Golfre, Part Fourth

The Maid refus’d the BARON’s suit, For, well she lov’d another; The angry GOLFRE’s vengeful rage Nor pride nor reason could assuage, Nor pity prompt to smother.

His Sword was gone; the Goatherd Swain Seem’d guilty, past recalling: The BARON now his life demands Where the tall Gibbet skirts the lands With black’ning bones appalling!

Low at the BARON’s feet, in tears Fair ZORIETTO kneeling, The Goatherd’s life requir’d;—but found That Pride can give the deepest wound Without the pang of feeling.

That Pow’r can mock the suff’rer’s woes And triumph o’er the sighing; Can scorn the noblest mind oppress’d, Can fill with thorns the feeling breast Soft pity’s tear denying.

“Take me,” she cried, “but spare his age— “Let me his ransom tender; “I will the fatal deed atone, “For crimes that never were my own, “My breaking heart surrender.”

The marriage day was fix’d, the Tow’rs With banners rich were mounted; His heart beat high against his side While GOLFRE, waiting for his bride, The weary minutes counted.

The snow fell fast, with mingling hail, The dawn was late, and louring; Poor ZORIETTO rose aghast! Unmindful of the Northern blast And prowling Wolves, devouring.

Swift to the wood of Pines she flew, Love made the assignation; For there, the sov’reign of her soul Watch’d the blue mists of morning roll Around her habitation.

The BARON, by a Spy appriz’d, Was there before his Bride; He seiz’d the Youth, and madly strew’d The white Cliff, with his steaming blood, Then hurl’d him down its side.

And now ’twas said, an hungry wolf Had made the Youth his prey: His heart lay frozen on the snow, And here and there a purple glow Speckled the pathless way.

The marriage day at length arriv’d, The Priest bestow’d his blessing: A clasp of orient pearl fast bound A zone of amber circling round, Her slender waist compressing.

On ZORIETTO’s snowy breast A ruby cross was heaving; So the pale snow-drop faintly glows, When shelter’d by the damask rose, Their beauties interweaving!

And now the holy vow began Upon her lips to falter! And now all deathly wan she grew And now three lamps, of livid hue Pass’d slowly round the Altar.

And now she saw the clasp of pearl A ruby lustre taking: And thrice she heard the Castle bell Ring out a loud funereal knell The antique turrets shaking.

O! then how pale the BARON grew, His eyes wide staring fearful! While o’er the Virgin’s image fair A sable veil was borne on air Shading her dim eyes, tearful.

And, on her breast a clasp of pearl Was stain’d with blood, fast flowing: And round her lovely waist she wore An amber zone; a cross she bore Of rubies—richly glowing.

The Bride, her dove-like eyes to Heav’n Rais’d, calling Christ to save her! The cross now danc’d upon her breast; The shudd’ring Priest his fears confest, And benedictions gave her.

Upon the pavement sunk the Bride Cold as a corpse, and fainting! The pearly clasp, self-bursting, show’d Her beating side, where crimson glow’d Three spots, of nature’s painting.

Three crimson spots, of deepest hue! The BARON gaz’d with wonder: For on his buried Lady’s side Just three such drops had nature dyed, An equal space asunder.

And now remembrance brought to view, For Heav’n the truth discloses, The Baby, who had early died, Bore, tinted on its little side, Three spots—as red as roses!

Now, ere the wedding-day had past, Stern GOLFRE, and his Bride Walk’d forth to taste the ev’ning breeze Soft sighing, mid the sombre trees, That drest the mountain’s side.

And now, beneath the grove of Pine, Two lovely Forms were gliding; A Lady, with a beauteous face! A Youth with stern, but manly, grace Smil’d,—as in scorn deriding.

Close, by the wond’ring Bride they pass’d, The red Sun sinking slowly: And to the little cross they hied— And there she saw them, side by side, Kneeling, with fervour holy.

The little cross was golden ting’d The western radiance stealing; And now it bore a purple hue, And now all black and dim it grew, And still she saw them, kneeling.

White were their robes as fleecy snow Their faces pale, yet chearful. Their golden hair, like waves of light Shone lust’rous mid the glooms of night; Their starry eyes were tearful.

And now they look’d to Heav’n, and smil’d, Three paly lamps descended! And now their shoulders seem’d to bear Expanding pinions broad and fair, And now they wav’d in viewless air! And so, the Vision ended.