The merciless misbelievers, and lay down
His life, a willing martyr. So he staid
When all were gone, and duly fed the lamps,
And kept devotedly the altar drest,
And duly offer'd up the sacrifice.

Four days and nights he thus had pass'd alone,
In such high mood of saintly fortitude,
That hope of Heaven became a heavenly joy;
And now at evening to the gate he went
If he might spy the Moors,.. for it seem'd long
To tarry for his crown.

Before the Cross

Roderick had thrown himself; his body raised,
Half kneeling, half at length he lay; his arms
Embraced its foot, and from his lifted face

Tears streaming down bedew'd the senseless stone.
He had not wept till now, and at the gush
Of these first tears, it seem'd as if his heart,
From a long winter's icy thrall let loose,
Had open'd to the genial influences
Of Heaven. In attitude, but not in act
Of prayer he lay; an agony of tears
Was all his soul could offer. When the Monk
Beheld him suffering thus, he raised him up,
And took him by the arm, and led him in;
And there before the altar, in the name

the miracle. The diabolical stag is flying down the precipice, and looking back with a wicked turn of the head, in hopes of seeing Dom Fuas follow him; the horse is rearing up with his hind feet upon the brink of the precipice; the knight has dropt his hunting-spear, his cocked hat is falling behind him, and an exclamation to the Virgin is coming out of his mouth. The Virgin with a crown upon her head, and the Babe with a crown upon his, at her breast, appear in the sky amidst clouds of glory. "N. S. de Nazaré," is written above this precious print, and this more precious information below it," O. Emo. Sur. Cardeal Patriarcha concede 50 dias de Indulga, a qm. rezar huma have Ma. diante desta Image." (His Eminency the Cardinal Patriarch grants fifty days indulgence to whosoever shall say an Ave-Maria before this Image.) The print is included, and plenty of Ave-Marias are said before it in full faith, for this "Nossa Senhora de Nazaré" is in high vogue. Before the French invasion, this famous Image used annually to be escorted by the Court to Cape Espichel. In 1796 I happened to be upon the Tagus at the time of her embarkation at Belem. She was carried in a sort of sedanchair, of which the fashion resembled that of the Lord Mayor's coach; a processional gun-boat preceded the Image and the Court, and I was literally caught in a shower of rockets, if any of which had fallen upon the heretical heads of me and my companion, it would not improbably have been considered as a new miracle, wrought by the wonder-working Senhora.

In July, 1808, the French, under General Thomières, robbed this church of Our Lady of Nazareth; their booty, in jewels and plate, was estimated at more than 200,000 cruzados. Jose Accursio das Neves, the Portugueze historian of those disastrous times, expresses his surprise that no means should have been taken by those who had the care of these treasures, for securing them in time. Care, however, seems to have been taken of the Great Diana of the Temple, for though it is stated that they destroyed or injured several images, no mention is made of any insult or damage having been offered to this. They sacked the town and set fire to it, but it escaped with the loss of only thirteen or fourteen houses; the suburb or village, on the beach, was less fortunate: there only four houses of more than 300 remained unconsumed, and all the boats and fishing nets were destroyed. — Historia da Invasam, &c., t. iv. p. 85.

Of Him whose bleeding image there was hung,
Spake comfort, and adjured him in that name
There to lay down the burthen of his sins.
Lo! said Romano, I am waiting here
The coming of the Moors, that from their hands
My spirit may receive the purple robe

Of martyrdom, and rise to claim its crown.
That God who willeth not the sinner's death
Hath led thee hither. Threescore years and five,
Even from the hour when I, a five-years' child,
Enter'd the schools, have I continued here
And served the altar: not in all those years
Hath such a contrite and a broken heart
Appear'd before me. O my brother, Heaven
Hath sent thee for thy comfort, and for mine,
That my last earthly act may reconcile
A sinner to his God.

Then Roderick knelt

Before the holy man, and strove to speak.

Thou seest, he cried,.. thou seest,.. but memory
And suffocating thoughts repress'd the word,
And shudderings like an ague fit, from head
To foot convulsed him; till at length, subduing
His nature to the effort, he exclaim'd,
Spreading his hands and lifting up his face,1
As if resolved in penitence to bear

1 My friend Walter Scott's Vision of Don Roderick supplies a singular contrast to the picture which is represented in this passage. I have great pleasure in quoting the stanzas: if the contrast had been intentional, it could not have been more complete.

