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 .HEN COME THE UNSTEADX" SXEE THE TOTTZRIirG FACET 
 
 C&ntol'.' Sujiz* 
 
 Bostoa PublislieA Tjy S.G. GooaricK 
 
TALE OF PARAGUAY, 
 
 ROBERT SOUTHEY, Esq. LL.D. 
 
 Go forth, my little book! 
 
 Go forth, and please the gentle and the good. 
 
 [Wordsworth' 
 
 S. G. Goodrich Boston. 
 
 MDCCCXXVTI. 
 

 boston: 
 Ingraham and Hewea, Printers. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 One of my friends observed to me in a letter, that 
 many stories which are said to be founded on fact, 
 have in reahty been foundered on it. This is the 
 case if there be any gross violation committed, or 
 ignorance betrayed, of historical manners in the 
 prominent parts of the narrative wherein the writer 
 affects to observe them : or when the ground-work 
 is taken from some part of history so popular and 
 well known that any mixture of fiction disturbs the 
 sense of truth. Still more so, if the subject be in 
 itself so momentous that any allay of invention must 
 of necessity debase it: but most of all in themes 
 drawn from scripture, whether from the more famihar, 
 or the more awful portions ; for when what is true is 
 sacred, whatever may be added to it is so surely felt 
 to be false, that it appears profane. 
 
IV PREFACE. 
 
 Founded on fact the Poem is, which is here com- 
 mitted to the world : but whatever may be its defects, 
 it is hable to none of these objections. The story is 
 so singular, so simple, and withal so complete, that it 
 must have been injured by any alteration. How faith- 
 fully it has been followed, the reader may perceive 
 if he chooses to consult the abridged translation of 
 Dobrizhoffer's History of the Abipones. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Dedication ^ 7 
 
 Proem 17 
 
 Canto 1 21 
 
 II 47 
 
 Ill 79 
 
 IV 107 
 
 Notes 145 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
TO 
 
 EDITH MAY SOUTHEY 
 
 I. 
 
 Edith ! ten years are number'd, since the day, 
 Which ushers in the cheerful month of May, 
 To us by thy dear birth, my daughter dear, 
 Was blest. Thou therefore didst the name partake 
 Of that sweet month, the sweetest of the year ; 
 But fitlier was it given thee for the sake 
 Of a good man, thy father's friend sincere, 
 Who at the font made answer in thy name. 
 Thy love and reverence rightly may he claim. 
 For closely hath he been with me allied 
 In friendship's holy bonds, from that first hour 
 When in our youth we met on Tejo's side ; 
 Bonds which, defying now all Fortune's power, 
 Time hath not loosen'd, nor will Death divide. 
 
10 DEDICATION. 
 
 II. 
 
 A child more welcome, by indulgent Heaven 
 
 Never to parents' tears and prayers was given ! 
 
 For scarcely eight months at thy happy birth 
 
 Had pass'd, since of thy sister we were left, — 
 
 Our first-born and our only babe, bereft. 
 
 Too fair a flower was she for this rude earth ! 
 
 The features of her beauteous infancy 
 
 Have faded from me, like a passing cloud, 
 
 Or like the glories of an evening sky : 
 
 And seldom Piath my tongue pronounced her name 
 
 Since she was sunnnon'd to a happier sphere. 
 
 But that dear love so deeply wounded then, 
 
 I in my soul with silent faith sincere 
 
 Devoutly cherish till we meet again. 
 
 III. 
 
 I saw thee first with trembling thankfulness, 
 O daughter of my hopes and of my fears ! 
 Press'd on thy senseless cheek a troubled kiss, 
 And breathed my blessing over thee with tears. 
 
DEDICATION. 11 
 
 But memory did not long our bliss alloy ; 
 
 For gentle nature who had given relief 
 
 Wean'd with new love the chasten'd heart from 
 
 grief; 
 And the sweet season minister'd to joy. 
 
 IV. 
 
 It was a season when their leaves and flowers 
 The trees as to an Arctic summer spread : 
 When chilhng wintry winds and snowy showers, 
 Which had too long usurp'd the vernal hours, 
 Like spectres from the sight of morning, fled 
 Before the presence of that joyous May ; 
 And groves and gardens all the hve-long day 
 Rung with the birds' loud love-songs. Over all, 
 One thrush was heard from morn till even-fall : 
 Thy Mother well remembers when she lay 
 The happy prisoner of the genial bed, 
 How from yon lofty poplar's topmost spray 
 At earliest dawn his thrilhng pipe was heard ; 
 And when the Hght of evening died away, 
 
12 DEDICATION. 
 
 That blithe and indefatigable bird 
 
 Still his redundant song of joy and love preferr'd. 
 
 V. 
 
 How I have doted on thine infant smiles 
 At morning when thine eyes unclosed on mine ; 
 How, as the months in swift succession roU'd, 
 I mark'd thy human faculties unfold, 
 And watch'd the dawning of the Ught divine ; 
 And with what artifice of playful guiles 
 Won from thy lips with still-repeated wiles 
 Kiss after kiss, a reckoning often told, — 
 Something I ween thou know'st ; for thou hast seen 
 Thy sisters in their turn such fondness prove, 
 And felt how childhood in its winning years 
 The attempered soul to tenderness can move. 
 This thou canst tell ; but not the hopes and fears 
 With which a parent's heart doth overflow, — 
 The thoughts and cares inwoven with that love, — 
 Its nature and its depth, thou dost not, canst not 
 know. 
 
DEDICATIOiN. 13 
 
 VI. 
 
 The years which since thy birth have pass'd away 
 May well to thy young retrospect appear 
 A measureless extent : — like yesterday 
 To me, so soon they fill'd their short career. 
 To thee discourse of reason have they brought, 
 With sense of time and change ; and sometliing too 
 Of this precarious state of things have taught, 
 Where Man abideth never in one stay ; 
 And of mortality a mournful thought. 
 And I have seen thine eyes suffused m grief. 
 When I have said that with autumnal grey 
 The touch of eld hath mark'd thy father's head ; 
 That even the longest day of life is brief, 
 And mine is falling fast into the yellow leaf. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Thy happy nature from the painful thought 
 With instinct tiu^ns, and scarcely canst thou bear 
 To hear me name the Grave : Thou knowest not 
 How large a^^ortion oXmy heart is there ! 
 2 
 
14 DEDICATION. 
 
 The faces which I loved in infancy 
 Are gone ; and bosom-friends of riper age, 
 With whom I fondly talk'd of years to come, 
 Summon'd before me to their heritage 
 Are in the better world, beyond the tomb. 
 And I have brethren there, and sisters dear, 
 And dearer babes. I therefore needs must dwell 
 Often in thought with those whom still I love so welL 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Thus wilt thou feel in thy maturer mind ; 
 When grief shall be thy portion, thou wilt find 
 Safe consolation in such thoughts as these, — 
 A present refuge in affliction's hour. 
 And if indulgent Heaven thy lot should bless 
 With all imaginable happiness. 
 Here shalt thou have, my child, beyond all power 
 Of chance, thy holiest, surest, best deUght. 
 Take therefore now thy Father's latest lay, — 
 Perhaps his last ; — and treasure in thine heart 
 The feelings that its musing strains convey. 
 A song it is of life's declining day, 
 
DEDICATION. 15 
 
 Yet meet for youth. Vain passions to excite, 
 No strains of morbid sentiment I sing, 
 Nor tell of idle loves with ill-spent breath; 
 A reverent offering to the Grave I bring, 
 And twine a garland for the brow of Death. 
 
PROEM. 
 
 That was a memorable day for Spain, 
 
 When on Pamplona's towers, so basely won, 
 
 The Frenchmen stood, and saw upon the plain 
 
 Their long-expected succours hastening on : 
 
 Exultingly they mark'd the brave array, 
 
 And deem'd their leader should his purpose gain, 
 
 Tho' Wellington and England barr'd the way. 
 
 Anon the bayonets glitter'd in the sun, 
 
 And frequent cannon flash'd, whose lurid light 
 
 Redden'd thro' sulphurous smoke: fast vollying 
 
 round 
 Roll'd the war-thunders, and with long rebound 
 Backward fi-om many a rock and cloud-capt 
 
 height 
 In answering peals Pyrene sent the sound. 
 
18 
 
 Impatient for relief, toward the fight 
 The hungry garrison their eye-balls strain : 
 Vain was the Frenchman's skill, his valour vain ; 
 And even then, when eager hope almost 
 Had moved their irreligious hps to prayer, 
 Averting fi'om the fatal scene their sight, 
 They breathed the imprecations of despair. 
 For Wellesley's star hath risen ascendant there ; 
 Once more he drove the host of France to flight, 
 And triumph'd once again for God and for the right. 
 
 That was a day, whose influence far and wide 
 The struggling nations felt ; it was a joy 
 Wherewith all Europe rung from side to side. 
 Yet hath Pamplona seen in former time 
 A moment big with mightier consequence, 
 AfFectmg many an age and distant clime. 
 That day it was which saw in her defence, 
 Contending with the French before her wall, 
 A noble soldier of Guipuzcoa fall, 
 Sore hurt, but not to death. For when long care 
 Restored his shatter'd leg and set him free, 
 
PROEM. 19 
 
 He would not brook a slight deformity, 
 As one who being gay and debonnair, 
 In courts conspicuous, as in camps must be : 
 So he forsooth a shapely boot must wear; 
 And the vain man, with peril of his hfe. 
 Laid the recovered Hmb again beneath the knife. 
 
 Long time upon the bed of pain he lay 
 Whiling with books the weary hours away ; 
 And from that circumstance and this vain man 
 A train of long events their course began. 
 Whose term it is not given us yet to see. 
 Who hath not heard Loyola's sainted name, 
 Before whom Kings and Nations bow'd the knee r 
 Thy annals, Ethiopia, might proclaim 
 What deeds arose from that prolific day ; 
 And of dark plots might shuddering Europe tell. 
 But Science too her trophies would display ; 
 Faith give the martyrs of Japan their fame ; 
 And Charity on works of love would dwell 
 In Cahfornia's dolorous regions drear ; 
 And where, amid a pathless world of wood. 
 
30 PROEM. 
 
 Gathering a thousand rivers on his way, 
 
 Huge Orellana rolls his affluent flood ; 
 
 And where the happier sons of Paraguay, 
 
 By gentleness and pious art subdued, 
 
 Bow'd their meek heads beneath the Jesuits' sway. 
 
 And lived and died in filial servitude. 
 
 I love thus uncontroll'd, as in a dream, 
 To muse upon the course of human things ; 
 Exploring sometimes the remotest springs, 
 Par as tradition lends one guiding gleam ; 
 Or following, upon Thought's audacious wings, 
 Into Futurity, the endless stream. 
 But now in quest of no ambitious height, 
 I go where truth and nature lead my way, 
 And ceasing here from desultory flight, 
 In measured strains I tell a Tale of Paraguay. 
 
TALE OF PARAGUAY, 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 I. 
 
 Jenner ! for ever shall thy honour'd name 
 Among the children of mankind be blest, 
 Who by thy skill hast taught us how to tame 
 One dire disease, — the lamentable pest 
 Which Africa sent forth to scourge the West, 
 As if in vengeance for her sable brood 
 So many an age remorselessly opprest. 
 For that most fearful malady subdued 
 Receive a poet's praise, a father's gratitude. 
 
24 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 II. 
 
 Fair promise be this triumph of an age 
 When Man, with vain desires no longer bUnd, 
 And wise though late, his only war shall wage 
 Against the miseries which afflict mankind. 
 Striving with virtuous heart and strenuous mind 
 Till evil from the earth shall pass away. 
 Lo, this his glorious destiny assign'd ! 
 For that blest consummation let us pray, 
 And trust in fervent faith, and labour as we may. 
 
 III. 
 
 The hideous malady which lost its power 
 When Jenner's art the dire contagion stay'd, 
 Among Columbia's sons, in fatal hour. 
 Across the wide Atlantic wave convey'd 
 Its fiercest form of pestilence display'd : 
 Where'er its deadly course the plague began 
 Vainly the wretched sufferer look'd for aid ; 
 Parent from child, and child from parent ran. 
 For tyrannous fear dissolved all natural bonds of 
 man. 
 
CANTO 1. 
 
 IV. 
 
 A feeble nation of Guarani race, 
 Thinn'd by perpetual wars, but unsubdued, ^ 
 Had taken up at length a resting place \ 
 
 Among those tracts of lake and swamp and wood, 
 Where Mondai issuing from its solitude 
 Flows with slow stream to Empalado's bed. 
 It was a region desolate and rude ; 
 But thither had the horde for safety fled. 
 And being there conceal'd in peace their lives they led. 
 
 V. 
 
 There had the tribe a safe asylum found 
 Amid those marshes wide and woodlands dense, 
 With pathless wilds and waters spread around, 
 And labyrinthine swamps, a sure defence 
 From human foes, — but not from pestilence. 
 The spotted plague appear'd, that direst ill,— 
 How brought among them none could tell, or 
 
 whence ; 
 The mortal seed had lain among them still. 
 And quicken'd now to work the Lord's mysterious 
 
 will. 
 
 3 
 
^6 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Alas, it was no medicable grief 
 
 Which herbs might reach! Nor could the jug- 
 
 , gler's power 
 With all his antic mummeries bring relief. 
 Faith might not aid him in that ruling hour, 
 Himself a victim now. The dreadful stour 
 None could escape, nor aught its force assuage. 
 The marriageable maiden had her dower 
 From death ; the strong man sunk beneath its rage, 
 And death cut short the thread of childhood and of 
 age. 
 
 VII. 
 
 No time for customary mourning now ; 
 With hand close-clench'd to pluck the rooted hair. 
 To beat the bosom, on the swelhng brow 
 Inflict redoubled blows, and blindly tear 
 The cheeks, indenting bloody furrows there, 
 The deep-traced signs indelible of woe ; 
 Then to some crag, or bank abrupt, repair, 
 And giving grief its scope infuriate, throw 
 The impatient body thence upon the earth below. 
 
CANTO I. 27 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Devices these by poor weak nature taught, 
 Which thus a change of suffering would obtain ; 
 And flying from intolerable thought 
 And piercing recollections, would full fain 
 Di.-tract itself by sense of fleshly pain 
 From anguish that the soul must else endure. 
 Easier all outward torments to sustain. 
 Than those heart-wounds which only time can cure, 
 And He in whom alone the hopes of man are sure. 
 
 IX. 
 
 None sorrow'd here ; the sense of woe was sear'd, 
 Wlien every one endured his own sore ill. 
 The prostrate sufferers neither hoped nor fear'd ; 
 The body labourVl, but the heart was still: — 
 So let the conquering malady fulfil 
 Its atal course, rest cometh at the end ! 
 Passive they lay wuth neither wish nor will 
 For aught but this ; nor did they long attend 
 That welcome boon from death, the never-failing 
 friend. 
 
28 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 X. 
 
 Who is there to make ready now the pit, 
 The house that will content from this day forth 
 Its easy tenant ? Who in vestments fit 
 Shall swathe the sleeper for his bed of earth, 
 Now tractable as wlien a babe at birth ? 
 Who now the ample fmieral urn shall knead, 
 And burying it beneath his proper hearth 
 Deposit there with careful hands the dead, 
 And lightly then relay the floor above his head ? 
 
 XL 
 
 Unwept, unshrouded, and unsepulchred, 
 The hammock where they hang, for winding sheet 
 And grave suffices the deserted dead : 
 There from the armadillo's searching feet 
 Safer than if within the tomb's retreat. 
 The carrion birds obscene in vain essay 
 To find that quarry: round and round they beat 
 The air, but fear to enter for their prey. 
 And from the silent door the jaguar turns away. 
 
CANTO I. 29 
 
 XII. 
 
 But nature for her universal law 
 
 Hath other surer instruments in store, 
 
 Whom from the haunts of men no wonted awe 
 
 Withholds as with a spell. In swarms they pour 
 
 From wood and swamp : and when their work is 
 
 o'er 
 On the white bones the mouldering roof will fall ; 
 Seeds will take root, and spring in sun and shower ; 
 And Mother Earth ere long with her green pall, 
 Resuming to herself the wreck, will cover all. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Oh ! better thus with earth to have their part, 
 Than in Egyptian catacombs to lie, 
 Age after age preserved by horrid art. 
 In ghastly image of humanity ! 
 Strange pride that with corruption thus would vie ! 
 And strange delusion that would thus maintain 
 The fleshly form, till cycles shall pass by, 
 And in the series of the eternal chain. 
 The spirit come to seek its old abode again. 
 ^3 
 
30 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 One pair alone survived the general fate ; 
 Left in such drear and mournful solitude, 
 That death might seem a preferable state. 
 Not more deprest the Arkite patriarch stood, 
 When landing first on Ararat he view'd, 
 Where all around the mountain summits lay, 
 Like islands seen amid the boundless flood ! 
 Nor our first parents more forlorn than they. 
 Thro' Eden when they took their solitary way. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Ahke to them, it seem'd in tlieir despair. 
 
 Whither they wander'd from the infected spot. 
 
 Chance might direct their steps : they took no care ; 
 
 Come well or ill to them, it matter'd not ! 
 
 Left as they were in that unhappy lot, 
 
 The sole survivors they of all their race. 
 
 They reck'd not when their fate, nor where, nor 
 
 what. 
 In this resignment to their hopeless case. 
 Indifferent to all choice or circumstance of place. 
 
CANTO I. 31 
 
 XVI. 
 
 That palsying stupor past away ere long, 
 And as the spring of health resumed its power, 
 They felt that life was dear, and hope was strong. 
 What marvel ! 'Twas with them the morning hour, 
 When bliss appears to be the natural dower 
 Of all the creatures of this joyous earth; 
 And sorrow fleeting like a vernal shower 
 Scarce interrupts the current of our mirth ; 
 Such is the happy heart we bring with us at birth. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Tho' of his nature and his boundless love 
 Erring, yet tutor'd by instinctive sense. 
 They rightly deem'd the Power who rules above 
 Had saved them from the wasting pestilence. 
 That favouring power would still be their defence : 
 Thus were they by their late deliverance taught 
 To place a child-hke trust in Providence, 
 And in their state forlorn they found this thought 
 Of natural faith with hope and consolation fraught. 
 
32 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 And now they built themselves a leafy bower, 
 Amid a glade, slow Mondai's stream beside, 
 Screen'd from the southern blast of piercing power: 
 Not hke their native dweUing, long and wide, 
 By skilful toil of numbers edified. 
 The common home of all, their human nest. 
 Where threescore hammocks pendant side by side 
 Were ranged, and on the ground the fires were 
 drest ; 
 Alas that populous hive hath now no living guest ! 
 
 XIX. 
 
 A few firm stalces they planted in the ground, 
 Circling a norrow space, yet large enow ; 
 These strongly interknit they closed around 
 With basket-work of many a pUant bough. 
 The roof was hke the sides ; the door was low, 
 And rude the hut, and trimm'd with little care. 
 For little heart had they to dress it nov/ ; 
 Yet was the humble structure fresh and fair, 
 And soon its inmates found that Love might sojourn 
 there. 
 
CANTO I. 33 
 
 XX. 
 
 Quiara could recall to mind the course 
 Of twenty summers ; perfectly he knew 
 Whate'er his fathers taught of skill or force. 
 Riglit to the mark his whizzing lance he threw. 
 And from his bow the unerring arrow flew 
 With fatal aim : and when the laden bee 
 Buzz'd by him in its flight, he could pursue 
 Its path with certain ken, and follow free 
 Until he traced tlie hive in hidden bank or tree. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Of answering years was Monnema, nor less 
 Expert in all her sex's household ways. 
 The Indian weed she skilfully could dress ; 
 And in what depth to drop the yellow maize 
 She knew, and when around its stem to raise 
 The lighten'd soil ; and well could she prepare 
 Its ripen'd seed for food, her proper praise ; 
 Or in the embers turn with frequent care 
 Its succulent head yet green, sometimes for daintier 
 fare. 
 
34 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 And how to macerate the bark she knew, 
 And draw apart its beaten fibres fine, 
 And bleaching them in sun, and air, and dew ; 
 From dry and glossy filaments entwine 
 With rapid twirl of hand the lengthening hne ; 
 Next interknitting well the twisted thread, 
 In many an even mesh its knots combine, 
 And shape in tapering length the pensile bed, 
 Light hammock there to hang beneath the leafy shed. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Time had been when expert in works of clay 
 She lent her hands the swelling urn to mould, 
 And fill'd it for the appointed festal day 
 With the beloved beverage which the bold 
 QuafF'd in their triumph and their joy of old : 
 The fruitful cause of many an uproar rude, 
 When in their drunken bravery uncontroll'd, 
 Some bitter jest awoke the dormant feud. 
 And wrath and rage and strife and wounds and 
 death ensued. 
 
35 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 These occupations were gone by : the skill 
 Was useless now, which once had been her pride. 
 Content were they, when thirst impell'd, to fill 
 The dry and hollow gourd from Mondai's side ; 
 The river fi'om its sluggish bed supplied 
 A draught for repetition all unmeet ; 
 Howbeit the bodily want was satisfied ; 
 No feverish pulse ensued, nor ireful heat. 
 Their days v/ere undisturb'd, their natural sleep was 
 sweet. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 She too had learnt in youth how best to trim 
 The honoured Chief for his triumphal day. 
 And covering with soft gums the obedient hmb 
 And body, then with feathers overlay, 
 In regular hues disposed, a rich display. 
 Well-pleased the glorious savage stood and eyed 
 The growing work; then vain of his array 
 Look'd with complacent frown from side to side, 
 Stalk'd with elater step, and swell'd with statelier 
 pride. 
 
36 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Feasts and carousals, vanity and strife, 
 Could have no place with them in solitude 
 To break the tenor of their even life. 
 Quiara day by day his game pursued, 
 Searching the air, the water, and the wood, 
 With hawk-like eye, and arrow sure as fate ; 
 AndrMonnema prepared the hunter's food: 
 Cast with him here in this forlorn estate, 
 In all things for the man was she a fitting mate. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 The Moon had gather'd oft her monthly store 
 Of light, and oft in darkness left the sky, 
 Since Monnema a growing burthen bore 
 Of life and hope. The appointed weeks go by; 
 And now her hour is come, and none is nigh 
 To help : but human help she needed none. 
 A few short throes endured with scarce a cry. 
 Upon the bank she laid her new-born son. 
 Then slid into the stream, and bathed, and all was 
 done. 
 
CANTO I. 
 
 37 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Might old observances have there been kept, 
 Then should the husband to that pensile bed, 
 Like one exhausted with the birth have crept, 
 And laying down in feeble guise his head, 
 For many a day been nursed and dieted 
 With tender care, to childing mothers due. 
 Certes a custom strange, and yet far spread 
 Thro' many a savage tribe, howe'er it grew, 
 And once in the old world known as widely as the 
 new. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 This could not then be done ; he might not laj 
 The bow and those unerring shafts aside ; 
 Nor thro' the appointed weeks forego the prey, 
 Still to be sought amid those regions wide, 
 None being there who should the while provide 
 That lonely household with their needful food : 
 So still Quiara thro' the forest plied 
 His daily task, and in the thickest wood 
 Still laid his snares for birds, and still the chace 
 pursued. 
 
38 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 But seldom may such thoughts of mingled joy 
 A father's agitated breast dilate, 
 As when he first beheld that infant boy. 
 Who hath not prov'd it, ill can estimate 
 The feeling of that stirring hour, — the weight 
 Of that new sense, the thoughtful, pensive bliss. 
 In all the changes of our changeful state, 
 Even from the cradle to the grave, I wis, 
 The heart doth undergo no change so great as this. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 A deeper and unwonted feeling fiU'd 
 These parents, gazing on their new born son. 
 Already in their busy hopes they build 
 On this frail sand. Now let the seasons run, «• 
 And let the natural work of time be done 
 With them, — for unto them a child is born : 
 And when the hand of Death may reach the one, 
 The other will not now be left to mourn 
 A solitary wretch, all utterly forlorn. 
 
