289. Robert Southey to the Editor of the Monthly Magazine, [March 1798] ⁠* 

Bernardino de Rebolledo [1]  was a count of the holy Roman empire, lord of Yrian, head of the Rebolledos of Castille, knight of the order of Santiago, comendador and alcayde of Villanueva de Alcardete, governor and captain general of the Lower Palatinate, general of artillery, minister plenipotentiary in Denmark, minister of the supreme council of war, &c. &c. but if Rebolledo had not been a poet, these titles would have been remembered only in the family pedigree, and on his own monument. On the 31st of May, 1597, he was baptized in Leon, his native city. From his earliest years, says the Spanish biographer, our Bernardino discovered his inclination for that happy union of arms and letters, which so many have made. [2]  Two centuries ago this union was less extraordinary than at present: in England we had a Raleigh and a Sydney. [3]  Spain affords more instances; Lope de Vega served in the Armada; Garcilaso died in battle, and the poem of Ercilla was written in his tent. [4]  But the world is grown wiser, though it may not have grown better, and the trade of war, once held so honourable, is now estimated as it should be. At the age of fourteen Rebolledo entered into the fleet of Naples and Sicily, in which service he remained eighteen years, and honourably distinguished himself. Afterwards he served in Lombardy, under Spinola. [5]  At the siege of Casal, his right arm was broken by a musket ball. [6]  Perhaps the poet remembers his wound, when, in that part of his “Selva Militar y Politica,” which treats of besieged places, he enumerates, among the provisions necessary for the siege, physicians, surgeons, and medicine chests. [7] 

After serving in the Low Countries, and negociating with many of the German powers, the count was appointed plenipotentiary to the court of Denmark. But Copenhagen was besieged during his residence there, and for two years the Spanish ambassador assisted in defending the town. After so many toils and dangers he returned to Madrid, full of years and of glory; new honours were accumulated upon him, and he died in that city, universally respected, at the age of fourscore.

Amid the toils and occupations of so adventurous a life, Rebolledo produced those poems that have ranked him among the nine Castilian muses. [8]  They were printed separately at Amberes and at Copenhagen. [9]  An edition, in four volumes, was published about thirty years since at Madrid; [10]  but it is supposed, that some of his publications escaped the editor’s search. The first of these volumes contains his “Ocios” chiefly consisting of lyric pieces. From this volume a curious epistle is extracted in the “Parnaso Espanol,” hitherto my guide. [11]  The editor selects it as, in his opinion, the best poem in the Ocios of Rebolledo, and as displaying profound erudition, solid piety, exquisite taste, and accurate judgment. [12]  This praise is somewhat enormous, for what he calls a Poema Bibliografico, [13]  and what may properly be stated a catalogue in rhyme; for it is only a list of books recommended to a young student. In enumerating these, he begins with poetry; the names alone are mentioned of various poets, Greek, Latin, Italian, French, and Spanish, without one discriminating epithet or remark; except that Virgil is called, agreeably to Spanish gallantry, “the elegant defamer of Dido.” [14]  England is only mentioned under the head of history, and the writers he recommends are Camden, [15]  Hector Boethius, [16]  and Biondi, [17]  a name with which I am unacquainted. He advises his friend to fly from the madness of Copernicus, whose opinions are contrary to revelation and common sense. [18]  Afterwards he mentions all the books in the Old and New Testaments, and gives the number of chapters in each; recommends for frequent perusal, the works of St. Teresa [19]  and Kempis, [20]  and concludes thus; “as you now aspire to a more secure state you must abhor your former way of life; but if you look back upon iniquity, I shall regard you as a new pillar of salt.” [21] 

In the same volume there is a madrigal, curiously exemplifying the text; “every one that exalteth himself shall be abased, but he that humbleth himself shall be exalted.”  [22]  On the entrance into Biscay from Castile, through the Sierra de Orduna, between the little towns, or rather perhaps villages of Berberana and Lezama, a stream falls from the height of a mountain into a deep valley; through which a current of air continually passes, with such force, as to scatter the water on its fall, and sweep it away in vapour. The vapour, on its elevation, condenses and falls in perpetual rain. This singular sport of nature is the subject of this little poem.

T.Y.