7

Along Toledo's lawns, the pride of Spain,
Toledo's warriors join the martial train:
Nor less the furious luft of war inspires

The Biscayneer, and wakes his barbarous fires,
Which ever burn for vengeance, if the tongue
Of hapless stranger give the fancy'd wrong.
Nor bold Afturia, nor Guifpufcoa's shore,
Famed for their steely wealth, and iron ore,
Delay'd their vaunting squadrons; o'er the dales
Cafed in their native fteel, and belted mails,
Blue gleaming from afar they march along,
And join with many a spear the warlike throng.
As thus, wide sweeping o'er the trembling coaft,
The proud Caftilian leads his numerous hoft,
The valiant John for brave defence prepares,
And in himself collected greatly dares :
For fuch high valour in his bofom glow'd,
As Samfon's locks by miracle bestow'd:
Safe in himself refolved the hero stands,

Yet calls the leaders of his anxious bands:
The council fummon'd, fome with prudent mien,
And words of grave advice their terrors fcreen;
By floth debafed, no more the ancient fire

Of patriot loyalty can now inspire;

And each pale lip seem'd opening to declare
For tame fubmiffion, and to fhun the war;
When glorious Nunio, starting from his feat,
Claim'd every eye, and clofed the cold debate:

Singling his brothers from the dastard train,

His rowling looks, that flash'd with stern difdain,
On them he fixt, then fnatch'd his hilt in ire,
While his bold fpeech bewray'd the foldier's fire,
Bold and unpolish'd; while his burning eyes
Seem'd as he dared the ocean, earth, and fkies:

Heavens! shall the Lufian nobles tamely yield!
Oh fhame! and yield untry'd the martial field!
That land whofe genius, as the God of war,
Was own'd, where'er approach'd her thundering car;
Shall now her fons their faith, their love deny,
And, while their country finks, ignobly fly!
Ye timorous herd, are ye the genuine line
Of those illustrious fhades, whofe rage divine
Beneath great Henry's ftandards awed the foe,
For whom ye tremble, and would ftoop fo low!
That foe, who, boastful now, then bafely fled,
When your undaunted fires the hero led,
When seven bold earls in chains the spoil adorn'd,
And proud Casteel through all her kindreds mourn'd,
Casteel, your awful dread-yet, conscious, say,
When Dinez reign'd, when his bold fon bore fway,
By whom were trodden down the bravest bands
That ever march'd from proud Caftilia's lands?

'Twas

Bold and unpolish'd.This fpeech in the original has been much admired by the foreign critics, as a model of military eloquence. The critic, it is hoped, will perceive that the translator has endeavoured to fupport the character of the speaker.

'Twas your brave fires-and has one languid reign
Fix'd in your tainted fouls fo deep a stain,
That now, degenerate from your noble fires,
The last dim spark of Lufian flame expires?
Though weak Fernando reign'd in war unskill'd,
A godlike king now calls you to the field-
Oh! could like his your mounting valour glow,
Vain were the threatenings of the vaunting foe.
Not proud Casteel, oft by your fires o'erthrown,
But every land your dauntless rage should own.
Still if your hands benumb'd by female fear,
Shun the bold war, hark! on my fword I fwear,
Myfelf alone the dreadful war shall wage-
Mine be the fight-and trembling with the rage
Of valorous fire, his hand half-drawn display'd
The awful terror of his fhining blade-

I and my vaffals dare the dreadful shock;
My shoulders never to a foreign yoke

Shall bend; and by my fovereign's wrath I vow,
And by that loyal faith renounced by you,

My native land unconquer'd shall remain,

And all my monarch's foes fhall heap the plain.

The hero paufed-'Twas thus the youth of Rome, The trembling few who 'fcaped the bloody doom That dy'd with flaughter Canna's purple field, Affembled flood, and bow'd their necks to yield;

When

When nobly rifing with a like disdain

h

The young 1 Cornelius raged, nor raged in vain:
On his dread fword his daunted peers he swore,
(The reeking blade yet black with punic gore)
While life remain'd their arms for Rome to wield,
And but with life their conquer'd arms to yield.
Such martial rage brave Nunio's mien inspired;
Fear was no more: with rapturous ardour fired,
To horse, to horse, the gallant Lufians cry'd;
Rattled the belted mails on every fide,

The spear-staffs trembled; round their heads they waved
Their fhining faulchions, and in transport raved,
The king our guardian-loud their shouts rebound,
And the fierce commons echo back the found.
The mails that long in rufting peace had hung,
Now on the hammer'd anvils hoarsely rung:
Some foft with wool the plumy helmets line,
And fome the breaft-plate's fcaly belts entwine:

The

The young Cornelius.-This was the famous P. Corn. Scipio Africanus. The fact, fomewhat differently related by Livy, is this. After the defeat at Cannæ, a confiderable body of Romans fled to Canufium, and appointed Scipio and Ap. Claudius their commanders. While they remained there, it was told Scipio, that fome of his chief officers, at the head of whom was Cæcilius Metellus, were taking measures to transport themselves out of Italy. He went immediately to their assembly, and drawing his fword, said, Ifwear that I will not defert the Commonwealth of Rome, nor fuffer any other citizen to do it. The fame oath I require of you, Cæcilius, and of all prefent; whoever refufes, let him know that this fword is drawn against him. The hiftorian adds, that they were as terrified by this, as if they had beheld the face of their conqueror Hannibal. They all fwore, and submitted themselves to Scipio. Vid. Liv. B. 22. C. 53.

The gaudy mantles fome, and scarfs prepare,
Where various lightfome colours gaily flare;
And golden tiffue, with the warp enwove,
Displays the emblems of their youthful love.

The valiant John, begirt with warlike ftate,
Now leads his bands from fair Abrantes' gate;
Whofe lawns of green the infant Tagus laves,
As from his fpring he rolls his cooly waves.
The daring van in Nunio's care could boast
A general worthy of the unnumber'd hoft,
Whofe gaudy banners trembling Greece defy'd,
When boaftful Xerxes lafh'd the Seftian tide:
Nunio, to proud Casteel as dread a name,
As erft to Gaul and Italy the fame

Of Atila's impending rage. The right
Brave Roderic led, a chieftain train'd in fight:
Before the left the bold Almada rode,

And proudly waving o'er the centre nod

The royal enfigns, glittering from afar,
Where godlike John inspires and leads the war.

'Twas now the time, when from the stubbly plain The labouring hinds had borne the yellow grain; The purple vintage heapt the foamy tun,

And fierce and red the fun of August shone;

When from the gate the fquadrons march along:

Crowds preft on crowds, the walls and ramparts throng: