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 dayspring born: Only young rapture can mount so high

-Sing, sing through the echoing sky!"

So those two voices met; so Joy and Death
Mingled their accents; and amidst the rush
Of many thoughts, the listening poet cried,-
“Oh! thou art mighty, thou art wonderful,
Mysterious Nature! Not in thy free range
Of woods and wilds alone, thou blendest thus
The dirge-note and the song of festival;
But in one heart, one changeful human heart-
Ay, and within one hour of that strange world-
Thou call'st their music forth, with all its tones
To startle and to pierce !—the dying swan's,
And the glad skylark's-triumph and despair!"

SONGS OF SPAIN.*

I. ANCIENT BATTLE SONG.

FLING forth the proud banner of Leon again!
Let the high word "Castile!" go resounding through
Spain !

And thou, free Asturias, encamp'd on the height,
Pour down thy dark sons to the vintage of fight!
Wake, wake! the old soil where thy children repose
Sounds hollow and deep to the trampling of foes!

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!"

* 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.
"Alas! for her that loveth

Her land's, her kindred's foe!
Where a Christian Spaniard roveth,
Should a Zegri's spirit go?

"From thy glance, my gentle mother!
I sink, with shame oppress'd,

And the dark eye

of my

brother

Is an arrow to my breast."

-Where summer leaves were sighing
Thus sang the Zegri maid,

While the crimson day was dying
In the whispery olive shade.

“ And for all this heart's wealth wasted,
This woe in secret borne,
This flower of young life blasted,

Should I win back aught but scorn?

By aught but daily dying

Would my lone truth be repaid?”
-Where the olive leaves were sighing,
Thus sang the Zegri maid.

III. THE RIO VERDE SONG.

[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;
Win her that weepeth

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
Back to her childhood,

Her life's fairy ground;

Pass like the whisper

Of love that is gone

Flow, Rio Verde !

Softly flow on!

Dark glassy water

So crimson'd of yore!
Love, death, and sorrow

Know thy green shore.

Thou should'st have echoes

For grief's deepest tone-
Flow, Rio Verde,

Softly flow on!

IV.-SEEK BY THE SILVERY DARRO.

SEEK by the silvery Darro,

Where jasmine flowers have blown; There hath she left no footsteps?

Seek where our lady's image
Smiles o'er the pine-hung steep;
Hear ye not there her vespers?
-Weep for the parted, weep!

Seek in the porch where vine-leaves
O'ershade her father's head?
-Are his grey hairs left lonely?
-Weep! her bright soul is fled.

V.-SPANISH EVENING HYMN.

AVE! now

let prayer and music

Meet in love on earth and sea! Now, sweet Mother! may the weary Turn from this cold world to thee!

From the wide and restless waters
Hear the sailor's hymn arise?