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The sun is high, the day wears late ;
We proceed to close the brief meWhat change since morn hath o'er me moir of Sá de Miranda. He enjoyed, pass'd!
in his literary retirement, many years Ah! what shall be my future fate?
of true happiness; though he achieved Blest, if my lot with his be cast.
no brilliant success in the paths of
wealth or ambition, in which alone so Why have I risk'd, poor foolish maid !
many conceive felicity to exist. But Such words to breathe, such form to see If thus he charms in slumber laid,
he possessed what he preferred-indeWhat sball his waking beauty be!
pendence, a rural home, and domestic Why came I here? far, far away
love. Yet what man shall go to his Would I had fled, or clos'd my eyes ! rest without tasting the cup of sorrow? Too late I think how sages say,
that cup which, if received with a right “ 'Tis in beginnings danger lies."
feeling, is, though bitter, medicinal to
the spirit. The time at length came, The little Italian ballad—“Sul mar. when it should be drank in the pleagine d' un rio" — that lay so long on sant retreat of Tapada. the pianos of the musical world an es. Since the expulsion of the Moors tablished favourite, seems to have been from Portugal, the Portuguese had taken from the above (changing the carried the war against that people sleeper, however, from a shepherd to into Africa, and fought them on their a nymph). The refrain of the ballad
own ground, in frequently-recurring (" Ahi! se quanto a me piace
contests, partly inspired by their re. La tara sua belta ;
ligious zeal against Mahometanism, Io perdero la pace
and partly by their political interest; Quando si svegliara,")
fully alive to the importance of pos18 nearly identical with the lines sessing ports and territories along the above
southern shores of the Mediterranean. « If thus he charme in slumber laid.
The Portuguese troops - then brave What shall bis waking beauty be ?"
and well-trained soldiers - contended We give a Villancico (i.e., a Spanish
nobly with the disadvantages under popular song), in which Sá de Miranda
which they necessarily laboured in the has described with nature, simplicity,
country of a powerful, determined, and and feeling, the sorrow of a Spanish
valiant enemy; but their brilliant sucgirl deserted by her Gallician lover.
cesses were checquered by reverses. The Gallicians are the water-carriers,
In a great battle before Ceuta, in porters, bullock-drivers, and general
April, 1553, a vast slaughter was made fags of the peninsula ; a laborious but
of the Portuguese forces; and one of erratic tribe :
their most gallant leaders, Don Anto.
nio de Noronha, son of the Count de VILLANCICO.
Linhares, lost his life, in the flower of FROM THE SPANISH.
his age. His death is the subject of an
eclogue by Camoens, entitled, “UmGallician! fickle rover!
brano and Frondelio," in which he is Ah! wherefore art thou flown ?
lamented, with patriotic grief, under Thou'st left me, faithless lover, Forlorn and all alone.
the name of Tionio. But to Sá de
Miranda the battle of Ceuta brought I go, I know not whither ;
a heavier affliction than merely that of In search of thee I.fly.
a patriot. Among the slain was his Vainly I call thee hither
eldest son, Gonzalo Mendes de Sá, 'Tis but the rocks reply.
who fell in the bloom of his youth, to I've wept, ah me, poor maiden !
the deep sorrow of his parents. His Till I no more can sce;
father, however, imbued with the en. Weary and sorrow-laden
thusiasm of the times, found consola. 'Tis cruel sport to thee.
tion in considering his son a Christian
martyr, as he had died fighting against Rude wastes I wander over
infidels; and he gave vent to his feel. I sigh, lament, and pine;
ings in an elegy on the memory of his But, with Gallician lover, Could better fate be mine?
soldier-son; an extract from which we Mine eyes with water streaming,
translate, but using the common Eng. Fire in my breast and brain ;
lish elegiac measure, as more conge. Eyes! heart! with anguish teeming! nial to the English ear than the tercets Can ye have peace again ?
in which the original is written. The
terza rima is universally admitted to be difficult of management in our lan guage; and the attempts hitherto made
to naturalise it have not been very successful.
EXTRACT FROM THE PORTUGUESE ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF GONZALO DE SA.
Lamb, that before the Lamb's high throne hast sped,
Bathed in thine own young blood, how willingly
Would I were now associate with thee.
