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Ave Maria ! oh that face so fair ! Fill high the bowl with Samian wine!

Those downcast eyes beneath the AlOur virgins dance beneath the shade

mighty dove – I see their glorious black eyes shine; What though 't is but a pictured image ? — But gazing on each glowing maid,

strikeMy own the burning tear-drop laves, That painting is no idol, — 't is too like. 920 To think such breasts must suckle slaves.

CIV 16

Some kinder casuists are pleased to say, Place me on Sunium's marbled steep, 779 In nameless print that I bave no devoWhere nothing, save the waves and I,

tion; May hear our mutual murmurs sweep; But set those persons down with me to There, swan-like, let me sing and die:

pray, A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine

And you shall see who has the properest Dash down yon cup of Samian wine!

notion Of getting into heaven the shortest way;

My altars are the mountains and the CANTO III. CI-CVIII


Earth, air, stars, — all that springs from AVE MARIA

the great Whole,

Who hath produced, and will receive the CI

soul. Tour tale. — The feast was over, the slaves gone,

CV The dwarfs and dancing girls had all re Sweet hour of twilight !- in the solitude tired;

Of the pine forest, and the silent shore The Arab lore and poet's song were done, Which bounds Ravenna's immemorial wood,

And every sound of revelry expired; yoo Rooted where once the Adrian wave The lady and her lover, left alone,

flow'd o'er,

932 The rosy flood of twilight's sky ad To where the last Cæsarean fortress stood, mired; —

Evergreen forest! which Boccaccio's lore Ave Maria ! o'er the earth and sea,

And Dryden's lay made haunted ground to That heavenliest hour of Heaven is worthiest thee!

How have I loved the twilight bour and

thee! CII Ave Maria ! blessed be the hour ! The time, the, clime, the spot, where I | The shrill cicalas, people of the pine, so oft

Making their summer lives one ceaseless Have felt that moment in its fullest power

song, Sink o'er the earth so beautiful and Were the sole echoes, save my steed's and

mine, While swung the deep bell in the distant And vesper bell's that rose the boughs tower,

along; Or the faint dying day-hymn stole aloft, The spectre huntsman of Onesti's line, And not a breath crept through the rosy His hell-dogs, and their chase, and the air,


fair throng And yet the forest leaves seem'd stirr’d Which learn’d from this example not to fly with prayer.

From a true lover, — shadow'd my mind's

eye. CIII Ave Maria ! 't is the hour of prayer!

CVII Ave Maria ! 't is the hour of love! Oh, Hesperus! thou bringest all good Ave Maria ! may our spirits dare

things Look np to thine and to thy Son's above! | Home to the weary, to the hungry cheer,





To the young bird the parent's brooding Each was the other's mirror, and but read wings,

Joy sparkling in their dark eyes like a The welcome stall to the o'erlabour'd

gem, steer;

And knew such brightness was but the reWhate'er of peace about our hearthstone

flection clings,

Of their exchanging glances of affection. Whate'er our household gods protect of dear,


950 Are gather'd round us by thy look of rest; The gentle pressure, and the thrilling touch, Thou bring'st the child, too, to the mother's I The least glance better understood than breast.


Which still said all, and ne'er could say too CVIII

much ; Soft hour ! which wakes the wish and melts. A language, too, but like to that of birds, the heart

Known but to them, at least appearing such Of those who sail the seas, on the first As but to lovers a true sense affords ; 110 day

Sweet playful phrases, which would seem When they from their sweet friends are

absurd torn apart;

To those who have ceased to hear such, or Or fills with love the pilgrim on his way

ne'er heard, — As the far bell of vesper makes him start, Seeming to weep the dying day's decay;

XV Is this a fancy which onr reason scorns ? All these were theirs, for they were chilAh ! surely nothing dies but something

dren still, mourns !

