He'll think, when I was sporting so beside this marble well, My pearls fell in :-and what to say, alas! I cannot tell. "He'll say I am a woman, and we are all the same; "I'll tell the truth to Muça, and I hope he will believe fell, And that deep his love lies in my heart, as they lie in the well!" These ballads are all from Mr. Lockhart's delightful book. I add one or two extracts from the probably more literal version of Mr. Ticknor. The first is the "Lament of the Count de Saldaña," who, in his solitary prison, complains of his son, who he supposes must know his descent, and of his wife, the Infanta, whom he presumes to be in league with her royal brother. After a description of the castle in which he is confined, the Count says: The tale of my imprisoned life Each moment as it lingers by, My hoary hair recalls; For when this castle first I saw, And why so dull and cold? n? son Doth not my blood within thee run? Thy mother's blood is thine; Our heart's blood must rebel. Meanwhile, the guards that watch me here, But if for me thou lead'st it not, For whom then fights thy host? And since thou leav'st me prisoned here, In cruel chains to groan, Or I must be a guilty sire, By uttering words so free, For, while oppressed with age I moan, Some of these old songs are sufficiently shrewd and humorous; witness the following, "in which an elder sister is represented lecturing a younger one on first noticing in her the symptoms of love :" Her sister Miguela Once chid little Jane, And the words that she spake "You went yesterday playing, More than other girls drest. "You take pleasure in sighs, “When you take up your work, And gaze on your sampler, “You're in love, people say, And your actions all show it; New ways we shall have, When our mother shall know it. "She'll nail up the windows, And lock up the door; Leave to frolic and dance She will give us no more. "Our old aunt will be sent for, To take us to mass; And to stop all our talk With the girls as we pass. "Nay, pray morn and night To the Virgin above, And again you should love," (Said Miguela in jest, As she answered poor Jane ;) "What hope is there, sister, That the passion so cherished "As your years still increase, And this you may learn From the proverb's old strains : That if, when but a child, Love's dominion you own, None can tell what you'll do, This dialogue is three hundred years old at the very least, I do not think it would be quite impossible to match it now, with a little change of names and of costume. Perhaps I may have myself altered some of the lines, since I quote from memory, and have not the book to refer to. It is not the least gratifying tribute to Mr. Ticknor's valuable work that it was recommended for perusal by Mr. Macaulay to the Queen of England. |