ADOSINDA'S REVENGE.

Hov'ring and waving; part in fleecy folds,
A canopy of silver, light condens'd

To shape and substance. In the midst there stood
A female form, one hand upon the Cross,
The other rais'd in menacing act.

Below

Loose flow'd her raiment, but her breast was arm'd,
And helmeted her head. The Moor turn'd pale,
For on the walls of Auria he had seen

That well-known figure, and had well believ'd
She rested with the dead.

6

What, hoa!' she cried,

Alcahman! In the name of all who fell

At Auria in the massacre, this hour

I summon thee before the throne of God,

To answer for the innocent blood! This hour!
Moor, Miscreant, Murderer, Child of Hell! this hour
I summon thee to judgment. . . . In the name
Of God! for Spain and Vengeance.'

From voice to voice on either side it past
With rapid repetition, . . ' In the name

Of God! for Spain and Vengeance!' and forthwith
On either side, along the whole defile,

The Asturians shouting, in the name of God,

Set the whole ruin loose; huge trunks and stones,
And loosen'd crags! Down, down they roll'd with rush,
And bound, and thund'ring force. Such was the fall

As when some city by the labouring earth

Heav'd from its strong foundations is cast down,
And all its dwellings, towers, and palaces,
In one wide desolation prostrated.

From end to end of that long strait, the crash

Was heard continuous, and commixt with sounds
More dreadful, shrieks of horror and despair,
And death, the wild and agonising cry

Of that whole host, in one destruction whelm'd.".

429

p. 298, 299. The Twenty-fourth Book is full of tragical matter, and is perhaps the most interesting of the whole piece. A Moor, on the instigation of Orpas and Abulcacem, pierces Julian with a mortal wound; who thereupon exhorts his captains, already disgusted with the jealous tyranny of the Infidel, to rejoin the standard and the faith of their country; and then requests to be borne into a neighbouring church, where Florinda has been praying for his conversion.

They rais'd him from the earth;
He, knitting as they lifted him his brow,
Drew in through open lips and teeth firm-clos'd
His painful breath, and on his lance laid hand,
Lest its long shaft should shake the mortal wound.

430

SOUTHEY'S RODERICK-DEATH OF JULIAN.

Gently his men with slow and steady step

Their suff'ring burthen bore; and in the Church,
Before the altar, laid him down, his head

Upon Florinda's knees."-p. 307, 308.

He then, on the solemn adjuration of Roderick, renounces the bloody faith to which he had so long adhered; and reverently receives at his hand the sacra ment of reconciliation and peace. There is great feeling and energy we think in what follows:

Count Julian with amazement saw the Priest
Kneel down before him. By the sacrament,
Which we have here partaken!' Roderick cried,
In this most awful moment. By that hope,.
That holy faith which comforts thee in death,
Grant thy forgiveness, Julian, ere thou diest!
Behold the man who most hath injur'd thee!
Roderick! the wretched Goth, the guilty cause
Of all thy guilt, . . the unworthy instrument
Of thy redemption, . . kneels before thee here,
And prays to be forgiven!'

'Roderick!' exclaim'd
The dying Count, . . Roderick!' . . and from the floor,
With violent effort, half he rais'd himself;

The spear hung heavy in his side; and pain
And weakness overcame him, that he fell

Back on his daughter's lap. O Death,' cried he,..
Passing his hand across his cold damp brow, ..

Thou tamest the strong limb, and conquerest
The stubborn heart! But yesterday I said
One Heaven could not contain mine enemy
And me; and now I lift my dying voice
To say, Forgive me, Lord! as I forgive

Him who hath done the wrong!'.. He clos'd his eyes

A moment; then with sudden impulse cried, . .

Rodrick, thy wife is dead!—the Church hath power

To free thee from thy vows! The broken heart

Might yet be heal'd, the wrong redress'd, the throne
Rebuilt by that same hand which pull'd it down!
And these curst Africans . . . Oh for a month

Of that waste life which millions misbestow!..'”—p. 311, 312. Returning weakness then admonishes him, however, of the near approach of death; and he begs the friendly hand of Roderick to cut short his pangs, by drawing forth the weapon which clogs the wound in his side. He then gives him his hand in kindness - blesses and

LAST OF HIS BATTLES.

431

kisses his heroic daughter, and expires. The concluding lines are full of force and tenderness.

"When from her father's body she arose,

Her cheek was flush'd, and in her eyes there beam'd
A wilder brightness. On the Goth she gaz'd!
While underneath the emotions of that hour
Exhausted life gave way! O God!' she said,
Lifting her hands,' thou hast restor'd me all, .
All.. in one hour!'... and round his neck she threw
Her arms and cried, My Roderick! mine in Heaven!'
Groaning, he claspt her close! and in that act

And agony her happy spirit fled!"-p. 313.

