Princes and peers, who throng'd the grassy floor; Their rival hues, such gorgeous suits they wore, Outspangled heaven's bright rainbow ere it fade. Their steeds Valencian children of the wind,

For whose rich bits Peru gave bars of gold, Whose burnish'd reins threw back the dazzling sun: And when o'er western hills the sun declined, A game of shields Pisuerga might behold, That had old Genil's Moorish vaunts outdone.

IV. GROWTH OF MADRID.

The Nile endures no shores; Madrid no walls :
Mark, stranger, how the flood is on its way,
The flood of houses; scarcely will it stay,

Where Manzanares into Tagus falls.
It is a sight, that back to memory calls
The glory of Egyptian Memphis; nay,
More great the wonder; to a later day
Shall stand these firm and rock-built palace-halls;
Imperial seat of Monarchs throned on high,

Birth-place of princes, Beauty's beaming sphere,
And scene of proudest Fortune's pageantry :
Whose state shall Envy's venom'd fangs outwear,
Howe'er she chafe in secret. Homeward hie
In peace, and bid thy land the tidings hear.

V. TO FELIX HORTENSIO PARAVICINO.

Good man, who, like an oracle inspired,

Dost our Third Philip's conscience keep and guide, I've seen thee stand, where random shafts were fired, Firm as a mark, nay, like a martyr tried;

Where suits, like cross-bow pellets, from each side Were shower'd by hands from crowds that hemm'd thee round,

Till 'twas a marvel, while their game they plied, That thou couldst last entire, and feel no wound. If such be audience-law on courtly ground,

What hunted prey fares worse in hardy chase, Beset with darts, or fangs of mangling hound? But hence our king hath found such patient grace, Gladdening with modest heed each suitor heard, While courteous pleasing rules each answering word.

VI. JUAN DE ACUÑA.

This gracious figure, clad in civil gown,

Illustrious, not from flattering pencil's hue,

But from the generous stock, from which he drew, In happy hour, a splendour all his own:

This pillar of the laws, the State and Throne,

This oracle of right, so wise, so true,

He might have held the scales, while earth was new, Ere yet Astrea sought her starry zone:

Nor great Alcides with more firm right hand
The monsters of the present time could tame,
Or leave more wonder to an age unborn:-
This champion tried, this glory of our land,
Is Juan of Acuña. Let his name,
Engraved in brass, live to the world's last morn!

See Note.

VII. CHRISTOBAL DE MORA.

Brave Tree, whose happy branches, richly dight,
Bear not red fruit, but shields of monarchs old,
Tinged with the blood of chiefs, whom Truth made
bold,

Not luckless lovers, wreck'd by Fortune's spite;
In the broad fields, where Tagus most in might
Rolls down his crystal flood o'er beds of gold,
Thou dost above the laurels high unfold
Thy bourgeons, like the palm's majestic height:
Let me, poor worm, by those bright leaves be fed,
Glad as a bird, amid the covert rest,

Like pilgrim, hail the shade beneath the bough:
And I will weave thy praise in famous thread,
My song, through rival choirs, shall be the best,
Thy hearth shall be the temple of my vow.

VIII. THE FIRST ASSAULT ON LARACHE.

A DIALOGUE.

Whence come you, Cousin John, with no good hose?
-Dear Aunt, from Alarache, that place uncanny.
-O good! And, Cousin, were your comrogues many?
-Some thirty soldiers; but 'tis said,-who knows?—
Three thousand galleys.-Did you win or lose?

You won, no doubt? you landed?-Not so fast.
We gave them one Santiago, and in haste

The shores all swarm'd.-With pilgrims?-No, with foes.

-What then? the Moors still keep it?-Dear Aunt, yes!

Great cry, and little wool.-Was much harm done By the unbelieving dogs to you?--No fear:

For, when they bark'd with long shot, we made press
Of sail, and at the sound had such a run,
'Twill keep us in brisk health for all the year.
See Hist. and Crit. Essay, sec. 38.

IX. ON THE CAPTURE OF LARACHE.

The fortress, which, infesting other lands,
The silver crescent on its towers display'd,
The port erewhile for Belgian pirate's trade,
The portal now to Afric's sunny sands,
Yields to Spain's lion-hearts and iron hands,

Which dyed the sea with crimson's deeper shade, And scarce for winds or threatening storms delay'd Their onset vow'd to Faith and Spain's commands. Henceforth with sails high riding o'er the flood

May merchant court the breeze, or fisher's barque Let down frail nets in Gaditanian bay, Secure from roving tyrants fierce and rude,

No Dutch Mynheer, nor Paynim corsair dark To wrong their freedom, or disturb their way.

X. THE EXPEDITION TO MAMORA.

Ho! for Mamora! knightly warriors strong!
Ho! for Mamora! courtly gallants gay!

Be Captains now in earnest, who so long

Have dreamt of being Dukes some other day.

Arm! arm to horse! mount! charge!-What!

pistols !-Nay,

Good fool; but prime with sack this cooling-vase

Trim plumes! gild spurs!-To take a Moorish bey?— No, but to ride a Moorish ostrich-chase. On! on! good droll!-Lady, to win whose grace, I fain would go, yet linger;-for whose worth The spoils of Afric were a prize too base; Let others cross the sea; and I hereafter,

When they bring home their tale of woe or mirth, Will play my part with tears of grief or laughter.