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Sobbing, throbbing, in its falling,
Mellow, mellow !
Hollow, hollow !
Lightfoot! Whitefoot !
We used to think how she had come,
Even as comes the flower, The last and perfect added gift
To crown Love's morning hour;
The love we could not say,
Shines back the heart of day.
The morning-glory's blossoming
Will soon be coming round, We see their rows of heart-shaped leaves
Upspringing from the ground; The tender things the winter killed
Renew again their birth, But the glory of our morning
Has passed away from earth.
Remote from public road or dwelling,
There is a solitary tomb, with rankling weeds o'er
grown, A single palm bends mournfully beside the mould.
ering stone Amidst whose leaves the passing breeze with fit
ful gust and slow Seems sighing forth a feeble dirge for him who
sleeps below. Beside, its sparkling drops of foam a desert foun
tain showers; And, floating calm, the lotus wreathes its red and
scented flowers, Here lurks the mountain fox unseen beside the
vulture's nest; And steals the wild hyena forth, in lone and silent
quest. Is this deserted resting place the couch of fallen
might? And ends the path of glory thus, and fame's in
spiring light? Chief of a progeny of kings renowned and feared
afar, Howisthy boasted name forgot, and dimmed thine
honor's star! Approach, - what saith the graven verse ? “Alas
for human pride! Dominion's envied gifts were mine, nor earth
her praise denied. Thou traveller, if a suppliant's voice find echo in
thy breast, 0, envy not the little dust that hides my mortal
HELVELLYN. [In the spring of 1805 a young gentleman of talents, and of a most amiable disposition, perished by losing his way on the mountain Helvellyn. His remains were not discovered till three months af. terwards, when they were found guarded by a faithful terrier, his constant attendant during frequent solitary rambles through the wilds of Cumberland and Westmoreland. ] I CLIMBED the dark brow of the mighty Helvellyn, Lakes and mountains beneath me gleamed
misty and wide :
SIR WALTER SCOTT.
All was still, save, by fits, when the eagle was And more stately thy couch by this desert lake yelling,
lying, And starting around me the echoes replied. Thy obsequies sung by the gray plover flying, On the right, Striden Edge round the Red Tarn With one faithful friend but to witness thy dying, was bending,
In the arms of Helvellyn and Catchedicam. And Catchedicam its left verge was defending, One huge nameless rock in the front was ascending, When I marked the sad spot where the wanderer had died.
CEUR DE LION AT THE BIER OF HIS
FATHER. Dark green was that spot mid the brown mountain
(The body of Henry the Second lay in state in the abbey-church heather,
of Fontevraud, where it was visited by Richard Cour de Lion, who Where the Pilgrim of Nature lay stretched in on beholding it, was struck with horror and remorse, and bitterly
reproached himself for that rebellious conduct which had been the decay,
means of bringing his father to an untimely grave.] Like the corpse ofan outcast abandoned to weather,
TORCHES were blazing clear, Till the mountain winds wasted the tenantless
Hymns pealing deep and slow,
In the church of Fontevraud.
And warriors slept beneath,
On the settled face death.
slumber? When the wind waved his garment, how oft
On the settled face of death didst thou start ?
A strong and ruddy glare, How many long days and long nights didst thou Though dimmed at times by the censer's breath, number
Yet it fell still brightest there; Ere he faded before thee, the friend of thy heart ?
As if each deeply furrowed trace And, 0, was it meet that- no requiem read
Of earthly years to show, o'er him,
Alas ! that sceptred mortal's race
Had surely closed in woe! No mother to weep, and no friend to deplore him,
The marble floor was swept And thou, little guardian, alone stretched before
By many a long dark stole, him
As the kneeling priests, round him that slept, Unhonored the Pilgrim from life should depart?
Sang mass for the parted soul;
And solemn were the strains they poured When a prince to the fate of the Peasant has
Through the stillness of the night, yielded,
With the cross above, and the crown and sword, The tapestry waves dark round the dim-lighted
And the silent king in sight. hall, With 'scutcheons of silver the coffin is shielded, There was heard a heavy clang,
And pages stand mute by the canopied pall : As of steel-girt men the tread, Through the courts, at deep midnight, the And the tombs and the hollow pavement rang torches are gleaming;
With a sounding thrill of dread; in the proudly arched chapel the banners are And the holy chant was hushed awhile, bearning;
As, by the torch's flame, Far adown the long aisle sacred music is stream. A gleam of arms up the sweeping aisle ing,
With a mail-clad leader came. Lamenting a Chief of the People should fall.
He came with haughty look, But meeter for thee, gentle lover of nature,
An eagle glance and clear; To lay down thy head like the meek mountain But his proud heart through its breastplate shook lamb,
When he stood beside the bier ! When, wildered, he drops from some cliff huge He stood there still with a drooping brow, in stature,
And clasped hands o'er it raised ;And draws his last sob by the side of his For his father lay before him low, dam.
