The dawn was late, and louring;
Poor ZORIETTO rose aghast!
Unmindful of the Northern blast
And prowling Wolves, devouring.
Swift to the wood of Pines she flew,
Love made the assignation;
For there, the sov’reign of her soul
Watch’d the blue mists of morning roll
Around her habitation.
The BARON, by a Spy appriz’d,
Was there before his Bride;
He seiz’d the Youth, and madly strew’d
The white Cliff, with his steaming blood,
Then hurl’d him down its side.
And now ’twas said, an hungry wolf
Had made the Youth his prey:
His heart lay frozen on the snow,
And here and there a purple glow
Speckled the pathless way.
The marriage day at length arriv’d,
The Priest bestow’d his blessing:
A _clasp of orient pearl_ fast bound
A _zone of amber_ circling round,
Her slender waist compressing.
On ZORIETTO’s snowy breast
A ruby cross was heaving;
So the pale snow-drop faintly glows,
When shelter’d by the damask rose,
Their beauties interweaving!
And now the holy vow began
Upon her lips to falter!
And now all deathly wan she grew
And now three lamps, of livid hue
Pass’d slowly round the Altar.
And now she saw the clasp of pearl
A ruby lustre taking:
And thrice she heard the Castle bell
Ring out a loud funereal knell
The antique turrets shaking.
O! then how pale the BARON grew,
His eyes wide staring fearful!
While o’er the Virgin’s image fair
A sable veil was borne on air
Shading her dim eyes, tearful.
And, on her breast a clasp of pearl
Was stain’d with blood, fast flowing:
And round her lovely waist she wore
An amber zone; a cross she bore
Of rubies—richly glowing.
The Bride, her dove-like eyes to Heav’n
Rais’d, calling Christ to save her!
The cross now danc’d upon her breast;
The shudd’ring Priest his fears confest,
And benedictions gave her.
Upon the pavement sunk the Bride
Cold as a corpse, and fainting!
The pearly clasp, self-bursting, show’d
Her beating side, where crimson glow’d
Three spots, of nature’s painting.
Three crimson spots, of deepest hue!
The BARON gaz’d with wonder:
For on his buried Lady’s side
Just three such drops had nature dyed,
An equal space asunder.
And now remembrance brought to view,
For Heav’n the truth discloses,
The Baby, who had early died,
Bore, tinted on its little side,
Three spots—as red as roses!
Now, ere the wedding-day had past,
Stern GOLFRE, and his Bride
Walk’d forth to taste the ev’ning breeze
Soft sighing, mid the sombre trees,
That drest the mountain’s side.
And now, beneath the grove of Pine,
Two lovely Forms were gliding;
A Lady, with a beauteous face!
A Youth with stern, but manly, grace
Smil’d,—as in scorn deriding.
Close, by the wond’ring Bride they pass’d,
The red Sun sinking slowly:
And to the little cross they hied—
And there she saw them, side by side,
Kneeling, with fervour holy.
The little cross was golden ting’d
The western radiance stealing;
And now it bore a purple hue,
And now all black and dim it grew,
And still she saw them, kneeling.
White were their robes as fleecy snow
Their faces pale, yet chearful.
Their golden hair, like waves of light
Shone lust’rous mid the glooms of night;
Their starry eyes were tearful.
And now they look’d to Heav’n, and smil’d,
Three paly lamps descended!
And now their shoulders seem’d to bear
Expanding pinions broad and fair,
And now they wav’d in viewless air!
And so, the Vision ended.
_GOLFRE_,
_PART FIFTH._
Now, suddenly, a storm arose,
The thunder roar’d, tremendous!
The lightning flash’d, the howling blast
Fierce, strong, and desolating, past
The Altitudes stupendous!
Rent by the wind, a fragment huge
From the steep summit bounded:
That summit, where the Peasant’s breast
Found, mid the snow, a grave of rest,
By GOLFRE’s poniard wounded.
