UNIVERSITY Qi CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES LIBRARY AN ITAi.lAA fAU: THREE DRAMATIC SCENES AND OTHER POEMS BARRY CORNWALL LONDON JOHN WARREN OLD BOND STREET AND C & J OLLIER VERB STREET BOND STREET 1820 297 W, SHACKELL, Printer, Johnson's Court, Fleet Street, London. ZOd^ i.\ ADVERTISEMENT. The story of ' Marcian Colonna' is fictitious; but the catastrophe was suggested by a paper which appeared in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, entitled, ' An Extract from Goss- chen's Diary.' My original intention was 4o paint the fluctuations of a fatalist's mind, touched with insanity alternately raised by kindness and depressed by neglect or severity ameliorated b^ the contemplation of external nature, and generally influenced by the same causes which operate on more healthful tem- peraments. This intention has been in some measure departed from, and the story gradually took the form in which it now stands. The VI ADVERTISEMENT. incidents were invented : yet, it may be as well to state that when the tale was near its completion, I read in Forsyth's Travels, the account of a Princess Pignatelli, whose mis- fortunes closely resemble those of the heroine of Marcian Colonna. CONTENTS. PAGE. MARCIAN COLONNA - - 1 DRAMATIC SCENES. Julian the Apostate ... 93 Amelia Wentvvorth - - - 119 The Rape of Proserpine - - - 1 io MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Hereafter - - - - 161 The Comet - - - - 167 A Voice - - - - 169 Melancholy - - - 171 Midsummer Madness - - - 173 Song - - - - 176 Night - - - - 178 Julia - - - - 181 The Last Song - - - 183 Stanzas - - - - 185 On a Rose . . - - 187 Sonnet - - - - 189 Sonnet - - - - 190 MARCIAN COLONNA. PART THE FIRST. MARCIAN COLONNA. PART THE FIRST. Long years of outrage, calumny, and wrong ; Imputed madness, prison'd solitude, And the mind's canker, in its savage mood." LAMENT OF TASSO. For ever and for ever shalt thou be Unto the lover and the poet dear, Thou land of sunlit skies and fountains clear, Of temples, and gray columns, and waving woods, And mountains, from whose rifts the bursting floods Rush in bright tumult to the Adrian sea : O thou romantic land of Italy ! Mother of painting and sweet sounds! tho' now The laurels are all torn from off thy brow Yet, tho' the shape of Freedom now no more May walk in beauty on thy piny shore, b2 4 MARCIAN COLONNA. Shall I, upon whose soul thy poets' lays And all thy songs and hundred stories fell, Like dim Arabian charms, break the soft spell That bound me to thee in mine earlier days ? Never, divinest Italy! thou shalt be For aye the watchword of the heart to me. II. Famous thou art, and shalt be through all time : Not that because thine iron children hurled, Like arrows o'er the conquest-stricken world. Their tyrannies, but that, in a later day, Great spirits, and gentle too, triumphing came, And, as the mighty day-star makes its way From darkness into light, they toward their fame Went, gathering splendor till they grew sublime. Yet first of all thy sons were they who wove Thy silken language into tales of love, And fairest far the gentle forms that shine In thy own poets' faery songs divine. MARCIAN OLONNA. Oh! long as lips shall smile or pitying tears Rain from the eyes of beauty, long as fears Or doubts or hopes shall sear or soothe the heart, Or flatteries softly fall on woman's ears, Or witching words be spoke at twilight hours. Or tender songs be sung in orange bovvers : Long as the stars, like ladies' looks, by night Shall shine, more constant and almost as bright: So long, tho' hidden in a foreign shroud. Shall Dante's mighty spirit speak aloud ; So long the lamp of fame on Petrarch's urn Shall, like the light of learning, duly burn ; And he be loved he with his hundred tales, As varying as the shadowy cloud that sails Upon the bosom of the April sky. And musical as when the waters run Lapsing thro' sylvan haunts deliciously. Nor may that gay romancer who hath told Of knight, and damsel, and enchantments old, So well, be e'er forgot ; nor he who sung Of Salem's holy city, lost and won, The seer-like Tasso, who enamoured hung 6 MARCIAN COLONNA. On Leonora's beauty, and became Hei* martyr, blasted by a mingled flame. The masters of the world have vanished, and Thy gods have left or lost their old command ; The painter and the poet now have fled, And slaves usurp the seat of Caesar dead : Prison and painted palace hast thou still, But filled with creatures whom mere terrors kill ; Afraid of life and death they live and die Eternally, and slay their own weak powers. And' hate the past, and dread the future time. And while they steal from pleasure droop to crime. Plucking the leaves from all the rosy hours. Alas, alas, beautiful Italy ! Yet he who late hath risen like a star Amongst us (now by the Venice waves afar He loiters with his song,) hath writ of thee. And shared his laurell'd immortality With thy decaying fortunes. Murmur not. For me, with my best skill will I rehearse My story, for it speaks of thine and thee : MARCIAN COLONNA, It is a sad and legendary verse, And thus it runs : III. There is a lofty spot Visible amongst the mountains Appennine, Where once a hermit dwelt, not yet forgot He or his famous miracles divine ; And there the Convent of Laverna stands In solitude, built up by saintly hands, And deemed a wonder in the elder time ; Chasms of the early world are yawning there, And rocks are seen, craggy, and vast, and bare, And many a dizzy precipice sublime, And caverns dark as Death, where the wild