THE NATIVE LAND. FROM THE SPANISH OF FRANCISCO DE ALDANA. CLEAR fount of light! my native land on high, There dwells the soul in its ethereal essence, Beloved country! banished from thy shore, The exiled spirit weeps and sighs for thee! be. THE IMAGE OF GOD. FROM THE SPANISH OF FRANCISCO DE ALDANA. i O LORD! that seest, from yon starry height, For ever green shall be my trust in Heaven. Celestial King! O let thy presence pass Shall meet that look of mercy from on high, As the reflected image in a glass Doth meet the look of him who seeks it there, And owes its being to the gazer's eye. THE BROOK. FROM THE SPANISH. LAUGH of the mountain! lyre of bird and tree! Pomp of the meadow ! mirror of the morn! gaze. |