CANTO r. 39 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Thus Monnema and thus Quiara thought, 
 Tho' each the melancholy thought represt ; 
 They could not chuse but feel, yet uttered not 
 The human feeling, which in hours of rest 
 Often would rise, and fill the boding breast 
 With a dread foretaste of that mournful day, 
 When, at the inexorable Power's behest, 
 The unwilhng spirit, called perforce away. 
 Must leave, for ever leave its dear comiatural clay. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Link'd as they were, where each to each was all, 
 How might the poor survivor hope to bear 
 That heaviest loss which one day must befall, 
 Nor sink beneath the weight of his despair. 
 Scarce could the heart even for a moment dare 
 That miserable time to contemplate. 
 When the dread Messenger should find them 
 
 there. 
 From whom is no escape, — and reckless Fate, 
 Whom it had bound so close, for ever separate. 
 
40 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Lighter that burthen lay upon the heart 
 When this dear babe was born to share their lot ; 
 They could endure to think that they must part. 
 Then too a glad consolatory thought 
 Arose, while gazing on the child they sought 
 With hope their dreary prospect to delude, 
 Till they almost believed, as fancy taught, 
 How that from them a tribe should spring renew'd, 
 To people and possess that ample solitude. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Such hope they felt, but felt that whatsoe'er 
 The undiscoverable to come might prove, 
 Unwise it were to let that bootless care 
 Disturb the present hours of peace and love. 
 For they had gain'd a happiness above 
 The state which in their native horde was known : 
 No outward causes were there here to move 
 Discord and alien thoughts ; being thus alone 
 From all mankind, their hearts and their desires 
 were one. 
 
CANTO I. 
 
 41 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Different their love in kind and in degree 
 From what their poor depraved forefathers knew, 
 With whom degenerate instincts were left free 
 To take their course, and blindly to pm*sue, 
 Unheeding they the ills that must ensue, 
 The bent of brute desu*e. No moral tie 
 Bound the hard husband to his servile crew 
 Of wives ; and they the chance of change might 
 try. 
 All love destroy'd by such preposterous liberty. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Far other tie this sohtary pair 
 Indissolubly bound ; true helpmates they, 
 In joy or grief, in weal or woe to share, 
 In sickness or in health, thro' hfe's long day ; 
 And reassuming m their hearts her sway 
 Benignant Nature made the burthen hght. 
 It was the Woman's pleasure to obey. 
 The Man's to ease her toil in all he might. 
 So each in serving each obtain'd the best delight, 
 H 
 
4^ A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 And as connubial, so parental love 
 Obey'd unerring Nature's order here, 
 For now no force of impious custom strove 
 Against her law ; — such as was wont to sear 
 The unhappy heart with usages severe, 
 Till harden'd mothers in the grave could lay 
 Their Uving babes with no compunctious tear. 
 So monstrous men become, when from the way 
 Of primal hght they turn thro' heathen paths astray. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Deliver'd from this yoke, in them henceforth 
 The springs of natural love may freely flow : 
 New joys, new virtues with that happy birth 
 Are born, and with the growing infant grow. 
 Source of our purest happiness below 
 Is that benignant law which hath entwined 
 Dearest dehght with strongest duty so 
 That in the healthy heart and righteous mind 
 Ever they co-exist, inseparably combined. 
 
CANTO I. 43 
 
 XL. 
 
 Oh ! bliss for them when in that infant face 
 They now the unfolding faculties descry, 
 And fondly gazing, trace — or think they trace 
 The first faint speculation in that eye. 
 Which hitherto hath roll'd in vacancy ! 
 Oh ! bliss in that soft countenance to seek 
 Some mark of recognition, and espy 
 The quiet smile which in the innocent cheek 
 Of kindness and of kind its consciousness doth speak ! 
 
 XLI. 
 
 For him, if born among their native tribe, 
 Some haughty name his parents had thought good. 
 As weening that therewith they should ascribe 
 The strength of some fierce tenant of the wood, 
 The water, or the serial solitude, 
 Jaguar or vulture, water- wolf or snake. 
 The beast that prowls abroad in search of blood, 
 Or reptile that within the treacherous brake 
 Waits for the prey, upcoil'd, its hunger to aslake. 
 
44 A TALE OF PARAGUAY- 
 
 XLII. 
 
 Now soften'cl as their spirits were by love, 
 Abhorrent from such thoughts they turn'd away ; 
 And with a happier feeUng, from the dove, 
 They named the child Yeruti. On a day 
 When smiling at his mother's breast in play. 
 They in his tones of murmuring pleasure heard 
 A sweet resemblance of the stock-dove's lay, 
 Fondly they named him from that gentle bird, 
 And soon such happy use endear'd the fitting word. 
 
 XLIII. 
 Days pass, and moons have wex'd and waned, and 
 
 still 
 This dovelet nestled in their leafy bower 
 Obtains increase of sense, and strength and will, 
 As in due order many a latent power 
 Expands, — humanity's exalted dower : 
 And they while thus the days serenely fled 
 Beheld him flourish hke a vigorous flower 
 Which lifting fi-om a genial soil its head 
 By seasonable suns and kindly showers is fed. 
 
CANTO 4. 45 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 Ere long the cares of helpless babyhood 
 To the next stage of infancy give place, 
 That age with sense of conscious growth endued, 
 When every gesture hath its proper grace : 
 Then come the unsteady step, the tottering pace ; 
 And watchful hopes and emulous thoughts appear ; 
 The imitative lips essay to trace 
 Their words, observant both with eye and ear, 
 In mutilated sounds which parents love to hear. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 Serenely thus the seasons pass away ; 
 And, oh ! how rapidly they seem to fly 
 With those for whom to-morrow hke to-day 
 Glides on in peaceful uniformity ! 
 Five years have since Yeruti's birth gone by, 
 Five happy years ; — and ere the Moon which then 
 Hung like a Sylphid's light canoe on high 
 Should fill its circle, Monnema again 
 Laying her burthen down must bear a mother's pain. 
 
46 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 Alas, a keener pang before that day, 
 Must by the wretched Monnema be borne 1 
 In quest of game Quiara went his way 
 To roam the wilds as he was wont, one morn ; 
 She look'd in vain at eve for his return. 
 By moonhght thro' the midnight sohtude 
 She sought him ; and she found his garment torn, 
 His bow and useless arrows in the wood, 
 M?irks of a jaguar's feet, a broken spear, and blood. 
 
TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 CANTO II. 
 
TALE OF PARAGUAY 
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 I. 
 
 THOU who listening to the Poet's song 
 Dost yield thy wiUing spirit to his sway, 
 Look not that I should painfully prolong 
 The sad narration of that fatal day 
 With tragic details : all too true the lay I 
 Nor is my purpose e'er to entertain 
 The heart with useless grief; but as I may, 
 Blend in my calm and meditative strain 
 Consolatory thoughts, the balm for real pain. 
 5 
 
50 A TALE OF PARAGUAY, 
 
 II. 
 
 Youth or Maiden, whosoe'er thou ait, 
 Safe in my guidance may thy spirit be I 
 
 1 wound not wantonly the tender heart : 
 And if sometimes a tear of sympathy 
 Should rise, it will from bitterness be free — 
 Yea, with a healing virtue be endued. 
 
 As thou in this true tale shalt hear from me 
 Of evils overcome, and grief subdued, 
 And virtues springing up lika flowers in solitude. 
 
 III. 
 
 The unhappy Monnema when thus bereft 
 Sunk not beneath the desolating blow. 
 Widow'd she was : but still her child was left ; 
 For him must she sustain the weight of woe, 
 Which else would in that hour have laid her low. 
 Nor wish'd she now the work of death complete : 
 Then only doth the soul of woman know 
 Its proper strength, when love and duty meet ; 
 Invincible the heart wherein they have their seat. 
 
CANTO II. 51 
 
 IV. 
 
 The seamen who upon some coral reef 
 Are cast amid the intermmable main, 
 
 • Still cling to life, and hoping for relief 
 Drag on their days of wretchedness and pain. 
 In turtle shells they hoard the scanty rain. 
 And eat its flesh, sundried for lack of fire. 
 Till the weak body can no more sustain 
 Its wants, but sinks beneath its sufFermgs dire 
 
 Most miserable man who sees the rest expire ! 
 
 V. 
 
 He lingers there while months and years go by : 
 And holds his hope tho' months and years have 
 
 past. 
 And still at morning round the farthest sky, 
 And still at eve his eagle glance is cast. 
 If there he may behold the far-off mast 
 Arise, for which he hath not ceased to pray. 
 And if perchance a ship should come at last, 
 And bear him from that dismal bank away, 
 He blesses God that he hath lived to see that day. 
 
52 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 VI. 
 
 So strong a hold hath hfe upon the soul, 
 Which sees no dawning of eternal light, 
 But subject to this mortal frame's controul, 
 Forgetful of its origin and right. 
 Content in bondage dwells and utter night. 
 By worthier ties was this poor mother bound 
 To life ; even while her grief was at the height, 
 Then in maternal love support she found 
 And in maternal cares a healing for her wound. 
 
 VII. 
 
 For now her hour is come : a girl is born. 
 
 Poor infant, all unconscious of its fate, 
 
 How passing strange, how utterly forlorn ! 
 
 The genial season served to mitigate 
 
 In all it might their sorrowful estate. 
 
 Supplying to the mother at her door 
 
 From neighbouring trees which bent beneath their 
 
 weight, 
 A full supply of fruitage now mature, 
 So in that time of need their sustenance was sure. 
 
UAKTO II. 
 
 53 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Nor then alone, but alway did the Eye 
 Of Mercy look upon that lonely bower. 
 Days past, and weeks; and months and years 
 
 went by. 
 And never evil thing the while had power 
 To enter there. The boy in sun and shower 
 Rejoicing in his strength to youthhed grew : 
 And Moonia, that beloved girl, a dower 
 Of gentleness from bounteous nature drew, 
 With all that should the heart of womankind imbue. 
 
 IX. 
 
 The tears which o'er her infancy were shed 
 Profuse, resented not of grief alone : 
 Maternal love their bitterness allay'd. 
 And with a strength and virtue all its own 
 Sustain'd the breaking heart. A look, a tone, 
 A gesture of that innocent babe, in eyes 
 With saddest recollections overflown. 
 Would sometimes make a tender smile arise, 
 Like sunshine breaking thro' a shower in vernal skies. 
 *5 
 
54 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 X. 
 
 No looks but those of tenderness were found 
 To turn upon that helpless infant dear ; 
 And as her sense unfolded, never sound 
 Of wrath or discord brake upon her ear. 
 Her soul its native purity sincere 
 Possess'd, by no example here defiled ; 
 From envious passions free, exempt from fear. 
 Unknowing of all ill, amid the wild 
 Beloving and beloved she grew, a happy child. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Yea, where that solitar};^ bower was placed, 
 Tho' all unlike to Paradise the scene, 
 (A wide circumference of woodlands waste :) 
 Something of what in Eden might have been 
 Was shadowed there imperfectly, I ween. 
 In this fair creature : safe from all offence, 
 Expanding like a shelter'd plant serene, 
 Evils that fret and stain being far from thence, 
 Her heart in peace and joy retain'd its innocence. 
 
CAMU IK 55 
 
 XII. 
 
 At tirst the iiitaut to Yeruti proved 
 A cause of wonder and disturbing joy. 
 A stronger tie than that of kindred moved 
 His inmost being, as the happy boy 
 Felt in his heart of hearts without alloy 
 Tlie sense of kind : a fellow creature she, 
 In whom when now she ceased to be a toy 
 For tender sport, his soul rejoiced to see 
 Connatural powers expand, and growing sympathy. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 For her he cull'd the fairest flowers, and sought 
 Throughout the woods the earhest fruits for her. 
 The cayman's eggs, the honeycomb he brought 
 To this beloved sister, — whatsoe'er, 
 To his poor thought, of dehcate or rare 
 The wilds might yield, solicitous to find. 
 They who affirm all natural acts declare 
 Self-love to be the ruler of the mind, 
 Judge from their own mean hearts, and foully wrong 
 mankind. 
 
56 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Three souls in whom no selfishness had place 
 Were here : three happy souls, which undefiled. 
 Albeit in darkness, still retain'd a trace 
 Of their celestial origin. The wild 
 Was as a sanctuary where Nature smiled 
 Upon these simple children of her own, 
 And cherishing whate'er was meek and mild, 
 Call'd forth the gentle virtues, such alone. 
 The evils which evoke the stronger being unknown. 
 
 XV. 
 
 What tho' at birth we bring with us the seed 
 Of sin, a mortal taint^— in heart and will 
 Too surely felt, too plainly shewn in deed, — 
 Our fatal heritage ; yet are we still 
 The children of the All Merciful : and ill 
 They teach, who tell us that from hence must flow 
 God's wrath, and then his justice to fulfil. 
 Death everlasting, never-endin.> woe : 
 miserable lot of man if it were so ! 
 
CANTO II. 57 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Falsely and impiously teach they who thus 
 Our heavenly Father's holy will misread ! 
 In bounty hath the Lord created us, 
 In love redeem'd. From this authentic creed 
 Let no bewildering sophistry impede 
 The heart's entire assent, for God is good. 
 Hold firm this faith, and, in whatever need, 
 Doubt not but thou wilt find thy soul endued 
 With all-suflicing strength of heavenly fortitude ! 
 
 XVII. 
 
 By nature peccable and frail are we, 
 Easily beguiled ; to vice, to error prone ; 
 But apt for virtue too. Humanity 
 Is not a field where tares and thorns alone 
 Are left to spring ; good seed hath there been sown 
 With no unsparing hand. Sometimes the shoot 
 Is choked with weeds, or withers on a stone ; 
 But in a kindly soil it strikes its root. 
 And flourisheth, and bringeth forth abundant fruit. 
 
58 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Love, duty, generous feeling, tenderness, 
 Spring in the uncontaminated mind ; 
 And these were Mooma's natural dower. Nor less 
 Had liberal Nature to the boy assign'd. 
 Happier herein than if among mankind 
 Their lot had fallen, — oh, certes happier here ! 
 That all things tended still more close to bind 
 Their earliest ties, and they from year to year 
 Retain'd a childish heart, fond, simple, and sincere. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 They had no sad reflection to alloy 
 The calm contentment of the passing day, 
 No foresight to disturb the present joy. 
 Not so with Monnema ; albeit the sway 
 Of time had reach'd her heart, and worn away, 
 At length, the grief so deeply seated there. 
 The future often, like a burthen, lay 
 Upon that heart, a cause of secret care 
 And melancholy thought : yet did she not despair. 
 
CANTO II. 59 
 
 XX. 
 
 Chance fi'om the fellowship of human kmd 
 
 Had cut them off, and chance might reunite. 
 
 On this poor possibiUty her mind 
 
 Reposed ; she did not for herself invite 
 
 The unhkely thought, and cherish with delight 
 
 The dream of what such change might haply 
 
 bring ; 
 Gladness with hope long since had taken flight 
 From her ; she felt that Hfe was on the wing, 
 And happiness like youth has here no second spring. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 So were her feehngs to her lot composed 
 That to herself all change had now been pain. 
 For Time upon her own desires had closed ; 
 But in her children as she hved again, 
 For their dear sake she learnt to entertain 
 A wish for human intercourse renew'd ; 
 And oftentimes, while they devour'd the strain, 
 Would she beguile their evening solitude 
 With stories strangely told and strangely understood. 
 
60 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Little she knew, for little had she seen, 
 
 And little of traditionary lore 
 
 Had reach'd her ear ; and yet to them I ween 
 
 Their mother's knowledge seem'd a boundless 
 
 store. 
 A world it opened to their thoughts; yea more, — 
 Another world beyond this mortal state. 
 Bereft of her they had indeed been poor. 
 Being left to animal sense, degenerate. 
 Mere creatures, they had sunk below the beasts' 
 
 estate. 
 
 XXIII. 
 The human race, from her they understood, 
 Was not within that lonely hut confined, 
 But distant far beyond their world of wood 
 Were tribes and powerful nations of their kind ; 
 And of the old observances which bind 
 People and chiefs, the ties of man and wife, 
 The laws of kin rehgiously assign'd, 
 Rites, customs, scenes of riotry and strife, 
 And all the strange vicissitudes of savage life. 
 
CANTO II. 61 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Wondering tliey listen to the wonderous tale. 
 But no repining thought such tales excite : 
 Only a wish, if wishes might avail, 
 Was haply felt, with juvenile delight. 
 To mingle m the social dance at night, 
 Where the broad moonshine, level as a flood, 
 O'erspread the plain, and in the silver hght, 
 Well-pleased, the placid elders sate and view'd 
 The sport, and seem'd therein to feel their youth 
 renew'd. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 But when the darker scenes their mother drew, 
 What crimes were wrought when drunken fury 
 
 raged. 
 What miseries from their fatal discord grew 
 When horde with horde in deadly strife engaged : 
 The rancorous hate with which their wars they 
 
 waged. 
 
 The more unnatural horrors which ensued. 
 
 When, with inveterate vengeance unassuaged, 
 
 The victors round their slaughtered captives stood. 
 
 And babes were bro't to dip their little hands in blood : 
 6 
 
62 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 % Horrent they heard ; and with her hands the Maid 
 Prest her eyes close as if she strove to blot 
 The hateful image which her mind pourtray'd. 
 The Boy sate silently, intent in thought ; 
 Then with a deep-drawn sigh, as if he sought 
 To heave the oppressive feeling from his breast, 
 Complacently compared their harmless lot 
 With such wild life, outrageous and unblest. 
 Securely thus to live, he said, was surely best. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 On tales of blood they could not bear to dwell, 
 From such their hearts abhorrent shrunk in fear. 
 Better they liked that Monnema should tell 
 Of things unseen ; what power had placed them 
 
 here, 
 And whence the living spirit came, and where 
 It past, when parted from this mortal mold ; 
 Of such mysterious themes with wiUing ear 
 They heard, devoutly hstening while she told 
 Strangely-disfigured truths, and fables feign'd of old. 
 
CANTO II. 63- 
 
 XXVIII. 
 By the Great Spirit man was made, she said, 
 His voice it was which peal'd along the sky. 
 And shook the heavens and fill'd the earth with 
 
 dread. 
 Alone and inaccessible, on high 
 He had his dwelling-place eternally, 
 And Father was his name. Tnis all knew well ; 
 But none had seen his face : and if his eye 
 Regarded what upon the earth befell, 
 Or if he cared for man, she knew not : — who could 
 
 teU? 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 But this, she said, was sure, that after death 
 There was reward and there was punishment : 
 And that the evil doers, when the breath 
 Of their injurious Uves at length was spent, 
 Into all noxious forms abhorr'd were sent, 
 Of beasts and reptiles ; so retaining still 
 Their old propensities, on evil bent. 
 They work'd where'er they miglit their wicked will, 
 The natural foes of men, whom we pursue and kill. 
 
64 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Of better spirits, some there were who said 
 That in the grave they had their place of rest. 
 Lightly they laid the earth upon the dead, 
 Lest in its narrow tenement the guest 
 Should suffer underneath such load opprest. 
 But that death surely set the spirit free, 
 Sad proof to them poor Monnema addrest, 
 Drawn from their father's fate ; no grave had he 
 Wherein his soul might dwell. This therefore could 
 not be. 
 
 XXXL 
 
 Likelier they taught who said that to the Land 
 Of Souls the happy spirit took its flight, 
 A region underneath the sole command 
 Of the Good Power ; by him for the upright 
 Appointed and replenish'd with delight ; 
 A land where nothing evil ever came, 
 Sorrow, nor pain, nor peril, nor affright, 
 Nor change, nor death ; but there the human 
 frame, 
 Untouch'd by age or ill, continued still the same. 
 
CANTO II. 65 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Winds would not pierce it there, nor heat nor cold 
 Grieve, nor thirst parch and hunger pine ; but 
 
 there 
 The sun by day its even influence hold 
 With genial warmth, and thro' the unclouded air 
 The moon upon her nightly journey fare : 
 The lakes and fish-full streams are never diy ; 
 Trees ever green perpetual fruitage bear ; 
 And, wheresoe'er the hunter turns his eye. 
 Water and earth and heaven to him their stores 
 
 supply. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 And once there was a way to that good land, 
 For in mid-earth a wondrous Tree there grew, 
 By which the adventurer might with foot and hand 
 From branch to branch his upward course pursue ; 
 An easy path, if what were said be true, 
 Albeit the ascent was long : and when the height 
 Was gain'd, that bhssful region was in view, 
 Wherein the traveller safely might alight. 
 And roam abroad at will, and take his free delight. 
 
06 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 O happy time, when ingress thus was given 
 To the upper world, and at their pleasure they 
 Whose hearts were strong might pass from earth 
 
 to heaven 
 By their own act and choice ! In evil day 
 Mishap had fatally cut off that way, 
 And none may now the Land of Spirits gain, 
 Till from its dear-loved tenement of clay. 
 Violence or age, infirmity and pain 
 Divorce the soul v^^hich there full gladly would remain. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Such grievous loss had by their own misdeed 
 Upon the unworthy race of men been brought. 
 An aged woman there who could not speed 
 In fishing, earnestly one day besought 
 Her countrymen, that they of what they caught 
 A portion would upon her wants bestow. 
 They set her hunger and her age at nought. 
 And still to her entreaties answered no. 
 And mock'd her, till they made her heart with rage 
 o'erflow. 
 
CANTO II. 67 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 But that old woman by such wanton wrong 
 Inflamed, went hurrying down; and in the pride 
 Of magic power wherein the crone was strong, 
 Her human form infirm she laid aside. 
 Better the Capiguara's hmbs supphed 
 A strength accordant to her fierce intent : 
 These she assmiied, and, burrowing deep and wide 
 Beneath the Tree, with vicious will, she went, 
 To inflict upon mankind a lasting punishment. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Downward she wrought her way, and all around 
 Labouring, the solid earth she undermined 
 And loosen'd all the roots ; then from the ground 
 Emerging, in her hatred of her kind. 
 Resumed her proper form, and breathed a wind 
 Which gather'd like a tempest round its head : 
 Eftsoon the lofty Tree its top inclined 
 Uptorn with horrible convulsion dread, 
 And over half the world its mighty wreck lay spread. 
 
A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 But never scion sprouted from that Tree, 
 Nor seed sprang up ; and thus the easy way, 
 Which had till then for young and old been free, 
 Was closed upon the sons of men for aye. 
 The mighty ruin moulder'd where it lay 
 Till not a trace was left ; and now in sooth 
 Almost had all remembrance past away. 
 This from the elders she had heard in youth ; 
 Some said it was a tale, and some a very truth. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Nathless departed spirits at their will 
 Could from the land of souls pass to and fro ; 
 They come to us in sleep when all is still. 
 Sometimes to warn against the impending blow, 
 Alas ! more oft to visit us in woe : 
 Tho' in their presence there was poor relief! 
 And this had sad experience made her know, 
 For when Quiara came, his stay was brief. 
 And waking then, she felt a freshen'd sense of grief. 
 
CANTO II. 
 
 XL. 
 
 Yet to behold his face again, and hear 
 His voice, tho' painful was a deep delight : 
 It was a joy to think that he was near, 
 To see him in the visions of the night, — 
 To know that the departed still requite 
 The love which to their memory still will cling : 
 And tho' he might not bless her waking sight 
 With his dear presence, 'twas a blessed thing 
 That sleep would thus somethnes his actual image 
 bring. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Why comes he not to me ? Yeruti cries : 
 And Mooma echoing with a sigh the thought, 
 Ask'd why it was that to lier longing eyes 
 No dream the image of her father brought ? 
 Nor Monnema to solve that question sought 
 In vain, content in ignorance to dwell ; 
 Perhaps it was because they knew him not ; 
 Perhaps — but sooth she could not answer well ; 
 What the departed did, themselves alone could tell. 
 
