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Gongora (Whose father was an assayer of goods confiscated by the Inquisition) The new world’s gold—searched out, expropriated— Brought home in squat, potbellied caravels; Pain clung to it, pure, unobliterated, And found new halls of anguish, older hells: Reworked as filigree and massy plate, Sword-hilt, menorah, monstrance, crucifix, Prized objects of virtù, rich gifts of state Bright with the promise of apocalypse. A child pokes through them in a lumber room (His silent father’s writing at a table): Worship and fantasy, and puissant Spain; Imagined glory gores the velvet gloom. Violence and glamour tell their lying fable To one who has no notion now of pain.  You are reading copyrighted material published by Ohio University Press/Swallow Press. Unauthorized posting, copying, or distributing of this work except as permitted under U.S. copyright law is illegal and injures the author and publisher. ...

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