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And ever since that martial synod met,
By foes in fight o'erthrown, yet victors here, Where Scorn herfinger points through many a coming
So deem'd the Childe, as o'er the mountains he
His early youth, misspent in maddest whim;
Thus unto Heaven appeal'd the people: Heaven,
Yet knaves, not idiots, should the law condemn;
* By this query it is not meant that our foolish generals should have been shot, but that Byng might have been spared, though the one suffered and the others escaped, probably for Candide's reason, "pour encourager les autres." [See Croker's “ Boswell,” vol. i. p. 298; and the Quarterly Review, vol xxvii. p. 207., where the question, whether the admiral was or was not a political martyr, is treated at large. - E.]
To horse! to horse! (1) he quits, for ever quits
Ere toil his thirst for travel can assuage,
Yet Mafra shall one moment claim delay,
That men forget the blood which she hath spilt, And bow the knee to Pomp that loves to varnish guilt.
(1) [“ After remaining ten days in Lisbon, we sent our baggage and part of our servants by sea to Gibraltar, and travelled on horseback to Seville; a distance of nearly four hundred miles. The horses are excellent : we rode seventy miles a-day. Eggs and wine, and hard beds, are all the ac. commodation we found, and, in such torrid weather, quite enough.” B. Letters, 1809. -E]
(2) “Her luckless Majesty went subsequently mad; and Dr. Willis, who so dexterously cudgelled kingly pericraniums, could make nothing of hers.”- Byron MS. [The Queen laboured under a melancholy kind of derangement, from which she never recovered. She died at the Brazils, in 1816. – E.]
(3) The extent of Mafra is prodigious: it contains a palace, convent, and most superb church. The six organs are the most beautiful I ever beheld, in point of decoration : we did not hear them, but were told that their tones were correspondent to their splendour. Mafra is termed the Escurial of Portugal[" About ten miles to the right of Cintra,” says Lord Byron,
O'er vales that teem with fruits, romantic hills, (Oh, that such hills upheld a freeborn race !) Whereon to gaze
with joyaunce fills, Childe Haroldwends through many a pleasant place. Though sluggards deem it but a foolish chase, And marvel men should quit their easy chair, The toilsome way, and long, long league to trace,
Oh! there is sweetness in the mountain air, And life, that bloated Ease can never hope to share.
More bleak to view the hills at length recede,
For Spain is compass’d by unyielding foes, And all must shield their all, or share Subjection's
in a letter to his mother, " is the palace of Mafra, the boast of Portugal, as it might be of any country, in point of magnificence, without elegance. There is a convent annexed : the monks, who possess large revenues, are courteous enough, and understand Latin ; so that we had a long convers. ation. They have a large library, and asked me if the English had any books in their country.” — Mafra was erected by John V., in pursuance of a vow, made in a dangerous fit of illness, to rund a convent for the use of the poorest friary in the kingdom. Upon inquiry, this poorest was found at Mafra; where twelve Franciscans lived together in a hut. There is a magnificent view of the existing edifice in “Finden's Illustrations.” – E.]
Where Lusitania and her Sister meet,
of nations greet,
Ne horrid crags, nor mountains dark and tall, Rise like the rocks that part Hispania's land from
But these between a silver streamlet glides,
Well doth the Spanish hind the difference know 'Twixt him and Lusian slave, the lowest of the
(1) “ Well doth the Spanish hind the difference know
'Twixt him and Lusian slave, the lowest of the low.” As I found the Portuguese, so I have characterised them. That they are since improved, at least in courage, is evident. The late exploits of Lord Wellington have effaced the follies of Cintra. He has, indeed, done wonders : he has, perhaps, changed the character of a nation, reconciled rival superstitions, and baffled an enemy who never retreated betore his predecessors. — 1812.
But ere the mingling bounds have far been pass'd,
strong; * The Paynim turban and the Christian crest Mix'd on the bleeding stream, by floating hosts op
Oh, lovely Spain! renown'd, romantic land! Where is that standard which Pelagio bore, When Cava's traitor-sire first call'd the band That dyed thy mountain streams with Gothic
gore? (2) Where are those bloody banners which of yore Waved o'er thy sons, victorious to the gale, And drove at last the spoilers to their shore?
Red gleam'd the cross, andwaned the crescent pale, While Afric's echoes thrill’d with Moorish matrons'
(1) [Lord Byron seems to have thus early acquired enough of Spanish to understand and appreciate the grand body of ancient popular poetry, unequalled in Europe, which must ever form the pride of that magnifcent language. His beautiful version of one of the best of the ballads of the Granada war - the “ Romance muy doloroso del sitio y toma de Alhama" - will be found in a subsequent volume. - E.]
(2) Count Julian's daughter, the Helen of Spain. Pelagius preserved his independence in the fastnesses of the Asturias, and the descendants of his followers, after some centuries, completed their struggle by the con. quest of Grenada. -[“ Almost all the Spanish historians, as well as the voice of tradition, ascribe the invasion of the Moors to the forcible viola.