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"Who has not seen Lisbon* has not seen a good

thing!"—

While an old Spanish proverb runs glibly as under,

་་

QUIEN NO HA VISTO SEVILLA NO HA VISTO

MARAVILLA!

"He who ne'er has viewed Seville has ne'er view'd a

Wonder!"

And from all I can learn this is no such great blunder.

In fact, from the river, The famed Guadalquiver, Where many a knight's had cold steel through his liver, +

The prospect is grand. The Iglesia Mayor

Has a splendid effect on the opposite shore,
With its lofty Giralda, while two or three score
Of magnificent structures around, perhaps more,
As our Irish friends have it, are there "to the fore:
Then the old Alcazar, More ancient by far,
As some say, while some call it one of the palaces
Built in twelve hundred and odd by Abdalasis,

With its horse - shoe-shaped arches of Arabesque tracery,

Which the architect seems to have studied to place awry,

*

"Quem não tem visto Lisboa

Não tem visto cousa boa."

"Rio verde, Rio verde," &c.

"Glassy water, glassy water,

Down whose current clear and strong,

Chiefs, confused in mutual slaughter,

Moor and Christian, roll along.”—Old Spanish Romance.

Saracenic and rich; And more buildings "the
which,"

As old Lily, in whom I've been looking a bit o' late,
Says, "You'd be bored should I now recapitulate;

In brief, then, the view Is so fine and so new,

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It would make you exclaim, 'twould so forcibly strike ye, If a Frenchman, Superbe!"—if an Englishman,'

"Crikey!

Yes! thou art 'WONDERFUL!"—but oh,
'Tis sad to think, 'mid scenes so bright

As thine, fair Seville, sounds of woe,

And shrieks of pain and wild affright,
And soul-wrung groans of deep despair,
And blood, and death should mingle there!

Yes! thou art "WONDERFUL!"-the flames
That on thy towers reflected shine,

While earth's proud Lords and high-born Dames,
Descendants of a mighty line,

With cold unalter'd looks are by

To gaze, with an unpitying eye,
On wretches in their agony.

All speak thee "WONDERFUL "—the phrase
Befits thee well-the fearful blaze

Of yon piled faggots' lurid light,

Where writhing victims mock the sight,

* Cum multis aliis quæ nunc perscribere longum est.

-Propria quæ maribus.

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The scorch'd limb shrivelling in its chains,-
The hot blood parch'd in living veins,-
The crackling nerve-the fearful knell
Wrung out by that remorseless bell,-

Those shouts from human fiends that swell,-
That withering scream,--that frantic yell,-
All, Seville,-all too truly tell

Thou art a "MARVEL"- and a Hell!
God!-that the worm whom Thou hast made
Should thus his brother worm invade!
Count deeds like these good service done,
And deem THINE eye looks smiling on!!

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Yet there at his ease, with his whole Court around him, King Ferdinand sits in his GLORY' confound him!

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Leaning back in his chair, With a satisfied air, And enjoying the bother, the smoke and the smother, With one knee cocked carelessly over the other;

His pouncet-box goes To and fro at his nose,
As somewhat misliking the smell of old clothes,
And seeming to hint, by this action emphatic,
That Jews, e'en when roasted, are not aromatic;

There, too, fair Ladies From Xeres, and Cadiz, Catalinas, and Julias, and fair Iñesillas,

In splendid lace veils, and becoming mantillas;
Elviras, Antonias, and Claras and Floras,
And dark-eyed Jacinthas and soft Isidoras,

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