"But, far within, Toledo's Prelate lent

An ear of fearful wonder to the King; The silver lamp a fitful lustre sent,

So long that sad confession witnessing:
For Roderick told of many a hidden thing,
Such as are lothly utter'd to the air,

When Fear, Remorse, and Shame, the bosom wring
And Guilt his secret burthen cannot bear,
And Conscience seeks in speech a respite from Despair.

"Full on the Prelate's face, and silver hair,

The stream of failing light was feebly roll'd; But Roderick's visage, though his head was bare, Was shadow'd by his hand and mantle's fold, While of his hidden soul the sins he told,

Proud Alaric's descendant could not brook, That mortal man his bearing should behold,

Or boast that he had seen, when conscience shook, Fear tame a monarch's brow, remorse a warrior's look.”

This part of the story is thus nakedly stated by Dr. Andre da Sylva Mascarenhas, in a long narrative poem with this title, A destruiçam de Espanha, Restauraçam Summaria de

mesma.

"Achouse o pobre Rey em Cauliniana Mosteiro junto ao rio Guadiana.

"Eram os frades fugidos do Mosteiro

Com receos dos Barbaros malvados, De bruços esteve el Rey hum dia inteiro Na Igreja, chorando seus peccados: Hum Monge veo alli por derradeiro

A conhecer quem era, ouvindo os brados Que o disfarçado Rey aos ares dava, Este Monge Romano se chamava.

A human eye upon his shame,.. Thou seest
Roderick the Goth! That name would have sufficed
To tell its whole abhorred history:

He not the less pursued,.. the ravisher,
The cause of all this ruin! Having said,
In the same posture motionless he knelt,

Arms straighten'd down, and hands outspread, and

eyes

Raised to the Monk, like one who from his voice
Awaited life or death.

All night the old man
Pray'd with his penitent, and minister'd
Unto the wounded soul, till he infused
A healing hope of mercy that allay'd
Its heat of anguish. But Romano saw
What strong temptations of despair beset,
And how he needed in this second birth,
Even like a yearling child, a fosterer's care.
Father in Heaven, he cried, thy will be done!
Surely I hoped that I this day should sing
Hosannahs at thy throne; but thou hast yet
Work for thy servant here. He girt his loins,
And from her altar took with reverent hands
Our Lady's image down: In this, quoth he,
We have our guide and guard and comforter,
The best provision for our perilous way.
Fear not but we shall find a resting-place,
The Almighty's hand is on us.

They went forth,
They cross'd the stream, and when Romano turn'd
For his last look toward the Caulian towers,
Far off the Moorish standards in the light
Of morn were glittering, where the miscreant host
Toward the Lusitanian capital

To lay their siege advanced; the eastern breeze
Bore to the fearful travellers far away

The sound of horn and tambour o'er the plain.
All day they hasten'd, and when evening fell
Sped toward the setting sun, as if its line

Of glory came from Heaven to point their course.
But feeble were the feet of that old man

For such a weary length of way; and now
Being pass'd the danger (for in Merida
Sacaru long in resolute defence
Withstood the tide of war,) with easier pace
The wanderers journey'd on; till having cross'd
Rich Tagus, and the rapid Zezere,
They from Albardos' hoary height beheld
Pine-forest, fruitful vale, and that fair lake
Where Alcoa, mingled there with Baza's stream,
Rests on its passage to the western sea,
That sea the aim and boundary of their toil.

The fourth week of their painful pilgrimage 1
Was full, when they arrived where from the land
A rocky hill, rising with steep ascent,
O'erhung the glittering beach; there on the top
A little lowly hermitage they found,
And a rude Cross, and at its foot a grave,
Bearing no name, nor other monument.
Where better could they rest than here, where faith
And secret penitence and happiest death

Had bless'd the spot, and brought good Angels down,
And open'd as it were a way to Heaven?
Behind them was the desert, offering fruit
And water for their need: on either side

The white sand sparkling to the sun; in front,
Great Ocean with its everlasting voice,

As in perpetual jubilee proclaim'd

The wonders of the Almighty, filling thus

The pauses of their fervent orisons.

Where better could the wanderers rest than here?

II.

RODERICK IN SOLITUDE

TWELVE months they sojourn'd in their solitude,
And then beneath the burthen of old age
Romano sunk. No brethren were there here
To spread the sackcloth, and with ashes strew
That penitential bed, and gather round
To sing his requiem, and with prayer and psalm
Assist him in his hour of agony.

