Page:Felicia Hemans in Friendship's Offering 1826.pdf/2



in his death-pangs lay— Did censers breathe perfume, And soft lamps pour their silvery ray, Through his proud chamber's gloom?— He lay upon a greensward bed, Beneath a darkening sky, A lone tree waving o'er his head, A swift stream rolling by.

Had he then fallen as warriors fall, Where spear strikes fire with spear? Was there a banner for his pall, A buckler for his bier? Not so:—nor cloven shields nor helms Had strewn the bloody sod, Where he, the helpless lord of realms, Yielded his soul to God!

Were there not friends with words of cheer, And princely vassals nigh? And priests, the crucifix to rear Before the fading eye?— A peasant girl that royal head Upon her bosom laid, And, shrinking not for woman's dread, The face of death surveyed.

Alone she sat:—from hill and wood Red sank the mournful sun; Fast gushed the fount of noble blood, Treason its worst had done. With her long hair she vainly prest The wounds, to staunch their tide;— Unknown, on that meek, humble breast, Imperial Albert died! F. H.