And not alone amid the flatteries
Of youth with thoughts of high ambition fed
When all is sunshine, but through years of woe,
When sorrow sanctified their use, upheld
By honourable pride and earthly hopes.
I thought I yet might nurse upon my knee
Some young Theodofred, and see in him
Thy father's image and thine own renewed,
And love to think the little hand which there
Played with the bauble, should in after days
Wield the transmitted sceptre ;..that through him
The ancient seed should be perpetuate, . .
That precious seed revered so long, desired
So dearly, and so wonderously preserved.
Nay, he replied, Heaven hath not with its bolts
Scathed the proud summit of the tree, and left
The trunk unflawed; ne'er shall it clothe its boughs
Again, nor push again its scyons forth,
Head, root, and branch, all mortified alike!..
Long ere these locks were shorn had I cut off
The thoughts of royalty! Time might renew
Their length, as for Manoah's captive son,
And I too on the miscreant race, like him,
Might prove my strength regenerate; but the hour, When in its second best nativity,
My soul was born again through grace, this heart
Died to the world. Dreams such as thine
Like evening clouds before me; if I think
How beautiful they seem, 'tis but to feel
How soon they fade, how fast the night shuts in.
But in that World to which my hopes look on,
Time enters not, nor Mutability;
Beauty and Goodness are unfading there;
Whatever there is given us to enjoy,
That we enjoy for ever, still the same.
Much might Count Julian's sword atchieve for Spain
And me; but more will his dear daughter's soul
Effect in Heaven; and soon will she be there
An Angel at the Throne of Grace, to plead
In his behalf and mine.
She answered, and subdued the vain desire.
It was the World's last effort. Thou hast chosen The better part. Yea, Roderick, even on earth There is a praise above the monarch's fame,
A higher, holier, more enduring praise,
And this will yet be thine!
Mother! he cried; nor let ambition take
That specious form to cheat us! What but this,
Fallen as I am, have I to offer Heaven?
The ancestral sceptre, public fame, content
Of private life, the general good report,
Power, reputation, happiness, . . whate'er
The heart of man desires to constitute
His earthly weal,.. unerring Justice claimed
In forfeiture. I with submitted soul
Bow to the righteous law and kiss the rod.
Only while thus submitted, suffering thus,..
Only while offering up that name on earth,
Perhaps in trial offered to my choice,
Could I present myself before thy sight;
Thus only could endure myself, or fix
My thoughts upon that fearful pass, where Death
Stands in the Gate of Heaven!.. Time passes on,
The healing work of sorrow is complete ;
All vain desires have long been weeded out,
All vain regrets subdued; the heart is dead,
The soul is ripe and eager for her birth.
Bless me, my Mother! and come when it will
The inevitable hour, we die in peace.
So saying, on her knees he bowed his head;
She raised her hands to Heaven and blest her child;
Then bending forward, as he rose, embraced
And claspt him to her heart, and cried, Once more,
Theodofred, with pride behold thy son!
THE times are big with tidings; every hour
From east and west and south the breathless scouts
Bring swift alarums in; the gathering foe,
Advancing from all quarters to one point,
Close their wide crescent. Nor was aid of fear
To magnify their numbers needed now:
They came in myriads. Africa had poured
Fresh shoals upon the coast of wretched Spain;
Lured from their hungry deserts to the scene
Of spoil, like vultures to the battle-field,
Fierce, unrelenting, habited in crimes,
Like bidden guests the mirthful ruffians flock
To that free feast which in their Prophet's name
Rapine and Lust proclaimed. Nor were the chiefs
Of victory less assured, by long success
Elate, and proud of that o'erwhelming strength,
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