70 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 What one tribe held another disbeheved, 
 For all concerning this was dark, she said ; 
 Uncertain all, and hard to be received. 
 The dreadful race, from whom their fathers fled, 
 Boasted that even the Country of the Dead 
 Was theirs, and where their Spirits chose to go, 
 The ghosts of other men retired in dread 
 Before the face of that victorious foe ; 
 No better, then, the world above, than this below ! 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 What then, alas ! if this were true, was death ? 
 Only a mournful change from ill to ill ! 
 And some there were who said the living breath 
 Would ne'er be taken from us by the will 
 Of the Good Father, but continue still 
 To feed with life the mortal frame he gave. 
 Did not mischance or wicked witchcraft kill ; — 
 Evils from which no care avail'd to save,- 
 And whereby all were sent to fill the greedy graven 
 
CANTO II. 71 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 In vain to counterwork the baleful charm 
 By spells of rival witchcraft was it sought, 
 Less potent was that art to help than harm. 
 No means of safety old experience brought : 
 Nor better fortune did they find who thought 
 From Death, as from some living foe, to fly : 
 For speed or subterfuge avail'd them nought, 
 But wheresoe'er they fled they found him nigh: 
 None ever coidd elude that unseen enemy. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 Bootless the boast, and vain the proud intent 
 Of those who hoped, with arrogant display 
 Of arms and force, to scare him from their tent. 
 As if their threatful shouts and fierce array 
 Of war could drive the Invisible away ! 
 Sometimes regardless of the sufferer's groan, 
 They dragg'd the dying out and as a piey 
 Exposed him, that content with him alone 
 Death might depart, and thus his fate avert their 
 
72 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 XLVL 
 
 Depart he might, — but only to return 
 In quest of other victims, soon or late ; 
 When they who held this fond belief, would learn, 
 Each by his own inevitable fate, 
 That in the course of man's uncertain state 
 Death is the one and only certain thing. 
 Oh folly then to fly or deprecate 
 That which at last Time, ever on the wing, 
 Certain as day and night, to weary age must bring ! 
 
 XL VII. 
 
 While thus the Matron spake, the youthful twain 
 Listen'd in deep attention, wistfully ; 
 Whether with more of wonder or of pain 
 Uneath it were to tell. With steady eye 
 Intent they heard ; and when she paused, a sigh 
 Their sorrowful foreboding seem'd to speak : 
 Questions to which she could not give reply 
 Yeruti ask'd ; and for that Maiden meek, — 
 Involuntary tears ran down her quiet cheek. 
 
CANTO II. 78 
 
 XLVIII. 
 A different sentiment within them stirr'd, 
 When Monnema recall'd to mind one day, 
 Imperfectly, what she had sometimes heard 
 In childhood, long ago, the Elders say : 
 Almost from memory had it past away, — 
 How there appear'd amid the woodlands men 
 Whom the Great Spirit sent there to'leonvey 
 His gracious will ; but httle heed she then 
 Had given, and like a dream it now recurr'd again. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 But these young questioners from time to time 
 Call'd up the long-forgotten theme anew. 
 Strange men they were, from some remotest clime 
 She said, of different speech, uncouth to view, 
 Having hair upon their face, and white in hue : 
 Across the world of waters wide they came 
 Devotedly the Father's work to do. 
 And seek the Red Men out, and in his name 
 His merciful laws, and love, and promises proclaim. 
 
74 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 L. 
 
 They served a Maid more beautiful than tongue 
 Could tell, or heart conceive. Of human race, 
 All heavenly as that Virgin was, she sprung ; 
 But for her beauty and celestial grace. 
 Being one in whose pure elements no trace 
 Had e'er inhered of sin or mortal stain, 
 The highbpt Heaven was now her dwelUng place 
 There as a Queen divine she held her reign, 
 And there in endless joy for ever would remain. 
 
 LL 
 
 Her feet upon the crescent Moon were set, 
 And, moving in their order round her head, 
 The stars compose her sparkling coronet. 
 There at her breast the Virgin Mother fed 
 A Babe divine, who was to judge the dead. 
 Such power the Spirit gave this awful Child ; 
 Severe he was, and in his anger dread. 
 Yet always at his Mother's will grew mild, 
 So well did he obey that Maiden undefile^J. 
 
CANTO II. 75 
 
 LII. 
 
 Sometimes she had descended from above 
 To visit her true votaries, and requite 
 Such as had served her well. And for her love, 
 These bearded men, forsaking all delight, 
 With labour long and dangers infinite. 
 Across the great blue waters came, and sought 
 The Red Men here, to win them, if they might, 
 From bloody ways, rejoiced to profit aught 
 Even when with their own hves the benefit was 
 bought. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 For trusting in this heavenly Maiden's grace, 
 It was for them a joyful thing to die, 
 As men who went to have their hapj))^ place 
 With her, and with that Holy Child, on high, 
 In fields of bliss above the starry sky, 
 In glory, at the Virgin Mother's feet : 
 And all who kept their lessons faithfully 
 An everlasting guerdon there would meet, 
 When Death had led their souls to that celestial seat. 
 
76 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 On earth they offered, too, an easy hfe 
 To those who their mild lessons would obey, 
 Exempt from want, from danger, and from strife ; 
 And from the forest leading them away. 
 They placed them underneath this Virgin's sway, 
 A numerous fellowship, in peace to dwell ; 
 Their high and happy office there to pay 
 Devotions due, which she requited well, 
 Their heavenly Guardian she in whatsoe'er befell. 
 
 LV. 
 
 Thus, Monnema remember'd, it was told 
 
 By one who in his hot and headstrong youth 
 
 Had left her happy service ; but when old 
 
 Lamented oft with unavailing ruth, 
 
 And thoughts which sharper than a serpent's tooth 
 
 Pierced him, that he had changed that peaceful 
 
 place 
 For the fierce freedom and the ways uncouth 
 Of their wild hfe, and lost that Lady's grace, 
 Wherefore he had no hope to see in Heaven her face. 
 
CANTO II. 77 
 
 LVI. 
 
 And she remember'd too when first they fled 
 For safety to the farthest soUtude 
 Before their cruel foes, and hved in dread 
 That thither too their steps might be pursued 
 By those old enemies athirst for blood ; 
 How some among them hoped to see the day 
 When these beloved messengers of good 
 To that lone hiding place might find the way, 
 And them to their abode of blessedness convey. 
 
 LVII. 
 Such tales excited in Yeruti's heart 
 A stirring hope that haply he might meet 
 Some minister of Heaven ; and many a part 
 Untrod before of that wild wood retreat, 
 Did he with indefatigable feet 
 Explore ; yet ever from the fruitless quest 
 Return'd at evening to his native seat 
 By daily disappointment undeprest, — 
 So buoyant was the hope that fill'd his youthful 
 breast. 
 
 *7 
 
78 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 At length the hour approach'd that should fulfil 
 His harmless heart's desu*e, when they shall see 
 Their fellow kind, and take for good or ill 
 The fearful chance, for such it needs must be, 
 Of change from that entire simphcity. 
 Yet wherefore should the thought of change appal ? 
 Grief it perhaps might bring, and injury, 
 And death ; — but evil never can befall 
 The virtuous, for the Eye of Heaven is over all. 
 
TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 CANTO III. 
 
TALE OF PARAGUAY, 
 
 CANTO III. 
 
 I. 
 
 Amid those marshy woodlands far and wide 
 Which spread beyond the soaring vuhure's eye, 
 There grew on Empalado's southern side 
 Groves of that tree whose leaves adust supply 
 The Spaniards with their daily luxury ; 
 A beverage whose salubrious use obtains 
 Thro' many a land of mines and slavery, 
 Even over all La Plata's sea-like plains, 
 And Chili's mountain realm, and proud Peru's do- 
 mains. 
 
82 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 II. 
 
 But better for the injured Indian race 
 Had woods of machined the land o'erspread : 
 Yea in that tree so blest by Nature's grace 
 A direr curse had they inherited, 
 Than if the Upas there had rear'd its head 
 And sent its baleful scyons all around, 
 Blasting where'er its effluent force was shed, 
 In air and water, and the infected ground. 
 All things wherein the breath or sap of hfe is found. 
 
 III. 
 
 The poor Guaranies dreamt of no such ill, 
 When for themselves in miserable hour, 
 The virtues of that leaf, with pure good will 
 They taught their unsuspected visitor, 
 New in the land as yet. They learnt his power 
 Too soon, which law nor conscience could re- 
 strain, 
 A fearless but inhuman conqueror, 
 Heart-hardened by the accursed lust of gain. 
 O fatal thirst of gold ! O foul reproach for Spain ! 
 
CANTO III. 83 
 
 IV. 
 
 For gold and silver had the Spaniards sought 
 Exploring Paraguay with desperate pains, 
 Their way thro' forests axe in hand they wrought ; 
 Drench'd from above by unremitting rains 
 They waded over inundated plains, 
 Forward by hope of plunder still allured; 
 So they might one day count their golden gains, 
 They cared not at what cost of sin procured, 
 All dangers they defied, all sufferings they endured. 
 
 V. 
 
 Barren alike of glory and of gold 
 
 That region proved to them ; nor would the soil 
 
 Unto tlieir unindustrious hands unfold 
 
 Harvests, the fruit of peace, — and wine and oil. 
 
 The treasures that repay contented toil 
 
 With health and weal ; treasures that with them 
 
 bring 
 No guilt for priest and penance to assoil, 
 Nor with their venom arm the awaken'd sting 
 Of conscience at that hour when hfe is vanishing. 
 
84 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 VI. 
 
 But keen of eye in their pursuit of gain 
 The conquerors look'd for lucre in this tree : 
 An annual harvest there might they attain, 
 Without the cost of annual industry. 
 'Twas but to gather in what there grew free 
 And share Potosi's wealth. Nor thence alone, 
 But gold in glad exchange they soon should see 
 From all that once the Incas called their own. 
 Or where the Zippa's power or Zaque's laws were 
 known. 
 
 VII. 
 
 For this, in fact tho' not in name a slave, 
 The Indian from his family was torn ; 
 And droves on droves were sent to find a grave 
 In woods and swamps, by toil severe outworn, 
 No friend at hand to succour or to mourn. 
 In death unpitied, as in life unblest. 
 O miserable race, to slavery born ! 
 Yet when we look beyond this world's unrest, 
 More miserable then the oppressors than the opprest. 
 
CANTO III. V 85 
 
 VIII. 
 Often had Kings essay'd to check the ill 
 By edicts not so well enforced as meant ; 
 A present power was wanting to fulfil 
 Remote authority's sincere intent. 
 To Avarice, on its present purpose bent, 
 The voice of distant Justice spake in vain ; 
 False magistrates and priests their influence lent 
 The accursed thing for lucre to maintain : 
 O fatal thirst of gold ! O foul reproach for Spain ! 
 
 IX. 
 
 O foul reproach ! but not for Spain alone 
 But for all lands that bear the Christian name ! 
 Where'er commercial slavery is known, 
 O shall not Justice trumpet-tongued proclaim 
 The foul reproach, the black offence the same ? 
 Hear, guilty France ! and thou, O England, hear ! 
 Thou who hast half redeem'd thyself from shame. 
 When slavery from thy realms shall disappear. 
 Then from this guilt, and not till then, wilt thou be 
 clear. 
 
 8 
 
Ob A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 X. 
 
 Uncheck'd in Paraguay it ran its course, 
 Till all the gentler children of the land 
 Well nigh had been consumed without remorse. 
 The bolder tribes meantime, whose skilful hand 
 Had tamed the horse, in many a warlike band 
 Kept the field well with bow and dreadful spear. 
 And now the Spaniards dared no more withstand 
 Their force, but in their towns grew pale with fear 
 If the Mocobio, or the Abipon drew near. 
 
 XL 
 Bear witness, Chaco, thou, from thy domain 
 With Spanish blood, as erst with Indian, fed ! 
 And Corrientes, by whose church the slain 
 Were piled in heaps, till for the gather'd dead 
 One common grave was dug, one service said ! 
 Thou too, Parana, thy sad witness bear 
 From shores with many a mournful vestige spread. 
 And monumenta crosses here and there 
 And monumental names that tell where dwellings 
 
CANTO III. 87 
 
 XII. 
 
 Nor would with all their power the Kings of Spaui, 
 Austrian or Bourbon, have at last avail'd 
 This torrent of destruction to restrain, 
 And save a people eveiy where assail'd 
 By men before whose face their courage quail'd, 
 But for the virtuous agency of those 
 Who with the Cross alone, when arms had fail'd, 
 Achiev'd a peaceful triumph o'er the foes, 
 And gave that weary land the blessings of repose. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 For whensoe'er the Spaniards felt or fear'd 
 An Indian enemy, they call'd for aid 
 Upon Loyola's sons, now long endear'd 
 To many a happy tribe, by them convey'd 
 From the open wilderness or woodland shade, 
 In towns of ha])piest polity to dwell. 
 Freely these faithful ministers essay'd 
 The arduous entei*prize, contented well 
 If with success they sped, or if as martyrs fell. 
 
88 A TALE OF PARAGUAl, 
 
 XIV. 
 
 And now it chanced some traders who had fell'd 
 The trees of precious fohage far and wide 
 On Empalado's shore, when they beheld 
 The inviting woodlands on its northern side, 
 Crost thither in their quest, and there espied 
 Yeruti's footsteps : searching then the shade 
 At length a lonely dwelUng they descried, 
 And at the thought of hostile hordes dismay'd 
 To the nearest mission sped and ask'd the Jesuit's aid. 
 
 XV. 
 
 That was a call which ne'er was made in vain 
 Upon Loyola's sons. In Paraguay 
 Much of injustice had they to complain, 
 Much of neglect ; but faithful labourers they 
 In the Lord's vineyard, there was no delay 
 When summon'd to his work. A httle band 
 Of converts made them ready for the way ; 
 Their spiritual father took a cross in hand 
 To be his staff, and forth they went to search the 
 land. 
 
CANTO III. 
 
 XVI. 
 He was a man of rarest qualities, 
 Who to this barbarous region had confined 
 A spirit with the learned and the wise 
 Worthy to take its place, and from mankind 
 Receive their homage, to the immortal mind 
 Paid in its just inheritance of fame. 
 But he to humbler thoughts his heart inclined ; 
 From Gratz amid the Styrian hills he came. 
 And DobrizhofFer was the good man's honour'd 
 name. 
 
 XVII. 
 It was his evil fortune to behold 
 The labours of his painful life destroy'd ; 
 His flock which he had brought within the fold 
 Dispersed ; the work of ages render'd void. 
 And all of good that Paraguay enjoy 'd 
 By blind and suicidal power o'erthrown. 
 So he the years of his old age employ'd, 
 A faithful chronicler in handing down 
 Names which he loved, and things well worthy to 
 be known. 
 
 *8 
 
90 A TALE OP PARAGUAT. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 And thus when exiled from the dear-loved scene, 
 In proud Vienna he beguiled the pain 
 Of sad remembrance : and the Empress Queen, 
 That great Teresa, she did not disdain 
 In gracious mood sometimes to entertain 
 Discourse with him both pleasurable and sage ; 
 And sure a willing ear she well might deign 
 To one whose tales may equally engage 
 The wondering mind of youth, the thoughtful heart 
 of age. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 But of his native speech because well nigh 
 Disuse in him forgetfulness had wrought, 
 In Latin he composed his history ; 
 A garrulous, but a lively tale, and fraught 
 With matter of deUght and food for thought. 
 And if he could in Merlin's glass have seen 
 By whom his tomes to speak our tongue were taught, 
 The old man would have felt as pleased, I ween, 
 As when he won the ear of that great Empress Queen. 
 
fcANTO III. 91 
 
 XX. 
 
 Little he deem'd when with his Indian band 
 He thro' the wilds set forth upon his way, 
 A Poet then unborn, and in a land 
 Which had proscribed his order, should one day 
 Take up from thence his moraUzing lay. 
 And shape a song that, with no fiction drest. 
 Should to his worth its grateful tribute pay, 
 And sinking deep in many an EngUsh breast, 
 Foster that faith divine that keeps the heart at rest- 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Behold him on his way ! the breviary 
 Which from his girdle hangs, his only shield ; 
 That well-known habit is his panoply, 
 That cross, the only weapon he will wield : 
 By day he bears it for his staff afield. 
 By night it is the pillar of his bed ; 
 No other lodging these wild woods can yield 
 Than earth's hard lap, and rusthng overhead 
 A. canopy of deep and tangled boughs far spread. 
 
i)2 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Yet may they not without some cautious care 
 Take up their inn content upon the ground. 
 First it behoves to clear a circle there, 
 And trample down the grass and plantage round, 
 Where many a deadly reptile might be found, 
 Whom with its bright and comfortable heat 
 The flame would else allure : such plagues abound 
 In these thick woods, and therefore must they beat 
 The earth, and trample well the herbs beneath their 
 feet. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 And now they heap dry reeds and broken wood ; 
 The spark is struck, the crackling faggots blaze, 
 And cheer that unaccustomed solitude. 
 Soon have they made their frugal meal of maize ; 
 In grateful adoration then they raise 
 The evening hymn. How solemn in the wild 
 That sweet accordant strain wherewith they praise 
 The Queen of Angels, merciful and mild : 
 Hail, holiest Mary ! Maid, and Mother undefiled. 
 
CANTO III. 93 
 
 XXIV. 
 Blame as thou mayest the Papist's errmg creed, 
 But not theu* salutary rite of even ! 
 The prayers that from a pious soul proceed, 
 Tho' misdirected, reach the ear of Heaven. 
 Us unto whom a purer faith is given, 
 As our best birthright it behoves to hold 
 The precious charge. But, oh, beware the leaven 
 Which makes the heart of charity grow cold ! 
 We own one Shepherd, we shall be at last one fold. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Thinkest thou the httle company who here 
 Pour forth their hymn devout at close of day. 
 Feel it no aid that those who hold them dear, 
 At the same hour the self-same homage pay, 
 Gonunending them to Heaven when far away ? 
 That the sweet bells are heard in solemn chime 
 Thro' all the happy towns of Paraguay, 
 Where now their brethren in one point of time 
 Jom in the general prayer, with sympathy subUme ? 
 
94 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 That to the glorious Mother of their Lord 
 Whole Christendom that hour its homage pays? 
 From court and cottage that with one accord 
 Ascends the universal strain of praise ? 
 Amid the crouded city's restless ways, 
 One reverential thought pervades the throng ; 
 The traveller on his lonely road obeys 
 The sacred hour, and as he fares along. 
 In spirit hears and joins his household's even-song. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 What if they think that every prayer enroll'd 
 Shall one day in their good account appear ; 
 That guardian Angels hover round and fold 
 Their wings in adoration while they hear ; 
 Ministrant Spirits thro' the ethereal sphere 
 Waft it with joy, and to the grateful theme 
 Well pleased, the Mighty Mother bends her ear ? 
 A vain delusion this we rightly deem : 
 Yet what they feel is not a mere illusive dr^am. 
 
CANTO III. 95 
 
 XXVIIL 
 
 That prayer perform'd, around the fire recHned 
 Beneath the leafy canopy they lay 
 Their limbs : the. Indians soon to sleep resign'd ; 
 And the good Father with that toilsome day 
 Fatigued, full fain to sleep, — if sleep he may, 
 Whom all tormenting insects there assail ; 
 More to be dreaded these than beasts of prey 
 Against whom strength may cope, or skill prevail, 
 But art of man as-ainst these enemies must fail. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Patience itself that should the sovereign cure 
 For ills that touch ourselves alone, supply, 
 Lends httle aid to one who must endure 
 This plague : the small tormentors fill the sky. 
 And swarm about their prey : there he must lie 
 And suffer while the hours of darkness wear ; 
 At times he utters with a deep drawn sigh 
 Some name adored, in accents of despair 
 Breathed sorrowfully forth, half mmmur and half 
 prayer. 
 
96 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Welcome to him the earliest gleam of light: 
 Welcome to him the earliest soimd of day ; 
 That from the sufferings of that weary night 
 Released, he may resume his wilhng way, 
 Well pleased again the perils to essay 
 Of that drear wilderness, with hope renew'd ; 
 Success will all his labours overpay : 
 A quest like his is cheerfully pursued ; 
 The heart is happy still that is intent on good. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 And now where Empalado's waters creep 
 Through low and level shores of woodland wide, 
 They come ; prepared to cross the sluggish deep, 
 An ill-shaped coracle of hardest hide. 
 Ruder than ever Cambrian fisher pUed 
 Where Towey and the salt sea-waters meet, 
 The Indians' launch ; they steady it and guide, 
 Winning their way with arms and practised feet, 
 While in the tottering boat the Father keeps his seat. 
 
CANTO III. 97 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 For three long summer days on every side 
 They search in vain the sylvan sohtude. 
 The fourth a human footstep is espied, 
 And through the mazes of the pathless wood 
 With hound-hke skill and hawk-hke eye pursued ; 
 For keen upon their pious quest are they 
 As e'er were hunters on the track of blood. 
 Where softer ground or trodden herbs betray 
 The shghtest mark of nftin, they there explore the way. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 More cautious when more certain of the trace 
 In silence they proceed ; not like a crew 
 Of jovial hunters, who the joyous chace 
 With hound and horn in open field pursue, 
 Cheering their way with jubilant halloo, 
 And hurrying forward to their spoil desired, 
 The panting game before them, full in view : 
 Humaner thoughts this little band inspired. 
 Yet with a hope as high their gentle hearts were fired. 
 
 9 
 
A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Nor is their virtuous hope devoid of fear ; 
 The perils of that enterprize they know ; 
 Some savage horde may have its fastness here, 
 A race to whom a stranger is a foe ; 
 Who not for friendly words, nor proffer'd show 
 Of gifts, will peace or parley entertain. 
 If by such hands their blameless blood should flow 
 To serve the Lamb who for their sins was slain, 
 Blessed indeed their lot, for 9o to die is gain ! 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Them thus pursuing where the track may lead, 
 A human voice arrests upon their way. 
 They stop, and thither whence the sounds proceed, 
 All eyes are turn'd in wonder, — not dismay. 
 For sure such sounds might charm all fear away. 
 No nightingale whose brooding mate is nigh, 
 From some sequester'd bower at close of day, 
 No lark rejoicing in the orient sky 
 Ever pour'd forth so wild a strain of melody. 
 
CANTO III. 99 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 The voice which through the ringing forest floats 
 Is one which having ne'er been taught the skill 
 Of marshalhng sweet words to sweeter notes, 
 Utters all unpremeditate, at will, 
 A modulated sequence loud and shrill 
 Of inarticulate and long-breathed sound, 
 Varying its tones with rise and fall and trill, 
 Till all the solitary woods around 
 With that far-piercing power of melody resound. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 In mute astonishment attent to hear, 
 As if by some enchantment held, they stood. 
 With bending head, fix'd eye, and eager ear, 
 And hand upraised in warning attitude 
 To check all speech or step that might intrude 
 On that sweet strain. Them leaving thus spell- 
 bound, 
 A little way alone into the wood 
 The Father gently moved toward the sound, 
 Treading with quiet feet upon the grassy ground. 
 
100 A TALE OF TAKAtJUAi-. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Anon advancing thus the trees between, 
 He saw beside her bower the songstress wild, 
 Not distant far, himself the while unseen. 
 Mooma it was, that happy maiden mild, 
 Who in the sunshine, like a careless child 
 Of nature, in her joy was caroling. 
 A heavier heart than his it had beguiled 
 So to have heard so fair a creature sing 
 The strains which she had learnt from all sweet birds 
 of spring. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 For these had been her teachers, these alone ; 
 And she in many an emulous essay, 
 At length into a descant of her own 
 Had blended all their notes, a wild display 
 Of sounds in rich irregular array ; 
 And now as blithe as bird in vernal bower, 
 Pour'd in full flow the unexpressive lay, 
 Rejoicing in her consciousness of power, 
 But in the inborn sense of harmony yet more. 
 
CANTO III. 101 
 
 XL. 
 
 In joy had she begun the ambitious song, 
 With rapid interchange of sink and swell ; 
 And sometimes high the note was raised, and long 
 Produced, with shake and effort sensible, 
 As if the voice exulted there to dwell ; 
 But when she could no more that pitch sustain, 
 So thrillingly attuned the cadence fell. 
 That with the music of its dying strain 
 She moved herself to tears of pleasurable pain. 
 
 XLI. 
 It may be deem'd some dim presage possessed 
 The virgin's soul ; that some mysterious sense 
 Of change to come, upon her mind impress'd, 
 Had then call'd forth, ere she departed thence, 
 A requiem to their days of innocence. 
 For what thou losest in thy native shade 
 There is one change alone that may compense, 
 O Mooma, mnocent and simple maid. 
 Only one change, and it will not be long delay'd ! 
 
