Then farewell, king, yet were I one,
Care would not come so soon. Would he and I were far away Keeping flocks on Himalay!
FRAGMENT: PEACE FIRST AND LAST.
THE babe is at peace within the womb, The corpse is at rest within the tomb, We begin in what we end.
HE wanders (like a day-appearing dream, Through the dim wildernesses of the mind) Through desert woods and tracts, which seem Like ocean, homeless, boundless, unconfined.
WILD, pale, and wonder-stricken, even as one Who staggers forth into the air and sun From the dark chamber of a mortal fever, Bewildered, and incapable, and ever
Fancying strange comments in her dizzy brain Of usual shapes, till the familiar train Of objects and of persons passed like things Strange as a dreamer's mad imaginings,
1 The story on which this fragment is based is to be found in a book entitled L'Osservatore Fiorentino, -ED.
Ginevra from the nuptial altar went;
The vows to which her lips had sworn assent 10 Rung in her brain still with a jarring din, Deafening the lost intelligence within.
And so she moved under the bridal veil, Which made the paleness of her cheek more pale,
And deepened the faint crimson of her mouth, And darkened her dark locks, as moonlight doth,
And of the gold and jewels glittering there She scarce felt conscious,-but the weary glare Lay like a chaos of unwelcome light, Vexing the sense with gorgeous undelight. A moonbeam in the shadow of a cloud Was less heavenly fair-her face was bowed, And, as she passed, the diamonds in her hair Were mirrored in the polished marble stair Which led from the cathedral to the street; And ever as she went her light fair feet Erased these images.
The bride-maidens who round her thronging
Some with a sense of self-rebuke and shame, Envying the unenviable; and others Making the joy which should have been another's
Their own by gentle sympathy; and some Sighing to think of an unhappy home: Some few admiring what can ever lure Maidens to leave the heaven serene and pure Of parents' smiles for life's great cheat; a
Bitter to taste, sweet in imagining.
But they are all dispersed-and, lo! she
Looking in idle grief on her white hands, Alone within the garden now her own; And through the sunny air, with jangling tone, The music of the merry marriage bells, Killing the azure silence, sinks and swells;- Absorbed like one within a dream who dreams That he is dreaming, until slumber seems A mockery of itself-when suddenly Antonio stood before her, pale as she. With agony, with sorrow, and with pride, He lifted his wan eyes upon the bride,
And said "Is this thy faith?" and then as
Whose sleeping face is stricken by the sun With light like a harsh voice, which bids him
And look upon his day of life with eyes
Which weep in vain that they can dream no
Ginevra saw her lover, and forbore
To shriek or faint, and checked the stifling blood
Rushing upon her heart, and unsubdued Said-Friend, if earthly violence or ill, Suspicion, doubt, or the tyrannic will
Of parents, chance, or custom, time or change, Or circumstance, or terror, or revenge, Or wildered looks, or words, or evil speech, With all their stings and venom can impeach Our love, we love not:-if the grave which hides
The victim from the tyrant, and divides The cheek that whitens from the eyes that dart Imperious inquisition to the heart
That is another's, could dissever ours,
We love not."- "What! do not the silent
Beckon thee to Gherardi's bridal bed?
Is not that ring". -a pledge, he would have
Of broken vows, but she with patient look The golden circle from her finger took, And said "Accept this token of my faith, The pledge of vows to be absolved by death; And I am dead or shall be soon-my knell Will mix its music with that merry bell. Does it not sound as if they sweetly said 'We toll a corpse out of the marriage bed?' The flowers upon my bridal chamber strewn 80 Will serve unfaded for my bier-so soon That even the dying violet will not die Before Ginevra." The strong fantasy
Had made her accents weaker and more weak, And quenched the crimson life upon her cheek, And glazed her eyes, and spread an atmosphere Round her, which chilled the burning noon with fear,
Making her but an image of the thought, Which, like a prophet or a shadow, brought News of the terrors of the coming time. Like an accuser branded with the crime He would have cast on a belovèd friend, Whose dying eyes reproach not to the end The pale betrayer-he then with vain repen- tance
Would share, he cannot now avert, the sentence
Antonio stood and would have spoken, when The compound voice of women and of men Was heard approaching; he retired, whilst she Was led amid the admiring company
Back to the palace,—and her maidens soon 100
Changed her attire for the afternoon, And left her at her own request to keep An hour of quiet and rest-like one asleep With open eyes and folded hands she lay, Pale in the light of the declining day.
Meanwhile the day sinks fast, the sun is set, And in the lighted hall the guests are met; The beautiful looked lovelier in the light Of love, and admiration, and delight Reflected from a thousand hearts and eyes 110 Kindling a momentary Paradise.
This crowd is safer than the silent wood, Where love's own doubts disturb the solitude; On frozen hearts the fiery rain of wine Falls, and the dew of music more divine Tempers the deep emotions of the time To spirits cradled in a sunny clime:- How many meet, who never yet have met, To part too soon, but never to forget. How many saw the beauty, power and wit Of looks and words which ne'er enchanted yet; But life's familiar veil was now withdrawn, As the world leaps before an earthquake's dawn, And, unprophetic of the coming hours, The matin winds from the expanded flowers Scatter their hoarded incense, and awaken The earth, until the dewy sleep is shaken From every living heart which it possesses, Through seas and winds,' cities and wilder-
As if the future and the past were all Treasured i' the instant ;- -so Gherardi's hall Laughed in the mirth of its lord's festival,
1 Probably we should read lands instead of winds; but I know of no authority for the change.-Ed.
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