22 PLOEA’S ALBUM. 
Bramble. 
“ Wild bramble of the brake.” — Elliott. 
EEMOESE. 
But Pedro, at that dreadful time, 
He, whose stem spirit, unreclaimed, * 
Nor age has soothed, nor terror tamed. 
Pelt all the errors of his crime. 
Heaven’s chastening vengeance touched his breast. 
And tears his deep remorse exprest. 
While o’er the victim’s dark-veiled brow 
Burst from his soul the voice of woe. 
, William Sothebt. 
# * ♦ # 
Memory broods o’er me like a tempest cloud; 
WTiere, on her lightning-wing, leaps vivid thought, 
And dank remorse rolls rumblingly along, 
But miser-like withholds the gust of tears! 
In anguish gathering up his strength, 
Eemorse! remorse! he cried; 
Eemorse! engrave it with my name 
As to my fame allied. 
Mes. Locke. 
