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XIII. Thou may'st have comfort yet! Whate'er the source from which those waters glide, Thou hast found healing mercy in their tide;
Be happy and forget!
Forget me,—and farewell !
Will break thy memory's spell.
Indelibly, within, All I have lost is written; and the theme Which silence whispers to my thoughts and dream,
Is sorrow still,—and sin!
WRITTEN BENEATH THE RUINED ALCAZAR, AT TOLEDO.
“ In front of the Alcazar, is a statue in stone, of one of the Gothic kings.”
BY HENRY D. INGLIS.
Thine and thy people's, once, stern King !
Was all beneath thy stony gaze:
Their shadows back to other days:
To days, when Roman purple swept
The marble of these regal floors ; Or Gothic kings and conquerors kept
Their jubilee within thy doors;
Or Moor, who smote the Gothic band,
Here idly sat before thy gate; And gazing o'er the conquered land,
Cried Allah achbar!—“God is great.”
A Roman arch, a Moorish tower,
And thou, grim King, with eye of stone, Are all that speak the vanished power
Of lines extinct--of empires gone!
TE GROTTO OF FUERA
DY T. K. HIRVI, ESQ.
i musis of waters! - fair i ani swat and wild,
A ! af song not loulder than a sign
And i, hits tholi themelon, tuul, Bogol
i its orales son three sint.--