I

King P EDRO sate upon his throne,
His peers ranked round him in their pride:
But the mourner now is not alone;
In shrouding veil a bride unknown
Is seated by his side
Proud banners waved o'er them on high,
Nor shouts nor welcome rent the air;
Inez is cold within her tomb; —
Who is she, hidden from each eye,
That folded form, which wrapped in gloom
Immovably sits there?
Then slowly, and with solemn brow,
The grief-struck monarch rose:
" Your knees, your knees, brave nobles! now:
Once more your love and faith avow,
Whilst I your queen disclose."

II

Each held his breath as still as death;
Each eye was strained, each lip apart:
Jesu Maria! — when he raised
That veil, and on a corpse they gazed,
How thrilled each shuddering heart!
The crown upon her shrunk brow lies:
the gems shone glittering there,
As if they mocked those hollow eyes
With light, whose quenched vitalities
No earthly fires repair
Those pale lips, once in roses dyed,
Now kindled but disgust;
The mail-clad nobles strove to hide
Their tears; they knelt and felt their pride
Was humbled in the dust;
He gazed on her, that long-fixed look
All his fond memories woke;
His frame with struggling passion shook:
Her hand, her clay-cold hand, he took,
And, faltering, thus he spoke:

III

" O Inez! dearest, only loved one! — first,
Sole thing this bosom in its fondness nursed:
Couldst thou but hear me thus my love avow
How wouldst thou look affection on me now;
Oh! couldst thou feel how pants my soul for thine,
Even death would waken to a love like mine,
That dies not — sleeps not — even though hope be fled,
A wasting flame that burns but for the dead!
But thou art cold, thou hearest, thou seest me not:
Life, love, and memory, all are now forgot.
Those eyes, their light of love once all my own,
How is the brightness of their spirit flown;
Those ashy lips, that cheek so ghastly fair,
How are the roses withered that grew there!
Yet thou inspirest me, slandered and betraye
To make this last atonement to thy shade,
Yes, retribution still is mine, one joy
Is all my own, revenge, without alloy.

IV

" Relentless murderers! see where from the tomb
Dead Inez comes to call you to your doom;
Your limbs shall writhe around the stake, and feel
The rack of agony, the crushing wheel:
Vultures shall feed upon your bones, and tear
Those hearts away that knew not how to spare:
Think not your pangs shall close in earthly death;
Fiends like yourselves shall watch your parting breath,
And bear away your spirits to that hell
Where torture and remorse eternal dwell;
Where gnaws the never-dying worm the heart,
Where conscience maddens, yet will not depart! —
There, while the worst, the guiltiest round you rest
On hope — hope comforts even the damned breast —
You shall be hopeless; for, while writhing there,
Think of your earthly victim — and despair!"