III. 'Tis the fierce, triumphant voice of hate; Of blood the eager call; 'Tis the tiger's yell for his murdered mate, Ere he springs to 'avenge her fall! And ten thousand hearts exult as one When that welcome band draws near; And their shout, like the knell of mercy flown, Still rings on the doomed ear! IV. What precious offerings do they bring, A gift more grateful to their king gems- But a treasure to his panting heart V. The murderers of the martyred bride The felon slaves that had defied So long his iron frown, Are given to his red hand at last, Stand fettered in his sight; And his kindling glance is on them cast, With a fierce and grim delight! VI. "Demons-nay, bend no fawning knee! The partner of my kingly state; VII. "There's blood upon your dastard brands With keenest tortures I'll repay; And your dying groans shall the music be, VIII. "Call me not cruel :-ye who turned 44 For mercy here 'twere vain to pray! IX. "Sweet Inez! by thy guiltless blood, By the love, even death hath not subdued; X. My vengeance shall not sleep!—and they The sharer of my place of pride,'— XI. "But hark! the signal trumpet's peal; To guilt like theirs,-away! away!" XII. King Pedro sits at his festal board, By his nobles compassed round; And the sparkling wine is like water poured, As each golden cup is crowned. The shrieks that late their mockeries stirred, At length resound no more; And the thirst of vengeance, long deferred, Is sated now and o'er ! XIII. Mid Alcobaça's storied gloom, And a regal robe around her thrown; XIV. And a warrior king is sleeping near, With his crown and sceptre by his side; With a knitted brow and a look severe, And a lip of cruel scorn and pride! His hand hath half unsheathed his sword, As if some mortal foe defied; He breathes some wild, revengeful word ;'Twas thus King Pedro died! I THINK OF THEE. BY T. K. HERVEY, ESQ. I. I THINK of thee, in the night When all beside is still, And the moon comes out, with her pale, sad light, To sit on the lonely hill : When the stars are all like dreams, And the breezes all like sighs, And there comes a voice from the far-off streams, Like thy spirit's low replies! And thy sweet, young smile I see, -My heart-my heart were all alone, But for its thoughts of thee! |