"Only to wake the sighs Of echo-voices from their sparry cell ; Only to say-O sunshine and blue skies! O life and love, farewell!" Thus flow'd the death-chant on; while mournfully Low winds and waves made answer, and the tones Buried in rocks along the Grecian stream, Rocks and dim caverns of old Prophecy, Woke to respond: and all the air was fill'd With that one sighing sound-"Farewell, Farewell!" -Fill'd with that sound? high in the calm blue heaven Even then a skylark hung; soft summer clouds "The summer is come; she hath said, Rejoice!' "There is joy in the mountains; the bright waves leap, Like the bounding stag when he breaks from sleep; Mirthfully, wildly, they flash along —Let the heavens ring with song! "There is joy in the forests; the bird of night Hath made the leaves tremble with deep delight; But mine is the glory to sunshine given Sing, sing through the echoing heaven! "Mine are the wings of the soaring morn, Mine are the fresh gales with day-spring born: Only young rapture can mount so high -Sing, sing through the echoing sky!" So those two voices met; so Joy and Death SONGS OF SPAIN.1 I. ANCIENT BATTLE SONG. FLING forth the proud banner of Leon again! And thou, free Asturias, encamp'd on the height, The voices are mighty that swell from the past, With Arragon's cry on the shrill mountain blast ; The ancient sierras give strength to our tread, Their pines murmur song where bright blood hath been shed. -Fling forth the proud banner of Leon again, And shout ye "Castile! to the rescue for Spain !" 1 Written for a set of airs, entitled Peninsular Melodies, selected by Colonel Hodges, and published by Messrs. Goulding and D'Almaine, who have permitted the reappearance of the words in this volume. II. THE ZEGRI MAID. The Zegris were one of the most illustrious Moorish tribes. Their exploits and feuds with their celebrated rivals, the Abencerrages, form the subject of many ancient Spanish romances. THE summer leaves were sighing Around the Zegri maid, To her low sad song replying As it fill'd the olive shade. Her land's, her kindred's foe! "From thy glance, my gentle mother! Thus sang the Zegri maid, "And for all this heart's wealth wasted, This flower of young life blasted, Should I win back aught but scorn? By aught but daily dying Would my lone truth be repaid?" The Rio Verde, a small river of Spain, is celebrated in the old ballad romances of that country for the frequent combats on its banks between Moor and Christian. The ballad referring to this stream in Percy's Reliques, "Gentle river, gentle river, Lo! thy streams are stain'd with gore," will be remembered by many readers. FLOW, Rio Verde! In melody flow; To slumber from woe; Bid thy wave's music Roll through her dreams, Grief ever loveth The kind voice of streams. Bear her lone spirit Afar on the sound Of love that is gone Flow, Rio Verde! Softly flow on! Dark glassy water So crimson'd of yore! Know thy green shore. |