In fear they fled across the plain To Peace, and Love, and Liberty. And now they reach the mountain's height, She laid her head on Manuel's breast, But while she slept, the passing gale Young Manuel started from his sleep, They saw him raise his angry hand Then Manuel's heart grew wild with woe, The ascent was steep, the rock was high, The Moorish chief unmoved could see He bade the archers bend the bow, 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, They leapt adown the craggy side, And side by side they there are laid, Yet every Murcian maid can tell DESTINY. By JOSEPH COTTLE. I. Is it for a few short hours Of fancied joys, but real pain, That man was dealt his lofty powers, And made to drag affliction's chain ? Man! who with a daring eye Can count the etherial worlds of fire, Or, gazing at Earth's tempests, cry, I heed ye not?-can then retire To his own mind, and there converse With himself, an universe? II. 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 hope, 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. III. Fair and tranquil is the scene, The shadowy wood, the meadow gay- And all is bright as all is new; |