XXIV.

Not by the sunshine, with its golden glow,

Nor the green earth, nor yet the laughing sky,
Nor the faint flower-scents 15, as they come and go
In the soft air, like music wandering by;

-Oh! not by these, th' unfailing, are we taught

How time and sorrow on our frames have wrought,
But by the sadden'd eye, the darken'd brow,

Of kindred aspects, and the long dim gaze,

Which tells us we are chang'd,-how chang'd from other days!

XXV.

Before my father-in my place of birth,

I stood an alien. On the very floor

Which oft had trembled to my boyish mirth,

The love that rear'd

me, knew my face no more! There hung the antique armour, helm and crest, Whose every stain woke childhood in my breast, There droop'd the banner, with the marks it bore Of Paynim spears; and I, the worn in frame

And heart, what there was I?-another and the same!

XXVI.

Then bounded in a boy, with clear dark eye—

-How should he know his father?-when we parted,

From the soft cloud which mantles infancy,

His soul, just wakening into wonder, darted

Its first looks round. Him follow'd one, the bride

Of my young days, the wife how lov'd and tried!
Her glance met mine-I could not speak-she started
With a bewilder'd gaze ;-until there came

Tears to my burning eyes, and from my lips her name.

XXVII.

She knew me then!-I murmur'd "Leonor!"

And her heart answer'd!-oh! the voice is known..

First from all else, and swiftest to restore

Love's buried images with one low tone,

That strikes like lightning, when the cheek is faded,

And the brow heavily with thought o'ershaded,
And all the brightness from the aspect gone!.
-Upon my breast she sunk, when doubt was fled,

Weeping as those may weep, that meet in woe and dread.

XXVIII.

For there we might not rest. Alas! to leave

Those native towers, and know that they must fall

By slow decay, and none remain to grieve

When the weeds cluster'd on the lonely wall!
We were the last-my boy and I-the last

Of a long line which brightly thence had pass'd!
My father bless'd me as I left his hall-

-With his deep tones and sweet, tho' full of

years,

He bless'd me there, and bath'd my child's young head with tears.

XXIX.

I had brought sorrow on his

grey

hairs down,

And cast the darkness of my branded name
(For so he deem'd it) on the clear renown,
My own ancestral heritage of fame.
And yet he bless'd me!-Father! if the dust
Lie on those lips benign, my spirit's trust

Is to behold thee yet, where grief and shame

Dim the bright day no more; and thou wilt know

That not thro' guilt thy son thus bow'd thine age with woe!

F

XXX.

And thou, my Leonor! that unrepining

If sad in soul, didst quit all else for me,
When stars-the stars that earliest rise-are shining,
How their soft glance unseals each thought of thee!
For on our flight they smil'd;-their dewy rays,
Thro' the last olives, lit thy tearful gaze

Back to the home we never more might see;

So pass'd we on, like earth's first exiles, turning

Fond looks where hung the sword above their Eden burning.

XXXI.

It was a woe to say-" Farewell, my Spain !
The sunny and the vintage land, farewell!"
-I could have died upon the battle plain
For thee, my country! but I might not dwell
In thy sweet vales, at peace.-The voice of song
Breathes, with the myrtle scent, thy hills along;
The citron's glow is caught from shade and dell;
But what are these?-upon thy flowery sod

I might not kneel, and pour my free thoughts out to God!

XXXII.

O'er the blue deep I fled, the chainless deep!

-Strange heart of man! that ev'n midst woe swells high,

When thro' the foam he sees his proud bark sweep,

Flinging out joyous gleams to wave and sky!

Yes! it swells high, whate'er he leaves behind;

His spirit rises with the rising wind;

For, wedded to the far futurity,

On, on, it bears him ever, and the main

Seems rushing, like his hope, some happier shore to gain.

XXXIII.

Not thus is woman. Closely her still heart,
Doth twine itself with ev'n each lifeless thing,
Which, long remember'd, seem'd to bear its part
In her calm joys. For ever would she cling,
A brooding dove, to that sole spot of earth

Where she hath loved, and given her children birth,
And heard their first sweet voices. There may Spring
Array no path, renew no flower, no leaf,

But hath its breath of home, its claim to farewell grief.