He lay on the bare earth, which long had been
His only couch; beside him Roderick knelt,
Moisten'd from time to time his blacken'd lips,
Received a blessing with his latest breath,
Then closed his eyes, and by the nameless grave
Of the fore-tenant of that holy place
Consign'd him earth to earth.

Two graves are here,
And Roderick transverse at their feet began
To break the third. In all his intervals
Of prayer, save only when he search'd the woods
And fill'd the water-cruise, he labour'd there;
And when the work was done and he had laid
Himself at length within its narrow sides
And measured it, he shook his head to think
There was no other business now for him.
Poor wretch, thy bed is ready, he exclaim'd,
And would that night were come!.. It was a task,
All gloomy as it was, which had beguiled
The sense of solitude; but now he felt
The burthen of the solitary hours:

"Perguntoulhe quem era, e donde vinha,
Por ver no pobre traje gram portento;
El Rey lhe respondeo como convinha
Sem declarar seu posto, ou seu intento;
Pediulhe confissam, e o Monge asinha
Lha concedeo e o Santo Sacramento
Era força que el Rey na confissam

Lhe declarasse o posto e a tencam.

"Como entendeo o bom Religioso

Que aquelle era seu Rey que por estranhas

Terras andava roto e lacrimoso,

Mil ays tirou das intimas entranhas:

Lançouselhe aos pes, e com piedoso
Affecto o induziu e varias manhas,
O quizesse tambem levar consigo
Por socio no desterro e no perigo." - P. 278.

1 "Dias vinte e sete na passagem

Gastaram, desviandosse do humano
Trato, e maos encontros que este mundo
Tras sempre a quem busca o bem profundo."
Destruiçam de Espanha, p. 279.

Tt

The silence of that lonely hermitage
Lay on him like a spell; and at the voice
Of his own prayers, he started half aghast.
Then too as on Romano's grave he sate
And pored upon his own, a natural thought
Arose within him,.. well might he have spared
That useless toil; the sepulchre would be
No hiding place for him; no Christian hands
Were here who should compose his decent corpse
And cover it with earth. There he might drag
His wretched body at its passing hour,
But there the Sea-Birds of her heritage
Would rob the worm, or peradventure seize,
Ere death had done its work, their helpless prey.
Even now they did not fear him: when he walk'd
Beside them on the beach, regardlessly
They saw his coming; and their whirring wings
Upon the height had sometimes fann'd his cheek,
As if, being thus alone, humanity

Had lost its rank, and the prerogative
Of man were done away.

For his lost crown
And sceptre never had he felt a thought
Of pain; repentance had no pangs to spare
For trifles such as these,.. the loss of these
Was a cheap penalty;.. that he had fallen
Down to the lowest depth of wretchedness,
His hope and consolation. But to lose
His human station in the scale of things,..
To see brute nature scorn him, and renounce
Its homage to the human form divine; ..
Had then Almighty vengeance thus reveal'd
His punishment, and was he fallen indeed
Below fallen man, below redemption's reach,..
Made lower than the beasts, and like the beasts
To perish!.. Such temptations troubled him
By day, and in the visions of the night;
And even in sleep he struggled with the thought,
And waking with the effort of his prayers
The dream assail'd him still.

A wilder form
Sometimes his poignant penitence assumed,
Starting with force revived from intervals
Of calmer passion, or exhausted rest;
When floating back upon the tide of thought
Remembrance to a self-excusing strain
Beguiled him, and recall'd in long array
The sorrows and the secret impulses
Which to the abyss of wretchedness and guilt
Led their unwary victim. The evil hour

Return'd upon him, when reluctantly
Yielding to worldly counsel his assent,
In wedlock to an ill-assorted mate

He gave his cold unwilling hand: then came
The disappointment of the barren bed,
The hope deceived, the soul dissatisfied,
Home without love, and privacy from which
Delight was banish'd first, and peace too soon
Departed. Was it strange that when he met
A heart attuned, . . a spirit like his own,
Of lofty pitch, yet in affection mild,
And tender as a youthful mother's joy,..
Oh was it strange if at such sympathy

1 Egypt has been, from the earliest ages, the theatre of the most abject and absurd superstitions, and very little benefit

The feelings which within his breast repell'd
And chill'd had shrunk, should open forth like flowers
After cold winds of night, when gentle gales
Restore the genial sun? If all were known,
Would it indeed be not to be forgiven? ..
(Thus would he lay the unction to his soul,)
If all were truly known, as Heaven knows all,
Heaven that is merciful as well as just,..
A passion slow and mutual in its growth,
Pure as fraternal love, long self-conceal'd,
And when confess'd in silence, long controll'd;
Treacherous occasion, human frailty, fear
Of endless separation, worse than death,..
The purpose and the hope with which the Fiend
Tempted, deceived, and madden'd him; ... but then
As at a new temptation would he start,
Shuddering beneath the intolerable shame,
And clench in agony his matted hair;
While in his soul the perilous thought arose,
How easy 'twere to plunge where yonder waves
Invited him to rest.

