Moved every heart. And now in opener skies
Stars yet unnamed of purer radiance rise!
Stars, milder suns, that love a shade to cast,
And on the bright wave fling the trembling mast!
Another firmament ! the orbs that roll,
Singly or clustering, round the Southern pole!
Not yet the four that glorify the Night-
Ah, how forget when to my ravished sight
The Cross shone forth in everlasting light!

*

*

'Twas the mid hour, when He, whose accents dread Still wandered through the regions of the dead,

* The Cross of the South; una Croce maravigliosa, e di tanta bellezza,” says Andrea Corsali, a Florentine, writing to Giuliano of Medicis in 1515, “ che non mi pare ad alcuno segno celeste doverla comparare. E s'io non mi inganno, credo che sia questo il crusero di che Dante parlò nel principio del Pur. gatorio con spirito profetico, dicendo,

I'mi volsi a man destra, e posi mente
All' altro polo, e vidi quattro stelle,” &c.

It is still sacred in the eyes of the Spaniards. 'Un sentiment religieux les attache à une constellation dont la forme leur rappelle ce signe de la foi planté par leurs ancêtres dans les déserts du nouveau monde.'

(MERION, commissioned with his host to sweep
From age to age the melancholy deep)
To elude the seraph-guard that watched for man,
And mar, as erst, the Eternal's perfect plan,
Rose like the Condor, and, at towering height,
In pomp of plumage sailed, deepening the shades of

night.
Roc of the West ! to him all empire given !*
Who bears Axalhua's dragon-folds to heaven;t
His flight a whirlwind, and, when heard afar,
Like thunder, or the distant din of war!

Mountains and seas fled backward as he passed
O'er the great globe, by not a cloud o'ercast
From the ANTARCTICK, from the Land of Fire
To where ALASKA's wintry wilds retire; $

* Le Condor est le même oiseau que le Roc des Orientaux. Buffon. “By the Peruvians,” says Vega,“ he was anciently worshipped; and there were those who claimed their descent from him.” In these degenerate days he still ranks above the Eagle.

As the Roc of the East is said to have carried off the Elephant. See Marco Polo.—Axalhua, or the Emperor, is the name in the Mexican language for the great serpent of America.

From mines of gold,* and giant-sons of earth,
To grots of ice, and tribes of pigmy birth
Who freeze alive, nor, dead, in dust repose,
High-hung in forests to the casing snows.t

Now mid angelic multitudes he flies,
That hourly come with blessings from the skies;
Wings the blue element, and, borne sublime,
Eyes the set sun, gilding each distant clime;
Then, like a meteor, shooting to the main,
Melts into pure intelligence again.

CANTO VII.

A Mutiny excited.

What tho’Despondence reigned, and wild Affright-
Stretched in the midst, and, thro' that dismal night,
By his white plume revealed and buskins white,*
Slept Roldan. When he closed his gay career,
Hope fled for ever, and with Hope fled Fear.
Blest with each gift indulgent Fortune sends,
Birth and its rights, wealth and its train of friends,
Star-like he shone! Now beggared and alone,
Danger he wooed, and claimed her for his own.
O’er him a Vampire his dark wings displayed. +
'Twas Merion's self, covering with dreadful shade.

* Pizarro used to dress in this fashion; after Gonsalvo, whom he had served under in Italy.

† A species of Bat in South America; which refreshes by the gentle agitation of its wings, while it sucks the blood of the sleeper, turning his sleep into death.

Now one,

Now other, as their shape served best his end. Undoubtedly, says Herrera, the Infernal Spirit assumed various shapes in that region of the world.

He came, and, couched on Roldan's ample breast,
Each secret pore of breathing life possessed,
Fanning the sleep that seemed his final rest;
Then, inly gliding like a subtle flame,
Thrice, with a cry that thrilled the mortal frame,
Called on the Spirit within. Disdaining flight,
Calmly she rose, collecting all her might.*
Dire was the dark encounter! Long unquelled,
Her sacred seat, sovereign and pure, she held.
At length the great Foe binds her for his prize,
And awful, as in death, the body lies !

Not long to slumber! In an evil hour Informed and lifted by the unknown Power, It starts, it speaks ! “ We live, we breathe no more! The fatal wind blows on the dreary shore ! On yonder cliffs beckoning their fellow-prey, The spectres stalk, and murmur at delay ! + -Yet if thou canst (not for myself I plead ! Mine but to follow where 'tis thine to lead)

-magnum si pectore possit Excussisse deum.

† Euripides in Alcest, v. 255.