960 And children still they should have ever


They were not made in the real world to fill CANTO IV. XII-LXXIII

A busy character in the dull scene,

But like two beings born from out a rill,

A nymph and her beloved, all unseen
To pass their lives in fountains and on

ers, • Whom the gods love die young,' was said And never know the weight of human of yore,

hours. And many deaths do they escape by this: The death of friends, and that which slays

XVI even more

Moons changing had rollid on, and changeThe death of friendship, love, youth, asi less found that is,

Those their bright rise had lighted to Except mere breath ; and since the silent such joys shore

As rarely they beheld throughout their Awaits at last even those who longest miss

round ; The old archer's shafts, perhaps the early And these were not of the vain kind grave

which cloys, Which men weep over may be meant to For theirs were buoyant spirits, never bound

By the mere senses ; and that which de

stroys XIII

Most love, possession, unto them appear'd Haidée and Juan thought not of the dead - A thing which each endearment more enThe heavens, and earth, and air, seem'd

dear'd. made for them : They found no fault with Time, save that he fled ;

Oh beautiful ! and rare as beautiful ! They saw not in themselves aught to But theirs was love in which the mind condemn :







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To lose itself when the old world grows

XXI dull,

I know not why, but in that hour to-night, And we are sick of its lack sounds and Even as they gazed, a sudden tremor sights,

came, Intrigues, adventures of the common school, | And swept, as 't were, across their hearts' Its petty passions, marriages, and flights,

delight, Where Hymen's torch but brands one Like the wind o'er a harp-string, or a strumpet more,

flame, Whose husband only knows her not a When one is shook in sound, and one in wh-re.


And thus some boding flash'd through XVIII

either frame, Hard words ; harsh truth ; a truth which | And called from Juan's breast a faint low many know.

sigh, Enough. — The faithful and the fairy | While one new tear arose in Haidée's eye.

pair, Who never found a single hour too slow, What was it made them thus exempt That large black prophet eye seem'd to from care ?

dilate Young innate feelings all have felt below, And follow far the disappearing sun, 170 Which perish in the rest, but in them As if their last day of a happy date were :

With his broad, bright, and dropping orb Inherent — what we mortals call romantic,

were gone; And always envy, though we deem it fran- | Juan gazed on her as to ask his fate

He felt a grief, but knowing cause for

none, XIX

His glance inquired of hers for some excuse This is in others a factitious state,

For feelings causeless, or at least abstruse. An opium dream of too much youth and reading,

XXIII But was in them their nature or their fate: She turn'd to him, and smiled, but in that No novels e'er had set their young hearts

sort bleeding,

Which makes not others smile; then For Haidée's knowledge was by no means turn'd aside : great,

Whatever feeling sbook her, it seem'd short, And Juan was a boy of saintly breed And master'd by her wisdom or her ing;


pride; So that there was no reason for their loves

When Juan spoke, too — it might be in More than for those of nightingales or

sport doves.

Of this their mutual feeling, she re

plied xx

"If it should be so, - but -- it cannot be They gazed upon the sunset ; 't is an hour | Or I at least shall not survive to see.'

Dear unto all, but dearest to their eyes, For it had made them what they were: the

XXIV power

Juan would question further, but she Of love had first o'erwhelm'd them from

press'd such skies,

His lip to hers, and silenced him with When happiness had been their only dower,

this, And twilight saw them link'd in passion's And then dismiss'd the omen from her ties;

breast, Charm’d with each other, all things charn'd Defying augnry with that fond kiss; that brought

And no doubt of all methods 't is the best: The past still welcome as the present Some people prefer wine - 't is not thought.








I have tried both; so those who would a Unfit to mix in these thick solitudes part take

Cali'd social, haunts of Hate, and Vice, May choose between the headache and the

and Care: heartache.

How lonely every freeborn creature broods!

The sweetest song-birds nestle in a pair; XXV

The eagle soars alone; the gull and crow One of the two, according to your choice, Flock o'er their carrion, just like men below.

Woman or wine, you 'll have to undergo; Both maladies are taxes on our joys:

XXIX But which to choose, I really hardly Now pillow'd cheek to cheek, in loving know;

sleep, And if I had to give a casting voice,

Haidee and Juan their siesta took, For both sides I could many reasons | A gentle slumber, but it was not deep, show,

For ever and anon a something shook And then decide, without great wrong to Juan, and shuddering o'er his frame would either,

creep; It were much better to have both than And Haidée's sweet lips murmur'd like a neither.


