a

peated in Palma to this day: which I do not wonder at, as every one who hears them must wish to remember them; and the heart must be hard indeed, that is not affected by their deep pathos. There is a bit of a pun however

) in the second stanza, which to understand you must remember that Palma signifies a palmtree. As perhaps, to use a royal metaphor, your Spanish may be rusty, I shall subjoin a prose translation as literal as possible,

Llorad las damas,
Afli Dios os vala,
Guillen Peraza;
Quedo, en la Palma,
La flor marchita
De la su cara.
No eres Palma
Eres retama :
Eres cypres
De triste rama:
Eres desdicha;
Desdicha mala.

Tus campos rompan
Tristes volcanos.
No vean plazeres
Sino pesares.
Çubran tus flores
Las areşales.

Guillen

Guillen Peraza!
Guillen Peraza !
Do esta tu escudo?
Do esta tu lanza?
Todo la acaba
La mala adanza!

? Let the ladies lament Guillen Peraza, as God ! shall help them in their miseries, for in Palma the flower left his cheek.

• Thou fatal ise, art not Palma, a name significant of victory and joy; thou art a bramble; thou art a

' cypress of melancholy branch; thou art a misfor

l tune, a dreadful evil.

Let dismal volcanos burst thy fields. Let no pleafures be seen there: but forrows. Let sands cover all I thy flowers.

Guillen Peraza! Guillen Peraza! Where is thy ! Thield? Where is thy spear? A fatal rashness de: ! stroyed all!

as

The second has not been published so far

I know. It is an Indian song, translated by John Nettles, a Cataba Indian, who learned English at the school founded by Sir Robert Boyle, at Williamsburg:

! I was

I was walking thro the shade of the grove in • the morning dew. I met my fancy. She talked • with her smiling lips to me. I gave her no answer. * She told me to speak out my mind. Bashful face fpoils good intent. That cleared up my heart. • But when my love is gone from my side, my heart • faints and is low.'

LETTER LETTER II.

INdi

Ndifference for fame is by no means to be

regarded as a virtue. If desire of praise be á vice, it is a vice that is the author of many virtues; and we are glad to have rich grainen' tho we use dung to produce it.

At the same time I perfectly agree with you that common and universal applause is in the eyes

of a man of wisdom, or even of true taste, a matter not to be wished. The praise of one fool or knave we should be ashamed of; surely then we ought infinitely more to despise that of an innumerable multitude of both. If a man has vanity, his vanity itself ought to be rather offended than pleased at the incense arising from the flowers of such weeds : even his yanity should have a better taste, as Mr. Gray expresses it,

Praise',

Praise,' says Lord Bacon, is the reflection • of virtue: but it is as the glass, or body, • which giveth the reflection. If it be from ! the common people, it is commonly false and ? naught; and rather followeth vain persons <than virtuous. For the common people understand not many excellent virtues ; the lowest virtues draw praise from them; the middle virtues excite in them astonishment or • admiration ; but of the highest virtųes they

have no sense of perceiving at all; but shews, • and Species virtutibus fimiles, serve best with • them. Certainly fame is like a river, that ó beareth up things light and swollen, and

drowns things weighty and solid: but, if per• fons of quality and judgement concur, then it

is (as the Scripture faith) Nomen bonum instar unguenti fragrantis. It filleth all round about, . and will not easily away: for the odours of . ointments are more durable than those of

flowers,

ܕ

So far this excellent writer, upon whose estimate of fame fome ill-natured reader may perhaps make this censure, that, if Lord Bacon had held popular applause in more reverence,

he