102 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 When now the Father issued from the wood 
 Into that little glade in open sight, 
 Like one entranced, beholding him, she stood ; 
 Yet had she more of wonder than affright, 
 Yet less of wonder than of dread dehght. 
 When thus the actual vision came in view ; 
 For instantly the maiden read aright 
 Wherefore he came ; his garb and beard she knew ; 
 All that her mother heard had then indeed been true. 
 
 XLIII. 
 Nor was the Father filled with less surprize ; 
 He too strange fancies well might entertain, 
 When this so fair a creature met his eyes. 
 He might have thought her not of mortal strain ; 
 Rather, as bards of yore were wont to feign, 
 A nymph divine of Mondai's secret stream ; 
 Or haply of Diana's woodland train : 
 For in her beauty Mooma such might seem. 
 Being less a child of earth than like a poet's dream. 
 
CANTO III. 103 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 No art of barbarous ornament had scarr'd 
 And stain'd her virgin hmbs, or 'filed her face : 
 Nor ever yet had evil passion marr'd 
 In her sweet countenance the natural grace 
 Of innocence and youth ; nor was there trace 
 Of sorrow, or of hardening want and care. 
 Strange was it in this wild and savage place, 
 Which seem'd to be for beasts a fitting lair, 
 Thus to behold a maid so gentle and so fair. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 Across her shoulders was a hammock flung, 
 By night it was the maiden's bed, by day 
 Her only garment. Round her as it hung, 
 In short unequal folds of loose array. 
 The open meshes, when she moves, display 
 Her form. She stood with fix'd and wondering eyes, 
 And trembUng like a leaf upon the spray, 
 Even for excess of joy, with ea'ger cries 
 She call'd her mother forth to share that glad sur- 
 prize. 
 
104 A TALE OF PARAGUAr. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 At that unwonted call with quickened pace 
 The matron hurried thither, half in fear. 
 How strange to Monnema a stranger's face ! 
 How strange it was a stranger's voice to hear, 
 How strangely to her disaccustomed ear 
 Came even the accents of her native tongue ! 
 But when she saw her countrymen appear, 
 Tears for that unexpected blessing sprung, 
 And once again she felt as if her heart were young. 
 
 xLvn. 
 
 Soon was her melancholy story told. 
 And glad consent unto that Father good 
 Was given, that they to join his happy fold 
 Would leave with him their forest soUtude. 
 Why comes not now Yeruti from the wood ? 
 Why tarrieth he so late this blessed day ? 
 They long to see their joy in his renew'd, 
 And look impatiently toward his way. 
 And think they hear his step, and chide his long 
 delay. 
 
CANTO III. 105 
 
 XLVIII. 
 He comes at length, a happy man, to find 
 His only dream of hope fulfill'd at last. 
 The sunshine of his all-believing mind 
 There is no doubt or fear to overcast ; 
 No chilling forethought checks his bliss ; the past 
 Leaves no regret for him, and all to come 
 Is change and wonder and delight. How fast 
 Hath busy fancy conjured up a sum 
 Of joys unknown, whereof the expectance makes 
 him dumb ! 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 O happy day, the Messenger of Heaven 
 Hath found them in their lonely dwelUng place ! 
 O happy day, to them it would be given 
 To share in that Eternal Mother's grace, 
 And one day see in heaven her glorious face 
 Where Angels round her mercy-throne adore ! 
 Now shall they mingle with the human race, 
 Sequester'd from their fellow kind no more ; 
 O joy of joys supreme ! O bUss for them in store ! 
 
106 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 L. 
 
 Full of such hopes this night they lie them down, 
 But not as they were wont, this night to rest. 
 Their old tranquillity of heart is gone ; 
 The peace wherewith till now they have been blest 
 Hath taken its departure. In the breast 
 Fast following thoughts and busy fancies throng ; 
 Their sleep itself is feverish, and possest 
 With dreams that to the wakeful mind belong ; 
 To Mooma and the youth then first the night seem'd 
 long. 
 
 LI. 
 
 Day comes, and now a first and last farewell 
 To that fair bower within their native wood, 
 Their quiet nest till now. The bird may dwell 
 Henceforth in safety there, and rear her brood, 
 And beasts and reptiles undisturb'd intrude. 
 Reckless of this, the simple tenants go, 
 Emerging from their peaceful solitude, 
 To mingle with the world, — but not to know 
 Its crimes, nor to partake its cares, nor feel its woe. 
 
TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 CANTO IV. 
 
TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 CANTO IV. 
 
 I. 
 
 The bells rang blithely from St. Mary's tower 
 
 When in St. Joachin's the news was told 
 
 That Dobrizhoffer from his quest that hour 
 
 Drew nigh : the glad Guaranies young and old 
 
 Throng thro* the gate, rejoicing to behold 
 
 His face again ; and all with heartfelt glee 
 
 Welcome the Pastor to his peaceful fold, 
 
 Where so beloved amid his flock was he 
 
 That this return was like a dav of jubilee. 
 10 
 
110 A TALE OF PARAGUAT. 
 
 II. 
 
 How more than strange, how marvellous a sight 
 To the new comers was this multitude ! 
 Something like fear was mingled with affright 
 When they the busy scene of turmoil view'd. 
 Wonder itself the sense of joy subdued 
 And with its all-unwonted weight opprest 
 These children of the quiet solitude ; 
 And now and then a sigh that heaved the breast 
 Unconsciously bewray'd their feehng of unrest. 
 
 III. 
 
 Not more prodigious than that little town 
 Seem'd to these comers, were the pomp and power 
 To us, of ancient Rome in her renown ; 
 Nor the elder Babylon, or e'er that hour 
 WEen her high gardens, and her cloud-capt tower, 
 And her broad walls before the Persian fell; 
 Nor those dread fanes on Nile's forsaken shore 
 Whose ruins yet their pristine grandeur tell. 
 Wherein the demon gods themselves might deign to 
 dwell. 
 
CANTO IV. Ill 
 
 IV. 
 
 But if, all humble as it was, that scene 
 Possess'd a poor and uninstructed mind 
 With awe, the thoughtful spirit, well I ween, 
 Something to move its wonder there might find. 
 Something of consolation for its kind. 
 Some hope and earnest of a happier age, 
 When vain pursuits no more the heart shall blind, 
 But Faith the evils of this earth assuage, 
 And to all souls assure their heavenly heritage. 
 
 V. 
 
 Yes ; for in history's mournful map, the eye 
 On Paraguay, as on a sunny spot, 
 May rest complacent : to humanity, 
 There, and there only, hath a peaceful lot 
 Been granted, by Ambition troubled not, 
 By Avarice undebased, exempt from care, 
 By perilous passions undisturb'd. And what 
 If Glory never rear'd her standard there. 
 Nor with her clarion's blast awoke the slumbering air ? 
 
112 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Content, and cheerful Piety were found 
 Within those humble walls. From youth to age 
 The simple dwellers paced their even round 
 Of duty, not desiring to engage 
 Upon the busy world's contentious stage, 
 Whose ways they wisely had been trained to dread 
 Their inoflfensive lives in pupilage 
 Perpetually, but peacefully they led. 
 From all temptation saved, and sure of daily bread. 
 
 VII. 
 
 They on the Jesuit, who was nothing loth, 
 Reposed alike their conscience and their cares ; 
 And he, with equal faith, the trust of both 
 Accepted and discharged. The bliss is theirs 
 Of that entire dependence that prepares 
 Entire submission, let what may befall : 
 And his whole careful com-se of life declares 
 That for their good he holds them thus in thrall, 
 Their Father and their Friend, Priest, Ruler, all in all 
 
GANTO IV. 113 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Food, raiment, shelter, safety, he provides ; 
 No forecast, no anxieties have they ; 
 The Jesuit governs, and instructs and guides ; 
 Their part it is to honour and obey. 
 Like children under wise parental sway. 
 All thoughts and wishes are to him confest ; 
 And when at length in life's last weary day 
 In sure and certain hope they sink to rest, 
 By him their eyes are closed, by him their burial blest. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Deem not their lives of happiness devoid, 
 Tho' thus the years their course obscurely fill ; 
 In rural and in household arts employ'd. 
 And many a pleasing task of pliant skill, 
 For emulation here unmix'd with ill. 
 Sufficient scope was given. Each had assign'd 
 His proper part, which yet left free the will ; 
 So well they knew to mould the ductile mind 
 By whom the scheme of that wise order was com- 
 bjned. 
 
 *I0 
 
114 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 It was a land of priestcraft, but the priest 
 Believed himself the fables that he taught : 
 Corrupt their forms, and yet those forms at least 
 Preserved a salutary faith that wrought, 
 Maugre the alloy, the saving end it sought. 
 Benevolence had gain'd such empire there, 
 That even superstition had been brought 
 An aspect of humanity to wear, 
 Apd make the weal of man its first and only care. 
 
 XL 
 
 I^lor lack'd they store of innocent delight, 
 Music and song and dance and proud array> 
 Whate'er might win tlie ear, or charm the sight ; 
 Banners and pageantry in rich display 
 Brought forth upon some Saint's high holyday, 
 The altar drest, the church with garlands hung, 
 Arches and floral bowers beside the way. 
 And festal tables spread for old and young, 
 Gladness in every heart, and mirth on every tongue. 
 
CANTO IV. 115 
 
 XII. 
 
 Thou who despisest so debased a fate, 
 As in the pride of wisdom thou may'st call 
 These meek submissive Indians' low estate, 
 Look round the world, and see where over all 
 Injurious passions hold mankind in thrall ! 
 How barbarous Force asserts a ruthless reign, 
 Or Mammon, o'er his portion of the ball, 
 Hath learn'd a baser empire to maintain, 
 Mammon, the god of all who give their rouls to gain. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Behold the fraudful arts, the covert strife, 
 The jarring interests that engross mankind ; 
 The low pursuits, the selfish aims of hfe ; 
 Studies that weary and contract the mind. 
 That bring no joy, and leave no peace behind ; 
 And Death approaching to dissolve the spell ! 
 The immortal soul, which hath so long been bhnd. 
 Recovers then clear sight, and sees too well 
 The error of its ways, when irretrievable. 
 
116 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Far happier the Guaranies humble race, 
 With whom in dutiful contentment wise, 
 The gentle virtues had their dwelling place. 
 With them the dear domestic charities 
 Sustain'd no bhght from fortune ; natural ties 
 There suffer'd no divorcement, save alone 
 That which in course of nature might arise ; 
 No artificial wants and ills were known ; 
 But there they dwelt as if the world were all their own. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Obedience in its laws that takes delight 
 Was theirs ; simplicity that knows no art ; 
 Love, friendship, grateful duty in its height ; 
 Meekness and truth, that keep all strife apart, 
 And faith and hope which elevate the heart 
 Upon its heavenly heritage intent. 
 Poor, erring, self-tormentor that thou art ; 
 O Man ! and on thine own undoing bent. 
 Wherewith canst thou be blest, if not with these 
 content ? 
 
CANTO IT. 117 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Mild pupils, in submission's perfect school, 
 Two thousand souls were gather'd here, and here 
 Beneath the Jesuit's all-embracing rule 
 They dwelt, obeying him with love sincere, 
 That never knew distrust, nor felt a fear, 
 Nor anxious thought, which wears the heart away. 
 Sacred to them their laws, their Ruler dear ; 
 Hmnbler or happier none could be than they 
 Who knew it for their good in all things to obey. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 The Patron Saint, from whom their town was 
 
 named. 
 Was that St. Joachin, who, legends say. 
 Unto the Saints in Limbo first proclaim'd 
 The Advent. Being permitted, on the day 
 That Death enlarged him from this mortal clay, 
 His daughter's high election to behold, 
 Thither his soul, glad herald, wii^g'd its way. 
 And to the Prophets and the Patriarchs old 
 The tidings of great joy and near deliverance told. 
 
118 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 There on the altar was his image set, 
 The lamp before it burning night and day, 
 And there was incensed, when his votaries met 
 Before the sacred shrine, their beads to say, 
 And for his fancied intercession pray. 
 Devoutly as in faith they bent the knee. 
 Such adoration they were taught to pay. 
 Good man, how httle had he ween'd that he 
 Should thus obtain a place in Rome's idolatry ! 
 
 XIX. 
 
 But chiefly there the Mother of our Lord, 
 His blessed daughter, by the multitude 
 Was for their special patroness adored. 
 Amid the square on high her image stood, 
 Clasping the Babe in her beatitude. 
 The Babe divine on whom she fix'd her sight ; 
 And in their hearts, albe the work was rude, 
 It raised the thought of all-commanding might. 
 Combined with boundless love and mercy infinite. 
 
CANTO IV. 119 
 
 XX. 
 
 To this great family the Jesuit brought 
 
 His new-found children now ; for young and old 
 
 , He deeni'd ahke his children while he wrought 
 For their salvation, — seeking to unfold 
 The saving mysteries in the creed enroll'd, 
 To their slow minds, that could but ill conceive 
 The import of the mighty truths he told. 
 But errors they have none to which they cleave. 
 
 And whatsoe'er he tells they wilUngly believe. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Safe from that pride of ignorance were they 
 That with small knowledge thinks itself full wise. 
 How at beHeving aught should these delay, 
 When every where new objects met their eyes 
 To fill the soul with wonder and surprize ? 
 Not -^ itself, but by temptation bred. 
 In man doth impious unbehef arise ; 
 It is our instinct to believe and dread, 
 God bids us love, and then our faith is perfected. 
 
120 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Quick to believe, and slow to comprehend, 
 Like children, unto all the teacher taught 
 Submissively an easy ear they lend : 
 And to the font at once he might have brought 
 These converts, if the Father had not thought 
 Theirs was a case for wise and safe delay, 
 Lest lightly learnt might hghtly be forgot ; 
 And meanwhile due instruction day by day 
 Would to their opening minds the sense of truth 
 convey. 
 
 XXIII. 
 Of this they reck'd not whether soon or late ; 
 For overpowering wonderment possest 
 Their faculties ; and in this new estate 
 Strange sights and sounds and thoughts well nigh 
 
 opprest 
 Their sense, and raised a turmoil in the breast 
 Resenting less of pleasure than of pain ; 
 And sleep afforded them no natural rest, 
 But in their dreams, a mixed disordered train. 
 The busy scenes of day disturb'd their hearts again. 
 
CANTO IV. V21 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Even when the spirit to that secret wood 
 Return'd, slow Mondai's silent stream beside, 
 No longer there it found the solitude 
 Which late it left : strange faces were descried, 
 Voices, and sounds of music far and wide, 
 And buildings seem'd to tower amid the trees, 
 And forms of men and beasts on every side, 
 As ever-wakeful fancy hears and sees, 
 AH things that it had heard, and seen, and more than 
 these. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 For in their sleep strange forms deform'd they saw 
 Of frightful fiends, their ghostly enemies : 
 And souls who must abide the rigorous law 
 Weltering in fire, and there, with dolorous cries 
 Blaspheming roll around their hopeless eyes ; 
 And those who doom'd a shorter term to bear 
 In penal flames, look upward to the skies, 
 Seeking and finding consolation there, 
 And feel, like dew from Heaven, the precious aid of 
 prayer. 
 
 11 
 
122 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 And Angels who around their glorious Queen 
 In adoration bent their heads abased ; 
 And infant faces in their dreams were seen 
 Hovering on cherub wings ; and Spirits placed 
 To be their guards invisible, who chased 
 With fiery arms their fiendish foes away : 
 Such visions overheated fancy traced, 
 Peopling the night with a confused array 
 That made its hours of rest more restless than the day. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 To all who from an old erratic course 
 Of life, within the Jesuit's fold were led, 
 The change was perilous. They felt the force 
 Of habit, when till then in forests bred, 
 A thick perpetual umbrage overhead, 
 They came to dwell in open hght and air. 
 This ill the Fathers long had learnt to dread, 
 And still devised such means as might prepare 
 The new-reclaim'd unhurt this total change to bear. 
 
CANTO IV. 123 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 All thoughts and occupations to commute, 
 To change their air, their water, and their food. 
 And those old habits suddenly uproot 
 Conform'd to which the vital powers pursued 
 Their functions, such mutation is too rude 
 For man's fine frame mishaken to sustain. 
 And these poor children of the solitude 
 Began ere long to pay the bitter pain 
 That their new way of hfe brought with it in its train. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 On Monnema the apprehended ill 
 Came first ; the matron sunk beneath the weight 
 Of a strong malady, whose force no skill 
 In healing, might avert, or mitigate. 
 Yet happy in her children's safe estate 
 Her thankfulness for them she still exprest ; 
 And yielding then complacently to fate. 
 With Christian rites her passing hour was blest, 
 And with a Christian's hope she was consign'd to rest. 
 
124 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 They laid her m the Garden of the Dead. 
 Such as a Christian burial-place should be 
 Was that fair spot, where every grave was spread 
 With flowers, and not a weed to spring was free ; 
 But the pure blossoms of the orange tree 
 Dropt like a shower of fragrance, on the bier ; 
 And palms, the type of immortahty. 
 Planted in stately colonnades, appear. 
 That all was verdant there throughout the unvary- 
 ing year. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Nor ever did irreverent feet intrude 
 Within that sacred spot ; nor sound of mirth, 
 Unseemly there, profane the solitude, 
 Where solemnly committed earth to earth. 
 Waiting the summons for their second birth, 
 Whole generations in Death's peaceful fold 
 Collected lay ; green innocence, ripe worth, 
 Youth full of hope, and age whose days were told, 
 Compress'd alike into that niass of mortal mould. 
 
CANTO IV. 125 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Mortal, and yet at the Archangel's voice 
 To put on immortaUty. That call 
 Shall one day make the sentient dust rejoice ; 
 These bodies then shall rise and cast off all 
 Corruption, with whate'er of earthly thrall 
 Had clogg'd the heavenly image, then set free. 
 How then should Death a Christian's heart appal 
 Lo, Heaven for you is open ; — enter ye 
 Children of God, and heirs of his eternity ! 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 This hope supported Mooma, hand in hand 
 When with Yeruti at the grave she stood. 
 Less even now of death they understand 
 Than of the joys eternal that ensued ; 
 The bUss of infinite beatitude 
 To them had been their teacher's favourite theme, 
 Wherewith their hearts so fully were imbued, 
 That it the sole reality might seem. 
 Life, death, and all things else, a shadow or a dream. 
 
 ni 
 
X26 A TALE OF PARAGUAY 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Yea, so possest with that best hope were they, 
 
 That if the heavens had opened overhead, 
 
 And the Archangel with his trump that day 
 
 To judgement had convoked the quick and dead, 
 
 They would have heard the summons not with dread 
 
 But in the joy of faith that knows no fear: 
 
 Come Lord ! come quickly ! would this pair have 
 
 said, 
 And thou O Queen of men and Angels dear, 
 I^ift us whom thou hast loved into thy happy sphere I 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 They wept not at the grave, tho' overwrought 
 With feelings there as if the heart would break. 
 Some haply might have deem'd they suffered not ; 
 Yet they who look'd upon that Maiden meek 
 Might see what deep emotion blanched her cheek. 
 An inward light there was which fdl'd her eyes, 
 And told, more forcibly than words could speak, 
 That this disruption of her earliest ties 
 Had shaken mind and frame in all their faculties. 
 
UANTO IV. J 23 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 It was not passion only that disturb'd 
 Her g«ntle nature thus ; it was not grief: 
 Nor human feeling by the effort curb'd 
 Of some misdeeming duty, when relief 
 Were surely to be found, albeit brief. 
 If sorrow at its springs might freely flow ; 
 Nor yet repining, stronger than beUef 
 In its first force, that shook the Maiden so, 
 Tho' these alone might that frail fabric overthrow. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 The seeds of death were in her at that hour. 
 Soon was their quickening and their growth dis- 
 
 play'd : 
 Thenceforth she droop'd and withered like a flower. 
 Which when it flourished in its native shade 
 Some child to his own garden hath convey 'd, 
 And planted in the sun, to pine away. 
 Thus was the gentle Mooma seen to fade, 
 Not under sharp disease, but day by day 
 Losing the powers of life in visible decay. 
 
128 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 The sunny hue that tinged her cheek was gone, 
 A deathy paleness settled hi its stead ; 
 The hght of joy which in her eyes had shone, 
 Now like a lamp that is no longer fed 
 Grew dim : but when she raised her heavy head 
 Some proffered help of kindness to partake, 
 Those feeble eyes a languid lustre shed, 
 And her sad smile of thankfulness would wake 
 Grief even in callous hearts for that sweet suflerer's 
 sake. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 How had Yeruti borne to see her fade ? 
 But he was spared the lamentable sight. 
 Himself upon the bed of sickness laid. 
 Joy of his heart, and of his eyes the hght 
 Had Mooma been to him, his soul's delight, 
 On whom his mind for ever was intent, 
 His darhng thought by day, his dream by night, 
 The playmate of his youth in mercy sent. 
 With whom his hfe had past in peacefullest content. 
 
CANTO I>. 129 
 
 XL. 
 Well was it for the youth, and well for her. 
 As there m placid helplessness she lay, 
 He was not present with his love to stir 
 Emotions that might shake her feeble clay, 
 And rouse up in her heart a strong array 
 Of feeUngs, hurtflil only when they bind 
 To earth the soul that soon must pass away. 
 But this was spared them ; and no pain of mind 
 To trouble her had she, instinctively resigned. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Nor was there wanting to the sufferers aught 
 Of careful kindness to alleviate 
 The affliction ; for the universal thought 
 In that poor town was of their sad estate, 
 And what might best relieve or mitigate 
 Their case, what help of nature or of art ; 
 And many were the prayers compassionate 
 That the good Saints their heaUng would impart. 
 Breathed in that maid's behalf from many a tender 
 keart. 
 
130 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 And vows were made for her, if vows might save ; 
 She for herself the while preferr'd no prayer ; 
 For when she stood beside her Mother's grave, 
 Her earthly hopes and thoughts had ended there. 
 Her only longing now was, free as air 
 From this obstructive flesh to take her flight 
 For Paradise, and seek her Mother there, 
 And then regaining her beloved sight 
 Rest in the eternal sense of undisturb'd dehght. 
 
 XLin. 
 Her heart was there, and there she felt and knew 
 That soon full surely should her spirit be. 
 And who can tell what foretastes might ensue 
 To one, whose soul, from all earth's thraldom free, 
 Was waiting thus for immortality ? 
 Sometimes she spake with short and hurried breath 
 As if some happy sight she seem'd to see, 
 While in the fulness of a perfect faith 
 Even with a lover's hope she lay and look'd for death. 
 
CANTO ir. 131 
 
 XLIV. 
 I said that for herself the patient maid 
 Preferr'd no prayer ; but oft her feeble tongue 
 And feebler breath a voice of praise essay'd ; 
 And duly when the vesper bell was rung, 
 Her evening hymn in faint accord she sung 
 So piously, that they who gathered round 
 Awe-stricken on her heavenly accents hung. 
 As tho' they thought it were no mortal sound. 
 But that the place whereon they stood was holy 
 ground. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 At such an hour when Dobrizhoffer stood 
 Beside her bed, oh how unlike, he thought 
 This voice to that which ringing thro' the wood 
 Had led him to the secret bower he sought ! 
 And was it then for this that he had brought 
 That harmless household from their native shade ? 
 Death had already been the mother's lot ; 
 And this fair Mooma, was she form'd to fade 
 So soon, — so soon must she in earth's cold lap be laid ? 
 
182 A TALE OF PARAGUAr. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 Yet he had no misgiving at the sight ; 
 And wherefore should he ? he had acted well, 
 And deeming of the ways of God aright, 
 Knew that to such as these, whate'er befell 
 Must needs for them be best. But who could dwell 
 Unmoved upon the fate of one so young. 
 So blithesome late ? What marvel if tears fell. 
 From that good man as over her he hung. 
 And that the prayers he said came faltering from his 
 tongue ! 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 She saw him weep, and she could understand 
 The cause thus tremulously that made hmi speak. 
 By his emotion moved she took his hand ; 
 A gleam of pleasure o'er her pallid cheek 
 Past, while she look'd at him with meaning meek, 
 And for a little while, as loth to part. 
 Detaining him, her fingers lank and weak, 
 Play'd with their hold ; then letting him depart 
 She gave him a slow smile that touch'd him to the 
 heart. 
 
