Her modest mien and movement free, IV. Beneath the solemn yew all day That at her fairy feet they throw,— And woman's worth, and wrong, and wroth— Love's faithless vows and broken hearts These best befit her mournful lute, That on all other themes is mute. V. Young dark-eyed maidens from the hill Hidalgos, from rich domicil, Linger along the balmy lea, To list her love-lorn minstrelsy ; And when on violet bed reposing, Kind slumber her soft eyelids closing, Kind-hearted damsels seek her there, 'Tis as some halo of blest light, Encircles her by day and night, Within which evil dare not come, Nor aught save guardian Nymph and Gnome; The tempest even shuns her form God shields the hapless maid from harm! VI. Three weary years have rolled away Since first they heard her pensive lay, Yet none know from what shore she came, Nor why, nor what may be her name 65 They only gather from her song, Some deem she came from Spanish lands, Opine that she hath followed over The dangerous sea some faithless lover. Some ween Count GAMBA, to whose gate At midnight she is seen to go, And weep, and murmur strains of woe, Hath some part in the maiden's fate; And some frown on this foul suspicion, And prate about her low condition, As lofty souls could only be Found clad in garbs of high degree. Some guess she is the spirit pale, Of maiden murdered in that vale, By a false lover long ago ;—— They guess, and guess-yet nothing know. VII. When vesper bells are tolling loud, Why wander thus her thoughts away, When he is near, Like dew-drops on the violet ? Where it so long had been confined, Above the troubled brim to mount, Some clime of sunnier light to find? She's ever at confessional, Yet lingers-falters in the hall, And turns away without confessing, As something on her soul were pressing, Which she would tell to priest nor Heaven, Though sure by both to be forgiven. CANTO II I. "TIs eve-soft lies the Indian sky. Not as within this northern clime, E'en in its most congenial time Of summer melting melody, But with one golden gush of light, As Heaven had centred all her smiles Within those soft aerial isles, To 'luminate the sultry night, When languid Beauty wanders forth With pearly flowers, From fairy bowers, Which ever bud and blossom there, And smile beneath seraphic care. Fond Echo sleeps on rock and hill, |