With a thousand Moors surrounded,

Brave Saavedra stands at bay: Wearied out but never daunted, Cold at length the warrior lay.

Near him fighting great Alonzo

Stout resists the Paynim bands; From his slaughter'd steed dismounted Firm intrench'd behind him stands.

Furious press

the hostile squadron,

Furious he repels their rage:

Loss of blood at length enfeebles:
Who can war with thousands wage?

Where yon rock the plain o'ershadows
Close beneath its foot retir'd,
Fainting sunk the bleeding hero,
And without a groan expir'd.

* * * *

45

50

55

60

In the Spanish original of the foregoing ballad, follow a few more stanzas, but being of inferior merit were not translated.

Renegado properly signifies an Apostate; but it is sometimes used to express an Infidel in general; as it seems to do above in ver. 21, &c.

The image of the Lion, &c. in ver. 37, is taken from the other Spanish copy, the rhymes of which end in IA, viz.

'Sayavedra, que lo oyera,

Como un leon rebolbia.

XVII.

ALCANZOR AND ZAYDA,

A MOORISH TALE,

IMITATED FROM THE SPANISH.

The foregoing version was rendered as literal as the nature of the two Languages would admit. In the following a wider compass hath been taken.

The Spanish poem that was chiefly had in view, is preserved in the same history of the Civil wars of Granada, f. 22, and begins with these lines:

Por la calle de su dama
Passeando se anda,' &c.

SOFTLY blow the evening breezes,
Softly fall the dews of night;
Yonder walks the Moor Alcanzor,
Shunning every glare of light.

In yon palace lives fair Zaida,

Whom he loves with flame so pure:
Loveliest she of Moorish ladies;
He a young and noble Moor.

Waiting for the appointed minute,
Oft he paces to and fro;
Stopping now, now moving forwards,
Sometimes quick, and sometimes slow.

Hope and fear alternate tease him,
Oft he sighs with heart-felt care.▬▬▬▬▬▬
See, fond youth, to yonder window
Softly steps the timorous fair.

Lovely seems the moon's fair lustre
To the lost benighted swain,
When all silvery bright she rises,
Gilding mountain, grove, and plain.

Lovely seems the sun's full glory

To the fainting seaman's eyes, When some horrid storm dispersing O'er the wave his radiance flies.

But a thousand times more lovely
To her longing lover's sight

Come down from Oxenford, ye sparks,
And, oh! revoke the spell.

Yet stay-nor thus despond, ye fair;
Virtue's the gods' peculiar care;

I hear the gracious voice:

Your sex shall soon be blest agen,
We only wait to find sich men,
As best deserve your choice.

XV.

BRYAN AND PEREENE,

A WEST-INDIAN BALLAD,

65

70

-is founded on a real fact, that happened in the island of St Christophers about the beginning of the present reign, (i.e. Geo. III.) The Editor owes the following stanzas to the friendship of Dr. James Grainger,1 who was an eminent physician in that island when this tragical incident happened, and died there much honoured and lamented in 1667. To this ingenious gentleman the public are indebted for the fine Ode on Solitude, printed in the IVth Vol. of Dodsley's Miscel. p. 229, in which are assembled some of the sublimest images in nature. The Reader will pardon the insertion of the first stanza here, for the sake of rectifying the two last lines, which were thus given by the Author:

O Solitude, romantic maid,

Whether by nodding towers you tread,

Or haunt the desert's trackless gloom,
Or hover o'er the yawning tomb,

Or climb the Andes' clifted side,

Or by the Nile's coy source abide,

Or starting from your half-year's sleep
From Hecla view the thawing deer,

Or at the purple dawn of day

Tadmor's marble wastes survey, &c.

alluding to the account of Palmyra published by some ate ingenious travellers, and the manner in which they were struck at the first sight of those magnificent ruins by break of day.

THE north-east wind did briskly blow,

The ship was safely moor'd;

Young Bryan thought the boat's-crew slow,

And so leapt over-board.

1 Author of a poem on the Culture of the Sugar-Cane, &c.—3 So in pag. 235. it should be, Turn'd her magic ray.

Pereene, the pride of Indian dames,
His heart long held in thrall;
And whoso his impatience blames,
I wot, ne'er lov'd at all.

A long long year, one month and day,

He dwelt on English land,

Nor once in thought or deed would stray,
Tho' ladies sought his hand.

For Bryan he was tall and strong,
Right blythsome roll'd his een,

He scant had twenty seen.

10

Sweet was his voice whene'er he sung,

15

But who the countless charms can draw,

That grac'd his mistress true;

Such charms the old world seldom saw,

Nor oft I ween the new.

Her raven hair plays round her neck,

20

Like tendrils of the vine;

Her cheeks red dewy rose buds deck,
Her eyes like diamonds shine.

Soon as his well-known ship she spied,
She cast her weeds away,
And to the palmy shore she hied,

All in her best array.

In sea-green silk so neatly clad,
She there impatient stood:

The crew with wonder saw the lad
Repell the foaming flood.

L

Her hands a handkerchief display'd,
Which he at parting gave;
Well pleas'd the token he survey'd,
And manlier beat the wave.

Her fair companions one and all,
Rejoicing crowd the strand;

For now her lover swam in call,

And almost touch'd the land.

Then through the white surf did she haste,
To clasp her lovely swain;

When, ah! a shark bit through his waste:

His heart's blood died the main!

35

40

He shriek'd! his half sprang from the wave,

45

Streaming with purple gore,

And soon it found a living grave,

And ah! was seen no more.

Now haste, now haste, ye maids, I pray,

Fetch water from the spring:

She falls, she swoons, she dies away,
And soon her knell they ring.

Now each May morning round her tomb
Ye fair, fresh flowerets strew,

So may your lovers scape his doom,

Her hapless fate scape you.