In that bright memory which streams
From victories won.

There is a life which virtue lives,

In men's deep hearts inshrined, though this Is passing too:

Yet the long living fame that gives

An earthly heaven to worth, is bliss
And glory true.

"This is the second life; the best Was never gain'd in mortal strife, Nor mundane joy :

Nor in the scenes of ease and rest,

Nor midst the murderous sins of life,

Which life destroy:

But in devotion's sainted cell,

Where monks and hermits pass their time

And by bold warriors who repel,

Midst dangers, toils, and deeds sublime,

The Moorish foes.

"Thou noble warrior! who hast shed Such mighty streams of pagan blood, O fear not death!

The glorious wreath shall crown thy head, With which this world rewards the good:

Yes! wear the wreath,

And with the high and holy hope,

Built safely on the faith divine,

Thou dost maintain,

Set out, and with death's horrors cope,
And the third life of bliss is thine,
Which thou shalt gain."

Let's waste no words, for calm and still
I wait,-obey;-no idle speech
Submission needs:

For that which is my Maker's will
Shall be my will, whate'er it teach,
Where'er it leads.

I'm ready now to die: I give
My soul to Heaven resignedly-
To death's great change:

For to desire and long to live,

When God desires that we shall die,

Were folly strange.

Thou who didst bend thee from above,
And take a mean and worthless name-
O sovereign grace!

Thou who didst clothe thee in thy love
With the low weeds of human shame,
To save our race":

Thou who didst bear the stripes abhorr'd,

And give thy sacred frame to bear

All mortal pain!

Not for my merit, heavenly Lord,

But for thy mercies, hear me !-hear,

And pardon then!

Coplas de Don Jorge Manrique.

ABSENCE.

"Quien no estuviere en presencia."

WHO, absent from their loved-one's range,
Shall faith, shall confidence betray,
The very sport of thoughtless change,
And treacherous memory are they.

Wouldst thou be loved, O ne'er depart

From her thy doubting thoughts would try; They never linger in the heart

Who are not present to the

eye.

Who, absent from their loved-one's range,

Shall, careless, confidence betray,

The very sport of chance and change
And blind forgetfulness are they.

Cancionero de Valencia, 1511, p. 122.

FELIPE MEY.

SONNET.

"Como imaginaré que habrás oido."

How can I deem that Thou hast heard me, Lord!
Lord of the highest Heaven! when the frail prayer,
Which sought an utterance in a trembling word,

Is so unworthy of Thy sacred ear

But nought is veil'd from Thee,—and Thou wilt hear The voice that from the heart, whose cells are stor'd With reverence, and humility, and fear,

Mounts upward. Grant, Thou Source of Good ador'd, That this my contrite heart, submissive, may

Be led by Thee, for it has lost its way,

And none but Thou may guide it. Lord! untie
The knot which binds it to earth's vanities:
And Thou mayest save it, for Thou canst devise
Salvation even where doubts despairing lie.

Rimas. Tarragona, 1586, p. 62.

F. JOSEPH MORELL.

GOOD ADVICE.

"El que mescló lo dulce y provechoso."

"MINGLE the sweet and useful," says a sage, Whose name perchance is lost in history's page, But whose advice withal is good and wise :

It caught a tavern-keeper's busy eyes,

And he exclaim'd, "Delightful,—that's for me!
I see the sense,-I read the mystery:
This is its meaning, I can well divine,-
Mix useful water with your luscious wine."

Tarragona, 1683, p. 17.