Loud shrieks, across the mountain wild,
Fill’d up the pause of thunder:
The groves of Pine the lightning past,
And swift the desolating blast
Scatter’d them wide asunder.
The Castle-turrets seem’d to blaze,
The lightning round them flashing;
The drawbridge now was all on fire,
The moat foam’d high, with furious ire,
Against the black walls dashing.
The Prison Tow’r was silver white,
And radiant as the morning;
Two angels’ wings were spreading wide,
The battlements, from side to side—
And lofty roof adorning.
And now the Bride was sore afraid,
She sigh’d, and cross’d her breast;
She kiss’d her simple rosary,
Made of the mountain holly-tree,
By sainted Fathers blest.
She kiss’d it once, she kiss’d it twice;
It seem’d to freeze her breast;
The cold show’rs fell from ev’ry tree,
They fell upon her rosary
Like nature’s tears, “twice blest!”
“What do you fear?” the BARON cried—
For ZORIETTO trembled—
“A WOLF,” she sigh’d with whisper low,
“Hark how the angry whirlwinds blow
“Like Demons dark assembled.
“That WOLF! which did my Lover slay!”
The BARON wildly started.
“That Wolf accurs’d!” she madly cried—
“Whose fangs, by human gore were dyed,
“Who dragg’d him down the mountain’s side,
“And left me—Broken hearted!”
Now GOLFRE shook in ev’ry joint,
He grasp’d her arm, and mutter’d;
Hell seem’d to yawn, on ev’ry side,
“Hear me!” the frantic tyrant cried—
“HEAR ME!” a faint voice utter’d.
“I hear thee! yes, I hear thee well!”
Cried GOLFRE, “I’ll content thee.
“I see thy vengeful eye-balls roll—
“Thou com’st to claim my guilty soul—
“The FIENDS—the FIENDS have sent thee!”
And now a Goatherd-Boy was heard—
Swift climbing up the mountain:
A Kid was lost, the fearful hind—
Had rov’d his truant care to find,
By wood-land’s side—and fountain.
And now a murm’ring throng advanc’d,
And howlings echoed round them:
Now GOLFRE tried the path to pace,
His feet seem’d rooted to the place,
As though a spell had bound them.
And now loud mingling voices cried—
“Pursue that WOLF, pursue him!”
The guilty BARON, conscience stung,
About his fainting DAUGHTER hung,
As to the ground she drew him.
“Oh! shield me HOLY MARY! shield
“A tortur’d wretch!” he mutter’d.
“A murd’rous WOLF! O GOD! I crave
“A dark unhallow’d silent grave—”
Aghast the Caitiff utter’d.
“’Twas I, beneath the GOATHERD’s bed
“The golden sword did cover;
“’Twas I who tore the quiv’ring wound,
“Pluck’d forth the heart, and scatter’d round
“The life-stream of thy Lover.”
And now he writh’d in ev’ry limb,
And big his heart was swelling;
Fresh peals of thunder echoed strong,
With famish’d WOLVES the peaks among
Their dismal chorus yelling!
“O JESU Save me!” GOLFRE shriek’d—
But GOLFRE shriek’d no more!
The rosy dawn’s returning light
Display’d his corse,—a dreadful sight,
Black, wither’d, smear’d with gore!
High on a gibbet, near the wood—
His mangled limbs were hung;
Yet ZORIETTO oft was seen
Prostrate the Chapel aisles between—
When holy mass was sung.
And there, three lamps now dimly burn,—
Twelve Monks their masses saying;
And there, the midnight bell doth toll
For quiet to the murd’rer’s soul—
While all around are praying.
For CHARITY and PITY kind,
To gentle souls are given;
And MERCY is the sainted pow’r,
Which beams thro’ mis’ry’s darkest hour,
And lights the way—TO HEAVEN!
_END._
Printed by BIGGS and COTTLE, St. Augustines-Back, Bristol.
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TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
1. The Errata recommendations were incorporated as stated.
2. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in
spelling.
3. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed.
4. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.