[A] The Lama's bend their knees and stoop their body in such a manner as not to discompose their burden. They move with a slow but firm pace, in countries that are impracticable to other animals. They are neither dispirited by fasting nor drudgery, while they have any strength remaining; but, when they are totally exhausted, or fall under their burden, it is to no purpose to harrass and beat them: they will continue striking their heads on the ground, first on one side, then on the other, till they kill themselves,--_Abbé_ Raynal's _History of the European Settlements._ [B] See a delightful representation of the incorruptible integrity of this Spaniard in Robertson's History of America. [C] "O'er thy creative scene." The Peruvians have solemn days on which they assume their antient dress. Some among them represent a tragedy, the subject of which is the death of Atabalipa. The audience, who begin with shedding tears, are afterwards transported, into a kind of madness. It seldom happens in these festivals, but that some Spaniard is slain.--_Abbé_ Raynal's _History_. [D] "On Chili's plain."--An Indian descended from the Inca's, has lately obtained several victories over the Spaniards, the gold mines have been for some time shut up; and there is much reason to hope, that these injured nations may recover the liberty of which they have been so cruelly deprived. SONNET, To MRS. SIDDONS. Siddons! the Muse, for many a joy refin'd, Feelings which ever seem too swiftly fled-- For those delicious tears she loves to shed, Around thy brow the wreath of praise would bind-- But can her feeble notes thy praise unfold? Repeat the tones each changing passion gives, Or mark where nature in thy action lives, Where, in thy pause, she speaks a pang untold! When fierce ambition steels thy daring breast, When from thy frantic look our glance recedes; Or oh, divine enthusiast! when opprest By anxious love, that eye of softness pleads-- The sun-beam all can feel, but who can trace The instant light, and catch the radiant grace! QUEEN MARY'S COMPLAINT. I. Pale moon! thy mild benignant light May glad some other captive's sight; Bright'ning the gloomy objects nigh, Thy beams a lenient thought supply: But, oh, pale moon! what ray of thine Can sooth a misery like mine! Chase the sad image of the past, And woes for ever doom'd to last. II. Where are the years with pleasure gay? How bright their course! how short their stay!-- Where are the crowns, that round my head A double glory vainly spread? Where are the beauties wont to move, The grace, converting awe to love? Alas, had fate design'd to bless, Its equal hand had giv'n me less! III.