Oh for a voice

Of comfort,.. for a ray of hope from Heaven!
A hand that from these billows of despair
May reach and snatch him ere he sink engulph'd!
At length, as life when it hath lain long time
Oppress'd beneath some grievous malady,
Seems to rouse up with re-collected strength,
And the sick man doth feel within himself
A second spring; so Roderick's better mind
Arose to save him. Lo! the western sun
Flames o'er the broad Atlantic; on the verge
Of glowing ocean rests; retiring then
Draws with it all its rays, and sudden night
Fills the whole cope of heaven. The penitent
Knelt by Romano's grave, and falling prone,
Clasp'd with extended arms the funeral mould.
Father he cried; Companion! only friend,
When all beside was lost! thou too art gone,
And the poor sinner whom from utter death
Thy providential hand preserved, once more
Totters upon the gulph. I am too weak
For solitude, . . too vile a wretch to bear
This everlasting commune with myself.
The Tempter hath assail'd me; my own heart
Is leagued with him; Despair hath laid the nets
To take my soul, and Memory like a ghost,
Haunts me, and drives me to the toils. O Saint,
While I was blest with thee, the hermitage
Was my sure haven! Look upon me still,
For from thy heavenly mansion thou canst see
The suppliant; look upon thy child in Christ.
Is there no other way for penitence?

I ask not martyrdom; for what am I

That I should pray for triumphs, the fit meed
Of a long life of holy works like thine;
Or how should I presumptuously aspire
To wear the heavenly crown resign'd by thee,
For my poor sinful sake? Oh point me thou
Some humblest, painfulest, severest path,..
Some new austerity, unheard of yet
In Syrian fields of glory, or the sands
Of holiest Egypt. Let me bind my brow

was produced by a conversion which exchanged crocodiles and monkies for monks and mountebanks. The first mo

With thorns, and barefoot seek Jerusalem,
Tracking the way with blood; there day by day
Inflict upon this guilty flesh the scourge,
Drink vinegar and gall, and for my bed
Hang with extended limbs upon the Cross,
A nightly crucifixion!.. any thing
Of action, difficulty, bodily pain,

Labour, and outward suffering,.. any thing
But stillness and this dreadful solitude!
Romano! Father! let me hear thy voice
In dreams, O sainted Soul! or from the grave
Speak to thy penitent; even from the grave
Thine were a voice of comfort.

Thus he cried,
Easing the pressure of his burthen'd heart
With passionate prayer; thus pour'd his spirit
forth,

Till with the long impetuous effort spent,
His spirit fail'd, and laying on the grave
His weary head as on a pillow, sleep

nastery is said to have been established in that country by St. Anthony the Great, towards the close of the third century. "He who rests in solitude," said the saint, "is saved from three conflicts, - from the war of hearing, and of speech, and of sight; and he has only to maintain the struggle against his own heart." (Acta Sanctorum, t. ii. | p. 143.) Indolence was not the only virtue which he and his disciples introduced into the catalogue of Christian perfections. S. Eufraxia entered a convent consisting of an hundred and thirty nuns, not one of whom had ever washed her feet; the very mention of the bath was an abomination to them.(Acta Sanctorum, March 13.) St. Macarius had renounced most of the decencies of life; but he returned one day to his convent, humbled and mortified, exclaiming, "I am not yet a monk, but I have seen monks!" for he had met two of these wretches stark naked. — (Acta Sanctorum, i. p. 107.)

The principles which these mad men established were, that every indulgence is sinful; that whatever is gratifying to the body, must be injurious to the soul; that in proportion as man inflicts torments upon himself, he pleases his Creator; that the ties of natural affection wean the heart from God; and that every social duty must be abandoned by him who would be perfect. The doctrine of two principles has never produced such practical evils in any other system as in the Romish. Manes, indeed, attributes all evil to the equal power of the Evil Principle, (that power being only for a time,) but some of the corrupted forms of Christianity actually exclude a good one!

