He look'd down from the fortress won, on the tents and towers below, The moon-lit sea, the torch-lit streets,—and a gloom came o'er his brow: The voice of thousands floated up, with the horn and cymbal's tone; But his heart, 'midst that proud music, felt more utterly alone. And he cried, "Thou art mine, fair city! thou city of the sea! But, oh! what portion of delight is mine at last in thee? -I am lonely 'midst thy palaces, while the glad waves past them roll, And the soft breath of thine orange-bowers is mournful to my soul. 66 My brother! oh! my brother! thou art gone,the true and brave, And the haughty joy of victory hath died upon thy grave; There are many round my throne to stand, and to march where I lead on; There was one to love me in the world,—my brother! thou art gone! "In the desert, in the battle, in the ocean-tempest's wrath, We stood together, side by side; one hope was ours,— one path; THE KING OF ARRAGON'S LAMENT. 45 Thou hast wrapt me in the soldier's cloak, thou hast fenced me with thy breast; Thou hast watch'd beside my couch of pain-oh! bravest heart, and best! 66 "I see the festive lights around;-o'er a dull sad world they shine; I hear the voice of victory-my Pedro! where is thine? The only voice in whose kind tone my spirit found reply! Oh brother! I have bought too dear this hollow pageantry! "I have hosts, and gallant fleets, to spread my glory and my sway, And chiefs to lead them fearlessly;-my friend hath pass'd away ! For the kindly look, the word of cheer, my heart may thirst in vain, And the face that was as light to mine-it cannot come again! "I have made thy blood, thy faithful blood, the offering for a crown; With love, which earth bestows not twice, I have purchased cold renown; How often will my weary heart 'midst the sounds of triumph die, When I think of thee, my brother! thou flower of chivalry! "I am lonely-I am lonely! this rest is even death! Let me hear again the ringing spears, and the battle-trumpet's breath; Let me see the fiery charger foam, and the royal banner wave— But where art thou, my brother? where?-in thy low and early grave!" And louder swell'd the songs of joy through that victorious night, And faster flow'd the red wine forth, by the stars' and torches' light; But low and deep, amidst the mirth, was heard the conqueror's moan 66 My brother! oh! my brother! best and bravest ! thou art gone!" THE VAUDOIS' WIFE. 47 THE VAUDOIS' WIFE.' Clasp me a little longer, on the brink Of fate! while I can feel thy dear caress: And when this heart hath ceased to beat, oh! think- That thou to me hast been all tenderness, And friend, to more than human friendship just. Oh! by that retrospect of happiness, And by the hopes of an immortal trust, God shall assuage thy pangs, when I am laid in dust. Gertrude of Wyoming. THY Voice is in mine ear, beloved! Thy look is in my heart, Thy bosom is my resting-place, And yet I must depart. Earth on my soul is strong-too strong Too precious is its chain, All woven of thy love, dear friend, Yet vain-though mighty-vain! Thou seest mine eye grow dim, beloved! Bow to the chastener silently, 1 The wife of a Vaudois leader, in one of the attacks made on the Protestant hamlets, received a mortal wound, and died in her husband's arms, exhorting him to courage and endurance. A little while between our hearts Alas! thy tears are on my cheek, I know that from thine agony Best, kindest, weep not;-make the pang, The bitter conflict, less Oh! sad it is, and yet a joy, To feel thy love's excess! But calm thee! Let the thought of death The voice that must be silent soon, A token of consoling love, Even from this hour of strife. I bless thee for the noble heart, Where mine hath found the happiest rest I bless thee, faithful friend and guide, |