Spake Paul, in whom Faith's beacon we behold:
Mondego, Tagus, with his sands of gold,
To meet and mingle with the ocean's tide.
"I came, saw, conquered." Truly mayest thou chide
Thy hand; for now in safety dost thou dwell.
Thou leay'st behind, dark as in prison cell,
For all is consolation, all is rest.
Bearing like thee th' acceptance of the blest.
Minister of the Council to King Sebas. tians (son of Prince John, who had predeceased his father, John III.) On the tomb was engraved a Latin epi. taph, the sense of which we give in the following paraphrase :
The wounded heart of the affection ate mother was not to be solaced by song for the untimely death of her son. Donna Briolanja drooped in a gradual decline, and died in 1555, having sur vived her child but two years, and with her died all the energies of her devotedly-attached husband. On the death of his gentle, loving, and intellectual companion, he lost all pleasure in every thing that had pleased before. He gave up his rural occupations and exercises, never left his house but to attend public worship, suffered his beard to grow, neglected his dress and person, secluded himself from his friends, and abandoned all his former pursuits, even his favourite poetry. One sonnett he consecrated to his wife's memory. It was his last effu. sion: he wrote no more. After three years of profound and listless melancholy, during which he merely existed rather than lived, the poet expired, on the 15th March, 1558, and was buried in a chapel dedicated to St. Margaret, within the Church of St. Martin of Canazedo, in the archdiocese of Braga; where a handsome tomb was erected over him by order of Martin Gonzales,
With skill divine could blend the gay, the
Many poets of the Peninsula have celebrated Sa de Miranda in verse, commemorating not only his poetic talents, but also his amiable disposition, bis spirit of independence, and his love of rural life. And Lope de Vega, the
• See 2 Cor. xii. 14. The allusion is obscure, but the poet means that in the course of of nature parents expect their children to survive them.
† Obscure; but he means that his son need no longer keep his hand closed on a weapon of war.
We have not been able to procure more than the first four lines of this sonnet. $ Sebastian ascended the throne in 1857, nine months before the death of Sá de Miranda.
poet of a rival nation, honoured him as à Spanish bard (on account of his Spanish eclogues), in his " Laurel of Apollo," wherein the Castilian votaries of the muses are represented as candi. dates for a laurel wreath, to be be stowed by the God of Song. This 5. Laurel of Apollo" is, however, but an indifferent production, heavy and prolix; and if on it alone its author's fame depended, it would never have advanced his claim to the laureate crown.
Considering that the talents of Sá de Miranda were neither sublime nor brilliantly original, he seems to have
received proportionably more honours than many men of higher genius: but he was regarded as an improver and a reformer at a time when Portuguese and Spanish poetry were but emerging from their infancy, and when there were none to rank before or even beside him. Besides, the worthiness of his character as a man greatly enhanced the esteem in which he was held as a poet.
Sá de Miranda's second son, Jero. nymo de Sa de Azevedo," married Donna Maria de Menezes, of a noble family, and carried on the line of De Sá.
M. E. M.
THE COW HUNT.
A TALE OF FORMER TIMES IN IRELAND,
"Though wintry waves and stormy sen
May sever me for aye from thee." Such were the concluding lines of a short poem which I wrote in an album, where I have reason to believe it is still regarded with some admiration, which it shares in common with four teen “ Forget thee! No – first shall this heart;" and five bearing reference to India's burning shore, all written by young officers under the same circumstances as myself. I chose the above, not that I was going to make a long voyage, but because I thought it poetical and novel,
I was ordered to join my regiment in Ireland. I know that she for whom I wrote the lines thought me a martyr ; and I packed my portmanteau with the feelings of Quintus Curtius, feeling at the same time that, unlike him, my departure would leave blank a chasm in more than one circle.
I was prepared for the worst, but like a philosopher, made the best arrangements in my power — viz., four boxes of full-flavored Havannah cigars; six volumes of Bulwer's novels; two of Byron; a small wiry-haired terrier dog. With these, an army-list, and a good deal of sleep, I calculated on being able to pass the time. A friend who had been reading Cooke's Voyages, recommended me to bring some glass beads and cheap cutlery to pacify the
natives in the more remote districts, but I rejected this, as it seemed pusillanimous.
