While to the starry sphere thy name shall rise,
(Not there unsung thy generous enterprise!)
Thine in all hearts to dwell-by Fame enshrined,
With those, the Few, that live but for Mankind;
Thine evermore, transcendent happiness!

World beyond world to visit and to bless."

On the two last leaves, and written in another hand, are some stanzas in the romance or ballad measure of the Spaniards. The subject is an adventure soon related.

THY lonely watch-tower, Larenille,
Had lost the western sun;

And loud and long from hill to hill
Echoed the evening-gun,

When Hernan, rising on his oar,
Shot like an arrow from the shore.
-"Those lights are on St. Mary's Isle;
They glimmer from the sacred pile."*
The waves were rough; the hour was late.
But soon across the Tinto borne,
Thrice he blew the signal-horn,

He blew and would not wait.

Home by his dangerous path he went ;
Leaving, in rich habiliment,

Two Strangers at the Convent-gate.

They ascended by steps hewn out in the rock; and, having asked for admittance, were lodged there.

Brothers in arms the Guests appeared;

The Youngest with a Princely grace!
Short and sable was his beard,
Thoughtful and wan his face.

His velvet cap a medal bore,

And ermine fringed his broidered vest;

*The Convent of La Rábida.