"And fain it would stoop downward “ Well have I seen that castle, "The winds and the waves of ocean, Had they a merry chime ? Didst thou hear, from those lofty chambers, The harp and the minstrel's rhyme ?" "The winds and the waves of ocean, But I heard on the gale a sound of wail, "And sawest thou on the turrets "Led they not forth, in rapture, “Well saw I the ancient parents, Without the crown of pride; They were moving slow, in weeds of woe; No maiden was by their side!" THE boy stood on the burning deck, Yet beautiful and bright he stood, The flames rolled on, he would not go, That father, faint in death below, He called aloud,-"Say, father, say He knew not that the chieftain lay "Speak, father!" once again he cried, "If I may yet be gone," And but the booming shots replied, And fast the flames rolled on. Upon his brow he felt their breath, And looked from that lone post of death, And shouted but once more aloud, 66 My father! must I stay ?” While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud, They wrapt the ship in splendor wild, There came a burst of thunder sound; With mast, and helm, and pennon fair, LAMENTATION FOR THE DEATH OF CELIN. Lockhart. AT the gate of old Grenada, when all its bolts are barred, At twilight, at the Vega-gate, there is a trampling heard; There is a trampling heard, as of horses treading slow, And a weeping voice of women, and a heavy sound of woe. "What tower is fallen? what star is set? what chief come these bewailing?" "A tower is fallen! A star is set! -Alas! alas for Celin!" Three times they knock, three times they cry, the doors wide open throw ; Dejectedly they enter, and mournfully they go! In gloomy lines they mustering stand beneath the hollow porch, Each horseman holding in his hand a black and flaming torch. Wet is each eye as they go by, and all around is wailing, For all have heard the misery,-"Alas! alas for Celin!" Him yesterday a Moor did slay, of Bencerrage's blood; 'Twas at the solemn jousting; around the nobles stood; The nobles of the land were there, and the ladies bright and fair Looked from their latticed windows, the haughty sight to share ; But now the nobles all lament, the ladies are bewailing, For he was Grenada's darling knight, — "Alas! alas for Celin!" Before him ride his vassals, in order two by two, With ashes on their turbans spread, most pitiful to view; Behind him his four sisters, each wrapped in sable veil, Between the tambour's dismal strokes take up their doleful tale; When stops the muffled drum, ye hear their brotherless bewailing, And all the people, far and near, cry, – for Celin!" "Alas! alas The Moorish maid at her lattice stands, the Moor stands at his door; One maid is wringing of her hands, and one is weep ing sore; Down to the dust men bow their heads, and ashes black they strew Upon their broidered garments, of crimson, green, and blue; Before each gate the bier stands still, then bursts the loud bewailing, From door and lattice, high and low, for Celin!" "Alas! alas An old, old woman cometh forth, when she hears the people cry, Her hair is white as silver, like horn her glazed eye; Its she who nursed him at her breast, who nursed him long ago, She knows not whom they all lament, but ah! she soon shall know. With one loud shriek, she forward breaks, when her ears receive their wailing,"Let me kiss my Celin ere I die!-- Alas! alas for Celin!" FLOWERS.-Leigh Hunt. WE are the sweet flowers, (Think, whene'er you see us, what our beauty saith); Utterance, mute and bright, Of some unknown delight, We fill the air with pleasure by our simple breath; All who see us love us, We befit all places; Unto sorrow we give smiles, and unto graces, graces. |