66 Rise, rise! even now thy father comes, a ransomed man this day! Mount thy good horse; and thou and I will meet him on his way." Then lightly rose that loyal son, and bounded on his steed, And urged, as if with lance in rest, the charger's foamy speed. And lo from far, as on they pressed, there came a glittering band, With one that 'midst them stately rode, as a leader in the land: "Now haste, Bernardo, haste! for there, in very truth, is he, The father whom thy faithful heart hath yearned so long to see." His dark eye flashed, his proud breast heaved, his cheek's hue came and went ; He reached that gray-haired chieftain's side, and there, dismounting, bent; A lowly knee to earth he bent, his father's hand he took He looked up to the face above, the face was of the dead! white': He met, at last, his father's eyes, but in them was no light! Up from the ground he sprang and gazed, that gaze? but who could paint They hushed their very hearts that saw its horror and amaze; They might have chained him, as before that stony form he stood; For the power was stricken from his arm, and from his lip the blood. "FATHER!" at length he murmured low, and wept like childhood then: Talk not of grief till thou hast seen the tears of warlike men! He thought on all his glorious hopes, and all his young renown, He flung his falchion from his side, and in the dust sat down. Then covering with his steel-gloved hands his darkly mournful "No more, there is no more," he said, "to lift the sword for, now; My king is false, my hope betrayed! My father-O! the worth, - The glory, and the loveliness, are passed away from earth! "I thought to stand where banners waved, my sire, beside thee, yet! I would that there our kindred blood on Spain's free soil had met! Thou wouldst have known my spirit, then; were won ; - for thee my fields And thou hast perished in thy chains, as though thou hadst no son!" Then, starting from the ground once more, he seized the mon arch's rein, Amidst the pale and wildered looks of all the courtier train; led, And sternly set them face to face - the king before the dead : "Came I not forth, upon thy pledge, my father's hand to kiss? Be still, and gaze thou on, false king! and tell me what is this? The voice, the glance, the heart I sought, — give answer, where are they? If thou wouldst clear thy perjured soul, send life through this cold clay! "Into these glassy eyes put light;-be still! keep down thine ire ! - Bid these white lips a blessing speak, this earth is not my sire : Give me back him for whom I strove, for whom my blood was and a king! — his dust be mountains on thy head." He loosed the steed, his slack hand fell; upon the silent face He cast one long, deep, troubled look, then turned from that sad place : His hope was crushed, his after fate untold in martial strain: His banner led the spears no more, amidst the hills of Spain. Mrs. Hemans. CLXXV. BERNARDO AND KING ALPHONSO. W ITH some good ten of his chosen men, Before them all in the palace hall, The lying king to beard; With cap in hand and eye on ground, But ever and anon he frowned, "A curse upon thee," cries the king, But what from traitor's blood should spring, His sire, lords, had a traitor's heart, Perchance our champion brave May think it were a pious part "Whoever told this tale, That soon had drunk your royal blood, Had I not ventured mine; But memory soon of service done Deserteth the ingrate ; You've thanked the son for life and crown By the father's bloody fate. "Ye swore upon your kingly faith To set Don Sancho free; But, curse upon your paltering breath! He died in dungeon cold and dim, And visage blind and stiffened limb, "The king that swerveth from his word, No Spanish lord will draw his sword But noble vengeance shall be mine, And open hate I'll show The king hath injured Carpio's line, And Bernard is his foe!" "Seize, seize him!' loud the King doth scream; "There are a thousand here! Let his foul blood this instant stream; What! caitiffs, do ye fear? Seize, seize the traitor!" But not one To move a finger dareth; Bernardo standeth by the throne, And calm his sword he bareth. He drew the falchion from the sheath, And all the hall was still as death; 66 Cries Bernard, “ Here am I — And here's the sword that owns no lord, Fain would I know who dares its point, - Then to his mouth his horn he drew It hung below his cloak His ten true men the signal knew, And through the ring they broke ; "Ha! Bernard," quoth Alphonso, Ye know your worth I prize!" J. G. Lockhart. CLXXVI. THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS. ONE more unfortunate, Weary of breath, Rashly importunate, |