VIOLANTE DO CEO.

WHILE TO BETHLEM WE ARE GOING.

"Antes que a Belen partamos."

"WHILE to Bethlem we are going,
Tell me, Blas, to cheer the road,
Tell me why this lovely infant
Quitted his divine abode ?"

"From that world to bring to this
Peace, which, of all earthly blisses,
Is the brightest, purest bliss."

"Wherefore from his throne exalted, Came he on his earth to dwell

All his

pomp a humble manger, All his court a narrow cell?" "From that world to bring to this Peace, which, of all earthly blisses, Is the brightest, purest bliss."

Why did he, the Lord eternal,
Mortal pilgrim deign to be,
He who fashion'd for his glory
Boundless immortality?"

"From that world to bring to this Peace, which, of all earthly blisses, Is the brightest, purest bliss."

Well then! let us haste to Bethlem,
Thither let us haste and rest:

For of all heaven's gifts the sweetest
Sure is peace-the sweetest, best.

Parnaso Luzitano. Lisboa, 1723, p. 330.

N

NIGHT OF MARVELS.

"Pues en esta feliz noche."

In such a marvellous night, so fair
And full of wonder strange and new,
Ye shepherds of the vale declare

Who saw the greatest wonder? Who?

FIRST. I saw the trembling fire look wan.
SECOND. I saw the sun shed tears of blood.
THIRD. I saw a God become a man.
FOURTH. I saw a man become a God.

O, wond'rous marvels! at the thought,
The bosom's awe and reverence move;
But who such prodigies has wrought?

What gave such wonders birth? 'Twas love!

What call'd from heaven that flame divine,
Which streams in glory from above;

And bid it o'er earth's bosom shine,

And bless us with its brightness? Love!

Who bid the glorious sun arrest

His course, and o'er heaven's concave move

In tears, the saddest, loneliest,

Of the celestial orbs?

'Twas love!

Who raised the human race so high,
Ev'n to the starry seats above,
That, for our mortal progeny,

A man became a God? 'Twas love!

Who humbled from the seats of light
Their Lord, all human woes to prove;
Led the great source of day-to night;
And made of God a man? 'Twas love!

Yes! love has wrought, and love alone,
The victories all,-beneath,-above:
And earth and heaven shall shout, as one,
The all-triumphant song of love.

The song through all heaven's arches ran,
And told the wondrous tales aloud,-
The trembling fire that looked so wan,
The weeping sun behind the cloud.
A God-a God-become a man!

A mortal man become a God!

Parnaso Luzitano. Lisboa, 1723, p. 347.

HIERONIMO DE CONTRERAS.

SIGHS.

"Entre todos los remedios."

WHEN hearts are sad, the remedy
That's sweetest is to sigh.

No torment e'er oppress'd the heart
Which was not soften'd by the dew
Of melancholy thought,-whose smart
Is light and salutary too.

A breathed alas! will oft renew
A broken link of sympathy.
O, 'tis most sweet to sigh!

When deepest in the pensive breast
Some sacred, secret sorrow lies,
The spirit drags it from its rest

By the strong alchemy of sighs,
And tears, their natural allies;
There's magic in a tearful eye.
O, 'tis most sweet to sigh!