"He comes to bid those rising sorrows cease, 225 "To pour upon thy wounds the balm of peace. "I rov'd with dire Almagro's ruthless train "Thro' scenes of death, to Chili's verdant plain; "Their wish, to bathe that verdant plain in gore, "Then from its bosom drag the golden ore; 230 "But mine, to check the stream of human blood, "Or mingle drops of anguish with the flood. "When from those fair unconquer'd vales they fled, "This frame was stretch'd upon the languid bed "Of pale disease: when helpless, and alone, 235 "The Chilese spy'd their friend, the murd'rers gone, "With eager fondness round my couch they drew, "And my cold hand with gushing tears bedew; "By day, they sooth my pains with sweet delight, "And give to watchings the chill hours of night; 240 "For me their tender spirits joy to prove "The cares of pity, and the toils of love. "Soon as I heard, that o'er this gentle scene, "Where peace and virtue mingled smile serene, "The foe, like clouds that fold the tempest, hung, 245 "I hither flew, my breast with anguish wrung. "A Chilese band the pathless desert trac'd, "And softly bore me o'er its dreary waste; "Then parting, at my feet they bend, and clasp "These aged knees--my soul yet feels their grasp. 250 "Now o'er the vale with painful step I stray'd, "And reach'd the shelt'ring grove: there, hapless maid, "My list'ning ear has caught thy piercing wail, "My heart has trembled to thy moving tale."-- "And art thou he! the mournful pair exclaim, 255 "How dear to mis'ry's soul, Las Casas' name! "Spirit benign, who every grief can share, "Whose pity stoops to make the wretch its care; "Weep not for us--in vain thy tear shall flow "For hopeless anguish, and distracting woe"-- 260 "They ceas'd; in accents mild, the saint returns, "Yet let me sooth the pains my bosom mourns: "Come, gentle suff'rers, follow to yon fane, "Where rests Alphonso, with his victor train; "My voice shall urge his soul to gen'rous deeds, 265 "And bid him hear, when truth, and nature pleads." While in soft tones, Las Casas thus exprest His pious purpose, o'er Aciloe's breast A dawning ray of cheering comfort streams, But faint the hope that on her spirit beams; 270 Faint, as when ebbing life must soon depart, The pulse that trembles, while it warms the heart.