TO THE SPARROW.
Glory to the Sparrow that you see here
Lifeless and blighted,
Never more from his little bill
Will you hear a sweet song.
But in exchange, do not forget,
You who look at him with ill-will,
That if indeed death has dimmed
His intelligent glance,
Of his most powerful race
There are millions in Spain!
The Company of Cazadores of the 7th Battalion.
Aqui reposa un Gorrion
Que esta tarde se le entierra
Y otros cien en pié de guerra
La sirven de guarnicion,
Bijiritas, en tropel
Furiosas aleteais
¿Por ventura no observais
Que estais ya mas muertas que el?
Descansa en paz, oh gorrion,
Y admite esta ofrenda fria
De la cuarta compañia
De este quinto batallon!
TRANSLATION.
Here rests a Sparrow,
To be buried this afternoon,
And a hundred more in warlike trim
Serve him as a guard.
You crowds of Bijiritas
Who beat your wings with fury,
Do you not by chance remark
That you are already more dead than he is?
Rest in peace, O sparrow!
And accept this cold offering
From the fourth company
Of the fifth battalion.
The gorrion was buried, and Havana left once more without other thought than that which had occupied Spaniards and Cubans for the several months previous. It is said that in former days ships which approached the tropic of Cancer, knew when they were nearing the shores of Cuba by the sweet odor of flowers and honey borne to them on the breeze; now, alas! the beautiful island is recognized from afar rather by the light of her burning plantations—by the smell of gunpowder and of blood! To all who have lived in Havana and who have friends among both parties; to all who know and appreciate the proud sense of honor and unshrinking courage of the one, and the quick intelligence and high aspirations of the other, the present struggle must and does give the deepest pain.