A ship comes foaming up the bay, Along the pier she glides; Before her furrow melts away, A courier mounts and rides. "Haste, Haste, post Haste!" the letters bear; "Sir Harry Frankland, These." Sad news to tell the loving pair! The knight must cross the seas. "Alas! we part!"--the lips that spoke Lost all their rosy red, As when a crystal cup is broke, And all its wine is shed. "Nay, droop not thus,--where'er," he cried, "I go by land or sea, My love, my life, my joy, my pride, Thy place is still by me!" Through town and city, far and wide, Their wandering feet have strayed, From Alpine lake to ocean tide, And cold Sierra's shade. At length they see the waters gleam Amid the fragrant bowers Where Lisbon mirrors in the stream Her belt of ancient towers. Red is the orange on its bough, To-morrow's sun shall fling O'er Cintra's hazel-shaded brow The flush of April's wing. The streets are loud with noisy mirth, They dance on every green; The morning's dial marks the birth Of proud Braganza's queen. At eve beneath their pictured dome The gilded courtiers throng; The broad moidores have cheated Rome Of all her lords of song. AH! Lisbon dreams not of the day-- Pleased with her painted scenes-- When all her towers shall slide away As now these canvas screens! The spring has passed, the summer fled, And yet they linger still, Though autumn's rustling leaves have spread The flank of Cintra's hill. The town has learned their Saxon name, And touched their English gold, Nor tale of doubt nor hint of blame From over sea is told. Three hours the first November dawn Has climbed with feeble ray Through mists like heavy curtains drawn Before the darkened day. How still the muffled echoes sleep! Hark! hark! a hollow sound,-- A noise like chariots rumbling deep Beneath the solid ground. The channel lifts, the water slides And bares its bar of sand, Anon a mountain billow strides And crashes o'er the land. The turrets lean, the steeples reel Like masts on ocean's swell, And clash a long discordant peal, The death-doomed city's knell. The pavement bursts, the earth upheaves Beneath the staggering town! The turrets crack--the castle cleaves-- The spires come rushing down. Around, the lurid mountains glow With strange unearthly gleams; While black abysses gape below, Then close in jagged seams. And all is over. Street and square In ruined heaps are piled; Ah! where is she, so frail, so fair, Amid the tumult wild? Unscathed, she treads the wreck-piled street, Whose narrow gaps afford A pathway for her bleeding feet, To seek her absent lord. A temple's broken walls arrest Her wild and wandering eyes; Beneath its shattered portal pressed, Her lord unconscious lies. The power that living hearts obey Shall lifeless blocks withstand? Love led her footsteps where he lay,-- Love nerves her woman's hand. One cry,--the marble shaft she grasps,-- Up heaves the ponderous stone:-- He breathes,--her fainting form he clasps,-- Her life has bought his own!