There is a curious passage in the Bibliotheca Orientalis of Assemanus, in which the deserts are supposed to have been originally intended for the use of these saints, compensating for their sterility by the abundant crop of virtues which they were to produce! "In illà vero soli vastitate, quæ procul a Nili ripis quaquaversus latissime protenditur, non urbes, non domicilia, non agri, non arbores, sed desertum, arena, feræ ; non tamen hanc terræ partem (ut Eucherii verbis utar) inutilem, et inhonoratam dimisit Deus, quum in primordiis rerum omnia in sapientiâ faceret, et singula quæque futuris usibus apta distingueret; sed cuncta non magis præsentis magnificentiâ quam futuri præscientiâ creans, venturis, ut arbitror, Sanctis Eremum paravit. Credo, his illam locupletem fructibus voluit, et pro indulgentioris naturæ vice, hane Sanctorum dare fœcundiam, ut sic pinguescerent fines deserti: Et quum irrigaret de superioribus suis montes, abundaret quoque multiplicata fruge convalles locorumque damna supplicet, quum habitationem sterilem habitatore ditaret."

Fell on him. He had pray'd to hear a voice
Of consolation, and in dreams a voice
Of consolation came. Roderick, it said,..
Roderick, my poor, unhappy, sinful child,
Jesus have mercy on thee!... Not if Heaven
Had opened, and Romano, visible
In his beatitude, had breathed that prayer;..
Not if the grave had spoken, had it pierced
So deeply in his soul, nor wrung his heart
With such compunctious visitings, nor given
So quick, so keen a pang. It was that voice
Which sung his fretful infancy to sleep

So patiently; which soothed his childish griefs,
Counsell'd, with anguish and prophetic tears,
His headstrong youth. And lo! his Mother stood
Before him in the vision; in those weeds
Which never from the hour when to the grave
She follow'd her dear lord Theodofred
Rusilla laid aside; but in her face
A sorrow that bespake a heavier load

santness, such as are not ways of pleasantness are not truly and properly ways of religion. Upon which ground it is easy to see what judgement is to be passed upon all those affected, uncommanded, absurd austerities, so much prized and exercised by some of the Romish profession. Pilgrimages, going barefoot, hair-shirts and whips, with other such gospel-artillery, are their only helps to devotion; things never enjoined, either by the prophets under the Jewish, or by the apostles under the Christian economy, who yet surely understood the proper and the most efficacious instruments of piety, as well as any confessor or friar of all the order of St. Francis, or any casuist whatsoever.

"It seems that with them a man sometimes cannot be a penitent unless he also turns vagabond, and foots it to Jeru. salem, or wanders over this or that part of the world to visit the shrines of such or such a pretended saint, though perhaps in his life ten times more ridiculous than themselves. Thus, that which was Cain's error, is become their religion. He that thinks to expiate a sin by going barefoot, only makes one folly the atonement for another. Paul, indeed, was scourged and beaten by the Jews, but we never read that he beat or scourged himself; and if they think that his keeping under of his body imports so much, they must first prove that the body cannot be kept under by a virtuous mind, and that the mind cannot be made virtuous but by a scourge, and consequently that thongs and whip-cord are means of grace, and things necessary to salvation. The truth is, if men's religion lies no deeper than their skin, it is possible that they may Scourge themselves into very great improvements.

"But they will find that bodily exercise touches not the soul, and that neither pride, nor lust, nor covetousness, was ever mortified by corporal discipline; 'tis not the back, but the heart that must bleed for sin; and, consequently, that in their whole course they are like men out of their way; let them lash on never so fast, they are not at all the nearer to their journey's end; and howsoever they deceive themselves and others, they may as well expect to bring a cart as a soul to Heaven by such means."- Sermons, vol. i. p. 34.

At heart, and more unmitigated woe,..
Yea a more mortal wretchedness than when
Witiza's ruffians and the red-hot brass

Had done their work, and in her arms she held
Her eyeless husband; wiped away the sweat
Which still his tortures forced from every pore;
Cool'd his scorch'd lids with medicinal herbs,
And pray'd the while for patience for herself
And him, and pray'd for vengeance too, and found
Best comfort in her curses. In his dream,
Groaning he knelt before her to beseech
Her blessing, and she raised her hands to lay
A benediction on him. But those hands
Were chain'd, and casting a wild look around,
With thrilling voice she cried, Will no one break
These shameful fetters? Pedro, Theudemir,
Athanagild, where are ye? Roderick's arm
Is wither'd;.. Chiefs of Spain, but where are ye?
And thou, Pelayo, thou our surest hope,
Dost thou too sleep?.. Awake, Pelayo!.. up!..
Why tarriest thou, Deliverer?.. But with that
She broke her bonds, and lo! her form was changed!
Radiant in arms she stood! a bloody Cross
Gleam'd on her breast-plate, in her shield display'd
Erect a lion ramp'd; her helmed head
Rose like the Berecynthian Goddess crown'd
With towers, and in her dreadful hand the sword

subtractos charissimos deflent, et integri ad minus spatium anni, in tali mærore publica lege consumant."- Petri Venerabilis Epist. quoted in Yepes, t. vii. f. 21.

