VI. So said he one fair morning, and all day For power to speak; but still the ruddy tide. Fever'd his high conceit of such a bride, Yet brought him to the meekness of a child: Alas! when passion is both meek and wild! VII. So once more he had waked and anguished And straight all flush'd; so, lisped tenderly, "Lorenzo!"-here she ceased her timid quest, But in her tone and look he read the rest. VIII. "O Isabella! I can half perceive That I may speak my grief into thine ear; If thou didst ever anything believe, Believe how I love thee, believe how near My soul is to its doom: I would not grieve Thy hand by unwelcome pressing, would not fear Thine eyes by gazing; but I cannot live Another night, and not my passion shrive. IX. "Love! thou art leading me from wintry cold, Lady! thou leadest me to summer clime, And I must taste the blossoms that unfold In its ripe warmth this gracious morning time." So said, his erewhile timid lips grew bold, And poesied with hers in dewy rhyme : Great bliss was with them, and great happiness Grew, like a lusty flower in June's caress. X. Parting they seem'd to tread upon the air, Sang, of delicious love and honey'd dart; XI. All close they met again, before the dusk Unknown of any, free from whispering tale. Than idle ears should pleasure in their wo. XII. Were they unhappy then ?—It cannot be— Too much of pity after they are dead, Whose matter in bright gold were best be read; Except in such a page where Theseus' spouse Over the pathless waves towards him bows. XIII. But, for the general award of love, The little sweet doth kill much bitterness: Though young Lorenzo in warm Indian clove XIV. With her two brothers this fair lady dwelt, In blood from stinging whip; with hollow eyes Many all day in dazzling river stood, To take the rich-ored driftings of the flood. XV. For them the Ceylon diver held his breath, And went all naked to the hungry shark; Half-ignorant, they turn'd an easy wheel, XVI. Why were they proud? Because their marble founts Gush'd with more pride than do a wretch's tears? Why were they proud? Because fair orange-mounts Were of more soft ascent than lazar stairs? Why were they proud? Because red-lined accounts Why were they proud? again we ask aloud, XVII. Yet were these Florentines as self-retired And pannier'd mules for ducats and old lies- XVIII. How was it these same ledger-men could spy How could they find out in Lorenzo's eye A straying from his toil? Hot Egypt's pest Into their vision covetous and sly! How could these money-bags see east and west? Yet so they did and every dealer fair Must see behind, as doth the hunted hare. XIX. O eloquent and famed Boccaccio! Of thee we now shall ask forgiving boon, And of thy spicy myrtles as they blow, And of thy roses amorous of the moon, And of thy lilies, that do paler grow Now they can no more hear thy ghittern's tune, For venturing syllables that ill beseem The quiet glooms of such a piteous theme. XX. Grant thou a pardon here, and then the tale There is no other crime, no mad assail To make old prose in modern rhyme more sweet : But it is done-succeed the verse or fail To honor thee, and thy gone spirit greet; To stead thee as a verse in English tongue, An echo of thee in the north-wind sung. |