230 When will the turmoil of earth's tempests cease?
Father, I come to thee for peace--for peace! Seek peace, the father cried, with God above: In His good time, all will be peace and love.
We mourn, indeed, mourn that all sounds of ill, Earth's fairest scenes with one deep murmur fill; That yonder sun, when evening paints the sky, Sinks, beauteous, on a world of misery; The course of wide destruction to withstand, We lift our feeble voice--our trembling hand; 240 But still, bowed low, or smitten to the dust, Father of mercy, still in Thee we trust! Through good or ill, in poverty or wealth, In joy or woe, in sickness or in health, Meek Piety thy awful hand surveys, And the faint murmur turns to prayer and praise! We know--whatever evils we deplore-- Thou hast permitted, and we know no more! Behold, illustrious on the subject plain, Some tow'r-crowned city of imperial Spain! 250 Hark! 'twas the earthquake![213] clouds of dust alone Ascend from earth, where tower and temple shone! Such is the conqueror's dread path: the grave Yawns for its millions where his banners wave; But shall vain man, whose life is but a sigh, With sullen acquiescence gaze and die?
Alas, how little of the mighty maze Of Providence our mortal ken surveys! Heaven's awful Lord, pavilioned in the clouds, Looks through the darkness that all nature shrouds; 260 And, far beyond the tempest and the night, Bids man his course hold on to scenes of endless light.
[208] The city Baldivia.
[209] He had served in the wars of Italy.
[210] Lautaro had been baptized by that name.
[211] Valdivia had before been in Chili.
[212] A small and beautiful species, which is domesticated.
[213] No part of the world is so subject to earthquakes as Peru.
CANTO THIRD.
ARGUMENT.
_Evening and Night of the same Day._ Anselmo's story--Converted Indians--Confession of the Wandering Minstrel--Night-Scene.
Come,--for the sun yet hangs above the bay,-- And whilst our time may brook a brief delay With other thoughts, and, haply with a tear, An old man's tale of sorrow thou shalt hear.
I wished not to reveal it;--thoughts that dwell Deep in the lonely bosom's inmost cell Unnoticed, and unknown, too painful wake, And, like a tempest, the dark spirit shake, When, starting from our slumberous apathy, We gaze upon the scenes of days gone by.

10 Yet, if a moment's irritating flush, Darkens thy cheek,[214] as thoughts conflicting rush, When I disclose my hidden griefs, the tale May more than wisdom or reproof prevail.
Oh, may it teach thee, till all trials cease, To hold thy course, though sorrowing, yet in peace; Still looking up to Him, the soul's best stay, Who Faith and Hope shall crown, when worlds are swept away! Where fair Seville's Morisco[215] turrets gleam On Guadilquiver's gently-stealing stream; 20 Whose silent waters, seaward as they glide, Reflect the wild-rose thickets on its side, My youth was passed.

Oh, days for ever gone! How touched with Heaven's own light your mornings shone Even now, when lonely and forlorn I bend, My weary journey hastening to its end, A drooping exile on a distant shore, I mourn the hours of youth that are no more.
The tender thought amid my prayers has part, And steals, at times, from Heaven my aged heart.

30 Forgive the cause, O God!--forgive the tear, That flows, even now, o'er Leonora's bier; For, 'midst the innocent and lovely, none More beautiful than Leonora shone.
As by her widowed mother's side she knelt, A sad and sacred sympathy I felt.
At Easter-tide, when the high mass was sung, And, fuming high, the silver censer swung; When rich-hued windows, from the arches' height, Poured o'er the shrines a soft and yellow light; 40 From aisle to aisle, amid the service clear, When "Adoremus" swelled upon the ear.
(Such as to Heaven thy rapt attention drew First in the Christian churches of Peru), She seemed, methought, some spirit of the sky, Descending to that holy harmony.
But wherefore tell, when life and hope were new, How by degrees the soul's first passion grew! I loved her, and I won her virgin heart; But fortune whispered, we a while must part.

50 The minster tolled the middle hour of night, When, waked to agony and wild affright, I heard those words, words of appalling dread-- "The Holy Inquisition!"-- from the bed I started; snatched my dagger, and my cloak-- Who dare accuse me!--none, in answer, spoke.
The demons seized, in silence, on their prey, And tore me from my dreams of bliss away.
How frightful was their silence, and their shade, In torch-light, as their victim they conveyed, 60 By dark-inscribed, and massy-windowed walls, Through the dim twilight of terrific halls; (For thou hast heard me speak of that foul stain Of pure religion, and the rights of Spain;) Whilst the high windows shook to night's cold blast, And echoed to the foot-fall as we passed! They left me, faint and breathless with affright, In a cold cell, to solitude and night; Oh! think, what horror through the heart must thrill When the last bolt was barred, and all at once was still! 70 Nor day nor night was here, but a deep gloom, Sadder than darkness, wrapped the living tomb.
Some bread and water, nature to sustain, Duly was brought when eve returned again; And thus I knew, hoping it were the last, Another day of lingering life was passed.
Five years immured in that deep den of night, I never saw the sweet sun's blessed light.
Once as the grate, with sullen sound, was barred, And to the bolts the inmost cavern jarred, 80 Methought I heard, as clanged the iron door, A dull and hollow echo from the floor; I stamped; the vault, and winding caves around, Returned a long and melancholy sound.
With patient toil I raised a massy stone, And looked into a depth of shade unknown; The murky twilight of the lurid place Helped me, at length, a secret way to trace: I entered; step by step explored the road, In darkness, from my desolate abode; 90 Till, winding through long passages of night, I saw, at distance, a dim streak of light:-- It was the sun--the bright, the blessed beam Of day! I knelt--I wept;--the glittering stream Rolled on beneath me, as I left the cave, Concealed in woods above the winding wave.
I rested on a verdant bank a while, I saw around the summer landscape smile; I gained a peasant's hut; nor dared to leave, Till, with slow step, advanced the glimmering eve.