Page:Modern poets and poetry of Spain.djvu/198



Virgin of the world, America!

Thou who so innocent to heaven display'st

Thy bosom stored with plenty's rich array,

And brow of gentle youth! Thou, who so graced

The tenderest and most lovely of the zones

Of mother Earth to shine, shouldst be of fate

The sweet delight and favour'd love it owns,

That but pursues thee with relentless hate,

Hear me! If ever was a time mine eyes,

When scanning thy eventful history,

Did not burst forth in tears; if could thy cries

My heart e'er hear unmoved, from pity free