'Let winds be shrill, let waves roll high, 131 146 To save them from the wrath of Gaul's unsparing lord. XVII But whoso entereth within this town, That, sheening far, celestial seems to be, Then slowly climb the many-winding way, And frequent turn to linger as you go, From loftier rocks new loveliness survey, And rest ye at 'Our Lady's house of woe;' Where frugal monks their little relics show, And sundry legends to the stranger tell: Swept into wrecks anon by Time's ungentle tide! air, Well doth the Spanish hind the difference know And life that bloated Ease can never hope 'Twixt him and Lusian slave, the lowest of the low. XXXIV But ere the mingling bounds have far been pass'd, And, less luxuriant, smoother vales extend; Immense horizon-bounded plains suc ceed! Dark Guadiana rolls his power along Far as the eye discerns, withouten end, Spain's realms appear whereon her shep herds tend drest: |
