"My spouse and boys dwell near thy hall, And when they on their father call, What answer shall she make? "For who would trust the seeming sighs Fresh feres will dry the bright blue eyes My greatest grief is that I leave "And now I'm in the world alone, But why should I for others groan, But long ere I come back again "With thee, my bark, I'll swiftly go Nor care what land thou bear'st me to, Welcome, welcome, ye dark blue waves! XIV. On, on the vessel flies, the land is gone, His fabled golden tribute bent to pay; And soon on board the Lusian pilots leap, And steer 'twixt fertile shores where yet few rustics reap. XV. Oh, Christ! it is a goodly sight to see What Heaven hath done for this delicious land! What goodly prospects o'er the hills expand! But man would mar them with an impious hand: Gaul's locust host, and earth from fellest foemen purge. XVI. What beauties doth Lisboa first unfold! A nation swollen with ignorance and pride XVII. But whoso entereth within this town, Ne personage of high or mean degree Doth care for cleanness of surtout or shirt, Though shent with Egypt's plague, unkempt, unwash'd; unhurt. XVIII. Poor, paltry slaves! yet born 'midst noblest scenes Why, Nature, waste thy wonders on such men? Lo! Cintra's glorious Eden intervenes In variegated maze of mount and glen. Ah, me! what hand can pencil guide, or pen, To follow half on which the eye dilates Through views more dazzling unto mortal ken ΧΙΧ. The horrid crags, by toppling convent crown'd, The orange tints that gild the greenest bough, The vine on high, the willow branch below, Mix'd in one mighty scene, with varied beauty glow. XX. Then slowly climb the many-winding way, And rest ye at "Our Lady's House of Woe;" The convent of "Our Lady of Punishment," Nossa Senora de Pena, on the summit of the rock. Below, at some distance, is the Cork Convent, where St Honorius dug his den, over which is his epitaph. From the hills, the sea adds to the beauty of the view. And sundry legends to the stranger tell: XXI. And here and there, as up the crags you spring, XXII. On sloping mounds, or in the vale beneath, Are domes where whilome kings did make repair: There thou, too, Vathek! England's wealthiest son, When wanton Wealth her mightiest deeds hath done, XXIII. Here didst thou dwell, here schemes of pleasure plan, But now, as if a thing unblest by Man, XXIV. Behold the hall where chiefs were late convened! + Oh! dome displeasing unto British eye! A little fiend that scoffs incessantly, * It is a well known fact, that in the year 1809, the assassinations in the streets of Lisbon and its vicinity were not confined by the Portuguese to their countrymen, but that Englishmen were daily butchered; and so far from redress being obtained, we were requested not to interfere if we perceived any compatriot defending himself against his allies. I was once stopped in the way to the theatre at eight o'clock in the evening, when the streets were not more empty than they generally are at that hour, opposite to an open shop, and in a carriage with a friend: had we not fortunately been armed, I have not the least doubt that we should have "adorned a tale" instead of telling one. The crime of assassination is not confined to Portugal: in Sicily and Malta we are knocked on the head at a handsome average nightly, and not a Sicilian or Maltese is ever punished! The Convention of Cintra was signed in the palace of the Marchese Marialva. |