The Sunday herald., 1886-09-19
OLD FAvoRrrEs.
rhs Coronation u In.s .. Castro

The Coronation or Ines Do Castro.
There was music on the midnight;
From royal fame It rolled,
And mighty bell, each pause between,
sterniy and slowly tolled.
Strange was their mIpgling In the sky,
II hushcd the listeners breath
For the music spoke OF triumph high,
The lonely bell. Of death.
There was hurrying through the midnight,
sound Of many feet;
But they fell with muff,ed fearfulnesa
Along the shadowy street;
And softer, fainter grew their tread,
Az It fcared the minister gate, n
whence broad and solemn light was shed
From scene Of royal state.
Full glowcd the strong red radiance
In the centre Of the nave,
Where the folds Of purple canopy
Swept down In many wave,
Loading the marble pavement old
with Weight Of gorgeous gloom,
For something lay midst their fretted gold,
Like shadow Of the tomb.
And within that rich pavilion,
High on a wlitterinR throne,
woinnns form sat silently
Midst the glare OF light alone.
iIcr jeweicd robes fell strangely still
Tho drapery on her breast
Seemed with no pulse beneath TO thrill,
40 stonellkc was Its rest.
But n peal Of lorily music
shook cen the dust below,
When the burning gold OF the dladem
was set on her pallid brow.
Then died away that naughty sound,
And from the encircllug band
stepped prince and chief, midst the hush profound
with homage TO her hand.
why passed a faint, cold shudderins
over each martial frame,
Az, ono by one, TO touch that hand,
Noble and leader came7
Was not the settled aspect fair?
Did not queenly grace,
Under the parted ebon hair.
SIT on the pale, still faoe7
Death! death! canst thou be lovely
Unto the eye Of llfe7
Is not each pulse Of the quick, high breast
with thy cold mcn at strife7
It was strange and fearful sight,
The crown upon that head,
The glorious robes, and the blaze Of light,
All gathered round tho Dead!
And beside her stood In silence
One with brow as pale,
And white lips rlgldly compressed,
Lest the strong heart should fail:
King Pedro, with jealous eye,
Watching the homage done,
by the lands flower and chivalry,
To her, his maryred one.
But on the face he looked not,
which once his star had been;
To every form his glance was turned,
Save OF the breathless queen;
Though something, won from the graves embrace
OF her beauty ail was there,
| Its hues were still of that shadowy place,
| 1t was not for hin, to bear.
Alas! the crown, the sceptrc,
The treasures OF the earth,
And the priceless love that poured those gifts,
Alike OF wasted worth!
The rites are closed-bcar back the dead
Unto the chamber deep!
| Lay down ngain the royal head,
Dust with the dust to sleep.
There is music on the midnight
| requiem sad and slow,
As the mourncrs through the sounding aisles
In dark procession go;
Aud the ring OF state, and the starry crown,
| And all the rich array,
| Are borne to the house OF silence down,
With her, that queen Of clay.
| Aud tearlessly and firmly
King Pedro led the train;
But his face was wrapped in his folding robe,
When they lowered the dust again.
| Ills hushed at last the tomb above,
Hymns dIe, and steps depart;
| Who called thee strong as Death, Lover
Mightier thou wnst and art.
-FeliCfd d. Hen,dns.