"My brother! oh! my brother! thou art gone, the true and brave,
And the haughty joy of victory hath died upon thy grave:
There are many round my throne to stand, and to march where I lead on;
There was _one_ to love me in the world--my brother! thou art gone!

"In the desert, in the battle, in the ocean-tempest's wrath,
We stood together, side by side; one hope was our's--one path:
Thou hast wrapt me in thy soldier's cloak, thou hast fenced me with thy breast;
Thou hast watched beside my couch of pain--oh! bravest heart, and best!

"I see the festive lights around--o'er a dull sad world they shine;
I hear the voice of victory--my Pedro where is _thine?_
The only voice in whose kind tone my spirit found reply--
Oh! brother! I have bought too dear this hollow pageantry!

"I have hosts, and gallant fleets, to spread my glory and my sway,
And chiefs to lead them fearlessly--my _friend_ hath passed away!
For the kindly look, the word of cheer, my heart may thirst in vain,
And the face that was as light to mine--it cannot come again!

"I have made thy blood, thy faithful blood, the offering for a crown;
With love, which earth bestows not twice, I have purchased cold renown:
How often will my weary heart 'midst the sounds of triumph die,
When I think of thee, my brother! thou flower of chivalry!

"I am lonely--I am lonely! this rest is ev'n as death!
Let me hear again the ringing spears, and the battle-trumpet's breath;
Let me see the fiery charger's foam, and the royal banner wave--
But where art thou, my brother?--where?--in thy low and early grave!"