CLORIS.

"En el regazo de Abril."

IN the bosom of April,

The sun midst flowers is laid;

His pillow is of jasmins,

And the painted meadows his bed:

The rivulet gently flowing

Is his sweet lullaby.

See, by yon grove of myrtles,

Cloris sleeps tranquilly.
The sun calls forth the odours
From Daphne's laurel grove-
The incense is of emeralds,

An holocaust of love.

But the youthful May is coming,
And nightingales welcome sing.
Yes! nightingales are the heralds
Of that gay and gallant king.
There are tongues which say,

There sleep in the
Lightnings of love,
With murderous ray.

The busy Amalthea

Is weaving tapestry

grove

Of sun-flowers and of roses,

In the bright morning's eye.

Favonius is withdrawing

The curtains of the east,

The dews of the morn dispersing

And the world is in splendour drest,
To welcome the waking Cloris,
Who seeks the crystal water:
O for the eyes of Argos,

To see that beauty's daughter!
Apelles portray'd Campaspe
For the hero of Macedon,
Which his pencil had disdained,
Had he seen this lovely one.
There are tongues which say,
There sleep in the grove
Lightnings of love,

With murderous ray.

Silva de Romances.

ROMANCE.

"Soplan ventecillos."

THE gentle zephyrs are blowing,
The graceful willows tremble,
The rivulets all are flowing,

The birds to their songs assemble.
The torrents of the mountain
Glide gently through the vale,
And the music of the fountain
Makes a concert with the gale.
The bees have left their dwelling,
To gather their honied stores;
List to their anthems swelling
Around the bending flowers!
They will hasten homeward, bearing
Emeralds, and corals red;

And many a topaz wearing,

With jewels round their head.

What diamonds all adorning,

What pearls the flowers display! They are waken'd by the morning, And scatter'd by the day. But a cloud the bright sun covers, A frown is on his brow;

He has sought his favourite lovers—

In vain has he sought them now.

Alas! his smile is hidden,
My enemy is he;

And peace is to me forbidden,

And sorrow is dealt to me;

And though the sun shine bright again,
The damsel will say "'Tis now in vain!”

Silva de Romances.

DAVID THE KING 18 MAD WITH GRIEF.

"Con rabia está el Rey David."

DAVID the king is mad with grief,
His heart is harrow'd with pain ;
His son is slain in the battle-fight,
His Absalom is slain.

He covers his head with his mantle wide,
And mounts his highest tower—

While tears that flow from his eyes of woe Wash his grey tresses o'er

And his trembling lips these words repeat, This lamentation sore:

O fili mi, fili mi,

Fili mi, Absalom.

Where is thy dazzling beauty now,

Thy charms-by song untold

Those locks like sun-beams in the air,

Shining like rays of gold?

Thy azure eyes, that shone as fair

As hyacinths on Zion's hill:

O hands that wrought this cruel ill,
Careless of woe-say, Jonathan,

What had thy brother done?

Had he deserved it, cruel man?

And was he not my son?

He was conceived in blessedness