Amongst these effusions are even to be found tender and beautiful thoughts; for Thugs and Gitános have their moments of gentleness. True it is that such are few and far between, as a flower or a shrub is here and there seen springing up from the interstices of the rugged and frightful rocks of which the Spanish sierras are composed: a wicked mother is afraid to pray to the Lord with her own lips, and calls on her innocent babe to beseech him to restore peace and comfort to her heart—an imprisoned youth appears to have no earthly friend on whom he can rely, save his sister, and wishes for a messenger to carry unto her the tale of his sufferings, confident that she would hasten at once to his assistance. And what can be more touching than the speech of the relenting lover to the fair one whom he has outraged? ‘Extend to me the hand so small, Wherein I see thee weep, For O thy balmy tear-drops all I would collect and keep.’ This Gypsy poetry consists of quartets, or rather couplets, but two rhymes being discernible, and those generally imperfect, the vowels alone agreeing in sound. Occasionally, however, sixains, or stanzas of six lines, are to be found, but this is of rare occurrence. The thought, anecdote or adventure described, is seldom carried beyond one stanza, in which everything is expressed which the poet wishes to impart. This feature will appear singular to those who are unacquainted with the character of the popular poetry of the south, and are accustomed to the redundancy and frequently tedious repetition of a more polished muse. It will be well to inform such that the greater part of the poetry sung in the south, and especially in Spain, is extemporary. The musician composes it at the stretch of his voice, whilst his fingers are tugging at the guitar; which style of composition is by no means favourable to a long and connected series of thought. Of course, the greater part of this species of poetry perishes as soon as born. A stanza, however, is sometimes caught up by the bystanders, and committed to memory; and being frequently repeated, makes, in time, the circuit of the country. For example, the stanza about Coruncho Lopez, which was originally made at the gate of a venta by a Miquelet, {290} who was conducting the said Lopez to the galleys for a robbery. It is at present sung through the whole of the peninsula, however insignificant it may sound to foreign ears:— ‘Coruncho Lopez, gallant lad, A smuggling he would ride; He stole his father’s ambling prad, And therefore to the galleys sad Coruncho now I guide.’