Samuel Waddington, comp. The Sonnets of Europe. 1888.
The Native LandFrancisco de Aldana (1537?1578)
Translated by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
C
Bright with a glory that shall never fade!
Mansion of truth! without a veil or shade,
Thy holy quiet meets the spirit’s eye.
There dwells the soul in its ethereal essence,
Gasping no longer for life’s feeble breath;
But sentinelled in heaven, its glorious presence
With pitying eye beholds, yet fears not, death.
Belovëd country! banished from thy shore,
A stranger in this prison-house of clay,
The exiled spirit weeps and sighs for thee!
Heavenward the bright perfections I adore
Direct, and the sure promise cheers the way,
That, whither love aspires, there shall my dwelling be.