In fear they fled across the plain
The father's wrath, the captive's chain,
In hope to Murcia on they flee,
To Peace, and Love, and Liberty,

And now they reach the mountain's height,
And she was weary with her flight,
She laid her head on Manuel's breast,
And pleasant was the maiden's rest.

But while she slept, the passing gale
Waved the maiden's flowing veil,
Her father, as he crost the height,
Saw the veil so long and white.

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Young Manuel started from his sleep,
He saw them hastening up the steep,
And Laila shriek'd; and desperate now
They climb'd the precipices brow.

They saw him raise his angry hand
And follow with his ruffian band,
They saw them climbing up the steep
And heard his curses loud and deep.'

Then Manuel's heart grew wild with woe,
He loosen'd crags and roll'd below,
He loosen'd rocks, for Manuel strove
For life, and liberty, and love.

The ascent was steep, the rock was high,
The Moors they durst not venture nigh,
The fugitives stood safely there,
They stood in safety and despair.

The Moorish chief unmoved could see
His daughter bend the suppliant knee;
He heard his child for pardon plead,
And swore the Christian slave should bleed.

He bade the archers bend the bow,
And make the Christian fall below,
He bade the archers aim the dart,
And pierce the Maid's apostate heart.

The archers aim'd their arrows there, She clasp'd young Manuel in despair, “ Death, Manuel, shall set us free! * Then leap below and die with me.”

He clasp'd her close and groan'd farewell,
In one another's arms they fell ;
They leapt adown the craggy side,
In one another's arms they died.

And side by side they there are laid,
The Christian youth and Moorish maid,
But never Cross was planted there,
To mark the victims of despair.

Yet every Murcian maid can tell
Where Laila lies who loy'd so well,
And every youth who passes there,
Says for Manuel's soul a prayer.




Is it for a few short hours

Of fancied joys, but real pain, That man was dealt his lofty powers,

And made to drag affli&tion's chain ? Man! who with a daring eye

Can count the etherial worlds of fire, Or, gazing at Earth's tempests, cry, I heed


not?-can then retire To his own mind, and there converse With himself, an universe ?


Vain and impotent conceit,

Which Vice may cherish, Virtue dread! A low and gentle whisper sweet

Bids us raise our drooping head, Bids us prize our highest boast,

A future bope, that friend to care,
And respect ourselves the most

Of all in earth, and sea, and air ;
So shall we secure our high
And immortal destiny.


Fair and tranquil is the scene,

The shadowy wood, the meadow gay: The azure sky, the ocean green;

But these will quickly fade away: For like the sun, that in the morn

Rises full and fair to view,
Man with flattering hope is born,

And all is bright as all is new;
But soon the fairy landscape flies,
And the whirlwind sweeps the skies.

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