The cypress, in funereal gloom, Whose glorious memory shall outlive Yes, there they sleep! th' immortal brave, The mighty arm that grasped the sword, The tongue that pleaded with applause Will such bright stars lume earth again? There wrecks of empires strew the ground; Decay and Slavery have wed, And Genius rests her drooping head; And placid Beauty still appears, Meek smiling through her limpid tears, And Death sits throned on Glory's tomb, Triumphant o'er the wrecks of joy and bloom. II. Ry Tiber, UGo's Castle stands, Surrounded by an olive grove, And glassy seas, and myrtle strands The hallowed shrine of Peace and Love. One waning light reveals the tower; Lord UGo's only child is seated. Her untuned harp and jewels nigh, A web of rich embroidery, And flowers that breathe around the room From golden vases sweet perfume. She weeps not, but her restless eye Betrays her deep anxiety; Now lost in thoughtful mood she sits Now hurrried o'er the carpet flits Then by the lattice bends her ear "A step ?-Tis he !" O God! her fear If UGO should her lover spy, This night-this night, they both must die! Her slight frame like the aspen shook, And Reason half her throne forsook; 1 III. 'TIS past! LEON is in her room— And by his side a sabre gleaming, And from his eye his high soul beaming, Paling with apprehension now "Be calm sweet FLORENCE, do not fear; Which I could trust none to convey- Speak, fairest; Angels hover near, Oh! is the smile in that bright eye, That cheek's soft blush my blessed reply!- Now I am happy! come what will, Life hath for me nor storm nor ill. IV. "I know the grudge and lasting ire, Thy father bears my haughty sire; The danger of a secret union Ay, e'en if known, this brief communion; That if discovered, UGo's wroth And hate may fatal prove to both : But, dearest, this shall part us neverDeath-only death-our destinies shall sever! 66 To-morrow morn before the dawn Awakes the lark upon the lawn, My ship will sail for Sicily, Where two months absent I must be, Ere I return to Italy, And, lovely FLORENCE, back to thee. Twice thirty days just from this night, Prepare thee for a speedy flight; Be near the Tiber, in the bower, Where, by the stars and pale moonlight, Before we've met, on many a night; |