26 
Maffinger makes an old courtier fay— 
You area king, 
And what in a mean man I thould think folly, 
Is in your majefty remarkable wifdom. 
By the fame privilege, we may clafs the 
term by which the king addreffes Ifa- 
bella, in the polite vocabulary of sy 
peration. She is committed to the cuf- 
tody of Audalla, and the old minifter 
tells her not to dread feverity from him. 
- The fitter of the king now declares 
her love for Muley, in a long {peech to 
herfelf.. She commands Aduice to fave 
him by force; in vain he, reprefents to 
her the ingratitude of exciting an infur- 
rection againtt his protector. She infitts 
upon it; Pand Jeavés him to lament his 
fate ina long foliloquy, concluding the 
fecond aét. — 
_ Audalla, finding that no means can 
fubdue the virtue of Ifabellz, fhows her 
the dead bodies of her father, mother, 
and fifter, and fends her to execution. 
Aja is difcovered upon the top of a tower, 
eagerly watching for Adulce, to fave her 
befoved Muley. A meffenger comes 
and informs her, that the Chriliians 
have loft two columns of their faith—but 
gained two martyrs. She liftens to the 
long detail of their deaths, vows ven- 
geance in a foliloquy > and deparis to 
execute If. 
‘ “Azan and Zauzalla, two charaéters 
introduced only in this {cene, now enter; 
and the one tells the other that he had 
overheard Audalla aeslove to Ifa- 
bella, informed the: aie and {een 
the old minifler put to"etath. 
Aja and Sclin meet. Selin tells Aja 

that his maiter has killed himfelf, becaufe’ 
he could not obey her fame Aja 
tells him that fhe has killéd Alboacen to 
revenze Muley, and then fhe kills her- 
{clf. ‘The tragedy is concluded by the 
ghot of Tabella; fhe fays, thar, like the 
phoenix, fhe rifes from the funeral pile to 
heaven, and hopes, that whenever her 
hiftory fhall be reprefented on the ftage, 
the audience will applaud it. — 
The characters in this piece are four- 
teen, and ten of them are killed. The 
Alexandra has eleven charaé&ters, ard 
nine of thefe are killed, without reckon- 
ing children.” The editor has annexed 
fome juft and judicious remarks upon 
thefe tragedies, but they exceed my 
limits, and would not be new to an 
Englifhman. Til planned’ and ill exe- 
cuted as they are (the one which I have 
analyfed is the beft) they will refleé& no 
difyrace on Lupercio Leonardo, when 
we recolleét, that he could be but twenty 
Ts: old when they were reprefented, 
Qn the Poetry of Spain and Portugal, 
[J uly; 
and that they were fuperior to any 
his countrymen had then produced. 
‘The variety of metres in which they are 
written, though altogether improper for 
tragedy, advantagcoully difplay his 
" poweis in verhfication; and, if he hed 
left no other works, there are paflages 
brilliant enough in thefe, to-.entitle him 
toa high nauk among the poets of Spain. 
Bartholome furvived his brother many 
vears; he continued the annals of 
Zurita, aud I hope and believe that he 
is included in the praife befiowed upoa 
that author, by Robert Robinion®, aiman 
whofe uncothinen learning, and ftill more 
uncommen liberality, deferve this re- 
{peétful mention. He was, indeed, 
Royal Hiftoriographer to the execrable 
Bhilip IIT; but bartcholome Leonarde was 
nen man, and I do not know that 
Philip demanded apoftacy as a qualifi- 
cation. * 
In one of his Epifiles, he defcribes the 
birds as coming to a general council ; 
among the reft (he fays) there came my 
partridge, to whom orange and pepper Is 
myrrh and frankincenfé. He lived to 
the age of fixty-fix, defervedly refpected, 
and the eafe uf a ‘literary and paeeteal 
life was only occafionaliy interrupted by 
the gout ; a complaint wh rich, however 
paintul ir.may be, is certdinly an ortho- 
dox and gentleman- -like one. The fol- 
lowing extract from an epiftle, written 
by him in the latter years of’ his life, 
fhali conclude my account of Bartholomé 
Leonardo; the ideas may not be néw, 
but th ey a: calm and ‘contemplative ; 
they are lines which I often read with 
pleafure, and whick make me love the 
old reGtor of Villahermofa; 
As the deep river {wift and Slent flows 
‘Towards tne ocean, 1 am borne adewa 
The quiet tide of time. Nought now remains 
Of the pait years; and for the years to come, 
‘Their dark and undifcoverable deeds 
Elude the morzal eye. Behelding Sai 
How daily life wains on, fj) may 1 Jearn, 
Not with an unpiovided cai to meet 
That hour, when Death hall gather up the old 
And wither’d plant, whofe exfon® is gone by. 
The {pring fluwerS fade, th’ autumnal fruits 
decay, 
And gray old Winter, with his clouds and 
ftorms, 
Comes on ; the leaves, whofe calm cool mur- 
murine 
Made pleafant mufic to our green-woed walks, 
Now ruitle dr ty beneath our finking feet. 
So all things rife and perith ; we 4p while 
Do, with a dul! and proftlefS eye, behold 
All this, and think nor of our latter end. 
My fiiend ! we will not let that foil, which oft 
ae sill oS 
* Eccletiaitical Relearches, p. 230. 
impregnate 
Of 
