There stole a footstep, fleet, and light, and lone, Of one that panted with some secret dread :— We hear them yet, they live along its flow- Her voice is music lost! The fountain-side She gain'd-the wave flash'd forth--'twas darkly dyed Ev'n as from warrior-hearts; and on its edge, Amidst the fern, and flowers, and moss-tufts deep, There lay, as lull'd by stream and rustling sedge, A youth, a graceful youth. "Oh! dost thou sleep? Azzo!" she cried, "my Azzo! is this rest?" But then her low tones falter'd :-" On thy breast Is the stain,--yes, 'tis blood !—and that cold cheek--That moveless lip!-thou dost not slumber ?-speak, Speak, Azzo, my belov'd!-no sound-no breathWhat hath come thus between our spirits ?-Death! Death ?--I but dream-I dream!"--and there she stood, A faint, frail trembler, gazing first on blood, Into white waves dissolving, clear and cold; When from the grass her dimm'd eye caught a gleam 'Twas where a sword lay shiver'd by the stream,- came Strength upon woman's fragile heart and frame, There There came swift courage! On the dewy ground The morn came singing Thro' the green forests of the Appenines, With all her joyous birds their free flight winging, And steps and voices out among the vines. What found that day-spring here? Two fair forms laid Like sculptured sleepers; from the myrtle shade Casting a gleam of beauty o'er the wave, Still, mournful, sweet. Were such things for the grave? Could it be so indeed? That radiant girl, Deck'd as for bridal hours !--long braids of pearl Amidst her shadowy locks were faintly shining, As tears might shine, with melancholy light; And, on the youth's hush'd bosom, sunk to rest. |