I am alone—and far, oh! far away From where my home of happy childhood lies, From scenes beloved where fountains murmuring play And smile beneath my own, my native skies— I am alone! Alone—alone!—and my crushed heart doth bear Cold and neglect from those for whom I pour My full soul forth—whose images I wear Forever shrined in memory’s sacred store— I am alone! I am alone, but in my fevered dreams Friends throng around me—voices loved I hear. Light once again upon my pathway beams, But I awake!—no forms beloved are near— I am alone! Alone—alone!—no more the star I see Of Hope which once illumed my cloudless sky. And naught is left on this wide earth to me, Save but to look on Nature’s face and die— I am alone! * * * * * PEDRO DE PADILH. BY J. M. LEGARE. (_Continued from page 148._) SPAIN, AND TERCERA. } AD. 1583. } Meanwhile, the Marquis of Santa-Cruz with a hundred sail was steering from Lisbon to Tercera, bent upon reaching that island before the French fleet, and moreover settling it in his own mind to hang the Viceroy de Torrevedros, (who was at that moment taking wine with De Chaste to their mutual longevity,) for sticking to the landless and luckless King Anthony of Portugal, in preference to his own master Philip the Second, sometimes called the Prudent, but by the Protestants, whom he roasted and otherwise ill-treated, the Demon of the South. Señor Inique’s vessel was the Doblon, and our acquaintance Don Pedro’s the Pez-de-mar, but on the day designated, the two maîtres-de-camp dined together in the Doblon, besides whom were at table some half dozen cavaliers of more or less note. At the close of the meal, Sir Pedro said— “Gentlemen all, this is a day I never let pass without thought of the brave man whose head fell ten years ago this noon, at Brussels. I ask a _pater_ of the company here present for the rest of his soul.” “If you mean Count Egmont,” answered one, “there never was truer knight. I was near him at the time of his death, and believe him to have been as loyal as you or I.” “A doubtful comparison,” cried another, laughing, “since you question the king’s justice.” “By no means,” returned the Constable of Castile. “The king acknowledged as much himself. I was present when the news arrived, and he said with his usual smile, ‘These two salmon heads are better off than three-score heads of frogs!’” “Yes, and the French ambassador wrote to court, ‘I have seen a head fall which has twice made France quake.’”