CANTO TV. 133 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 Mourn not for her ! for what hath Hfe to give 
 That should detain her ready spirit here ? 
 Thinkest thou that it were worth a wish to hve, 
 Could wishes hold her from her proper sphere ? 
 That simple heart, that imiocence sincere 
 The world would stain. Fitter she ne'er could be 
 For the great change ; and now that change is near, 
 Oh who would keep her soul from being free ! 
 Maiden beloved of Heaven, to die is best for thee I 
 
 XLIX. 
 She hath past away, and on her hps a smile 
 Hath settled, fix'd in death. Judged they aright, 
 Or suffered they their fancy to beguile 
 The reason, who beheved that she had sight 
 Of Heaven before her spirit took its flight ; 
 That Angels waited round her lowly bed ; 
 And that in that last effort of delight, 
 When lifting up her dying arms, she said, 
 T come! a ray from Heaven upon her face was shed? 
 12 
 
134 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 L. 
 
 St. Joachin's had never seen a day 
 Of such profuse and general grief before, 
 As when with tapers, dirge, and long array 
 The Maiden's body to the grave they bore. 
 All eyes, all hearts, her early death deplore ; 
 Yet wondering at the fortune they lament, 
 They the wise ways of Providence adore, 
 By whom the Pastor surely had been sent 
 When to the Mondai woods upon his quest he went. 
 
 LI. 
 
 This was, indeed, a chosen family. 
 For Heaven's especial favor mark'd, they said ; 
 Shut out from all mankind they seem'd to be, 
 Yet mercifully there were visited, 
 That so within the fold they might be led, 
 Then call'd away to bliss. Already two 
 In their baptismal innocence were dead ; 
 The third was on the bed of death they knew, 
 And in the appointed course must presently ensue. 
 
CANTO IV. 135 
 
 LII. 
 They marvell'd, therefore, when the youth once 
 
 more 
 Rose from his bed and walk'd abroad again ; 
 Severe had been the malady, and sore 
 The trial, while life struggled to maintain 
 Its seat against the sharp assaults of pain: 
 But life in him was vigorous ; long he lay 
 Ere it could its ascendancy regain : 
 Then when the natural powers resumed their sway 
 All trace of late disease past rapidly away. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 The first enquiry when his mind was free. 
 Was for his sister. She was gone, they said, 
 Gone to her Mother, evermore to be 
 With her in Heaven. At this no tears he shed 
 Nor was he seen to sorrow for the dead ; 
 But took the fatal tidings in such part 
 As if a dull unfeeling nature bred 
 His unconcern ; for hard would seem the heart 
 To which a loss hke his no suffering could impart. 
 
136 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 How little do they see what is, who frame 
 Their hasty judgement upon that which seems ! 
 Waters that babble on their way proclann 
 All shallowness : but in their strength deep strean 
 Flow silently. Of death Yeruti deems 
 Not as an ill, but as the last great good, 
 Compared with which all other he esteems 
 Transient and void: how then should thought 
 intrude 
 Of sorrow in his heart for their beatitude? 
 
 LV. 
 
 While dwelling in their sylvan solitude 
 Less had Yeruti learnt to entertain 
 A sense of age than death. He understood 
 Something of death from creatures he had slain; 
 But here the ills which follow in the train 
 Of age, had first to him been manifest, — 
 The shrunken form, the limbs that move with pain. 
 The faihng sense, infirmity, unrest, — 
 That in his heart he said to die betimes was best. 
 
CANTO IV. . 137 
 
 LVI. 
 
 Nor had he lost the dead : they were but gone 
 Before him, whither he should shortly go. 
 Their robes of glory they had first put on ; 
 He, cumbered with mortality, below 
 Must yet abide awhile, content to know 
 He should not wait in long expectance here. 
 What cause then for repining, or for woe ? 
 Soon shall he join them in their heavenly sphere, 
 And often, even now, he knew that they were near. 
 
 Lvn. 
 
 'Twas but hi open day to close his eyes, 
 And shut out the uprofitable view 
 Of all this weary world's realities, 
 And forthwith, even as if they lived anew. 
 The dead were with him: features, form and hue, 
 And looks and gestures were restored again : 
 Their actual presence in his heart he knew ; 
 And when their converse was disturbed. Oh then 
 How flat and stale it was to mix with living men ! 
 
 n2 
 
138 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 But not the less, whate'er was to be done, 
 With Uving men he took his part content, 
 At loom, in garden, or a-field, as one 
 Whose spirit wholly no obedience bent. 
 To every task its prompt attention lent. 
 Alert in labor he among the best ; 
 And when to church the congregation went, 
 None more exact than he to cross his breast, 
 And kneel, or rise, and do in all things like the rest. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 Cheerful he was, almost like one elate 
 With wine, before it hath disturb'd his power 
 Of reason. Yet he seem'd to feel the weight 
 Of time ; for alway when from yonder tower 
 He heard the clock tell out the passing hour, 
 The sound appeared to give him some delight : 
 And when the evening shades began to lower, 
 Then was he seen to watch the fading hght 
 As if his heart rejoiced at the return of night. 
 
CANTO IV. 139 
 
 LX. 
 
 The old man to whom he had been given in care, 
 To DobrizhofFer came one day and said, 
 The trouble which om- youth was thought to bear, 
 With such indifference, hath deranged his head. 
 He says that he is nightly visited. 
 His Mother and his Sister come and say 
 That he must give this message from the dead 
 Not to defer his baptism, and delay 
 A soul upon the earth which should no longer staj\ 
 
 LXI. 
 
 A dream the Jesuit deem'd it ; a deceit 
 Upon itself by feverish fancy wrought; 
 A mere delusion which it were not meet 
 To censure, lest the youth's distempered thought 
 Might thereby be to farther error brought ; 
 But he himself its vanity would find, — 
 They argued thus, — if it were noticed not. 
 His baptism was in fitting time design'd 
 Tlie father said, and then dismiss'd it from his mind. 
 
140 A TALE OF PARAGUAT. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 But the old Indian came again ere long 
 With the same tale, and freely then confest 
 His doubt that he had done Yeruti wrong ; 
 For something more than common seem'd imprest ; 
 And now he thought that certes it were best 
 From the youth's lips his own account to hear, 
 Haply the Father then to his request 
 Might yield, regarding his desire sincere, 
 Nor wait for farther time if there were aught to fear. 
 
 Lxm. 
 
 Considerately the Jesuit heard and bade 
 The youth be called. Yeruti told his tale. 
 Nightly these blessed spirits came, he said, 
 To warn him he must come within the pale 
 Of Christ without delay ; nor must he fail 
 This warning to their Pastor to repeat. 
 Till the renewed intreaty should prevail. 
 Life's business then for him would be complete, 
 And 'twas to tell him this they left their starry seat. 
 
CANTO IT. 141 
 
 LXIV. 
 Came they to him in dreams ? — He could not tell. 
 Sleeping or waking now small difference made ; 
 For even while he slept he knew full well 
 That his dear Mother and that darling Maid 
 Both in the Garden of the Dead were laid: 
 And yet he saw them as in life, the same, 
 Save only that in radiant robes arrayed. 
 And round about their presence when they came 
 There shone an effluent hght as of a harmless flame. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 And where he was he knew, the time, the place, — 
 All circumstantial things to him were clear. 
 His own heart undisturb'd. His Mother's face 
 How could he chuse but know; or knowing, fear 
 Her presence and that Maid's, to him more dear 
 Than all that had been left him now below? 
 Tlieir love had drawn them from their happy 
 
 sphere ; 
 That dearest love unchanged they came to show ; 
 And he must be baptized, and then he toO might go. 
 
142 A TALE OF PARAGUAY. 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 With searching ken the Jesuit while he spake 
 Perused him, if in countenance or tone 
 Aught might be found appearing to partake 
 Of madness. Mark of passion there was none; 
 None of derangement: in his eye alone, 
 As from a hidden fountain emanate. 
 Something of an unusual brightness shone: 
 But neither word nor look betrayed a state 
 Of wandering, and his speech, though earnest, was 
 sedate. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 Regular his pulse, from all disorder free ; 
 The vital powers perform'd their part assign'd ; 
 And to whate'er was ask'd, collectedly 
 He answer'd. Nothing troubled him in mind ; 
 Why should it ? Were not all around him kind ? 
 Did not all love him with a love sincere, 
 And seem in serving him a joy to find? 
 He had no want, no pain, no grief, no fear: 
 But he must be baptized ; he could not tarry here. 
 
CANTO IV'. ]43 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 Thy will be done, Father in heaven who art ! 
 The Pastor said, nor longer now deniied ; 
 But with a weight of awe upon his heart 
 Entered the Church, and there the font beside. 
 With holy water, chrism and salt applied, 
 Perform'd in all solemnity the rite. 
 His feeling was that hour with fear allied ; 
 Yeruti's was a sense of pure delight. 
 And while he knelt his eyes seem'd larger and more 
 bright. 
 
 LXIX. 
 His wish had been obtain'd, and this being done 
 His soul was to its full desire content. 
 The day in its accustomed course past on: 
 The Indian mark'd him erb to rest he went, 
 How o'er his beads, as he was wont, he bent. 
 And then, like one who casts all care aside, 
 Lay down. The old man fear'd no ill event, 
 When, " Ye are come for me !" Yeruti cried ; 
 " Yes, I am ready now !" and instantly he died. 
 
NOTES. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 So he forsooth a shapely hoot must wear. 
 
 Proem, p. 19. 
 His leg had been set by the French after then* con- 
 quest of Pamplona, and re-set after his removal to his 
 father's house. The latter operation is described as 
 having been most severe, but borne by him in his 
 wonted manner without any manifestation of suffer- 
 ing. For some time his life was despaired of. — 
 "When the danger of death was past, and the bones 
 were knit and becoming firm, two inconveniences 
 remained : one occasioned by a portion of bone be- 
 low the knee, which projected so as to occasion some 
 deformity; the other was a contraction of the leg, 
 which prevented him from walking erect or standing 
 firmly on his feet. Now as he was very solicitous 
 about his appearance, and intended at that time to 
 follow the course of a military hfe which he had be- 
 gun, he enquired of his medical attendants in the 
 fij-st place whether the bone could be removed which 
 
148 NOTES. 
 
 Stood out in so unsightly a manner. They answered 
 that it was possible to remove, it, but the opera- 
 tion would be exceedingly painful, much more so 
 than any which he had betore undergone. He never- 
 theless directed them to cut it out, that he might 
 have his will, and (as he himself related in my hear- 
 ing, says Ribadeneira,) that he might wear fashiona- 
 ble and well-fitting boots. Nor could he be dissuad- 
 ed from this determination. He would not consent 
 to be bound during the operation, and went through 
 it with the same firmness of mind which he had 
 manifested in the former operations. By this means 
 the deformity of the bone was removed. The con- 
 traction of the leg was in some degree relieved by 
 other applications, and especially by certain ma- 
 chines, with which during many days, and with great 
 and continual pain, it was stretched ; nevertheless it 
 could not be so extended, but that it always remain- 
 ed something shorter than the other." — Ribadeneira^ 
 Vita S. Ignatii Loyolce, Acta SS. Jul. t. 7. p. 659. 
 
 A close fitting boot seems to have been as fashion- 
 able at one time as close fitting innominahles of buck- 
 skin were about the year 1790: and perhaps it was 
 as severe an operation to get into them for the first 
 time. "The greasy shoemaker," says Tom Nash, 
 "with his squirrel's skin, and a whole stall of ware 
 upon his arm enters, and wrencheth his legs for an 
 hour together, and after shows his tally. By St. Loy 
 
NOTES. 149 
 
 that draws deep." — JVash^s Lenten Stuff. Had. Miscel. 
 vol. ii. p. 289. 8vo edition. 
 
 The operation of fittmg a Spanish dandy with short 
 laced quarter boots is thus minutely described by 
 Juan de Zavaleta, who was historiographer at the 
 commencement of Carlos the Second's reign. 
 
 Entra el zapatero oHendo a cansado. Saca de las 
 homias los zapatos, con tanta dificuUad como si desolla- 
 ra las hormas. Sientase en una silla el galan; hincase 
 el zapatero de rodUlas, apoderase de una pierna con tan- 
 tos tirones y desagrados, como si le embiaran a que le 
 diera tormento. Mete un calzador en el talon del zapato, 
 tncapillale otro en la punta del pie, y luegO empieza a 
 guiar el zapato por encima del calzador. Apenas ha 
 caminado poco mas que los dedos del pie, quando es me- 
 nester arrastrarle con unas tenazas, y aun arrastrado se 
 resiste. Ponese en pie el paciente fatigado, pero contento 
 de que los zapatos le vengan angostos ; y de orden del 
 zapatero da tres 6 quatro patadas en el suelo, con tanta 
 fuerza, que pues no se quiehra, deve de ser de bronze. 
 
 Acozeados dan de si el cordovan y la suela ; pellejos 
 en fin de animales, que obedecen a golpes. Buelvese a 
 sentar el tal senor, dobla dziafuera el copete del zapato, 
 cogele con la boca de las tenazas, hinca el oficial junto a 
 el entrambas rodillas, afirmase en el suelo con la mano 
 izquierda, y puesto de bruzas sobre el pie, hecho arco los 
 dos dedos de la mano derecha que forman el jeme, va 
 ron ellos ayudando a llevar por el empeine arnba el cor- 
 ns 
 
150 NOTES. 
 
 dovan, de quien lira con las tenazas su dueno. Buelve 
 d ponerse en una rodilla, como primero estava ; empuna 
 con la una mano la punta del pie, y con la palma de la 
 otra da sohre su mano tan grandes golpes como si los 
 diera con una pala de jugar a la pelota ; que es la ne- 
 cessidad tan discreta, que se haze el pobre el mal a si 
 mismo, por no hazersele a aquel de quien necessita. 
 
 Ajustado ya la punta del pie, acude al talon ; hume- 
 dece con la lengua los remates de las costwas, porque no 
 falseen las costuras de secas por los remates. Tremenda 
 vanidad, sufrir en sus pies un hombre la boca de otro 
 hombre, solo por tener alinados los pies ! Desdobla el 
 zapatero el talon, dase una buelta con el calzador a la 
 mano, y empieza a encaxar en el pie la segunda porcion 
 del zapato. Manda que se baxe la punta, y hazese lo que 
 manda. Llama dzia a si el zapato con tal fuerza, que 
 entre su cuerpo y el espaldar de la silla abrevia torpe y 
 desalinadamente al que calza. Dizele luego que haga ta- 
 lon, y el hombre obedece como un esclavo. Ordenale des- 
 pues que de en el suelo una patada, y el da la patada, 
 como se le ordena. Buelve a sentarse ; saca el cruel min- 
 istro el calzador del empeine, y por donde salio el calzador 
 mete un palo, que llaman cost a, y contra el buelve y rebuel- 
 ve el sacabocados, que saca los bocados del cordovan, para 
 que entren las cintas ; y dexa en el empeine del pie un 
 dolor, y unas senates, como si huviera sacado de alii los 
 bocados. Agujerea las orejas, passa la cinta con una 
 Gguja, lleva las orejas a que cierren el zapato, ajustalos, 
 
NOTES. 151, 
 
 y da luego con tanta fuerza el nudo, que si pudieran 
 ahogar a un hombre por la garganta del pie, le ahoga- 
 ra. Haze la rosa despues con mas cuydado que graria. 
 Buelve a devanarse a la mano el calzador, que esta col- 
 gando del talon ; lira del como quien retoca, da con la 
 otra mano palmadas en la planta, como quien assienta, 
 y saca el calzador, echandose todo ctzia atras. Pone el 
 galan el pie en el suelo, y quedase mirandole. Levantase 
 el zapatero, arrasa con el dedo el sudor de lafrente, y 
 queda respirando como si huviera corrido. Todo esto se 
 ahorrava con hazerse el zapato un poco mayor que el pie. 
 Padecen luego entrambos otro tanto con el pie segundo. 
 Llega el ultimo yfiero trance de dark el dinero. Recoge 
 el ojicial sus baratijas. Recibe su estipendio, sale por la 
 puerta de la sala mirando si es buena la plata que le 
 han dado, dexando a su dueno de movimientos tan tor- 
 jies como si le huviera echado unos grillos. 
 
 Si pensaran los que se calzan apretado que se achican 
 el pie. Si lo piensan se cnganan. Los huessos no se 
 pueden meter unos en otros : con esto es fuerza que si le 
 quitan de lo largo at zapato, se doble el pie por las coy- 
 unturas, y crezca dzia arriba lo que le menguan de ad- 
 elante. Si le estrechan lo ancho, espreciso que se alargue 
 aquella came oprimida. Con la misma cantidad de pie 
 que se tenian, se quedan los que calzan sisado. Lo que 
 hazen es atormentarse, y dexar los pies de peor hechura. 
 El animal a quien mas largos pies did la naturaleza 
 segun su cantidad, es el hombre; porque, como ha de 
 
152 NOTES. 
 
 andar todo el cuerpo sohre ellos, y no son mas de dos, 
 quiso que anduviesse seguro. El que se los quiere ab- 
 reviar, gana parece que tiene de caer, y de caer en los 
 vicios, donde se hdrd mayor mal, que en las piedra^. 
 La parte que le puso Dios al hombre en lafabrica de su 
 cuerpo mas cerca de la tierra, son los pies : quiso sin 
 duda quefuera la parte mas humilde de sufabrica : pero 
 los galanes viciosos les quitan la humildad con los ali- 
 nos, y los ensobervecen con el cuydado. Enfada esto a 
 Dios tanto, que aviendo de hazer al hombre animal que 
 pisasse la tierra, hizo la tierra de tal calidad, que se pu- 
 diesse imprimir en ella la huella del hombre. Abierta 
 dexa su sepultura el pie que se levanta, y parece que se 
 levanta de la sepultura. Tremenda crueldad es enloque- 
 cer con el adorno al que se quiere tragar la tierra a cada 
 passo. — El dia de Fiesta. Obras de D. Juan de Za- 
 valeta, p. 179—180. 
 
 " In comes the shoemaker in the odom* of haste 
 and fatigue. He takes the shoes off the last with aa 
 much difficulty as if he were skinning the lasts. The 
 gallant seats himself upon a chair ; the shoemaker 
 kneels down, and takes possession of one foot, which 
 he handles as if he were sent there to administer the 
 torture. He puts one shoeing skin* in the heel of 
 
 *A piece of hare-skin is used in Spain for tliis purpose, 
 as it appears by the former extract from Tom Nash that 
 squirrel-skin was in England. 
 
NOTES. 153 
 
 the shoe, fits the other upon the point of the foot, and 
 then begins to guide the shoe over the shoeing skin. 
 Scarcely lias it got farther than the toes when it is 
 found necessary to draw it on with pincers, and even 
 then it is hard work. The patient stands up, fatigued 
 with the operation, but well pleased that the shoes 
 are tight : and by the shoemaker's directions he 
 stamps three or four times on the floor, with such 
 force that it must be of iron if it does not give way. 
 
 "The cordovan and the souls being thus beaten, 
 submit ; they are the skins of animals who obey 
 blows. Our gallant returns to his seat, he turns up 
 the upper leather of the shoe, and lays hold on it with 
 the pincers ; the tradesman kneels close by him on 
 both knees, rests on the ground with his left hand, 
 and bending in this all-four's position over the foot, 
 making an arch with those fingers of the right hand 
 which form the span, assists in drawing on the upper 
 part of the cordovan, the gallant pulling the while 
 with the pincers. He then puts himself on one knee, 
 lays hold of the end of the foot with one hand, and 
 with the palm of the other strikes his own hand, as 
 hard as if he were striking a ball with a racket. For 
 necessity is so discreet that the poor man inflicts this 
 pain upon himself that he may give none to the per- 
 son of whose custom he stands in need. 
 
 " The end of the foot being thus adjusted he re- 
 pairs to the heel, and with his tongue moistens tine 
 
154 NOTES. 
 
 end of the seams, that they may not give way for ber, 
 ing dry. Tremendous vanity, that one man should 
 allow the mouth of another to be applied to his feet 
 that he may have them trimly set out ! The shoe- 
 maker unfolds the heel, turns round with the shoeing 
 skin in his hand, and begins to fit the second part of 
 the shoe upon the foot. He desires the gallant to put 
 the end of the foot down, and the gallant does as he 
 is desired. He draws the shoe towards him with 
 such force that the person who is thus being shoed 
 is compressed in an unseemly manner between the 
 shoemaker's body and the back of the chair. Pre- 
 sently he tells him to put his heel down, and the man 
 is as obedient as a slave. He orders him then to 
 stamp upon the ground, and the man stamps as he 
 is ordered. The gallant then seats himself again ; 
 the cruel operator draws the shoeing skin from the 
 instep, and in its place drives in a stick which they 
 call costa.* He then turns upon it the punch, which 
 makes the holes in the leather, through which the 
 ribbons are to pass ; he again twists round his hand 
 the strip of hare-skin which hangs from the heel, 
 and pulls it as if he were ringing a bell, and leaves 
 upon the upper part of the top a pain and marks as 
 if he had punched the holes in it. He bores the ears, 
 
 * Which is used to drive in upon the last to raise a shoe 
 higher in the instep. 
 
NOTES. 155 
 
 passes the string through with a bodkin, brings the 
 ears together that they may fasten the shoe, fits them 
 to their intended place, and ties the knot with such 
 force, that if it were possible to strangle a man by 
 the neck of his foot, strangled the gallant would be. 
 Then he makes the rose, with more care than grace. 
 He goes then to take out the shoeing skin which is 
 still hanging from the heel ; he lays hold of this, 
 strikes the sole of the foot with his other hand as if 
 settUng it, and draws out the skin, bringing out all 
 with it. The gallant puts his foot to the ground, and 
 remains looking at it. The shoemaker rises, wipes 
 the sweat from his forehead with his fingers, and 
 draws his breath like one who has been running. All 
 this trouble might have been saved by making the 
 shoe a little larger than the foot. Presently both 
 have to go through the same pams with the other 
 foot. Now comes the last and terrible act of pay- 
 ment. The tradesman collects his tools, receives his 
 money, and goes out at the door, looking at the silver 
 to see if it is good, and leaving the gallant walking 
 as much at his ease as if he had been put in fetters. 
 
 " If they who wear tight shoes think that thereby 
 they can lessen the size of their feet, they are mis- 
 taken. The bones cannot be squeezed one into an- 
 other ; if therefore the shoe is made short, the foot 
 must be crooked at the joints, and grow upward if it 
 is not allowed to grow forward. If it is pinched in 
 
156 NOTES. 
 
 the breadth, the flesh which is thus constrained must 
 extend itself in length. They who are shod thus 
 miserably remain with just the same quantity of foot. 
 " Of all animals, man is the one to which, in pro-' 
 portion to its size, nature has given the largest feet ; 
 because as his whole body is to be supported upon 
 them, and he has only two, she chose that he should 
 walk in safety. He who wishes to abbreviate them 
 acts as if he were inclined to fall, and to fall into vices 
 which will do him more injury than if he fell upon 
 stones. The feet are the part which in the fabric of 
 the human body are placed nearest to the earth; 
 they are meant therefore to be the humblest part of 
 his frame, but gallants take away all humility by 
 adorning and setting them forth in bravery. This 
 so displeases the Creator, that having to make man 
 an animal who should walk upon the earth, he made 
 the earth of such properties, that the footsteps should 
 sink into it. The foot which is lifted from the ground, 
 leaves its own grave open, and seems as if it rose from 
 the grave. What a tremendous thing is it then to set 
 off with adornments that which the earth wishes to 
 devour at every step !" 
 
 Whiling with hooks the tedious hours away. 
 
 Proem, p. 19. 
 
 Vede quanto importa a ligao de bons livros ! Se o 
 
 livro fora de cavallerias, sahiria Ignacio hum grande 
 
NOTES. 157 
 
 cmmlleyro ; foy hum livro de vidas de Santos, sahio hum, 
 grande Santo. Se lera cavallerias, sahiria Ignacio hum 
 Cavelleyro da ardente espada ; leo vidas de Santos sahio 
 hum Santo da ardente tocha. — Vieyra, Sermam de S. 
 Ignacio, t. i. 368. 
 
