"Cheered onward by this promise sure, Strong in the faith entire and pure

'O Death, no more, no more delay.

My spirit longs to flee away,

And be at rest;

The will of Heaven my will shall be, —

I bow to the divine decree,

To God's behest.

"My soul is ready to depart,

No thought rebels, the obedient heart

Breathes forth no sigh;

The wish on earth to linger still

Were vain, when 't is God's sovereign will

That we shall die.

"O thou, that for our sins didst take

A human form, and humbly make
Thy home on earth;

Thou, that to thy divinity

A human nature didst ally

By mortal birth,

"And in that form didst suffer here

Torment, and agony, and fear,

So patiently;

By thy redeeming grace alone,

And not for merits of my own,

O, pardon me!"

As thus the dying warrior prayed,

Without one gathering mist or shade

Upon his mind;

Encircled by his family,

Watched by affection's gentle eye

So soft and kind;

His soul to Him, who gave it, rose ;

God lead it to its long repose,

Its glorious rest!

And, though the warrior's sun has set,
Its light shall linger round us yet,
Bright, radiant, blest.*

* This poem of Manrique is a great favorite in Spain. No less than four poetic Glosses, or running commentaries, upon it have been published, no one of which, however, possesses great poetic merit. That of the Carthusian monk, Rodrigo de Valdepeñas, is the best. It is known as the Glosa del Cartujo. There is also a prose Commentary by Luis de Aranda.

The following stanzas of the poem were found in 'he author's pocket, after his death on the field of battle.

"O World! so few the years we live,

Would that the life which thou dost give
Were life indeed!

Alas! thy sorrows fall so fast,

Our happiest hour is when at last

The soul is freed.

"Our days are covered o'er with grief,

And sorrows neither few nor brief

Veil all in gloom;

Left desolate of real good,

Within this cheerless solitude

No pleasures bloom.

"Thy pilgrimage begins in tears,

And ends in bitter doubts and fears,

Or dark despair;

Midway so many toils appear,

That he who lingers longest here

Knows most of care.

"Thy goods are bought with many a groan,

By the hot sweat of toil alone,

And weary hearts;

Fleet-footed is the approach of woe,

But with a lingering step and slow

Its form departs."

THE GOOD SHEPHERD.

FROM THE SPANISH OF LOPE DE VEGA.

SHEPHERD! that with thine amorous, sylvan song
Hast broken the slumber which encompassed me,-
That mad'st thy crook from the accursed tree,
On which thy powerful arms were stretched so long!
Lead me to mercy's ever-flowing fountains;
For thou my shepherd, guard, and guide shalt be;

I will obey thy voice, and wait to see

Thy feet all beautiful upon the mountains.