1 Witiza put out the eyes of Theodofred, “inhabilitandole para la monarchia," says Ferraras. This was the common mode of incapacitating a rival for the throne.

"Un Conde de Gallicia que fuera valiado, Pelayo avie nombre, ome fo desforzado,

Perdio la vision, andaba embargado,

Ca ome que non vede, non debie seer nado." Gonzalo de Berceo. S. Dom. 388.

The history of Europe during the dark ages abounds with examples of exoculation, as it was called by those writers who endeavoured, towards the middle of the 17th century, to introduce the style-ornate into our prose after it had been banished from poetry. In the East, the practice is still continued. When Alboquerque took possession of Ormuz, he sent to Portugal fifteen of its former kings, whom he found there, each of whom, in his turn, had been deposed and blinded!

In the semi-barbarous stage of society, any kind of personal blemish seems to have been considered as disqualifying a prince from the succession, like the law of the Nazarenes. Yorwerth, the son of Owen Gwynedh, was set aside in Wales because of his broken nose; Count Oliba, in Barcelona, because he could never speak till he had stamped with his foot three times like a goat. "Aquest Oliba frare del Conte en Grifa no era a dret de sos membras. Car lo dit Oliba james no podia parlar, si primer no donas colps ab lo peu en terra quart o sinc vegades, axi comsi fos cabra; e per aquesta raho li fou imposat lo nom, dient li Olibra Cabreta, e per aquest accident lo dit Oliba perde la successio del frare en lo Comtat de Barcelona, e fou donat lo dit Comtat o en Borrell, Comte de Urgell, qui era son cosin germa."-Père Tomich, c. xxviii. f. 20.

In the treaty between our Henry V. and Charles VI. of France, by which Henry was appointed King of France after Charles's decease, it was decreed that the French should "swear to become liege men and vassals to our said son King Henry, and obey him as the true King of France, and

Red as a fire-brand blazed. Anon the tramp
Of horsemen, and the din of multitudes
Moving to mortal conflict, rang around;
The battle-song, the clang of sword and shield,
War-cries and tumult, strife and hate and rage,
Blasphemous prayers, confusion, agony,
Rout and pursuit and death; and over all
The shout of victory... Spain and Victory!
Roderick, as the strong vision master'd him,
Rush'd to the fight rejoicing: starting then,
As his own effort burst the charm of sleep,
He found himself upon that lonely grave
In moonlight and in silence. But the dream
Wrought in him still; for still he felt his heart
Pant, and his wither'd arm was trembling still;
And still that voice was in his ear which call'd
On Jesus for his sake.

Oh, might he hear
That actual voice! and if Rusilla lived,..
If shame and anguish for his crimes not yet
Had brought her to the grave,.. sure she would bless
Her penitent child, and pour into his heart
Prayers and forgiveness, which, like precious balm,
Would heal the wounded soul. Nor to herself
Less precious, or less healing, would the voice
That spake forgiveness flow. She wept her son
For ever lost, cut off with all the weight

A remarkable instance of the inconvenient manner in which the b and the v are indiscriminately used by the Spaniards, occurs here in the original edition. The w not being used in that language, it would naturally be represented by ve; and here, the printer, using most unluckily his typographical license, has made the word 'bitisa.

"The Spaniards," says that late worthy Jo. Sandford, some time fellow of Magdalane College, in Oxford, (in his Spanish Grammar, 1632,) "do with a kind of wantonness so confound the sound of b with v, that it is hard to determine when and in what words it should retain its own power of a labial letter, which gave just cause of laughter at that Spaniard who, being in conversation with a French lady, and minding to commend her children for fair, said unto her, using the Spanish liberty in pronouncing the French, Madame, vous avez des veaux enfans,' telling her that she had calves to her children, instead of saying beaux enfans, fair children. Neither can I well justify him who wrote veneficio for beneficio."

Johnes's Monstrellet, vol. v. p. 190.