Imagens das páginas
PDF
ePub

A

QUAS HUMILIS TENERO STYLUS OLIM EFFUDIT IN AVO,
PERLEGIS HIC LACRYMAS, ET QUOD PHARETRATUS ACUTA
ILLE PUER PUERO FECIT MIHI CUSPIDE VULNUS.

OMNIA PAULATIM CONSUMIT LONGIOR ETAS,

VIVENDOQUE SIMUL MORIMUR, RAPIMURQUE MANENDO.

IPSE MIHI COLLATUS ENIM NON ILLE VIDEBOR:

FRONS ALIA EST, MORESQUE ALII, NOVA MENTIS IMAGO,
VOXQUE ALIND SONAT...

PECTORE NUNC GELIDO CALIDOS MISEREMUR AMANTES, JAMQUE ARSISSE PUDET. VETERES TRANQUILLA TUMULTUS

MENS HORRET RELEGENSQUE ALIUM PUTAT ISTA LOCUTUM.

PETRARCH.

LOVE..

ALL thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame,

Are all but ministers of Love,

And feed his sacred flame.

Oft in my waking dreams do I
Live o'er again that happy hour,

When midway on the mount I lay,
Beside the ruin'd tower.

The Moonshine, stealing o'er the scene,
Had blended with the lights of eve;
And she was there, my hope, my joy,
My own dear Genevieve!

She leant against the armed man,
The statue of the armed knight;
She stood and listen'd to my lay,
Amid the lingering light.

Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hope! my joy! my Genevieve! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve.

I play'd a soft and doleful air,
I sang an old and moving story-

An old rude song, that suited well
That ruin wild and hoary.

She listen'd with a flitting blush,
With downcast eyes and modest grace;
For well she knew, I could not chuse
But gaze upon her face.

I told her of the Knight that wore
'Upon his shield a burning brand;
And that for ten long years he woo'd
The Lady of the Land.

I told her how he pined; and ah! The deep, the low, the pleading tone With which I sang another's love,

Interpreted my own.

She listen'd with a flitting blush,

With downcast eyes, and modest grace;

And she forgave me, that I gazed

Too fondly on her face!

But when I told the cruel scorn

That craz'd that bold and lovely Knight, And that he cross'd the mountain-woods, Nor rested day nor night;

That sometimes from the savage den,

And sometimes from the darksome shade,

And sometimes starting up at once

In green and sunny glade,

There came and look'd him in the face

An angel beautiful and bright;

And that he knew it was a Fiend,

This miserable Knight!

And that unknowing what he did,
He leap'd amid a murderous band,

And sav'd from outrage worse than death

The Lady of the Land!

And how she wept, and claspt his knees;

And how she tended him in vain

And ever strove to expiate

The scorn that crazed his brain.

And that she nursed him in a cave;
And how his madness went away,
When on the yellow forest-leaves
A dying man he lay.

His dying words-but when I reach'd
That tenderest strain of all the ditty,
My faultering voice and pausing harp
Disturb'd her soul with pity!

All impulses of soul and sense

Had thrill'd my guileless Genevieve;

The music, and the doleful tale,
The rich and balmy eve;

And hopes, and fears that kindle hope,

An undistinguishable throng,

And gentle wishes long subdued,

Subdued and cherish'd long!

« AnteriorContinuar »