VII. So once more he had waked and anguished If Isabel's quick eye had not been wed To every symbol on his forehead high; She saw it waxing very pale and dead, 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: X. Parting they seem'd to tread upon the air, 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. XI. All close they met again, before the dusk Had taken from the stars its pleasant veil, Unknown of any, free from whispering tale. 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 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; For them his ears gush'd blood; for them in death 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. Why were they proud? XVI. 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 Were richer than the songs of Grecian years? Why were they proud? again we ask aloud, XVII. Yet were these Florentines as self-retired The hawks of ship-mast forests-the untired 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 should ask forgiving boon, And of thy spicy myrtles as they blow, 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 Shall move on soberly, as it is meet; 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 honour thee, and thy gone spirit greet; To stead thee as a verse in English tongue, XXI. These brethren having found by many signs XXII. And many a jealous conference had they, To make the youngster for his crime atone; Cut Mercy with a sharp knife to the bone; XXIII. So on a pleasant morning, as he leant Into the sun-rise, o'er the balustrade Their footing through the dews; and to him said, "You seem there in the quiet of content, Lorenzo, and we are most loth to invade Calm speculation; but if you are wise, XXIV. "To-day we purpose, ay, this hour we mount |