 See, says Vieyra, the importance of reading good 
 books. If it had been a book of knight errantry, 
 Ignacio would have become a great knight errant ; 
 it was the Lives of the Saints, and Ignatius became 
 a great saint. If he had read about knights, he might 
 have proved a Knight of the Burning Sword : he 
 read about saints, and proved a saint of the burning 
 torch. 
 
 Nothing could seem more probable than that Cer- 
 vantes had this part of Loyola's history in his mind 
 when he described the rise of Don Quixote's mad- 
 ness, if Cervantes had not shown himself in one of 
 his dramas to be thoroughly imbued with the pesti- 
 lent superstition of his country. El dichoso Riifian 
 is one of those monstrous compositions which nothing 
 but the anti-christian fables of the Romish church 
 could have produced. 
 
 Landor, however, supposes that Cervantes intend- 
 ed to satirize a favourite dogma of the Spaniards. 
 The passage occurs in his thirteenth conversation. 
 
 "The most dexterous attack ever made against 
 the worship among cathoUcs. which opens so many 
 14 
 
158 NOTES. 
 
 sidechapels to pilfering and imposture, is that of Cer- 
 vantes. 
 
 " Leopold. I do not remember in what part. 
 
 " President. Throughout Don Quixote. Dulcinea 
 was the peerless, the immaculate, and death was de- 
 nounced against all who hesitated to admit the as- 
 sertion of her perfections. Surely your highness 
 never could have imagined that Cervantes was such 
 a knight errant as to attack knight errantry, a folly 
 that had ceased more than a century, if indeed it was 
 any folly at all ; and the idea that he ridiculed the 
 poems and romances founded on it, is not less im- 
 probable, for they contained all the literature of the na- 
 tion, excepting the garniture of chapterhouses, theol- 
 ogy, and pervaded, as with a thread of gold, the beau- 
 tiful histories of this illustrious people. He dehght- 
 ed the idlers of romance by the jokes he scattered 
 amongst them on the false taste of his predecessors 
 and of his rivals ; and he delighted his own heart by 
 this solitary archery ; well knowing what amusement 
 those who came another day would find in picking 
 up his arrows and discovering the bull's-eye hits. 
 
 " Charles V. was the knight of La Mancha, devote 
 ing his labours and vigils, his wars and treaties, to 
 the chimerical idea of making all minds, like watches, 
 turn their indexes, by a simultaneous movement to 
 one point. Sancho Panza was the symbol of the 
 people, possessing sound sense in all other matters. 
 
ISOTES. 159 
 
 but ready to follow the most extravagant visionary 
 in this, and combining implicit belief in it, with the 
 grossest sensuality. For religion, when it is hot 
 enough to produce enthusiasm, burns up and kills 
 every seed entrusted to its bosom." — Imaginary Con- 
 versations, vol. i. 187. 
 
 Benedetto di Virgilio, the Italian ploughman, thus 
 describes the course of Loyola's reading, in his heroic 
 poem upon that Saint's life. 
 
 Mentre levote indeholite vene 
 
 Stass^ egli rinforzando n poco ^ poco 
 
 Dentro i paterni tetti, e si trattiene 
 
 Or su la ricca zambra, or presso al foco, 
 
 For^ del costume suo, pensier gli viene 
 
 Di legger libri piu che d^altro gioco; 
 
 QuanV era dianzi innamoratOt e d^armi 
 
 TanV or, mutando stile, inchina a i carmi. 
 
 Quinci comanda, che i volumi ornati 
 D^alti concetti, e di leggiadra rima, 
 Dentro la stanza sua vengan portati, 
 Che passar con lor versi il tempo stima: 
 Cercan ben tosto i paggi in tutti i lati 
 Ove posar solean tai libri prima. 
 Ma ne per questa parte, ne per quella 
 Ponno istoria trovar vecchia, o novella. 
 
160 NOTES. 
 
 J volumi vergati in dolci canti 
 S^ascondon si, che nulla il cercar giova: 
 Ma pur cercando i piu secreti canti 
 Per gran fortuna un tomo ecco si trova, 
 Tomo divin, che le vite de^Santi 
 Conserva, e de la etade prisca e nova, 
 Onde per far la braina sua contenta 
 Tal opra un fido servo a lui presenta. 
 
 II volume, che spiega in ogni parte 
 De guerrieri del del Voprefamose, 
 Fa ch^ Ignatio s^accenda (i seguir Parte 
 Che a soffrir tanto i sacri Eroi dispose, 
 Egli gia sprezza di Bellona e Marte 
 Gli studi, che a seguir prima si pose, 
 E s'' accinge n troncar maggior d'Alcide, 
 L^Hidra del vicio, e le sue teste infide. 
 
 Tutto giocondo h contemplar s^appiglia 
 
 Si degni fogli, e da principio al fine; 
 
 Qui ritrova di Dio Vampia famiglia, 
 
 Spirti beati ed alme peregrine: 
 
 Tra gli ultri osserva con sua meraviglia 
 
 II pio Gusman, che colse da le spine 
 
 Hose celesti de la terra santa, 
 
 Onde del buon Gieso nacque la pianta. 
 
 Contempla dopo il Serafico Magno 
 Fondator de le bigge immense squadre; 
 
NOTES. 161 
 
 La divina virtUi /' alto guadagno 
 De Vopre lor mirahili e leggiadre: 
 Rimira il Padoan di lui conipagnO) 
 Che liherb da indegna morte il padre , 
 E per provar di quella causa il tortoy 
 Vivo fe da la tomba uscirc il morto. 
 
 Quinci ritrova il Celestin, che spande 
 Trionfante bandiera alia campagna, 
 De Vegregie virtu sue memorande 
 Con Italia sHngemm a e Francia e Spagna: 
 Ornati ijigli suoi d^opre ammirande 
 Son per V Africa sparti, e per Lamagna, 
 E in parti infide al del per lor si vede 
 JVascer la Chiesa, e pullular lafede. 
 
 Quivi s'avisa, come il buon JVorcino 
 Inclito Capitan del Re superno, 
 Un giorno guereggiando sii 'I Casino 
 GV Idoli fracasso, vinse V Inferno, 
 E con aita del motor divino 
 Guastb tempio sacrato al cieco Avernot 
 Por di novo Veresse a Valla prole 
 Divino essempio de Veterno Sole. 
 
 Legge come Brunone al divin Regge 
 Accolse al Re del del cignifelici, 
 E dando ordine lor, regola e legge 
 GV imparb calpestare aspre pendici: 
 *14 
 
lOQ NOTES. 
 
 E quelle de le donne anco vi legge, 
 Che qui di ricche diventar niendici 
 Per frovar poi sii le sedi superne 
 Lor doti incorruttibiU ed eterne. 
 
 Chiara tra Valtre nota e Caterina, 
 Che per esser di Dio fedele amante. 
 Fit intrepida a i tonnenti: e la Regina 
 Di Siena, e seco le cotnpagne tante : 
 Orsola con la schiera peregrina, 
 Monache sacre, verginelle sante, 
 Che sprezzanda del niondo il vano rito, 
 Elessero Giesu lor gran marito. 
 
 E tra i Romiti 7nira Ilarione, 
 
 E di Vienna quel si franco e forte 
 
 Che dehcllb lafurie, e ^ I gran Campione 
 
 Ch' appo il JVatal di Christo hebbe la morte; 
 
 Risguarda quel del prinio Confalone, 
 
 Che del del guarda le superne porte; 
 
 E gli undeci cotnpagni, e come luce 
 
 II diva Agnello di lor capo e Duce. 
 
 Mentre in questo penetra e tneglio intende 
 D'' Eroi si gloriosi il nobil vanto, 
 Aura immortal del del sovra lui scende, 
 Aura immortal di spirto divo e santo: 
 Gia gli sgombra gli errori e gi(i gli accende 
 In guisa il cor, che distilla in pianto; 
 
NOTES. 1G3 
 
 Lagrime versa, e le lagrime sparte 
 Bagnan del libro le vergate carte. 
 
 Qual duro ghiaccio sovra i monti alpini 
 Da la virtii del sole intenerito, 
 Suol liquefarsi, e di bei cristallini 
 Rivi Vherhe inaffiar del suol fiorito ', 
 Tal da la forza degli ardor divini 
 Del Giovanetto molle il cor ferito, 
 Hor si discioglie in tepidi liquori, 
 E rigan del bel volto i vaghi fiori. 
 
 Conf altri nel cristallo, o nel diamante 
 Specchiarsi svol. tal ei si specchia, e tnira 
 A^el specchio di sua mente, indi Verrante 
 Vita discerne, onde con duol sospira: 
 Quinci risolve intrepido e costante 
 Depor gli orgogli giovanili e Vira, 
 Per imitar nc I'opra e ne gli effetti 
 I celesti guerrier del libro letti. 
 
 Ignatio Loiola. Roma, 1G47. Canto 2. 
 
 The Jesuits, however, assure us, that Loyola is not 
 the author of their society, and that it is not allowa- 
 ble either to think or say so. Societas Jesu ut a S. 
 Ignatio de Loiola non ducit nomen, ita neque originem 
 primam, et aliud sentire ant loqui, nefas. (Imago pri- 
 mi SiECuli Soc. Jesu. p. 64.) Jesus primus ac prceci- 
 
164 NOTES. 
 
 piius auctor Societatis, is the title of a chapter in this 
 meir secular volume, which is a curious and very 
 beautiful book. Then follows Beata Virgo nutrix^ 
 patrona, imb altera velut auctor Societatis. Lastly, Post 
 Christum et Mariam Societatis Auctor et Parens sane- 
 tus Ignatius. 
 
 ,, "On the 26th August 1794, the French plundered 
 the rich church of Loyola, at Azpeitia, and proceed- 
 ing to Elgoibas, loaded five carts with the spoils of 
 the church of that place. This party of marauders 
 consisted of 200. The peasants collected, fell upon 
 them, and after an obstinate conflict of three hours, 
 recovered the whole booty, which they conveyed to 
 Vittoria in triumph. Among other things, a relic of 
 Loyola was recovered, which was carried in proces- 
 sion to the church, the victorious peasants accompa- 
 nying it." — Marcillac, Hist, de la Guerre de VEspagne. 
 p. 86. 
 
 Vaccination. — Canto L st. 1. 
 
 It is odd that in Hindostan, where it might have 
 been supposed superstition would have facilitated the 
 introduction of this practice, a pious fraud was found 
 necessary for removing the prejudice against it. 
 
 Mooperal Streenivaschary, a Brahmin, thus writes 
 to Dr. Anderson at Madras, on vaccine inoculation. 
 
 " It might be useful to remove a prejudice in the 
 minds of the people, arising from the term cow-pock, 
 being taken literally in our Tamul tongue ; whereas 
 
NOTES. 165 
 
 there can be no doubt tliat it has been a drop of 
 nectar from the exuberant udders of the cows in 
 England, and no way similar to the humour dis- 
 charged from the tongue and feet of diseased cattle 
 in this country." — Forbes''s Oriental Memoirs, vol. iii. 
 p. 423. 
 
 For tyrannous fear dissolved all natural bonds of man. 
 
 Canto I. St. 3. 
 
 Mackenzie gives a dreadfid picture of the effect of 
 small-pox among the North American Indians. 
 
 "The small-pox spread its destructive and desola- 
 ting power, as the fire consumes the dry grass of the 
 field. The fatal infection spread around with a bane- 
 ful rapidity, which no flight could escape, and with a 
 fatal eflTect that nothing could resist. It destroyed 
 with its pestilential breath whole families and tribes; 
 and the horrid scene presented to those who had the 
 melancholy and afflicting opportunity of beholding 
 it, a combination of the dead, the dying, and such 
 as, to avoid the horrid fate of their friends around 
 them, prepared to disappoint the plague of its prey, 
 by terminating their own existence. 
 
 "The habits and lives of these devoted people, 
 which provided not to-day for the wants of to-mor- 
 row, must have heightened the pains of such an af- 
 fliction, by leaving them not only without remedy, 
 but even without alleviation* Nought was left them 
 but to submit in agony and despair. 
 
166 NOTES. 
 
 "To aggravate the picture, if aggravation were 
 possible, may be added the putrid carcases which 
 the wolves, with a furious voracity, dragged forth 
 from the huts, or which were mangled within them 
 by the dogs, whose hunger was satisfied with the 
 disfigured remains of their masters. Nor was it un- 
 common for the father of a family, whom the infec- 
 tion had not reached, to call them around him, to 
 represent the cruel sufferings and horrid fate of their 
 relations, from the influence of some evil spirit, who 
 was preparing to extirpate their race ; and to incite 
 them to baflle death, with all its horrors, by their 
 own poniards. At the same time, if their hearts 
 failed them in this necessary act, he was himself 
 ready to perform the deed of mercy with his own 
 hand, as the last act of his affection, and instantly to 
 follow them to the common place of rest and refuge 
 from human evil." 
 
 And from the silent door the jaguar turns away. 
 
 Canto T. st. 11. 
 
 I may be forgiven for not having strictly adhered 
 to natural history in this instance. The hberty which 
 I have taken is mentioned, that it may not be sup- 
 posed to have arisen from ignorance of this animal's 
 habits. 
 
 The jaguar will not attack a living horse if a dead 
 one be near, and when it kills its prey it drags it to 
 its den, but is said not to eat the body till it becomes 
 
NOTES. 167 
 
 putrid. They are caught in large traps of the cage 
 kind, baited with stinking meat, and then speared or 
 shot through the bars. The Chalcaquines had a 
 braver way of killing them : they provoked the ani- 
 mal, fronted it, received its attack upon a thick trun- 
 cheon, which they held by the two ends, threw it 
 down while its teeth were fixed in the wood, and 
 ripped the creature up before it could recover. (Techo, 
 p. 59.) A great profit is made by their skins. The 
 jaguar which has once tasted human flesh becomes 
 « most formidable animal ; such a beast is called a 
 tis^re cevado, a fleshed tiger. There was one who 
 infested the road between Santa Fe and Santiago, 
 and killed ten men ; after which a party of soldiers 
 were sent to destroy it. The same thing is said of 
 the lion and other beasts of prey, probably with 
 truth ; not as is vulgarly supposed, because they 
 have a particular appetite for this kind of food, but 
 because having once fed upon man, they from that 
 time regard him like any animal of inferior strength, 
 as their natural prey. " It is a constant observation 
 in Numidia," says Bruce, " that the hon avoids and 
 flies from the face of men, till by some accident they 
 have been brought to engage, and the beast has pre- 
 vailed against him ; then that feeling of superiority, 
 imprinted by the Creator in the heart of all animals, 
 for man's preservation, seems to forsake him. The 
 lion having once tasted human blood, rehnquishes 
 
168 SfOTES. 
 
 the pursuit after the flock. He repau-s to some high 
 way or frequented path, and has been known, in the 
 kingdom of Tunis, to interrupt the road to a market 
 for several weeks ; and in this he persists, till hun- 
 ters or soldiers are sent out to destroy him." Do- 
 brizhoffer saw the skin of a jaguar which was as 
 long as the standard hide. He says, also, that he 
 saw one attack two horses which were coupled with 
 a thong, kill one, and drag the other away after it. 
 
 A most unpleasant habit of the beast is, that in 
 cold or wet weather he chooses to lodge within doors,, 
 and will steal into the house. A girl at Corrientes, 
 who slept with her mother, saw one lying under the 
 bed when she rose in the morning ; she had presence 
 of mind to bid her mother lie still, went for help, and 
 soon rid the house of its perilous visitor. Cat-like, 
 the jaguar is a good chmber ; but Dobrizhoffer tells 
 us how a traveller who takes to one for shelter may 
 profit by the position : In promptu consilium ; urina 
 pro armis est : hac si tigridis ad arboris pedem minitan- 
 tis oculos consperseris, salva res est. Qua dutd porta 
 fuget illico. (i. 280.) He who first did this must have 
 been a good marksman as well as a cool fellow, and 
 it was well for him that he reserved his fire till the 
 jaguar was within shot. 
 
 DobrizhoflEer seems to credit an opinion (which is 
 held in India of the tiger also) that the jaguar's claws 
 are in a certain degree venomous ; the scar which 
 
xNOTES. 1G9 
 
 they leave is said to be always liable to a very pain- 
 ful and burning sense of heat. But that author, in 
 his usual amusing manner, repeats many credulous 
 notions concerning the animal : as that its burnt 
 claws are a remedy for the tooth-ache ; and that it 
 has a mode of decoying fish, by standing neck-deep 
 in the water, and spitting out a white foam, which 
 allures them within reach. Techo (30.) says the 
 same thing of a large snake. 
 
 An opinion that wounds inflicted by the stroke of 
 animals of this kind are envenomed is found in the 
 East also. Captain Williamson says, " However 
 trivial the scratches made by the claws of tigers may 
 appear, yet, whether it be owing to any noxious 
 quality in the claw itself, to the manner in which the 
 tiger strikes, or any other matter, I have no hesita- 
 tion in saying, that at least a majority of such as 
 have beeft under my notice died ; and I have gen- 
 erally remarked, that those whose cases appeared 
 the least alarming were most suddenly carried off. I 
 have ever thought the perturbation arising from the 
 nature of the attack to have a considerable share in 
 the fatality alluded to, especially as I never knew 
 any one wounded by a tiger to die without suffering 
 for some days under that most dreadful symi)tom, a 
 locked jaw ! Such as have been wounded to ap- 
 pearance severely, but accompanied with a moderate 
 hsemorrhage, I have commonly found to recover, 
 15 
 
170 NOTES. 
 
 excepting in the rainy season : at that period I should 
 expect serious consequences from either a bite or a 
 scratch." — Oriental Sports, vol. i. p. 52. 
 
 Wild beasts were so numerous and fierce in one 
 part of Mexico, among the Otomites, that Fr. Juan 
 de Grijalva says in his time, in one year, more than 
 250 Indians were devoured by them. " There then 
 prevailed an opinion," he proceeds, " and still it pre- 
 vails among many, that those tigers and lions were 
 certain Indian sorcerers, whom they call Nahuales, 
 who by diabolical art transform themselves into 
 beasts, and tear the Indians in pieces, either to re- 
 venge themselves for some offences which they have 
 received, or to do them evil, which is the proper con- 
 dition of the Devil, and an effect of his fierceness. 
 Some traces of these diabolical acts have been seen 
 in our time, for in the year 1579, the deaths of this 
 kind being many, and the suspicion vehement, some 
 Indians were put to the question, and they confessed 
 the crime, and were executed for it. With all this 
 experience and proof, there are many persons who 
 doubt these transformations, and say that the land 
 being mountainous produces wild beasts, and the 
 beasts being once fleshed commit these great rava- 
 ges. And it was through the weak understandings 
 of the Indians that they were persuaded to believe 
 their conjurors could thus metamorphose themselves : 
 and if these poor wretches confessed themselves 
 
^-OTES. 171 
 
 guilty of such a crime, it was owing to their weak- 
 ness under the torture ; and so they suffered for an 
 offence which they had Aever committed." 
 
 Father Grijalva, however, holds with his Father S. 
 Augustine, who has said concerning such things, 
 h(RC ad nos non quihuscunque qualibus credere putare- 
 mus indignum, sed eis referentibus pervenei'unt, quos 
 nobis non existimaremus fuisse mentitos. " In the days 
 of my Father S. Augustine," he says, " wonderful 
 things were related of certain innkeepers in Italy, 
 who transformed passengers into beasts of burden, 
 to bring to their inns straw, barley, and whatever 
 was wanted from the towns, and then metamorphos- 
 ed them into their own persons, that they might pur- 
 chase, as customers, the very commodities they had 
 carried. And in our times the witches of Logrono 
 make so many of these transfornmtions, that now no 
 one can doubt them. This matter of the Nahuales, 
 or sorcerers of Tututepec, has been confessed by so 
 many, that that alone suffices to make it credible. 
 The best proof which can be had is, that they were 
 condemned to death by course of justice; and it is 
 temerity to condemn the judges, for it is to be be- 
 lieved that they made all due enquiry. Oiu* brethren 
 who have been ministers there, and are also judges 
 of the interior court (that is of the conscience) have 
 all held these transformations to be certain : so that 
 there ought to be no doubt concerning it. On the 
 
172 NOTES. 
 
 contrary, it is useful to understand it, that if at any 
 time in heathen lands the devil should work any of 
 the^e metamorphoses, the Indians may see we are 
 not surprised at them, and do not hold them as mi- 
 raculous, but can explain to them the reason and 
 cause of these effects, which astonish and terrify 
 them so greatly." 
 
 He proceeds to show that the devil can only exer- 
 cise this power as far as he is permitted by God, m 
 punishment for sin, and that the metamorphosis is 
 not real, but only apparent ; the sorcerer not being 
 actually transformed into a lion, but seeming as if 
 he were both to himself and others. In what man- 
 ner he can tear a man really to pieces with imagina- 
 ry claws, and devour him in earnest with an imagin- 
 ary mouth, the good friar has not condescended to 
 explain. — Historia de la Orden de S. Augustin en la 
 Provincia de JV. Espana, pp. 34, 3.5. 
 
 Preserved with horrid art 
 In ghastb) image of humanity. — Canto I, st. 13. 
 The more ghastly in proportion as more of the 
 appearance of Hfe is preserved in the revolting prac- 
 tice. Such, however, it was not to the feelings of 
 the Egyptians, who had as much pride in a collection 
 of their ancestors, as one of the strongest family 
 feeling could have in a collectio)^of family pictures. 
 The body, Diodorus says, is delivered to the kindred 
 
NOTES. 173 
 
 with every member so whole and entire that no part 
 of the body seems to be altered, even to the very 
 hairs of the eyelids and the eyebrows, so that the 
 beauty and shape of the face seems just as before. 
 B}^ which means many of the Egyptians laying up 
 the bodies of their ancestors in stately monuments, 
 perfectly see the true visage and countenance of 
 those who were buried many ages before they them- 
 selves were born : so that in regarding the propor- 
 tion of every one of these bodies, and the lineaments 
 of their faces, they take exceeding great delight, even 
 as if they were still living among them. (Book i.) 
 
 They believe, says Herodotus (Euterpe, § 123.J, 
 that on the dissolution of the body the soul immedi- 
 ately enters into some other animal ; and that after 
 using as vehicles every species of terrestrial, aquatic, 
 and winged creatures, it finally enters a second time 
 into a human body. They affirm that it undergoes 
 all these changes in the space of three thousand 
 years. This opinion some among the Greeks have 
 at different periods of time adopted as their own, but 
 I shall not, though I could, specify their names. 
 
 How little did the Egyptians apprehend that the 
 bodies which they preserved with such care to be 
 ready again for use when the cycle should be fulfill- 
 ed, would one day be regarded as an article of trade, 
 broken up, exported piecemeal, and admmistered in 
 grains and scruples as a costly medicine to rich pa- 
 *15 
 
174 NOTES, 
 
 ti^iits. A preference was even given to virgin 
 mummy ! 
 
 The bodies of the Incas from the founder of the 
 empire were preserved in the Temple of the Sun ; 
 they were seated each on his htter, and in such ex- 
 cellent preservation that they seemed to be alive ; 
 according to the testimony of P. Acosta and Garci- 
 laso, who saw them and touched them. It is not 
 known in what manner they were prepared, so as to 
 resist the injuries of time. Gomara (c. 195.) says 
 they were embalmed by the juice of certain fragrant 
 trees, which was poured down their throats, and by 
 unguents of gum. Acosta says that a certain bitu- 
 men was used, and that plates of gold were placed 
 instead of eyes, so well fitted that the want of the 
 real eye was not perceived. Garcilaso thought the 
 chief preparation consisted in freezing them with 
 snow. They were buried in one of the courts of the 
 hospital of St. Andres. — Merc. Peruano, No. 221. 
 
 Hideous exhibitions of this kind are sometimes 
 made in monasteries, where they are in perfect ac- 
 cord with monastic superstition. I remember seeing 
 two human bodies dry and shrivelled, suspended in 
 the Casa dos Ossos, at Evora, in a chapel, the walls 
 of which are lined with skulls and bones. 
 
