from God alone!
Yet stay, and to my warning voice attend--
O, hear me as a father, and a friend!
Let truth severe be wayward fancy's guide,
Let stern-eyed conscience o'er each thought pic
side-

The passions, that on noblest natures prey,
O! cast them, like corroding bonds, away!