L.

It died away;-the incense-cloud was driven
Before the breeze-the words of doom were said;
And the sun faded mournfully from heaven,

-He faded mournfully! and dimly red,

Parting in clouds from those that look'd their last,

And sigh'd-" Farewell, thou sun!"-Eve glow'd and

pass'd

Night-midnight and the moon-came forth and shed Sleep, even as dew, on glen, wood, peopled spotSave one-a place of death-and there men slumber'd not.

LI.

'Twas not within the city-but in sight Of the snow-crown'd sierras, freely sweeping, With many an eagle's eyrie on the height, And hunter's cabin, by the torrent peeping Far off and vales between, and vineyards lay, With sound and gleam of waters on their way, And chesnut-woods, that girt the happy sleeping, In many a peasant-home !—the midnight sky Brought softly that rich world round those that came to die.

LII.

The darkly-glorious midnight sky of Spain,
Burning with stars!-What had the torches' glare
To do beneath that Temple, and profane
Its holy radiance ?-By their wavering flare,
I saw beside the pyres-I see thee now,

O bright Theresa! with thy lifted brow,

And thy clasp'd hands, and dark eyes fill'd with prayer! And thee, sad Inez! bowing thy fair head,

And mantling up thy face, all colourless with dread!

LIII.

And Alvar, Alvar!-I beheld thee too,
Pale, stedfast, kingly; till thy clear glance fell
On that young sister; then perturb'd it grew,
And all thy labouring bosom seem'd to swell
With painful tenderness. Why came I there,
That troubled image of my friend to bear,
Thence, for my after-years?—a thing to dwell
In my heart's core, and on the darkness rise,
Disquieting my dreams with its bright mournful eyes?

LIV.

Why came I? oh! the heart's deep mystery!-Why

In man's last hour doth vain affection's gaze
Fix itself down on struggling agony,

To the dimm'd eye-balls freezing, as they glaze?
It might be yet the power to will seem'd o'er-
That my soul yearn'd to hear his voice once more!
But mine was fetter'd !-mute in strong amaze,

I watch'd his features as the night-wind blew,
And torch-light or the moon's pass'd o'er their marble hue.

LV.

The trampling of a steed!-a tall white steed,
Rending his fiery way the crowds among-

A storm's way through a forest-came at speed,
And a wild voice cried "Inez!" Swift she flung
The mantle from her face, and gazed around,
With a faint shriek at that familiar sound,

And from his seat a breathless rider sprung,

And dash'd off fiercely those who came to part,

And rush'd to that pale girl, and clasp'd her to his heart.

LVI.

And for a moment all around gave way

To that full burst of passion!-on his breast,
Like a bird panting yet from fear she lay,
But blest-in misery's very lap-yet blest !—

Oh love, love, strong as death!-from such an hour
Pressing out joy by thine immortal power,

Holy and fervent love! had earth but rest

For thee and thine, this world were all too fair! How could we thence be wean'd to die without despair?

LVII.

But she-as falls a willow from the storm,
O'er its own river streaming-thus reclined
On the youth's bosom hung her fragile form,
And clasping arms, so passionately twined
Around his neck—with such a trusting fold,

A full deep sense of safety in their hold,

As if nought earthly might th' embrace unbind !
Alas! a child's fond faith, believing still

Its mother's breast beyond the lightning's reach to kill!

LVIII.

Brief rest! upon the turning billow's height,
A strange sweet moment of some heavenly strain,
Floating between the savage gusts of night,
That sweep the seas to foam! Soon dark again
The hour-the scene-th' intensely present, rush'd
Back on her spirit, and her large tears gush'd
Like blood-drops from a victim; with swift rain
Bathing the bosom where she lean'd that hour,
As if her life would melt into the o'erswelling shower.

LIX.

But he, whose arm sustain'd her!-oh! I knew
"Twas vain, and yet he hoped !—he fondly strove
Back from her faith her sinking soul to woo,
As life might yet be hers!-A dream of love
Which could not look upon so fair a thing,
Remembering how like hope, like joy, like spring,
Her smile was wont to glance, her step to move,
And deem that men indeed, in very truth,

Could mean the sting of death for her soft flowering youth!