There was hurrying through the midnight A sound of many feet: But they fell with a muffled fearfulness, And softer, fainter, grew their tread, As it near'd the minster-gate, Whence a broad and solemn light was shed Full glow'd the strong red radiance, And within that rich pavilion, Seem'd with no pulse beneath to thrill, So stone-like was its rest! But a peal of lordly music Shook e'en the dust below, CORONATION OF INEZ DE CASTRO. Stept Prince and Chief, 'midst the hush profound, With homage to her hand. Why pass'd a faint, cold shuddering Over each martial frame, As one by one, to touch that hand, Death! Death! canst thou be lovely Is not each pulse of the quick high breast -It was a strange and fearful sight, The glorious robes, and the blaze of light, And beside her stood in silence But on the face he look'd not, Which once his star had been; To every form his glance was turn'd, 31 Though something, won from the grave's embrace, Of her beauty still was there, Its hues were all of that shadowy place, Alas! the crown, the sceptre, The treasures of the earth, And the priceless love that pour'd those gifts, The rites are closed:-bear back the Dead Lay down again the royal head, There is music on the midnight— As the mourners through the sounding aisle And the ring of state, and the starry crown, Are borne to the house of silence down, And tearlessly and firmly King Pedro led the train, But his face was wrapt in his folding robe, 'Tis hush'd at last the tomb above, Hymns die, and steps depart: Who call'd thee strong as death, O Love? HYMN TO THE VIRGIN. 33 ITALIAN GIRL'S HYMN TO THE VIRGIN. O sanctissima, o purissima! Dulcis Virgo Maria, Ora, ora pro nobis! Sicilian Mariner's Hymn. In the deep hour of dreams, Through the dark woods, and past the moaning sea, And by the star-light gleams, Unto thy shrine I bear Night-blowing flowers, like my own heart, to lie All, all unfolded there, Beneath the meekness of thy pitying eye. For thou, that once didst move, In thy still beauty, through an early home, The fear of woman's soul; to thee I come! Many, and sad, and deep, Were the thoughts folded in thy silent breast; Hear, gentlest mother! hear a heart oppress'd! There is a wandering bark Bearing one from me o'er the restless waves; His course;-be with him, Holiest, guide and save! My soul is on that way; My thoughts are travellers o'er the waters dim, I walk, o'ershadow'd by vain dreams of him. Aid him, and me, too, aid! Oh! 't is not well, this earthly love's excess! The burden of too deep a tenderness. Too much o'er him is pour'd My being's hope-scarce leaving Heaven a part; Too fearfully adored, Oh! make not him the chastener of my heart! I tremble with a sense Of grief to be; I hear a warning low Sweet mother! call me hence! This wild idolatry must end in woe. The troubled joy of life, Love's lightning happiness, my soul hath known; And, worn with feverish strife, Would fold its wings;-take back, take back thine own! Hark! how the wind swept by! The tempest's voice comes rolling o'er the wave Hope of the sailor's eye, And maiden's heart, blest mother, guide and save! |