A wordless music, and her face so fair

Stirr'd with her dream, as rose-leaves with Juan and Haidée gazed upon each other

the air. With swimming looks of speechless tenderness,

XXX Which mix'd all feelings, friend, child, Or as the stirring of a deep clear stream lover, brother,

Within an Alpine hollow, when the wind All that the best can mingle and ex- Walks o'er it, was she shaken by the dream, press

The mystical usurper of the mind — When two pure hearts are pour'd in one O'erpowering us to be whate'er may seem another,

Good to the soul which we no more can And love too much, and yet can not love

bind; less;

Strange state of being! (for 't is still to be) But almost sanctify the sweet excess

Senseless to feel, and with seald eyes to By the immortal wish and power to bless.



XXXI Mix'd in each other's arms, and heart in She dream'd of being alone on the sea-shore, heart,

Chain'd to a rock; she knew not how, but Why did they not then die ? — they had

stir lived too long

210 She could not from the spot, and the loud Should an hour come to bid them breathe

roar apart;

Grew, and each wave rose roughly, threatYears could but bring them cruel things

ening her; or wrong;

And o'er her upper lip they seem'd to pour, The world was not for them, nor the world's Until she sobb'd for breath, and soon art

they were For beings passionate as Sappho's song; Foaming o'er her lone head, so fierce and Love was born with them, in them, so in

high — tense,

Each broke to drown her, yet she could not It was their very spirit — not a sense.


XXXII They shonld have lived together deep in Anon — she was released, and then she woods,

stray'd Unseen as sings the nightingale; they | O'er the sharp shingles with her bleeding



And love hero much




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And stumbled almost every step she made;

XXXVI And something rollid before her in a Then shrieking, she arose, and shrieking fell sheet,

With joy and sorrow, hope and fear, to Which she must still pursue howe'er afraid: 'Twas white and indistinct, nor stopp'd Him whom she deem'd a habitant where to meet

dwell Her glance nor grasp, for still she gazed, The ocean-buried, risen from death, to be and grasp'd,

Perchance the death of one she loved too And ran, but it escaped her as she clasp’d.


Dear as her father had been to Haidée, XXXIII

It was a moment of that awful kind — The dream changed: - in a cave she stood, I have seen such — but must not call to its walls

mind. Were hung with marble icicles, the work Of ages on its water-fretted halls,

XXXVII Where waves might wash, and seals | Up Juan sprung to Haidée's bitter shriek, might breed and lurk;

260 And caught her falling, and from off the Her hair was dripping, and the very balls

wall Of her black eyes seem'd turn'd to tears, Snatch'd down his sabre, in hot baste to and mirk

wreak The sharp rocks look'd below each drop | Vengeauce on him who was the cause of they caught,

all: Which fröze to marble as it fell, - she Then Lambro, who till now forbore to thought.


Smiled scornfully, and said, “Within my XXXIV

call, And wet, and cold, and lifeless at her feet, | A thousand scimitars await the word; Pale as the foam that froth'd on his dead | Put up, young man, put up your silly sword.'

brow, Which she essay'd in vain to clear (how


| And Haidée clung around him ; Juan, Were once her cares, how idle seem'd they now!),

'Tis Lambro — 't is my father! Kneel Lay Juan, nor could aught renew the beat with me Of his quench'd heart; and the sea dirges He will forgive us — yes — it must be low


yes. Rang in her sad ears like a mermaid's song, Oh ! dearest father, in this agony 300 And that brief dream appear'd a life too | Of pleasure and of pain — even while I kiss long.

Thy garment's hem with transport, can

it be XXXV

That doubt should mingle with my filial And gazing on the dead, she thought his face

Deal with me as thou wilt, but spare this Faded, or alter'd into something new —

boy.' Like to her father's features, till each trace More like and like to Lambro's aspect

XXXIX grew —

High and inscrutable the “ld man stood, With all his keen worn look and Grecian Calm in his voice, and calm within his grace;

eye — And starting, she awoke, and what to Not always signs with him of calmest mood: view ?

He look'd upon her, but gave no reply; Oh! Powers of Heaven! what dark eye Then turu'd to Juan, in whose cheek the meets she there?

blood 'Tis — 't is her father's — fix'd upon the Oft came and went, as there resolved to pair !






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