Sacros, altos, dorados capiteles,
Que a las nubes borráis sus arreboles,
Febo os teme por más lucientes soles
Y el cielo por gigantes más crueles.
Depón tus rayos, Júpiter; no celes
Los tuyos, Sol; de un templo son faroles
Que al mayor mártir de los españoles
Erigió el mayor rey de los fieles.
Religiosa grandeza del Monarca
Cuya diestra real al Nuevo Mundo
Abrevia, y el Oriente se le humilla.
Perdone el tiempo, lisonjee la Parca
La beldad desta Octava Maravilla,
Los años deste Salomón Segundo.
***
Here is Chilton's wonderfully expansive translation:
THIS gorgeous sacred dome,—no pile profane,— | |
Whose glories leave the clouds of morn outdone, | |
Flouting the sun-rays, where in dazzling stone | |
The columns rise like giants from the plain, | |
Provokes no wrath from heaven, no jealous pain | 5 |
In day’s bright lord. The splendor but makes known | |
A temple reared to Spain’s great martyred son | |
By the great king of ever-faithful Spain. | |
A great religion works this marvel rare, | |
Meet for the monarch, whose unquestioned sway | 10 |
The new-found West and Eastern Indians own: | |
Stern Fate, be gentle: Time, the beauty spare | |
Of this eighth wonder; spare for many a day | |
In peaceful age our second Solomon. | |
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