And the tossing pines made answer "Go, bring us back thine own!" And the streams from all the hunters' hills, Rush'd with an echoing tone. Thou shalt rest by sounding waters In the silence of the midnight Where the arrows of my father's bow I have left the spoilers' dwellings, Unmingled with their household sounds, Alone, amidst their hearth-fires, When his head sank on my bosom, To the forests, to the cedars, To the warrior and his bow, Back, back!-I bore thee laughing thence I bear thee slumbering now! THE KING OF ARRAGON'S LAMENT. I bear thee unto burial With the mighty hunters gone; I shall hear thee in the forest-breeze, In the silence of the midnight I journey with the dead; But my heart is strong, my step is fleet, THE KING OF ARRAGON'S LAMENT FOR HIS BROTHER.' "If I could see him, it were well with me!" COLERIDGE'S Wallenstein. 43 THERE were lights and sounds of revelling in the vanquish'd city's halls, As by night the feast of victory was held within its walls; And the conquerors fill'd the wine-cup high, after years of bright blood shed; But their Lord, the King of Arragon, 'midst the triumph, wail'd the dead. 'The grief of Ferdinand, King of Arragon, for the loss of his brother, Don Pedro, who was killed during the siege of Naples, is affectingly described by the historian, Mariana. It is also the subject of one of the old Spanish ballads in Lockhart's beautiful collection. 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. "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! "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 as 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!" |