 " Among the remarkable objects in the vicinity of 
 Palermo pointed out to strangers, they fail not to 
 singularise a convent of Capuchins at a small dis- 
 
NOTES. 175 
 
 tance from town, the beautiful gardens of which 
 serve as a pubhc walk. You are shown, under the 
 fabric, a vault divided into four great galleries, into 
 v/hicii the hght is admitted by windows cut out at 
 the top of each extremity. In this vault are pre- 
 served, not in flesh, but in skin and bone, all the 
 Capuchins who have died in the convent since its 
 foundation, as well as the bodies of several persons 
 from the city. There are here private tombs belong- 
 ing to opulent families, who, even after annihilation, 
 disdain to be confounded with the vulgar part of 
 mankind. It is said, tliat in order to secure the pre- 
 servation of these bodies, they are prepared by being 
 gradually dried before a slow fire, so as to consume 
 the flesh without greatly injuring the skin ; when 
 perfectly dry, they are invested with the Capuchin 
 habit, and placed upright, on tablets, disposed step 
 above step along the sides of the vault ; the head, 
 the arms, and the feet are left naked. A preserva- 
 tion like this is horrid. The skin discoloured, dry, 
 and as if it had been tanned, nay, torn in some 
 places, glued close to the bones. It is easy to ima- 
 gine, from the diflTerent grimaces of this numerous 
 assemblage of fleshless figures, rendefred^till more 
 frightful by a long beard on the chin, what a hideous 
 spectacle this must exhibit ; and whoever has seen a 
 Capuchin aUve, may form an idea of this singular 
 repository of dead friars." — Sonnini. 
 
176 NOTES. 
 
 It is not surprising that such practises arise from 
 superstition ; but it is strange, indeed, that they 
 should afford any gratification to pride. That ex- 
 cellent man, Fletcher of Madeley, has a striking re- 
 mark upon this subject. " The murderer," says he, 
 " is dissected in the surgeon's hall, gratis ; and the 
 rich sinner is embowelled in his own apartment at 
 great expence. The robber, exposed to open air, 
 wastes away in hoops of iron ; and the gentleman, 
 confined to a damp vault, moulders away in sheets 
 of lead ; and while the fowls of the air greedily prey 
 upon the one, the vermin of the earth eagerly de- 
 vour the other." 
 
 How different is the feeling of the Hindoos upon 
 this subject from that of the Egyptians ! " A man- 
 sion with bones for its rafters and beams ; with 
 nerves and tendons for cords; with muscles and 
 blood for mortar ; with skin for its outward covering ; 
 filled with no sweet perfume, but loaded with feces 
 and urine ; a mansion infested by age and by sor- 
 row, the seat of malady, harassed with pains, haunt- 
 ed with the quality of darkness, and incapable of 
 standing long. — Such a mansion of the vital soid lets 
 its occupier always cheerfully quit." — Inst, of Menu. 
 
 When the laden bee 
 Buzzed by him in itsjlight, he could pursue 
 Its course ivith certain ken. — Canto I. st. 23. 
 
177 
 
 It is difficult to explain the superior quickness of 
 sight which savages appear to possess. The Bra- 
 zilian tribes used to eradicate the e3^elashes and eye- 
 brows, as impeding it. " Some Indians," P. Andres 
 Perez de Ribas says, " were so quicksighted that 
 they could ward off the coming arrow with their own 
 bow."— L. ii. c. 3. p. 41. _^^ 
 
 Drinking feasts. — Canto I. st. 26. 
 The point of honour in drinking is not the same 
 among the savages of Guiana, as among the English 
 potators : they account him that is drunk first the 
 bravest fellow. — HarcourVs Voyage. 
 
 Covering with soft gums the obedient limb 
 And body, then with feathers overlay, 
 In regular hues disposed. — Canto I. st. 25. 
 Inconvenient as this may seem, it was the full- 
 dress of the Tupi and Guarani tribes. A fashion 
 less gorgeous and elaborate, but more refined, is de- 
 scribed by one of the best old travellers to the East, 
 Francois Pyrard. 
 
 "The inhabitants of the Maldives use on feast- 
 days this kind of gallantry. They bruise saunders 
 (sandal wood) and camphire, on veiy slicke and 
 smooth stones, (which they bring from the firm 
 land,) and sometimes other sorts of odoriferous 
 woods. After they compound it with water distilled 
 
178 
 
 of flowers, and overspread their bodies with this 
 paste, from the girdle upwards ; adding many forms 
 with their finger, such as they imagine. It is some- 
 what like cut and pinked doublets, and of an excel- 
 lent savour. They dress their wives or lemans in 
 this sort, and make upon their backs works and 
 shadows as they please." Skin-prints Purchas calls 
 this. — Pyrard de Laval. Purchas, p. 1655. 
 
 The abominable practice of tarring and feathering 
 was but too well known during the American war. 
 It even found its way to England. I remember, 
 when a child, to have seen a man in this condition 
 in the streets of Bristol. 
 
 The costume of the savages who figured so fre- 
 quently in the pageants of the sixteenth century, 
 seems to have been designed to imitate the Brazilian 
 tribes, best known to the French and Enghsh at that 
 time. Indeed, this is expressed by Vincent Carloix, 
 when in describing an entertainment given to Mare- 
 chal de Vieilleville by the captains of the gallies at 
 Marseilles, he says, Ayant lU six gaUres ensemble de 
 front, et faict dresser les tables dessus, et tapissees en 
 fagon de grandes salles ; ayant accoustres les forceats 
 en Bressiliens pour servir, ilsjirent une infinite de gam- 
 bades et de tourbions a la fagon des sauvages, que per- 
 Sonne n^avoit encore veues ; dont tout le monde, avec une 
 extresme allaigresse, s^esbahissoit merveilleusement, — 
 M^raoires, 1. x. ch. 18. 
 
NOTES. 179 
 
 A custom strange, and yd far spread 
 
 Thro' many a savage tribe, however it greiv. 
 And once in the old world known as widely as the neiv. 
 
 Canto I. St. 28. 
 
 Je la trouve chez les Iberiens, ou les premiers peuples 
 d'Espagnc ; je la trouve chez les anciens habitans de 
 VIsle de Corse ; elle etoit chez les Tibareniens en Asie ; 
 elle est auj our dliui dans quelques-unes de nos provinces 
 voisines d^Espagne, ou celas ^appelefaire couvade ; elle 
 est encore vers le Japon, et dans VAmemque chez les 
 Caraibes et les Galibis. — Lafitau, Moeurs des Saiiva- 
 ges, t. i. p. 50. 
 
 Strabo says, this strange custom existed in Canta- 
 bria, (L. iii. p. 174. ed. 1571.) so that its Gascon ex- 
 traction has been direct. Diodorus Siculus is the 
 authority for its existence in Corsica. (Book iii. ch. 
 1. Enghsh translation, 1814. vol. 1. p. 305.) ApoUo- 
 nius Rhodius describes it among the Tibareni (L. ii. 
 1012) ^i la-ropil Nvu<poScepo? h ^iTiv vi[j.ci',, says the scholiast. 
 
 Voicy la brutalite de nos sauvages dans leur rtjouis- 
 sance pour Vacroissement de leur famille. Cest qu''au 
 mime terns que la femme est deliver ee le mary se met au 
 lit, pour s^y plaindre et y /aire Vaccouchee ; coutume^ 
 quibien que sauvage et ridicule se trouve neantmoins (i 
 ce que Von dit, parmy les pay sans dhine ceHaine pro- 
 vince de France; et Us appellent ce/a faire la couvade. 
 Mais ce qui est de fdcheuse pour le pauvre Caraibe qui 
 s'est mis au lit au lieu de Vaccouchte, c-est qu''on luy 
 
180 NOTES. 
 
 fait f aire diete dix ou douze jours de suite, ne luy dou- 
 nant rien par jour qu'un petit morceau de cassave, et un 
 peu d'eau dans laquelle on a aussi fait houillir un peu 
 de ce pain de racine. Apres il mange un peu plus : 
 mais il n'entame la cassave qui luy est presentee que 
 par le mileu durant quelques quarante jours, en laissant 
 les bords entiers quHl pend a sa case, pour servir a un 
 festin quHlfait ordinaireinent en suite a tous ses amis. 
 Et mime il s^ahstient apres cela quelquefois dix mois ou 
 un an entier de plusieurs viandes, comme de lamantin^ 
 de tortue, de pourceau, de ponies, de poisson, et de choses 
 dtlicates, craignant par unc pitoyahle folic que cela ne 
 nuise a V enfant. Mais Us ne font ce grand jusne qu'^a 
 la naissance de leur premier enfant. — Rochefort. Hist. 
 Morale, c. 23. p. 495. 
 
 Marco Polo, (L. ii. c. 41.) the other authority to 
 wliich Lafitau refers, speaks of the custom as exist- 
 ing in the great Khan's province of Cardandan. — 
 Hanno un"* usanza che suhito chhma donna ha partori- 
 to, si leva del letto, e lavato il fanciullo e ravolto ?ie' 
 panni, il mai'ito si mette a giacere in letto in sua vece, e 
 tiene il figliuolo appresso di se, havendo la cura di 
 quello per quaranta giorni, che non si parte mai. Et 
 gli amici e parenti vanno a visitarlo per rallegrarlo e 
 conssolarlo ; e le donne che sono da parto fanno quel 
 che hisogna per casa, portando da mangiare e here at 
 marito, c/i' e nel letto, e dando il latte al fanciidlo, che 
 gli k appresso. — Ramusio, t. ii. p. 36. ed. 1583. 
 
NOTES. 181 
 
 Yet this custom, preposterous as it is, is not more 
 strange than an opinion which was once so prevalent 
 in this country that Primerose made it the subject of 
 a chapter in his work de Vidgi Erroribus in Medici- 
 nd, and thought it necessary to prove, by physical 
 reasons, maritum loco uxoris gravidce non cegrotare, for 
 such is the title of one of his chapters. He says, In- 
 ter errores quampliwimos mnxim^ ridendus hie esse 
 videtur, quod vir credatitr cegrotare, Usque affici symp- 
 tomcitis, quibus ipsa muHer prcegnans solet, illudque 
 experientia conjirinatuni plurimi esse volunt. Habebam 
 CEgrum febre laborantem cum urind valde aecensa et 
 tui'bidd, qui cegrotationis suce nullam causam agnosce- 
 hat quam uxoris suce graviditatem. JVullibi terrarum 
 quam in Anglid id observatum memini me audivisse, 
 aut legisse unquam. — JSTec si quis maritus cum uxor 
 gravida est, cegrotat, ab uxore infectus fuit, sed potest ex 
 peculiari proprii corporis vitio id pati. Sicut dum hcec 
 scribo, pluit ; non est tamen pluvia aut causa scription- 
 is, aut scriptura pluvias. Res nova non est, viros et 
 mulieres etiam simul cegrotare. At mirum est hactenus- 
 que ignotum, graviditatem affectum esse contagiosum, 
 et non alias mulieres sed viros, quos natura immunes 
 ab hoc labore fecit, solos injici. Prceterea observatum 
 est non omnibus mulieribus ejusmodi symptomata, aut 
 saltern non omnia singidis contingere ; et tamen accidit 
 soepe ut cum mulier bene valet, cegrotct maritus, etiam 
 abscns per aliquot milliaria. Sed quoniam ex sold re- 
 16 
 
182 NOTES. 
 
 latione ahsurditas hujus erroris patet, plura non addam. 
 Jupiter Bacchum in femore. Palladem in cerehro ges- 
 tavit Sed hoc illi esto proprium. — Lib. ii. c. 13. 
 
 This notion, however, is probably not yet extinct, 
 for I know thai it existed in full force some thirty 
 years ago, and that not in the lowest rank of life. 
 
 Till hardened mothers in the gram could lay 
 Their living babes with no compunctious, tear. 
 
 Canto I. St. 38. 
 
 This dreadful practice is carried to such an extent 
 in the heart of South America that whole tribes have 
 become extinct in consequence of it, and of another 
 practice hardly less nefarious. 
 
 Those bloody African savages, the Giagas, reared 
 no children whatsoever ; " for as soon," says Battel], 
 "as the woman is delivered of her child, it is presently 
 buried quick; so that there is not one child brought 
 up in all this generation. But when they take any 
 town they keep the boys and girls of thirteen or 
 fourteen years of age as their own children, but the 
 men and women they kill and eat. These httle boys 
 they train up in the wars, and hang a collar about 
 their necks for a disgrace, which is never taken off 
 till he proveth himself a man, and brings his enemy's 
 head to the general ; and then it is taken off, and he 
 is a free man, and is called 'gonso' or 'soldier.' This 
 maketh them all desperate and forward to be free 
 
NOTES. 183 
 
 and counted men, and so they do increase." A gen- 
 eration without generation says Purehas, p. 977. 
 
 Among the causes for which the Knisteneaux wo- 
 men procure abortion, Mackenzie (p. 98.) assigns that 
 of hatred for the father. No other traveller has ever 
 suspected the existence of this motive. They some- 
 tmies kill their female children to save them from 
 the miseries which they themselves have sutiered. 
 
 The practice among the Panches of Bogota was, 
 that if the first-born proved a girl, it was destroyed, 
 and every girl in succession till the mother bore a 
 boy, after which girls were allowed to live; but if the 
 first-born were a boy, all the children then were 
 reared. — Piedrahita, p. 11. 
 
 Perhaps the most flagitious motive for which this 
 crime has ever become a practice, is that which the 
 Guana women assign for it; they destroy the greater 
 number of their female infants in order to keep up 
 the value of the sex. (^zara, t. ii. 85 — 100: See Hist, 
 of Brazil, vol. ii. 379.) A knowledge of the evils 
 which polygamy brings upon some of their neigh- 
 bors may have led to this mode of preventing it. 
 
 Father Gumilla one day bitterly reproved a Beto- 
 ya woman (whom he describes as having more ca- 
 pacity than any other of the Indians in those parts) 
 for killing her new-born daughter. She listened to 
 him without lifting her eyes from the ground, and 
 when he had done, and thought that she was con- 
 
184 NOTES. 
 
 vinced of her guilt and heartily repented of it, she 
 said, "Father, if you will not be angry, I will tell you 
 what is in my heart." He promised that he would 
 not, and bade her speak freely. This she said to me, 
 he says, as follows, literally translated from the Be- 
 toya tongue. "Would to God, Father, would to God 
 my mother when she brought me forth had loved me 
 so well and pitied me so much as to have saved me 
 from all those troubles which I have endured till this 
 day, and am to endure till death ! If my mother had 
 buried me as soon as I was born, I should have died, 
 but should not have felt death, and should have been 
 spared from that death which must come, and should 
 have escaped so many things bitterer than death: 
 who knows how many more such I must endure be- 
 fore I die ! Consider well. Father, the hardships that 
 a poor Indian woman endures among these Indians! 
 They go with us to the plantation, but they have a 
 bow and arrow in their hands, nothing more ; we go 
 with a basket full of things on the back, one child at 
 the breast, another upon the basket. Their business 
 is to shoot a bird or a fish, ours is to dig and work 
 in the field ; at evening they go home without any 
 burthen; we, besides our children, have to cany 
 roots for their food, and maize to make their drink. 
 They, when they reach the house, go to converse 
 with their friends, we have to seek wood, fetch wa- 
 ter, and prepare their supper. Having supped they 
 
•' NOTES. 185 
 
 go to sleep ; but we almost all the night are pound- 
 ing maize to make their chicha. And what is the end 
 of this our watching and labor! They drink the chi- 
 cha, they get drunk, and being out of their senses, 
 beat us with sticks, take us by the hair, drag us 
 about and trample on us. Would to God, Father, 
 that my mother had buried me when she brought 
 me forth ! You know that I complain with cause, 
 for all that I have said you witness every day. But 
 our greatest pain you do not know, because you 
 never can suffer it. You do not know. Father, the 
 death it is for the poor Indian woman, when having 
 served her husband as a slave, sweating in the field, 
 and in the house without sleep, at the end of twenty 
 years she sees him take a girl for another wife. Her 
 he loves, and though she ill uses our children, we 
 cannot interfere, for he neither loves us nor cares 
 for us now. A girl is to command over us, and treat 
 us as her servants, and if we speak, they silence us 
 with sticks. Can any Indian woman do better for 
 the daughter which she brings forth than to save it 
 from all these troubles, and deliver it from this sla- 
 very, worse than death? I say again. Father, would 
 to God my mother had made me feel her kindness 
 by burying me as soon as I was born ! Then would 
 not this heart have had now so much to feel, nor 
 these eyes so much to weep for." 
 
186 NOTES. 
 
 \ 
 
 Here, says Gumilla, tears put an end to her speech : 
 and the worst is, that all which she said, and all she 
 would have said, if grief had allowed her to proceed, 
 is true. — Onnoco llustrado, t. ii. j). 65. ed. 1791. 
 
 From the dove 
 They named the child Yeruti. — Canto I. st. 42. 
 This is the Guarani name for the species described 
 by Azara, t. iv. p. 130. No. cccxx. 
 
 What power had placed them here. — Canto II. st. 27. 
 
 Some of the Orinoco tribes believe that their first 
 forefathers grew upon trees. — Gumilla, t. i. c. 6. 
 
 The Othomacas, one of the rudest of the Orinoco 
 tribes, suppose themselves descended from a pile of 
 stones upon the top of a rock called. Barraguan, and 
 that they all return to stone as they came from it ; so 
 that this mass of rock is composed of their forefa- 
 thers. Therefore, though they bury their dead, 
 within the year they take off their heads and carry 
 them to the holes in the rock. — Gumilla, t. i. c. 6. 
 
 These are the odd people who always for a first 
 marriage give a girl to an old man, and a youth to 
 an old woman. Polygamy is not in use among them ; 
 and they say, that if the young people came together 
 there could be no good household management. — 
 Gumilla, U i. c. 12. 
 
NOTES. 187 
 
 p. Labbe (Lett Edif. t. viii. p. 180. edit. 1781) 
 speaks of a tribe on the N. bank of the Plata who put 
 their women to death when they were thirty years 
 old, thinking they had then hved long enough. I liave 
 not seen this custom mentioned by any other writer, 
 nor do I believe that it can possibly have existed. 
 
 ^'Ind Father ivas his name. — Canto II. st. 28. 
 
 Tupa. It is the Tupi and Guarani name for Fa- 
 ther, for Thunder, and for the Supreme Being. 
 
 The Patagones call the Supreme Being Soychu, a 
 word which is said to express that which cannot be 
 seen, which is worthy of all veneration, and which is 
 out of the world. They may thus explain the word ; 
 but it cannot contain this meaning ; it is a definition 
 of what they mean, and apparently not such as a 
 savage would give. The dead they call Soychuhet; 
 they who are with God, and out of the world. 
 
 The Puelches, Picunches, and Moluches have no 
 name for God. Their prayers are made to the sim, 
 whom they regard as the giver of all good. A Jesuit 
 once admonished them to worship that God who 
 created all things, and this orb among the rest ; but 
 they replied, they had never known any thing great- 
 er or better than the sun. — Dohrizhoffer, t. ii. p. 100. 
 
 The most remarkable mode of superstition I re- 
 member to have met with, is one which is mentiored 
 by the Bishop of Santa Marta, in his History of the 
 
188 NOTES. 
 
 Nuevo Reyiio de Granada. He tells us, that "the 
 Pijaos of the Nuevo Reyiio worshipped nothmg visi- 
 ble or invisible, except the spirits of those whom 
 they killed for the purpose of deifying them. For 
 they thought that if an innocent person were put to 
 death he became a god, and in that capacity would 
 be grateful to those who were the authors of his ap- 
 otheosis. For this reason they used to catch stran- 
 gers and kill them ; not thinking one of their own 
 horde, or of their enemies, could be esteemed inno- 
 cent, and therefore fitting. A woman or a child 
 would do. But after a few months they held it ne- 
 cessary to make a new god, the old one either hav- 
 ing lost his power, or changed his place, or perhaps 
 by that time discharged Imnself of his debt of grati- 
 tude." — Piedrahita, p. 12. 
 
 And once there ivas a way to that good land^ 
 For in mid earth a wonderous tree there grew. 
 
 Canto II. St. 33. 
 Los Mocohis Jingian un Arhol, que en su idioma 
 llamahan JValliagdigua, de altura tan desmedida que 
 llegaha desde la tierra at cielo. Por el de rama en rama 
 ganando siempre maior elevacion suhian las almas a 
 pezcar de un rio y lagunas muy grandes, que abunda- 
 han de pescado regaladisimo. Pero un dia que el alma 
 de una Vieja no pudo pescar cosa alguna, y los Pesca- 
 dores la negaron el socorro de una limosna para su 
 
NOTES. 189 
 
 mantcnimiento, se irrito tanto contra la nacion Mocohi 
 que, transfiguranda en Capiguara tomo el exercicio de 
 roer el Arhol por donde subian al cielo, y no desistio 
 hasta derribarlo en tierra con increihle sentimiento y 
 dano irreparable de toda la nacion. 
 
 This legend is contained in a manuscript history 
 of Paraguay, the Rio de la Plata, and Tucuman. 
 For the use of the first volume (a transcript of which 
 is in my possession), I am beholden, as for other 
 civilities of the same kind, to Mr. Thomas Kinder. 
 This portion of the work contains a good account of 
 the native tribes; the second volume contains the 
 historical part ; but when Mr. Kinder purchased the 
 one at Buenos Ayres, the other was on its w^ay to 
 the United States, having been borrowed from the 
 owner by an American, and not returned. Fortu- 
 nately the subjects of the two volumes are so distmct 
 that each may be considered as a complete m ovk ; 
 and I have referred to that which I possess, in the 
 history of Brazil, by the title of JVoticias del Para- 
 guay, 4-c. 
 
 The land of soids.— Canto II. st. 39. 
 
 Many of the Indian speculations respecting the 
 
 condition of souls in a future state are given in the 
 
 History of Brazil. A description of a Keltic Island 
 
 of the Blessed, as drest up by Ossian Macpherson, 
 
190 NOTES. 
 
 may be found in the notes to Madoc. A Tonga one 
 is thus described in the very curious and valuable 
 work of Mr. Mariner. 
 
 " The Tonga people universally and positively be- 
 lieve "m the existence of a large island lying at a 
 considerable distance to the N. W. of their own 
 islands, which they consider to be the place of resi- 
 dence of their gods, and of the souls of their nobles 
 and mataboohes. This island is supposed to be much 
 larger than all their own islands put together ; to be 
 well stocked with all kinds of useful and ornamental 
 plants always in a state of high perfection, and al- 
 ways bearing the richest fruits and the most beauti- 
 ful flowers, according to their respective natures ; 
 that when these fruits or flowers are plucked others 
 immediately occupy their place, and that the whole 
 atmosphere is filled with the most dehghtful fra- 
 grance that the imagination can conceive, proceed- 
 ing from these immortal plants. The island is also 
 well stocked with the most beautiful birds of all im- 
 aginable kinds, as well as with abundance of hogs^ 
 all of which arc immortal, unless they are killed to 
 provide food for the hotooas or gods ; but the mo- 
 ment a hog or bird is killed, another hving hog or 
 bird immediately comes into existence to supply its 
 place, the same as with the fruits and flowers ; and 
 this, as far as they know or suppose, is the only 
 
NOTES. 191 
 
 mode of propagation of plants and animals. The 
 island of Bolotoo is supposed to be so far off as to 
 render it dangerous for their canoes to attempt going 
 there ; and it is supposed moreover that even if they 
 were to succeed in reaching so far, unless it happen- 
 ed to be the particular will of the gods, they would 
 be sure to miss it. They give, however, an account of 
 a Tonga canoe, which, in her return from the Feejee 
 islands a long time ago, was driven by stress of 
 weather to Bolotoo : ignorant of the place where 
 they were, and being much in want of provisions, 
 and seeing the country abound in all sorts of fruit, 
 the crew landed, and proceeded to pluck some bread- 
 fruit, but to their unspeakable astonishment they 
 could no more lay hold of it than if it were a shadow. 
 They walked through the trunks of the trees, and 
 passed through the substance of the houses (which 
 were built like those of Tonga), without feehng any 
 resistance. They at length saw some of the Ho- 
 tooas, who passed through the substance of their 
 bodies as if there was nothing there. The Hotooas 
 recommended them to go away immediately, as they 
 had no proper food for them, and promised them a 
 fair wind and a speedy passage. They accordingly 
 put directly to sea, and in two days, saihng with the 
 utmost velocity, they arrived at Hamoa, (the Navi- 
 gators' Island), at which place they wanted to touch 
 before they got to Tonga. Having remained at Ha- 
 
192 NOTES. 
 
 moa two or three days, they sailed for Tonga, where 
 they arrived with great speed ; but in the course of 
 a few days they all died, not as a punishment for 
 having been at Bolotoo, but as a natural consequence, 
 the air of Bolotoo, as it were, infecting mortal bodies 
 with speedy death." 
 
