was upon her. Was it also
that of fate and a higher Providence? She seized the guitar, of which
she was the perfect mistress, and sung even as her soul counseled and
the exigency of the event demanded. Our translation of her lyrical
overflow is necessarily a cold and feeble one.

It was a dream of freedom--
A mocking dream, though bright--
That showed the men of Bogota
All arming for the fight;
All eager for the hour that wakes
The thunders of redeeming war,
And rushing forth with glittering steel,
To join the bands of Bolivar.

My soul, I said, it cannot be
That Bogota shall be denied
Her Arismendi, too--her chief
To pluck her honor up, and pride;
The wild Llanero boasts his braves
That, stung with patriot wrath and shame,
Rushed redly to the realm of graves,
And rose, through blood and death, to fame.

How glads mine ear with other sounds,
Of freemen worthy these, that tell!
Ribas, who felt Caraccas' wounds,
And for her hope and triumph fell;
And that young hero, well beloved,
Giraldat, still a name for song;
Piar, Marino, dying soon,
But, for the future, living long.

Oh! could we stir with other names,
The cold, deaf hearts that hear us now,
How would it bring a thousand shames,
In fire, to each Bogotian's brow!
How clap in pride Grenada's hands;
How glows Venezuela's heart;
And how, through Cartagena's lands,
A thousand chiefs and hero's start.

Paez, Sodeno, lo! they rush,
Each with his wild and Cossack rout;
A moment feels the fearful hush,
A moment hears the fearful shout!
They heed no lack of arts and arms,
But all their country's perils feel,
And sworn for freedom, bravely break,
The glitering legions of Castile.

I see the gallant Roxas grasp
The towering banner of her sway;
And Monagas, with fearful clasp,
Plucks down the chief that stops the way;
The reckless Urdaneta rides,
Where rives the earth the iron hail;
Nor long the Spanish foeman bides,
The stroke of old Zaraza's flail.

Oh, generous heroes! how ye rise!
How glow your states with equal fires!
'Tis there Valencia's banner flies,
And there Cumana's soul aspires;
There, on each hand, from east to west,
From Oronook to Panama,
Each province bares its nob