The Last Book describes the recognition and exploits of Roderick in the last of his battles. After the revolt of Julian's army, Orpas, by whose counsels it had been chiefly occasioned, is sent forward by the Moorish leader, to try to win them back; and advances in front of the line, demanding a parley, mounted on the beautiful Orelio, the famous war horse of Roderick, who, roused at that sight, obtains leave from Pelayo to give the renegade his answer; and after pouring out upon him some words of abuse and scorn, seizes the reins of his trusty steed; and

Orelio! old companion,.. my good horse!..

Off with this recreant burthen!'... And with that
He rais'd his hand, and rear'd, and back'd the steed,
To that remember'd voice and arm of power
Obedient. Down the helpless traitor fell,
Violently thrown and Roderick over him
Thrice led, with just and unrelenting hand,
The trampling hoofs. Go, join Witiza now,
Where he lies howling,' the avenger cried,

'And tell him Roderick sent thee!'"- p. 318, 319.

He then vaults upon the noble horse; and fitting Count Julian's sword to his grasp, rushes in the van of the Christian army into the thick array of the Infidel,

where, unarmed as he is, and clothed in his penitential robes of waving black, he scatters death and terror around him, and cuts his way clean through the whole host of his opponents. He there descries the army of Pelayo advancing to co-operate; and as he rides up to them

with his wonted royal air and gesture, and on his wellknown steed of royalty, both the King and Siverian are instantaneously struck with the apparition; and marvel that the weeds of penitence should so long have concealed their sovereign. Roderick, unconscious of this recognition, briefly informs them of what has befallen, and requests the honourable rights of Christian sepulture for the unfortunate Julian and his daughter.

་

Pelayo answer'd, looking wistfully

Upon the Goth, 'thy pleasure shall be done!'
Then Rod'rick saw that he was known - and turn'd

His head away in silence. But the old man

Laid hold upon his bridle, and look'd up

In his master's face

weeping and silently! Thereat the Goth with fervent pressure took

His hand, and bending down toward him, said,

'My good Siverian, go not thou this day

To war! I charge thee keep thyself from harm!

Thou art past the age for combats; and with whom
Hereafter should thy mistress talk of me,

If thou wert gone?'"

- p. 339.

He then borrows the defensive armour of this faithful servant; and taking a touching and affectionate leave of him, vaults again on the back of Orelio; and placing himself without explanation in the van of the army, leads them on to the instant assault. The renegade leaders fall on all sides beneath his resistless blows.

"And in the heat of fight

Rejoicing and forgetful of all else,

Set up his cry, as he was wont in youth,

RODRICK THE GOTH!' . . . his war-cry, known so well!

Pelayo eagerly took up the word,

And shouted out his kinsman's name belov'd,

'Rodrick the Goth! Rod rick and Victory!

Rodrick and Vengeance!' Odoar gave it forth ;

Urban repeated it; and through his ranks
Count Pedro sent the cry. Not from the field

Of his great victory, when Witiza fell,

With louder acclamations had that name
Been borne abroad upon the winds of heaven."

O'er the field it spread,

All hearts and tongues uniting in the cry;

THE CONCLUSION.

Mountains, and rocks, and vales, re-echo'd round;

And he rejoicing in his strength rode on,

Laying on the Moors with that good sword; and smote,
And overthrew, and scatter'd, and destroy'd,

And trampled down! and still at every blow

Exultingly he sent the war-cry forth,

Rodrick the Goth! Rod'rick and Victory!
Rodrick and Vengeance!

- p. 334, 335.

433

The carnage at length is over, and the field is won! but where is he to whose name and example the victory is owing?

Of Sella was Orelio found; his legs

And flanks incarnadin'd, his poitral smear'd
With froth, and foam, and gore, his silver mane
Sprinkled with blood, which hung on every hair,
Aspers'd like dew-drops: trembling there he stood
From the toil of battle; and at times sent forth
His tremulous voice far-echoing loud and shrill;
A frequent anxious cry, with which he seem'd
To call the master whom he lov'd so well,
And who had thus again forsaken him.
Siverian's helm and cuirass on the grass
Lay near; and Julian's sword, its hilt and chain
Clotted with blood! But where was he whose hand
Had wielded it so well that glorious day? . . .
Days, months, and years, and generations pass'd,
And centuries held their course, before, far off
Within a hermitage near Viseu's walls,

A humble Tomb was found, which bore inscrib'd

In ancient characters, King Rod'rick's name!" p, 339, 340.

These copious extracts must have settled our readers' opinion of this poem; and though they are certainly taken from the better parts of it, we have no wish to disturb the forcible impression which they must have been the means of producing. Its chief fault undoubtedly is the monotony of its tragic and solemn tonethe perpetual gloom with which all its scenes are overcast and the tediousness with which some of them are developed. There are many dull passages, in short, and a considerable quantity of heavy reading some silliness, and a good deal of affectation. But the beauties, upon the whole, preponderate; and these, we hope,