 In Yucatan their notion of the happy after death 
 was, that they rested in a delightful land, under the 
 shade of a great tree, where there was plenty of food 
 and drink. — Herrera, iv. 10. n. 
 
 The Austral tribes believe that the dead live in 
 some region under the earth when they have their 
 tents, and hunt the souls of ostriches. — Dohrizh. ii. 295. 
 
 The Persians have a great reverence for large old 
 trees, thinking that the souls of the happy dehght to 
 dwell in them, and for this reason they call them jotV, 
 which signifies an old man, by which name they also 
 designate the supposed inhabitant. Pietro Delia 
 Valle describes a prodigious tree of this character, 
 in the hollow of which tapers were always kept 
 burning to the honour of the Pir. He pitched his 
 tent under its boughs twice ; once with his wife when 
 on his way to embark for Europe, and again when 
 returning with her corpse. The passage wherein 
 he speaks of this last night's lodging is very affecting. 
 We soon forgive this excellent traveller for his cox- 
 combry, take an interest in his domestic affairs, and 
 part with him at last as with an old friend. 
 
NOTES. 193 
 
 ffho thought 
 From Death as from some living foe tojly.— Can. II. st. 44. 
 
 An opinion of this kind has extended to people in 
 a much higher grade of society than the American 
 Indians. 
 
 " After this Death appeared in Dwaraka in a hu- 
 man shape, the colour of his skin being black and 
 yellow, his head close shorn, and all his limbs dis- 
 torted. He placed himself at men's doors, so that 
 all those who saw him shuddered with apprehen- 
 sion, and became even as dead men from mere af- 
 fright. Every person to whose door he came shot 
 an arrow at him, and the moment the arrow quitted 
 the bow-string they saw the spectre no more, nor 
 knew which way he was gone." — lAfe of Creeshna. 
 
 This is a poetical invention ; but such an invention 
 has formed a popular belief in Greece, if M. Pouque- 
 ville may be trusted. 
 
 "The Evil Eye, the CacodcEmon, has been seen wan- 
 dering over the roofs of the houses. Who can dare 
 to doubt this ? It was in the form of a withered old 
 woman, covered with funeral rags ; she was heard 
 to call by their names those who are to be cut off 
 from the number of the living. Nocturnal concerts, 
 voices murmuring amid the silence of the darkest 
 nights, have been heard in the air ; phantoms have 
 been seen wandering about in solitary places, in the 
 streets, in the markets; the dogs have howled with 
 17 
 
194 NOTES. 
 
 the most dismal and melancholy tone, and their 
 cries have been repeated by the echoes along the 
 desert streets. It is when such things happen, as I 
 was told very seriously by an inhabitant of Nauplia 
 di Romania, that great care must be taken not to 
 answer if you should be called during the night, if 
 you hear symphonies bury yourself in the bed 
 clothes, and do not listen to them ; it is the old wo- 
 7nan, it is the plague itself that knocks at your door." 
 — Pouqiieville, 189. 
 
 The Patagones and other Austral tribes attribute 
 all diseases to an evil spirit. Their conjurors there- 
 fore beat drums by the patient, which have hideous 
 figures painted upon them, thinking thus to frighten 
 away the cause. If he dies, his relations endeavour 
 to take vengeance upon those who pretended to cure 
 him ; but if one of the chiefs dies, all the conjurors 
 are slain, unless they can save themselves by flight, 
 — Dobrizhoffer, t. ii. 286. 
 
 They dragged the dying out. — Canto II. st. 45. 
 The Austral tribes sometimes bury the dying, 
 thinking it an act of mercy thus to shorten their suf- 
 ferings. {Dobrizh. t. ii. 286.) But in general this 
 practice, which extends widely among savages, arises 
 from the selfish feeling assigned in the text. Su- 
 perstition without this selfishness, produces a prac- 
 tice of the same kind, though not absolutely as brutaL 
 
NOTES). 195 
 
 ill the East. " The moorda or chultries, are' small 
 liiits m which a Hindoo, when given over by his 
 physicians, is deposited, and left alone to expire, and 
 be carried off by the sacred flood." — Cruso, in Forbes, 
 iv. 99. 
 
 " When there is no hope of recovery, the patient 
 is generally removed from the bed, and laid on a plat- 
 form of fresh earth, either out of doors, or prepared 
 purposely in some adjoining room or viranda, that 
 he may there breathe his last. In a physical sense, 
 this removal at so critical a period must be often at- 
 tended with fatal consequences ; though perhaps not 
 quite so decisive as that of exposing an aged parent 
 or a dying friend on the banks of the Ganges. I 
 now only mention the circumstances as forming part 
 of the Hindoo religious system. After having ex- 
 pired upon the earth, the body is carried to the water- 
 side, and washed with many ceremonies. It is then 
 laid upon the funeral pile, that the fire may have a 
 share of the victim : the ashes are finally scattered 
 in the air, and fall upon the water. 
 
 " During the funeral ceremony, which is solemn 
 and affecting, the Brahmins address the respective 
 elements in word3 to the following purport ; although 
 there may be a different mode of performing these 
 religious rites in other parts of Hindostan. 
 
 " O Earth ! to thee we commend our brother ; of 
 
196 NOTES. 
 
 thee he was formed ; by thee he was sustained ; and 
 unto thee he now returns ! 
 
 " O Fn-e ! thou hadst a claim in our brother ; dur- 
 ing his hfe he subsisted by thy influence in nature ; 
 to thee we commit his body ; thou emblem of purity, 
 may his spirit be purified on entering a new state of 
 existence. 
 
 " O Air ! while the breath of Hfe continued our 
 brother respired by thee ; his last breath is now de- 
 parted ; to thee we yield him. 
 
 " O Water ! thou didst contribute to the life of 
 our brother ; thou wert one of his sustaining ele- 
 ments. His remains are now dispersed ; receive 
 thy share of him, who has now taken an everlasting 
 flight !" — Forbes''s Oriental Memoirs, iii. 12. 
 
 And she in many an emulous essay, 
 
 At length into a descant of her own 
 
 Had hhnded all their notes. — Canto TIL st. 39., &c. 
 
 An extract from a journal written in Switzerland 
 
 will be the best comment upon the description in 
 
 these stanzas, which indeed were probably suggested 
 
 by my recollections of the Staubach. 
 
 " While we were at the waterfall, some half score 
 peasants, chiefly women and girls, assembled just 
 out of reach of the spray, and set up — surely the 
 wildest chorus that ever was heard by human ears, — 
 
197 
 
 a song not of articulate sounds, but in which the 
 voice was used as a mere instrument of music, more 
 flexible than any which art could produce, — sweet, 
 powerful, and thrilling beyond description." 
 
 It will be seen by the subjoined sonnet of Mr. 
 Wordsworth's, who visited this spot three years after 
 me, that he was not less impressed than I had been 
 by this wild concert of voices. 
 
 On approaching the Stauh-bach, Lauterbrunnen. 
 Tracks let me follow far from human kind 
 Which these illusive greetings may not reach ; 
 Where only Nature tunes her voice to teach 
 Careless pursuits, and raptures unconfined. 
 No Mermaid warbles (to allay the wind 
 That drives some vessel towards a dangerous beach, ) 
 More thrilling melodies ! no caverned Witch 
 Chaunting a love-spell, ever intertwined 
 Notes shrill and wild with art more musical ! 
 Alas ! that from the lips of abject Want 
 And Idleness in tatters mendicant 
 They should proceed — enjoyment to enthral, 
 And with regret and useless pity haunt 
 This bold, this pure, this sky-born Waterfall ! 
 
 " The vocal powers of these musical beggars (says 
 Mr. Wordsworth) may seem to be exaggerated ; but 
 this wild and savage air was utterly unlike any sounds 
 
 nr 
 
198 NOTES. 
 
 I had ever heard ; the notes reached me from a dis- 
 tance, and on what occasion they were sung I could 
 not guess, only they seemed to belong in some way 
 or other to the waterfall ; and reminded me of reli- 
 gious services chaunted to streams and fountains in 
 Pagan times." 
 
 Some dim presage. — Canto 111. st. 41. 
 Upon this subject an old Spanish romancer speaks 
 thus : Aunque homhre no sabe lo de adelante coma ha 
 de venir, el espiritu lo siente, y ante que venga se duels 
 dello : y de aqui se levantaron los grandes sospiros que 
 hombres dan a sobrevienta no pensando en ningun cosa, 
 como a muchos acaesce, que aquel que el sospiro echa de 
 si, el espiritu es que siente el mal que ha de ser. — Chron- 
 ica del Rey D. Rodrigo, p. ii. c. 171. 
 
 Across her shoulders was a hammock Jiung. 
 
 Canto III. St. 45. 
 
 Pinkerton, in his Geography (vol. ii. p. 535. n. 3d 
 edit.) says, that nets are sometimes worn among the 
 Guaranis instead of clothes, and refers to this very 
 story in proof of his assertion. 1 believe he had no 
 other ground for it. He adds, that " perhaps they 
 were worn only to keep off the flies ;" as if those 
 blood-suckers were to be kept off by open net work ! 
 
 We owe something, however, to the person who 
 introduces us to a good and valuable book, and I am 
 
NOTES. ^ 199 
 
 indebted originally to Mr. Pinkerton for my know- 
 ledge of Dobrizhoffer. He says of him, when refer- 
 ring to the Historia de Jlbiponihus, " the lively singu- 
 larity of the old man's Latin is itself an amusement ; 
 and though sometimes garrulous, he is redundant in 
 authentic and curious information. His work, thoiigh 
 bearing a restricted title, is tlie best account yet pub- 
 lished of the whole viceroyalty of La Plata." 
 
 Her feet upon the crescent moon were set. 
 
 Canto II. St. 51. 
 This is a common representation of the Virgin, 
 from the Revelation. 
 
 Virgem de Sol vestida, e dos sens raios 
 Claros envolta toda, e das Estrellas 
 Coroada, e debaixo os pes a Lua. 
 
 Francisco de Sa de Miranda. 
 These hues are highly esteemed by the Portu- 
 guese critics. 
 
 Severe he ivas, and in his anger dread, 
 Yet alway at his Mother^s will grew mild, 
 So well did he obey that Maiden undefiled. 
 
 Canto II. St. 51. 
 "How hath the conceit of Christ's humiliation 
 here on earth, of his depcndance on his mother dur- 
 mg the tune of his formation and birth, and of his 
 
200 NOTES. 
 
 subjection to her in his infancy, brought forth pre- 
 posterous and more than heathenish transforma- 
 tions of his glory in the superstitious daughters of 
 the idolatrous church ! They cannot conceive Christ 
 as king, unless they acknowledge her as queen dow- 
 ager of heaven : her title of Lady is sequiparant to 
 his title of Lord : her authority for some purposes 
 held as great, her bowels of compunction (towards 
 the weaker sex especially) more tender. And as 
 the heathens frame gods suitable to their own de- 
 sire, soliciting them most (though otherwise less 
 potent) whom they conceive to be most favorable to 
 their present suits: so hath the blessed Virgin 
 throughout the Roinish Church obtained (what she 
 never sought) the entire monopoly of women's 
 prayers in their travails ; as if her presence at others' 
 distressful labours (for she herself, by their doctrine, 
 brought forth her first born and only son without 
 pain,) had wrought in her a truer feeling or tenderer 
 touch, than the high priest of their souls can have 
 of their infirmities ; or as if she would use more 
 faithful and effectual intercession with her son, than 
 he can or will do with his Father. Some in our 
 times, out of the weakness of their sex, matching 
 with the impetuousness of their adulterous and dis- 
 loyal zeal, have in this kind been so impotently out- 
 rageous as to intercept others' supplications directed 
 to Christ, and superscribe them in this form unto his 
 
NOTES. 201 
 
 mother ; Blessed Lady, command thy son to hear 
 this woman's prayers, and send her dehverance! 
 These, and the hke speeches, have moved some 
 good women, in other points tainted rather with su- 
 perstition than preciseness, to dispense with the law 
 of secrecy, seldom violated in their parliaments ; 
 and I know not whether I should attribute it to their 
 courage or stupidity, not to be more affrighted at 
 such blasphemies, than at some monstrous and pro- 
 digious birth. This and the like inbred inclinations 
 unto superstition, in the rude and uninstructed peo- 
 ple, are more artificially set forward by the fabulous 
 Roman Legendary and his Limner, than the like were 
 in the heathen, by heathen poets and painters." — 
 Dr. Thomas Jackson''s Works, vol. i. 1007. 
 
 Tyranny of the Spaniards. — Canto III. st. 7, 8. 
 
 The consumption of the Indians in the Paraguay 
 tea-trade, and the means taken by the Jesuits for 
 cultivating the Caa tree, are described by Dobriz- 
 hoifer. 
 
 The Encomenderos compelled the unhappy people 
 whom they found living where they liked, to settle 
 in such places as were most convenient for the work 
 in which they were now to be compulsorily employ- 
 ed. All their work was task-work, imposed with 
 little moderation, and exacted without mercy. This 
 tyranny extended to the women and children, and 
 
S02 NOTES. 
 
 as all the Spaniards, the officer of justice as well as 
 the Encomenderos were implicated in it, the Indians 
 had none to whom they could look for protection. 
 Even the Institutions of Christianity, by which the 
 Spanish government hoped to better the temporal 
 condition of its new subjects, were made the occa- 
 sion of new grievances and more intolerable oppres- 
 sion. For as the Indians were legally free, — free, 
 therefore, to marry where they pleased, and the 
 wife was to follow the husband, every means was 
 taken to prevent a marriage between two Indians 
 who belonged to different RepaHimientos, and the 
 interest of the master counteracted all the efforts of 
 the priest. The Spanish women are said to have 
 exceeded their husbands in cruelty on such occa- 
 sions, and to have instigated them to the most vio- 
 lent and iniquitous measures, that they might not 
 lose their female attendants. The consequence was, 
 that profligacy of manners among the Indians was 
 rather encouraged than restrained, as it is now in 
 the English sugar islands, where the planter is not a 
 religious man. — Lozano, 1. 1. § 3. 6. 7. 
 
 St. Joachin. — Canto IV. st. 17. 
 
 The legend of his visit to Limbo is given here in 
 
 a translated extract from that very curious work, the 
 
 Life of the Virgin Mary, as related by herself to 
 
 Sister Maria de Jesus," Abbess of the Franciscan 
 
^-OTEti. 203 
 
 Convent de la Inmaculada Concepcion at Agreda, 
 and published with the sanction of all the ecclesias- 
 tical authorities in Spain. 
 
 After some conversation between the Almighty 
 and the Virgin, at that time three years and a half 
 old, the Franciscan confessor, who was the accom- 
 plice of the abbess in this blasphemous imposture, 
 proceeds thus : — 
 
 " The Most High received this morning sacrifice 
 from his tender spouse, Mary the most holy, and 
 with a pleased countenance said to her, ' Thou art 
 beautiful in thy thoughts, O Prince's daughter, my 
 dove, and my beloved ! I admit thy desires, which 
 are agreeable to my eyes ; and it is my will, in fulfil- 
 ment of them, that thou shouldest understand the 
 time draws nigh, when by my divine appointment, 
 thy father Joachin must pas^ fi*om this mortal life to 
 the life immortal and eternal. His death shall be 
 short, and he will soon rest in peace, and be placed 
 with the Saints in Limbo, awaiting the redemption 
 of- the whole human race.' This information from 
 the Lord neither disturbed nor troubled the regal 
 breast of Mary, the Princess of Heaven ; yet as the 
 love of children to their parents is a debt due by na- 
 ture, and that love in all its perfection existed in this 
 most holy child, a natural grief at losing her most 
 holy father, Joachin, whom as a daughter she de- 
 voutly loved, could not fail to be resented. The ten- 
 
204 NOTES. 
 
 der and sweet child, Mary, felt a movement of grief 
 compatible with the serenity of her magnanimous 
 heart : and acting with greatness in every thing, fol- 
 lowing both grace and nature, she made a fervent 
 prayer for her father Joachin ; she besought the 
 Lord, that, as the mighty and true God, he would 
 look upon him in the hour of his happy death, and 
 defend him from the Devil, especially in that hour, 
 and preserve him, and appoint him in the number of 
 his elect, as one who in his life had confessed and 
 magnified his holy and adorable name. And the 
 more to oblige his Majesty, the most faithful daugh- 
 ter offered to endure for her father, the most holy 
 Joachin, all that the Lord might ordain. 
 
 " His Majesty accepted this petition, and consoled 
 the divine child, assuring her that he would be with 
 her father as a merciful and compassionate remu- 
 nerator of those who love and serve him, and that 
 he would place .him with the Patriarchs, Abraham, 
 Isaac, and Jacob ; and he prepared her again to re- 
 ceive and suffer other troubles. Eight days before 
 the death of the holy Patriarch Joachin, Mary the 
 most holy had other advices from the Lord, declar- 
 ing the day and hour in which he was to die, as in 
 fjict it occurred, only six months after our Queen 
 went to reside in the temple. When her Highness 
 had received this information from the Lord, she 
 besought the twelve angels, (who, I have before said, 
 
NOTES. 205 
 
 were those wliom St. John names in the Revelation,) 
 that they would be with her father Joachin in his 
 sickness, and comfort him, and console him in it ; 
 and thus they did. And for the last hour of his 
 transit she sent all those of her guard, and besought 
 the Lord that he would make them manifest to her 
 father for his greater consolation. The Most Pligh 
 grajited this, and in every thing fulfilled the desire 
 of his elect, unique, and perfect one : and the great 
 Patriarch and hapjjy Joachin saw the thousand holy 
 angels who guarded his daughter Maria, at whose 
 petition and desire the grace of the Almighty super- 
 abounded, and by his command the Angels said to 
 Joachin these things : — 
 
 " ' Man of God, the Most High and Mighty is thy 
 eternal salvation, and he sends thee from his holy 
 place the necessary and timely assistance for thy 
 soul ! Mary, thy daughter, sends us to be with thee 
 at this hour, in which thou hast to pay to th}^ Crea- 
 ator the debt of natural death. She is thy most 
 faithful and powerful intercessor with the Most High, 
 in whose name and peace depart thou from this 
 world with consolation and joy, that he hath made 
 thee parent of so blessed a daughter. And although 
 his incomprehensible Majesty in his serene wisdom 
 hath not till now manifested to thee the sacrament 
 and dignity in which he will constitute thy daughter, 
 it is his pleasure that thou shouldest know it now, 
 18 
 
20& NOTES. 
 
 to the intent that thou mayest magnify him antl 
 praise him, and that at such news the jubilee of thy 
 spirit may be joined with the grief and natural sad- 
 ness of death. Mary thy daughter and our Queen, 
 is the one chosen by the arm of the Omnipotent, that 
 the Divine Word may in her clothe himself With 
 flesh and with the human form. She is to be the 
 happy mother of the Messiah, blessed among wo- 
 men, superior to all creatures, and inferior only to 
 God himself. Thy most happy daughter is to be the 
 repairer of what the human race lost by the first fall; 
 and the high mountain whereon the new law of 
 grace is to be formed and established. Therefore, 
 as thou leavest now in the world its restauratrix and 
 daughter, by whom God prepares for it the fitting 
 remedy, depart thou in joy, and the Lord will bless 
 thee from Zion, and will give thee a place among 
 the Saints, that thou mayest attain to the sight and 
 possession of the happy Jerusalem.' 
 
 " While the holy Angels spake these words to 
 Joachin, St. Anna his wife was present, standing by 
 the pillow of his bed ; and she heard, and by divine 
 permission understood them. At the same time the 
 holy Patriarch Joachin lost his speech, and entering 
 upon the common way of all flesh, began to die, 
 with a marvellous struggle between the delight of 
 such joyful tidings and the pain of death. During 
 this conflict with his interior powers, many and fer- 
 
]voTEs. :207 
 
 vent acts of divine love, of faith, and adoration, and 
 praise, and thanksgiving, and huinihation, and other 
 virtues, did he heroically perform : and thus absorb- 
 ed in the new knowledge of so divine a mystery, he 
 came to the end of his natural hfe, dying the pre- 
 cious death of the Saints. His most holy spirit was 
 carried by the Angels to the Limbo of the Holy Fa- 
 thers and of the Just : and for a new consolation and 
 light in the long night wherein they dwelt, the Most 
 High ordered that the soul of the holy Patriarch Jo- 
 acliin should be the new Paranymph and Ambassa- 
 dor of his Great Majesty, for announcing to all that 
 congregation of the Just, how the day of eternal light 
 had now dawned, and the day-break was born, Mary, 
 the most holy daughter of Joachin and of Anna, 
 from whom should be born the Sun of Divinity, 
 Christ, Restorer of the whole human race. The 
 Holy Fathers and the Just- in Limbo heard these 
 tidings, and in their jubilee composed new hymns of 
 thanksgiving to the Most High. 
 
 " This happy death of the Patriarch St. Joachin 
 occurred (as I have before said,) half a year after his 
 daughter Mary the most holy entered the Temple ; 
 and when she was at the tender age of three and a 
 half, she was thus left in the world without a natural 
 father. The age of the patriarch was sixty and nine 
 years, distributed and divided thus: at the age of 
 forty-six years he took St. Anna to wife ; twentv 
 
208 NOTES. 
 
 years after this marriage Mary the most holy was 
 born ; and the tln-ee years and a half of her High- 
 ness's age make sixty-nine and a half, a few days 
 more or less. 
 
 " The holy Patriarch and father of our Queen be- 
 ing dead, the holy Angels of her guard returned in- 
 continently to her presence, and gave her notice of 
 all that had occurred in her father's transit. Forth- 
 with the most prudent child solicited with prayers 
 for the consolation of her mother St. Anna, intreat- 
 ing that the Lord would, as a father, direct and go- 
 vern her in the solitude wherein, by the loss of her 
 husband Joachin, she was left. St. Anna herself 
 sent also news of his death, which was first commu- 
 nicated to the Mistress of our divine Princess, that in 
 imparting it she might console her. The Mistress 
 did this, and the most wise child heard her, with all 
 composure and dissimulation, but with the patience 
 and the modesty of a Queen ; but she was not igno- 
 rant of the event which her Mistress related to her 
 as news." — Mistica Ciudad de Dios, par. 1. 1. 2. c. 16. 
 § 664—669. Madrid, 1744. 
 
 It was in the middle of the seventeenth century 
 that the work from which this extract is translated 
 was palmed upon the Spaniards as a new revelation. 
 Gross and blasphemous as the imposture is, the 
 work was still current when I procured my copy, 
 about twenty years ago ; and it is not included in the 
 
NOTES. 209 
 
 Spanish Index Expurgatorius of 1790, the last, (I be- 
 lieve,) which was published, and which is now be- 
 fore me. 
 
 He could not tarry here. — Canto IV. st. 67. 
 'A case precisely of the same kind is mentioned by 
 Mr. Mariner. " A young Chief at Tonga, a very 
 handsome man, was inspired by the ghost of a wo- ' 
 man m Bolotoo, who had fallen in Iqpe with him. 
 On a sudden he felt himself low-spirited, and shortly 
 afterwards fainted away. When he came to himself 
 lie was very ill, and was taken accordingly to the 
 house of a priest. As yet he did not know who it 
 was that inspired him, but the j^riest informed him 
 that it was a woman of Bolotoo, mentioning her 
 name, who had died some years before, and who 
 wished him now to die, that he might be near her. 
 He accordingly died in two days. The Chief said 
 he suspected this from the dreams he had had at 
 different times, when the figure of a woman came to 
 him in the night. Mr. Mariner was with the sick 
 Chief three or four times during his illness, and heard 
 the priest foretell his death, and the occasion of it." 
 — Mariner. 
 
 ns 
 
Erratum. — p. 176, ^^When the laden 6ce," &c. for 
 St. 23, see st. 20 — which error occurred in the Lon- 
 don copy. 
 
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