Shooting cold tremors through each vein, And fiery venom to the brain.

He drew his sword half from its sheath,

As if to wreak his ire on death;

Then thrust it back, and with a sneer

Bade vassals go prepare the bier.

VII

No weeds, no funeral pomp was there;
No tears, no knell, no holy prayer,
Nor benison besought from heaven;

But in the silent hour of even,

By menial hands they were conveyed

Slowly along the myrtle shade

To an unconsecrated grave;

Their constant dirge the moaning wave.

VIII.

And there they lie! how calm their sleep! The long unbroken dream of death! Aloof the trembling woodnymphs keep— For ever nature holds her breath, Gliding on tiptoe by the spot,

As timid maid by haunted grot.

Lifeless the leaves around it lie

The flowers scarce open ere they die

One pale white rose, upon the tomb,
Is all that struggles through the gloom.
This all behold-the why none tell-
They call it still-"The Spectre Dell,”
As by, with guarded tread, they go.
"Within this sable vale of woe
Two youthful forms, in snowy sheen,
Arm linked in arm, are often seen,
At noon of night, to glide the green!"

IX.

There cross nor crypt doth mark the spot,

Nor tell the lonely sleepers' lot;

The cypress in funereal gloom

Folds its dark arms above the tomb.

Since that sad eve, its sickly sod

No human foot hath ever trod;

But when night draws her curtain there,

Sits weeping by it mute Despair;

And Sorrow sends a mournful wail

Along the silent, spectral vale.

X.

Never again that fair-haired bride

Saw her young lord. What did betide

Him on the night he left her side

She never knew.-'Twas mystery all.

A few days in GUDONI's hall

She lingered like the fairy rose

O'er which the sudden simoon blows

And then, in sable weeds arrayed,
Across the ocean was conveyed

To her own isle. But she was changed-
And through the realms of madness ranged.
There, where she once had reigned the queen
Of Beauty, and in festive hall,

Had moved, in maiden's brightest sheen,
Beneath the rapturous gaze of all,

She wanders with dishevelled hair,
Clutching at phantoms of the air,
Whom she believes her LEON Come
To bear her to his happy home;

And when the image she would clasp,
Eludes her fascinated grasp,

Falling upon the ground, she lies,

Piercing the air with hideous cries;

And thus noon, night, she raved the same,

Until the spirit doffed the frame,
To moulder in the maniac's grave

Beside the clear Sicilian wave.

XI.

With lightning speed conjectures flew,
From hut to castle, sea, bayou ;—
Where had the Lady FLORENCE gone?—

Where Count GUDONI's only son?

Were questions oft repeated there,

With tearful eyes and anxious care.

XII.

A thorough search for them was made,
Afar o'er mountain, ocean, glade,

By weeping friends, the faithful crew;
But none their sad tale fully knew,

Save those who saw them on that morn
To their unhallowed burial borne.

Fate spread around their hapless tomb
Her sable pall of deepest gloom

NOTES.

CANTO L

NOTE 1, p. 3.

"A Tale of the Tiber."

This poem is founded on an Italian tradition, related to me by a native of Florence. The time occupied is two months. The scene commences on the banks of the Tiber, near Rome-shifts thence to Sicily, and thence back to the Tiber.

CANTO III.

NOTE 1, Sect. II., p. 23.

"Across the brine where, wildly tost,
On rocks Eneas' fleet was lost."

"Hæc ubi dicta, cavum canversâ cuspide montem
Impulit in latus; Ac venti, velut agmine facto,
Quà data porta, ruunt, et terras turbine perflant.
Incubuere mari, totumque à sedibus imis

Unà Eurusque Notusque ruunt, creberque procellis

Africus, et vastos volvunt ad litora fluctus.
Insequitur clamorque virum, stridorque rudentum.

Eripiunt subitò nubes cœlumque, diemque,

Teucrorum ex oculis: ponto nox incubat atra.