To one fond of snipe-shooting, few places offer a more eligible retreat than the village of Kilmaskulla, to which I was ordered with a captain and a company of soldiers. For miles round, the country presented a wide expanse of rich bog, diversified with cottiers' huts; and from our back-windows we might easily have bagged a brace or two, without leaving the house. Our front ones looked upon a more animated scene. Before each of the houses was a small pond, stocked with duck, heaps of potato-skins, amid which the children played with the pigs and cur-dogs, while the old grandmothers chatted at the doors, smoking short black pipes ; occasionally the stillness was broken by a pig hunt, or à dog with a kettle tied to his tail.
Our society was small and select, being limited to a Mr. Cuppage, an inspector of public works - a small sandy-haired man, with just enough chin to grow an imperial on (it has always struck me as a strange fact, that sandy-haired men should have such a fondness for imperials; and that in cavalry regiments three out of every four moustaches should be red). He had also a strong predilection for punch, and out shooting was not a very safe companion, as he once pep. pered me with small shot. As far as we could learn from him, his great object was to do as little as possible, and to run up a heavy bill at the end of the month for travelling expenses. He informed us that as it was near the end of the month, he had taken a tour of all the posts under his charge, to swell his bill, which he lamented was very small, remarking with some indignation, that it was quite impossi. ble to charge for a journey he did not take, as they kept a strict watch upon him.
* Azevedo was the surname of his mother, Donna Briolanja.
His friend Mr. Finny, who also honoured us with his society, was dis. tinguished by a seeming invulnera. bility; he had been attacked four times, and fired at three, and had come off unhurt. He was particularly useful in the present state of the country.
Almost every evening our friends dropped in after dinner, to tell us some bit of news, chiefly professional. There was no want of moderate excitement at least in our village, for the people were always firing at a payclerk, or shooting a steward, or burning down a haggard, on all of which they expatiated with a good deal of humour. Their visits were chiefly remarkable for the extreme quantity of whisky-punch consumed; but agreeable as their society was, we were not sorry when a Mr. Ormsby, who owned a place near, called on us, and invited us to dine and spend the day with
ed Cuppage in a tone of rapture, “and you'll say you never tasted punch before." He swallowed his own at a gulp, as if the recollection was too much for him, and immediately proceeded to brew a fresh one.
“So the present man is not equal to the late one?" said my brotherofficer, Captain Moore.
“He's not a bad fellow," said Mr. Cuppage, contemptuously; "he means well; but poor Dick! there were not many like him. He was president of a club he established, who called themselves the Good Samaritans,' who sat up drinking all night, and slept all day; but they are all dead now; and I think you would find it difficult to establish one like it."
He said this in a tone of extreme disgust at the degeneracy of the human race.
- Did you ever hear of him at the subscription ball at Limerick?" said be, turning to Finny.
Mr. Finny replied, that he should never forget it, but begged that it might be related for our benefit.
ři Poor Dick was seldom in the habit of attending balls; it was one of his sayings, that he could never understand why people went out at night, if they could have a snug tumbler of punch at home. But he was induced to go to this one, by hearing that the landlord gave an unlimited supply of sherry negus. The first thing he did, when he came to the ball-room, was to go to the refreshments, to satisfy himself that the report about the negus was correct ; but as the room was very full, and Dick was always modest among ladies, he did little in that way, and merely finished all the glasses within his reach, and then went to look at the dancing. He used to tell afterwards, that when first he saw the people waltzing, he remarked to a friend next him, that he thought they must have poor heads indeed, to go on in such a way, on such weak negus. After remaining a short time, and exclaiming that from what he could see, balls were the stupidest things in the world, he went to the refreshmentroom, which was now empty, and prepared to set to work seriously. The waiter had just left a large tray containing eight-and-twenty long glasses of sherry-negus, and had left the room, Dick, who was always a methodical fellow, commenced taking them by
Mr. Cuppage and Finny were also invited, and kindly offered us seats on their car, which we accepted, but in their multitudinous duties they must have forgotten to pay for it, as the bill was brought in to us some months after.
