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BY LUIS GÁLVEZ DE MONTALVO.

TO THE AUTHOR.

SONNET.

What time thy neck and shoulders thou didst place,

Submissive, 'neath the Saracenic yoke,

And didst uphold, with constancy unbroke

Amidst thy bonds, thy faith in God's own grace,

Heaven rejoiced, but earth was for a space,

Without thee, well-nigh widowed: desolate,

Filled with lament and sadness for thy state,

Was left the Muses' royal dwelling-place.

But since that, from amidst the heathen host,

Which kept thee close, thy manly soul and tongue

Thou didst unto thy native land restore,

Heaven itself of thy bright worth makes boast,

The world greets thy return with happy song,

And the lost Muses Spain receives once more.

BY DON LUIS DE VARGAS MANRIQUE.

SONNET.

In thee the sovran gods their mighty power,

Mighty Cervantes, to the world declared.

Nature, the first of all, for thee prepared

Of her immortal gifts a lavish store:

Jove did his lightning on his servant pour,

The living word that moves the rocky wall:

That thou in purity of style mightst all