But oh! thy strength, deep love!-there is no power To stay the mother from that rolling grave, Though fast on high the fiery volumes tower, And forth, like banners, from each lattice wave; Back, back she rushes through a host combined— Mighty is anguish, with affection twined! And what bold step may follow, 'midst the roar Freshly and cloudlessly the morning broke On that sad palace, 'midst its pleasure-shades; Its painted roofs had sunk-yet black with smoke And lonely stood its marble colonnades: But yester-eve their shafts with wreaths were bound Now lay the scene one shrivell'd scroll around! ་ And bore the ruins no recording trace Of all that woman's heart had dared and done? And they were all !—the tender and the true Hallowing the spot where mirth once lightly flew, To deep, lone, chasten'd thoughts of grief and love. Oh! we have need of patient faith below, To clear away the mysteries of such wo! JUANA. Juana, mother of the Emperor Charles V., upon the death of her husband, Philip the Handsome of Austria, who had treated her with uniform neglect, had his body laid upon a bed of state in a magnificent dress, and being possessed with the idea that it would revive, watched it for a length of time incessantly, waiting for the moment of returning life. 15 |