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AIR Isabel, poor simple Isabel !
Lorenzo, a young palmer in Love's eye! They could not in the self-same mansion dwell
Without some stir of heart, some malady; They could not sit at meals but feel how well
It soothed each to be the other by; They could not, sure, beneath the same roof sleep, But to each other dream, and nightly weep.
With every morn their love grew tenderer,
With every eve deeper and tenderer still; He might not in house, field, or garden stir,
But her full shape would all his seeing fill; And his continual voice was pleasanter
To her, than noise of trees or hidden rill; Her lute-string gave an echo of his name, She spoilt her half-done broidery with the same. Vol. III.
He knew whose gentle hand was at the latch,
Before the door had given her to his eyes; And from her chamber-window he would catch
Her beauty farther than the falcon spies; And constant as her vespers would he watch,
Because her face was turn'd to the same skies; And with sick longing all the night outwear, To hear her morning-step upon the stair.
A whole long month of May in this sad plight
Made their cheeks paler by the break of June: “ To-morrow will I bow to my delight,
To-morrow will I ask my lady's boon."“O may I never see another night,
Lorenzo, if thy lips breathe not love's tune."So spake they to their pillows; but, alas, Honeyless days and days did he let pass;
v. Until sweet Isabella's untouch'd cheek
Fell sick within the rose's just domain, Fell thin as a young mother's, who doth seek
By every lull to cool her infant's pain : “How ill she is !" said he, “I may not speak,
And yet I will, and tell my love all plain : If looks speak love-laws, I will drink her tears, And at the least 'twill startle off her cares."
His heart beat awfully against his side;
And to his heart he inwardly did pray
For power to speak; but still the ruddy tide Stifled his voice, and pulsed resolve away
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 !
A dreary night of love and misery,
To every symbol on his forehead high;
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.
Parting they seem'd to tread upon the air,
Twin roses by the zephyr blown apart Only to meet again more close, and share
The inward fragrance of each other's heart. She, to her chamber gone, a ditty fair
Sang, of delicious love and honey'd dart; He with light steps went up a western hill, And bade the sun farewell, and joy'd his fill.
All close they met again, before the dusk
Had taken from the stars its pleasant veil, All close they met, all eves, before the dusk
Had taken from the stars its pleasant veil,
Unknown of any, free from whispering tale.
Too many tears for lovers have been shed,
doleful stories do we see,
The little sweet doth kill much bitterness;
And Isabella's was a great distress,
Was not embalm'd, this truth is not the less Even bees, the little almsmen of spring-bowers, Know there is richest juice in poison-flowers,
Enriched from ancestral merchandise,
In torched mines and noisy factories,
In blood from stinging whip; with hollow eyes
And went all naked to the hungry shark;
The seal on the cold ice with piteous bark Lay full of darts; for them alone did seethe
A thousand men in troubles wide and dark: Half-ignorant, they turn'd an easy wheel, That set sharp racks at work, to pinch and peel.
XVI. Why were they proud ? Because their marble founts
Gush'd with more pride than do a wretch's tears?