FROM THE SPANISH OF PEDRO DE CASTRO Y AÑAYA. STAY, rivulet, nor haste to leave The lovely vale that lies around thee. Why wouldst thou be a sea at eve, When but a fount the morning found thee? Born when the skies began to glow, Humblest of all the rock's cold daughters, No blossom bowed its stalk to show Now on thy stream the noonbeams look, Its crystal from the clearest brook, Its rushing current from the swiftést. Ah! what wild haste!-and all to be To that vast grave with quicker motion. Y Far better 'twere to linger still In this green vale, these flowers to cherish, And die in peace, an aged rill, Than thus, a youthful Danube, perish. SONNET. FROM THE PORTUGUESE OF SEMEDO. Ir is a fearful night; a feeble glare Streams from the sick moon in the o'erclouded sky; The ridgy billows, with a mighty cry, Rush on the foamy beaches wild and bare; No bark the madness of the waves will dare; The sailors sleep; the winds are loud and high; Ah, peerless Laura! for whose love I die, To my poor bark she sprang with footstep light, I never saw so beautiful a night. SONG. FROM THE SPANISH OF IGLESIAS. ALEXIS calls me cruel; The rifted crags that hold The gathered ice of winter, He says, are not more cold. When even the very blossoms Around the fountain's brim, And forest walks, can witness The love I bear to him. I would that I could utter Nor wrong my virgin fame. Alas! to seize the moment When heart inclines to heart, And press a suit with passion, Is not a woman's part. |