It was Cæur de Lion gazed !
And there before the blessed shrine,
My sire! I see thee lie, How will that sad still face of thine
Look on me till I die!”
And silently he strove
With the workings of his breast; But there's more in late repentant love
Than steel may keep suppressed !
Men held their breath in awe,
And he recked not that they saw.
BERNARDO DEL CARPIO.
He looked upon the dead,
And sorrow seemed to lie,
Pale on the fast-shut eye.
And the heavy hand of clay,
Gave his soul's passion way.
(Bernardo del Carpio, a Spanish warrior and grandee, hating made many ineffectual efforts to procure the release of his father, the Count Saldana, declared war against King Alphonso of Asturias. Being successful, the king agreed to terins by which he rendered up his prisoner to Bernardo, in exchange for the castle of Carpio and the captives confined therein. When the warrior pressed forward to greet his father, whom he had not seen for many years, he found a corpse on horseback.]
“O father! is it vain,
This late remorse and deep ? Speak to me, father ! once again,
I weep, — behold, I weep ! Alas ! my guilty pride and ire !
Were but this work undone, I would give England's crown, my sire !
To hear thee bless thy son.
The warrior bowed his crested head, and tamed
his heart of fire, And sued the haughty king to free his long-im
prisoned sire : “I bring thee here my fortress-keys, I bring my
captive train, I pledge thee faith, my liege, my lord ! O, break my father's chain ! "
II. “Rise / rise ! even now thy father comes, a ran
somed man this day ! Mount thy good horse ; and thou and I will meet
him on his way. Then lightly rose that loyal son, and bounded on
his steed, And urged, as if with lance in rest, the charger's
“Speak to me! mighty grief
Ere now the dust hath stirred ! Hear me, but hear me !- father, chief,
My king! I must be heard ! Hushed, hushed, - how is it that I call,
And that thou answerest not? When was it thus, woe, woe for all
The love my soul forgot!
“Thy silver hairs I see,
So still, so sadly bright! And father, father! but for me,
They had not been so white ! I bore thee down, high heart !*at last,
No longer couldst thou strive ;0, for one moment of the past
To kneel and say, — 'Forgive !!
And, lo, from far, as on they pressed, there came
a glittering band, With one that midst them stately rode, as a leader
in the land : “Now haste, Bernardo, haste! for there, in very
truth, is he, The father whom thy faithful heart hath yearned so long to see.
IV. His dark eye flashed, his proud breast heaved,
his cheek's hué came and went ; He reached that gray-haired chieftain's side, and
there, dismounting, bent ; A lowly knee to earth he bent, his father's hand
he took, — What was there in its touch that all his fiery spirit
“ Thou wert the noblest king
On royal throne ere seen ;
Of all, the stateliest mien ;
In war, the bravest heart, O, ever the renowned and loved
Thou wert, — and there thou art !
“Thou that my boyhood's guide
Didst take fond joy to be !-The times I've sported at thy side,
And climbed thy parent knee !
That hand was cold, — a frozen thing, — it
dropped from his like lead ! He looked up to the face above, — the face was
of the dead !
A plume waved o'er the noble brow, - the brow | The voice, the glance, the heart I sought, - give was fixed and white ;
answer, where are they? He met, at last, his father's eyes, but in them if thou wouldst clear thy perjured soul, send life was no sight!
through this cold clay ;
Then covering with his steel-gloved hands his
darkly mournful brow, “No more, there is no more," he said, “to lift THE CORONATION OF INEZ DE CASTRO.
the sword for now; My king is false, -- my hope betrayed ! My fa There was music on the midnight : ther, — O the worth,
From a royal fane it rolled, The glory, and the loveliness are passed away And a mighty bell, each pause between, from earth!
Sternly and slowly tolled.
It hushed the listener's breath ;
For the music spoke of triumph high, I would that there our kindred blood on Spain's
The lonely bell, of death. free soil had met ! Thou wouldst have known my spirit, then ; for
There was hurrying through the midnight,
A sound of many feet ; thee my fields were won ; And thou hast perished in thy chains, as though
But they fell with a muffled fearfulness
Along the shadowy street :
As it neared the minster gate,
Whence a broad and solemn light was shed seized the monarch's rein,
From a scene of royal state. Amidst the pale and wildered looks of all the courtier train ;
Full glowed the strong red radiance
In the centre of the nave, And with a fierce, o'ermastering grasp, the rear
Where the folds of a purple canopy ing war-horse led, And sternly set them face to face, the king be
Swept down in many a wave; fore the dead :
Loading the marble pavement old
With a weight of gorgeous gloom,
For something lay midst their fretted gold “Caine I not forth, upon thy pledge, my father's Like a shadow of the tomb.
hand to kiss ? Be still, and gaze thou on, false king! and tell And within that rich pavilion, me what is this?
High on a glittering throne,