The lowly Cross, with flowers o'ergrown,
Marks well that place of rest;

But who hath graved, on its mossy stone,

A sword, a helm, a crest?

These are the trophies of a chief,
A lord of the axe and spear !

-Some blossom pluck'd, some faded leaf,
grace a maiden's bier!

Should

Scorn not her tomb-deny not her

The honours of the brave!

O'er that forsaken sepulchre,

Banner and plume might wave.

She bound the steel, in battle tried,

Her fearless heart above,

And stood with brave men, side by side,

In the strength and faith of love!

That strength prevail'd-that faith was bless'd!

True was the javelin thrown,

Yet pierced it not her warrior's breast,

She met it with her own!

And nobly won, where heroes fell

In arms for the holy shrine,

A death which saved what she loved so well,
And a grave in Palestine.

Then let the Rose of Sharon spread
Its breast to the glowing air,

And the Palm of Judah lift its head,
Green and immortal there!

And let yon grey stone, undefaced,
With its trophy mark the scene,

Telling the pilgrim of the waste,

Where Love and Death have been.

XIMENA.

Those notes were wont to make my heart beat quick,

As at a voice of victory; but to-day

The spirit of the song is changed, and seems
All mournful. Oh! that ere my early grave
Shuts out the sunbeam, I might hear one peal
Of the Castilian trumpet, ringing forth
Beneath my father's banner!-In that sound
Were life to you, sweet brothers!—But for me-

Come on our tasks await us. They who know
Their hours are number'd out, have little time
To give the vague and slumberous languor way,
Which doth steal o'er them in the breath of flowers,
And whisper of soft winds.

ELMINA enters hurriedly.

ELMINA.

This air will calm my spirit, ere yet I meet

His eye,

which must be met.-Thou here, Ximena !

[She starts back on seeing XIMENA.

XIMENA.

Alas! my mother! In that hurrying step

And troubled glance I read

ELMINA (wildly).

Thou read'st it not!

Why, who would live, if unto mortal eye

The things lay glaring, which within our hearts

We treasure up

I say,

for God's?-Thou read'st it not!

thou canst not!-There 's not one on earth

Shall know the thoughts, which for themselves have made

And kept dark places in the very breast

Whereon he hath laid his slumber, till the hour

When the graves open!

XIMENA.

Mother! what is this?

Alas! your eye is wandering, and your cheek

Flush'd, as with fever! To your woes the night

Hath brought no rest.

ELMINA.

Rest!-who should rest?-not he

That holds one earthly blessing to his heart

Nearer than life!-No! if this world have aught

Of bright or precious, let not him who calls

Such things his own, take rest!-Dark spirits keep watch,
And they to whom fair honour, chivalrous fame,
Were as heaven's air, the vital element

Wherein they breathed, may wake, and find their souls

Made marks for human scorn!-Will they bear on

With life struck down, and thus disrobed of all
Its glorious drapery ?-Who shall tell us this?
-Will he so bear it?

XIMENA.

Mother! let us kneel,

And blend our hearts in prayer!—What else is left
To mortals when the dark hour's might is on them?
-Leave

us, Theresa.-Grief like this doth find

Its balm in solitude.

[Exit THERESA.

My mother! peace

Is Heaven's benignant answer to the cry

Of wounded spirits. Wilt thou kneel with me?

ELMINA.

Away! 'tis but for souls unstain'd to wear
Heaven's tranquil image on their depths.-The stream
Of
my dark thoughts, all broken by the storm,
Reflects but clouds and lightnings !-Didst thou speak
Of peace?-'tis fled from earth!—but there is joy!
Wild, troubled joy !—And who shall know, my child!
It is not happiness?-Why, our own hearts
Will keep the secret close!-Joy, joy! if but
To leave this desolate city, with its dull
Slow knells and dirges, and to breathe again
Th' untainted mountain-air !-But hush! the trees,
The flowers, the waters, must hear nought of this!
They are full of voices, and will whisper things
-We'll speak of it no more.

XIMENA.

Oh! pitying Heaven!

This grief doth shake her reason!

ELMINA (starting).

Hark! a step!

"Tis-'tis thy father's!-come away—not now—

He must not see us now!