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And gallant lord; and stalwart knight;

In rich array;

Where shall we seek them now?  Alas!

Like the bright dewdrops on the grass;

They passed away。



His brother; too; whose factious zeal

Usurped the sceptre of Castile;

Unskilled to reign;

What a gay; brilliant court had he;

When all the flower of chivalry

Was in his train!



But he was mortal; and the breath;

That flamed from the hot forge of Death;

Blasted his years;

Judgment of God! that flame by thee;

When raging fierce and fearfully;

Was quenched in tears!



Spain's haughty Constable; the true

And gallant Master; whom we knew

Most loved of all;

Breathe not a whisper of his pride;

He on the gloomy scaffold died;

Ignoble fall!



The countless treasures of his care;

His villages and villas fair;

His mighty power;

What were they all but grief and shame;

Tears and a broken heart; when came

The parting hour?



His other brothers; proud and high;

Masters; who; in prosperity;

Might rival kings;

Who made the bravest and the best

The bondsmen of their high behest;

Their underlings;



What was their prosperous estate;

When high exalted and elate

With power and pride?

What; but a transient gleam of light;

A flame; which; glaring at its height;

Grew dim and died?



So many a duke of royal name;

Marquis and count of spotless fame;

And baron brave;

That might the sword of empire wield;

All these; O Death; hast thou concealed

In the dark grave!



Their deeds of mercy and of arms;

In peaceful days; or war's alarms;

When thou dost show。

O Death; thy stern and angry face;

One stroke of thy all…powerful mace

Can overthrow。



Unnumbered hosts; that threaten nigh;

Pennon and standard flaunting high;

And flag displayed;

High battlements intrenched around;

Bastion; and moated wall; and mound;

And palisade;



And covered trench; secure and deep;

All these cannot one victim keep;

O Death; from thee;

When thou dost battle in thy wrath;

And thy strong shafts pursue their path

Unerringly。



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。



And he; the good man's shield and shade;

To whom all hearts their homage paid;

As Virtue's son;

Roderic Manrique; he whose name

Is written on the scroll of Fame;

Spain's champion;



His signal deeds and prowess high

Demand no pompous eulogy。

Ye saw his deeds!

Why should their praise in verse be sung?

The name; that dwells on every tongue;

No minstrel needs。



To friends a friend; how kind to all

The vassals of this ancient hall

And feudal fief!

To foes how stern a foe was he!

And to the valiant and the free

How brave a chief!



What prudence with the old and wise:

What grace in youthful gayeties;

In all how sage!

Benignant to the serf and slave;

He showed the base and falsely brave

A lion's rage。



His was Octavian's prosperous star;

The rush of Caesar's conquering car

At battle's call;

His; Scipio's virtue; his; the skill

And the indomitable will

Of Hannibal。



His was a Trajan's goodness; his

A Titus' noble charities

And righteous laws;

The arm of Hector; and the might

Of Tully; to maintain the right

In truth's just cause;



The clemency of Antonine;

Aurelius' countenance divine;

Firm; gentle; still;

The eloquence of Adrian;

And Theodosius' love to man;

And generous will;



In tented field and bloody fray;

An Alexander's vigorous sway

And stern command;

The faith of Constantine; ay; more;

The fervent love Camillus bore

His native land。



He left no well…filled treasury;

He heaped no pile of riches high;

Nor massive plate;

He fought the Moors; and; in their fall;

City and tower and castled wall

Were his estate。



Upon the hard…fought battle…ground;

Brave steeds and gallant riders found

A common grave;

And there the warrior's hand did gain

The rents; and the long vassal train;

That conquest gave。



And if; of old; his halls displayed

The honored and exalted grade

His worth had gained;

So; in the dark; disastrous hour;

Brothers and bondsmen of his power

His hand sustained。



After high deeds; not left untold;

In the stern warfare; which of old

'T was his to share;

Such noble leagues he made; that more

And fairer regions; than before;

His guerdon were。



These are the records; half effaced;

Which; with the hand of youth; he traced

On history's page;

But with fresh victories he drew

Each fading character anew

In his old age。



By his unrivalled skill; by great

And veteran service to the state;

By worth adored;

He stood; in his high dignity;

The proudest knight of chivalry;

Knight of the Sword。



He found his cities and domains

Beneath a tyrant's galling chains

And cruel power;

But by fierce battle and blockade;

Soon his own banner was displayed

From every tower。



By the tried valor of his hand;

His monarch and his native land

Were nobly served;

Let Portugal repeat the story;

And proud Castile; who shared the glory

His arms deserved。



And when so oft; for weal or woe;

His life upon the fatal throw

Had been cast down;

When he had served; with patriot zeal;

Beneath the banner of Castile;

His sovereign's crown;



And done such deeds of valor strong;

That neither history nor song

Can count them all;

Then; on Ocana's castled rock;

Death at his portal came to knock;

With sudden call;



Saying; 〃Good Cavalier; prepare

To leave this world of toil and care

With joyful mien;

Let thy strong heart of steel this day

Put on its armor for the fray;

The closing scene。



〃Since thou hast been; in battle…strife;

So prodigal of health and life;

For earthly fame;

Let virtue nerve thy heart again;

Loud on the last stern battle…plain

They call thy name。



〃Think not the struggle that draws near

Too terrible for man; nor fear

To meet the foe;

Nor let thy noble spirit grieve;

Its life of glorious fame to leave

On earth below。



〃A life of honor and of worth

Has no eternity on earth;

'T is but a name;

And yet its glory far exceeds

That base and sensual life; which leads

To want and shame。



〃The eternal life; beyond the sky;

Wealth cannot purchase; nor the high

And proud estate;

The soul in dalliance laid; the spirit

Corrupt with sin; shall not inherit

A joy so great。



〃But the good monk; in cloistered cell;

Shall gain it by his book and bell;

His prayers and tears;

And the brave knight; whose arm endures

Fierce battle; and against the Moors

His standard rears。



〃And thou; brave knight; whose hand has poured

The life…blood of the Pagan horde

O'er all the land;

In heaven shalt thou receive; at length;

The guerdon of thine earthly strength

And dauntless hand。



〃Cheered onward by this promise sure;

Strong in the faith entire and pure

Thou dost profess;

Depart; thy hope is certainty;

The third; the better life on high

Shalt thou possess。〃



〃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。









SONNETS



I



THE GOOD SHEPHERD



(EL BUEN PASTOR)



BY LOPE DE VEGA

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