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;

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!— O 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 as 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 battletrumpet'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 swelled 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

"My brother! oh! my brother! best and bravest ! thou art gone!"

THE LAND OF DREAMS.

O SPIRIT-LAND! thou land of dreams!
A world thou art of mysterious gleams,
Of startling voices, and sounds at strife, -
A world of the dead in the hues of life.

Like a wizard's magic glass thou art,
When the wavy shadows float by, and part:

Visions of aspects, now loved, now strange,
Glimmering and mingling in ceaseless change.

Thou art like a city of the past,

With its gorgeous halls in fragments cast,
Amidst whose ruins there glide and play
Familiar forms of the world's to-day.

Thou art like the depths where the seas have.birth,
Rich with the wealth that is lost from earth, -

All the sere flowers of our days gone by,
And the buried gems in thy bosom lie.

Yes! thou art like those dim sea-caves,

A realm of treasures, a realm of graves!

And the shapes through thy mysteries that come and go, Are of beauty and terror, of power and woe.

But for me, O thou picture-land of sleep!
Thou art all one world of affections deep, -
And wrung from my heart is each flushing dye,
That sweeps o'er thy chambers of imagery.

And thy bowers are fair-e'en as Eden fair;
All the beloved of my soul are there!
The forms of my spirit most pines to see,
The eyes, whose love hath been life to me;

They are there,— and each blessed voice I hear,
Kindly, and joyous, and silvery clear;
But under-tones are in each, that say,-
"It is but a dream; it will melt away!"

I walk with sweet friends in the sunset's glow;

I listen to music of long ago;

But one thought, like an omen, breathes faint through the lay: "It is but a dream; it will melt away!"

I sit by the hearth of my early days;
All the home-faces are met by the blaze,
And the eyes of the mother shine soft, yet say
"It is but a dream; it will melt away!"

And away, like a flower's passing breath, 'tis gone,
And I wake more sadly, more deeply lone!
Oh! a haunted heart is a weight to bear,-
Bright faces, kind voices! where are ye, where ?

Shadow not forth, O thou land of dreams,
The past, as it fled by my own blue streams!
Make not my spirit within me burn

For the scenes and the hours that may ne'er return!

Call out from the future thy visions bright,

From the world o'er the grave, take thy solemn light,
And oh with the loved, whom no more I see,
Show me my home, as it yet may be!

As it yet may be in some purer sphere,

No cloud, no parting, no sleepless fear;

So my soul may bear on through the long, long day,
Till I go where the beautiful melts not away!

THE CORONATION OF INEZ DE CASTRO.

THERE was, music on the midnight;

From a royal fane it roll'd,

And a mighty bell, each pause between,
Sternly and slowly toll'd.

Strange was their mingling in the sky,
It hush'd the listener's breath;
For the music spoke of triumph high,
The lonely bell, of death.

There was hurrying through the midnight

A sound of many

feet:

But they fell with a muffled fearfulness,

Along the shadowy street:

And softer, fainter, grew their tread,

As it near'd the minster-gate,

Whence a broad and solemn light was shed
From a scene of royal state.

Full glow'd the strong red radiance,
In the centre of the nave,
Where the folds of a purple canopy
Swept down in many a wave;
Loading the marble pavement old
With a weight of gorgeous gloom,

For something lay 'midst their fretted gold,
Like a shadow of the tomb.