“ Poor Dick," said Mr. Cuppage, alluding to the eldest brother of Mr. Ormsby—“poor Dick, he was a plea sant fellow; he never went to bed without his thirteen tumblers — hot, strong, and sweet, was his motto—and every drop of water vou put in after the whisky spoils it! The present man is not a bad fellow," he continued in an apologetic tone, “but he never gets beyond his third."
“Nice girls though,” said Mr. Fin. ny; "only see Emily cross a country, she is a regular Die Vernon."
" Ay, but only taste a tumbler of punch made by Miss Strong," interrupt
platoons, beginning on the right hand, and finishing the first row, and then going from left to right along the second, putting each glass in its place, as he finished it. He had just finished the twenty-fifth glass, when the waiter came into the room, to lay them along the table. •Waiter,' said Dick, tell the landlord with my compliments, to put more nutmeg and sherry, and less water into his negus, or the devil ano. ther ball of his will I patronise.' With that, he finished the remaining three glasses, and left the room; and the waiter was discovered about half-an. hour afterwards, speechless with horror.”
“I remember a story they used to tell of him in Dublin," said Finny. « He belonged to the Friendly Brothers' Club in Sackville-street, and had his lodgings near for convenience; and every night at three he left the club, guiding himself, hand over hand, along the railings, until he reached his lodgings : but one night by mistake he crossed the road, and caught the railings which were then round Nelson's Pillar. On he went, round after round, thinking that he was going straight to his lodgings, and never letting go the railings. Deuce take these railingswill I never reach home?' said Dick, at the tenth round; I believe it is near the Green I am. With that he turned back, and went on, round after round, searching for the ball-door every now and then, until he was discovered by the watchman at half-past six, still holding fast by the railings."
With such pleasant stories they beguiled the evening, and it was not until the low state of the bottle be. tokened the lateness of the hour that they retired.
The next morning we set out for Loughlinstown, on an outside car, carry ing our guns loaded in our hands, as the peasantry were just then seizing arms, in the anticipation of a rebellion, or some other piece of excitement, as Mr. Finny, who was a thorough Irishman, told me.
" The fact of the matter is, it is not generally from any desire to harm you that a fellow takes a shot at you, but merely from a love of excitement;" in corroboration of which he informed me, that a friend of his, who was quite a stranger in the country, had been riding at a tremendous pace to catch a mail-car, when he was fired at. There
VOL. XLII.-NO. CCLII.
happened to be police near, and the perpetrator was taken in the act, which he did not deny. Upon being expostulated with by the gentleman for having fired at him, when he had never seen him, or known anything about him, Pat replied, scratching his head
“Begorra, yer honour, it was not my fault; but when I see ye going so fast, I couldn't for the bare life help having a slap at ye."
Indeed, as Finny himself remarked, “ take them for all in all, they were a harmless set of fellows." A few days before, he informed me, that about forty of the labourers on the public works had, with pickaxes and shovels, attacked two gentlemen returning from shooting, and taken their guns; but as we were four, with each a double-barrelled gun, we proceeded in high spirits. Our way now led through a dangerous defile, tall banks of mud rearing themselves up at either side, and a little further on we passed a body of the workmen employed to cut down a small hill. They had a gipsy appearance, most of them being employed in cooking their breakfasts; others were lying stretched at full length near the fires; while small parties were smoking their pipes and playing with greasy packs of cards, on the tops of empty beer-barrels. I passed them numerous times afterwards, and always found them cooking and playing cards, so much so that it quite astonished me to know how they found time to commit the numerous attacks on the pay-clerks.
They seemed to have an innate knowledge that our guns were loaded, as they only gave us a lazy stare, and resumed their occupations. Just as we came in sight of Loughlinstown we had to turn down a by-road, as the highway here became impassable, and after two miles round again reached the gate. It was at that time more ornamental than useful, as the hill had been cut away below it, and the piers were left standing about ten feet above the road. Mr. Cuppage said, that it was one comfort for Mr. Ormsby that he was not worse off than Mr. O'Farrell, whose gate stood in a hollow which had been filled up to a level with the two phenixes which or. namented the top of it. We were received most hospitably by Mr. Ormsby, or “Jack," as Cuppage used to call him, but not to his face, and intro