There's nothing that with her should be compared—'tis profanation;—
She is a walking Paradise, a smiling consolation,
A blessing, pleasure, of all joys a sparkling constellation,
In fact—she's better in the proof than in the salutation!
Small women do no harm, kind things, though they may sometimes call
Us angry names, hard to digest; men wise as was Saint Paul
Say, of two evils choose the least,—by this rule it must fall,
The least dear woman you can find will be the best of all!
[II.] Page 36.
THE PROPHECY OF TAGUS.
1.
As by Tagus' billowy bed
King Rodrigo, safe from sight,
With the Lady Cava fed
On the fruit of loose delight;
From the river's placid breast
Slow its ancient Genius broke;
Of the scrolls of Fate possessed,
Thus the frowning prophet spoke:
2.
"In an evil hour dost thou,
Ruthless spoiler, wanton here!
Shouts and clangours even now,
Even now assail mine ear;
Shout, and sound of clashing shield,
Shivered sword and rushing car,—
All the frenzy of the field!
All the anarchy of war!
3.
Oh what wail and weeping spring
Forth from this, thine hour of mirth,
From yon fair and smiling thing,
Who in evil day had birth!
In an evil day for Spain
Plighted is your guilty troth!
Fatal triumph! costly gain
To the sceptre of the Goth!