air Rushes from all the quarters of the sky : Above, in all his old regality, The monarch eagle sits upon his throne, Or floats upon the desert winds, alone. There, belted 'round and 'round by forests drear, Black pine, and giant beech, and oaks that rear 8 MARCIAN COLONNA. Their brown diminished heads like shrubs between, And guarded by a river that is seen Flashing and wandering thro' the dell below, Laverna stands. It is a place of woe, And, 'midst its cold dim aisles and cells of gloom. The pale Franciscan meditates his doom. An exile from his kind, save some sad few (Like him imprison'd and devoted,) who. Deserting their high natures for the creed A bigot fashioned in his weaker dreams, Left love and life, (yet love is life, indeed,) And all the wonders of the world, its gleams Of joy, of sunshine, fair as those which spring From the great poet's high imagining, Sounds, and gay sights, and woman's words which bless And carry on their echoes happiness, Left all that man inherits, and fell down To worship in the dust, a demon's crown: For there a phantom of a fearful size, Shaped out of shadow and cloud, and nursed in pain, And born of doubt and sorrow, and of the brain MAR'CIAN COLONNA. The ever evil spirit, mocks man's eyes ; And they who worship it are cold and wan, Timid and proud, envying while they despise The wealth and wishes of their fellow man. IV. Amongst the squalid crowd that lingered there, Mocking with empty forms and hopeless prayer Their bounteous God, was one of princely race The young Colonna, in his form and face Honoring the mighty stem from which he sprung. Born amidst Roman ruins, he had hung O'er every tale of sad antiquity. And on its fallen honors, once so high, Had mused like one who hoped. His soul had gone Into the depth of ages, and had brought From thence strange things and tidings, such as none Or few e'er dream of now ; and then he thought That somewhat of the spirit old might be Still living in the land perhaps might haunt The temples still ; and often silently [Q MARCIAN COLONNA. He wandered thro' the night, and loved to hear The winds come wailing by the tombs, and see The thistle stagger and the ivy sere Shake in the blast she who triumphantly Hangs her black tresses, like a rustling pall, O'er grave and arch alike, and preys on all. He was the youngest of his house, and from His very boyhood a severer gloom Than such as marks the child, gathered and grew Around him, like an overshadowing veil ; And yet at times (often) when some sad tale Was told, from out that seeming darkness flew Flashes of mind and passion, and his eye Burned with the lightning of his brain, and then He spoke more proudly ; yet, by many men, (Who some ancestral taint had not forgot,) Marcian was shunned from very infancy, And marked and chartered for the madman's lot. MARCIAN COLONNA. | j V. At home he met neglect, and fear abroad. And so life grew, early, a heavy load. Studious he was, and on the poet's page Had pored beyond the feeling of his age, And war, and high exploit, and knightly worth. And fiery love, and dark and starry themes Fed, with distemper'd food, the aching dreams That haunted all his hours, and gave birth To thirst of enterprize and wishes vain Which died as they arose, in pride and pain. For he was doomed by a father's will to wear The sullen cowl, and was forbid to share The splendour of an elder brother's fate ; And therefore came distrust and bitter hate. And envy, like the serpent's twining coil, Ran 'round his heart and fixed its station there. And thro' his veins did lurking fevers boil Until they burst in madness ; then his mind Became, at last, as is that languid wind 12 MARCIAN COLONNA. That floats across the calm blue sea, aud falls And rises o'er the Coliseum's walls, And he like that great ruin. In this hour Of misery, when the soul had lost its power, . When memory slept, and that blank idiot air, More hideous than death to which despair Is nothing, nor remorse came smiling o'er His features, they (his cautious parents) bore The youth unto Laverna. By the shore Of the blue dashing Mediterranean seas They travell'd, and at times when the swift breeze Came playing 'round his brows, a sadness crept Silently o'er his eye, and then he sighed Like one who thought, and when the soft wind died He listened to its gentle fall, and w^ept. They noted not the change, but bore him on Unto his convent prison, and their gold Stamped with the weight of truth the tale they told ; And there they left him to his fate, alone. MARCIAN COLONNA. 13 VI. They left him to his prison, and then returned ; And festal sounds were heard, and songs were sung, And all around the walls were garlands hung As usual, and gay censers brightly burned In the Colonna palace. He was missed By none, and when his mother fondly kissed Her eldest born, and bade him on that day Devote him to the dove-eyed Julia, The proud Vitelli's child, Rome's paragon, She thought no longer of her cloistered son. On that same night of mirth Vitelli came With his fair child, sole heiress of his name, She came amidst the lovely and the proud. Peerless ; and when she moved, the gallant crowd Divided, as the obsequious vapours light Divide to let the queen-moon pass by night: Then looks of love were seen, and many a sigh Was wasted on the air, and some aloud Talked of the pangs they felt and swore to die : 14 M.ARCIAN COLONNA. She, like the solitary rose that springs In the first warmth of summer days, and flings A perfume the more sweet because alone Just bursting into beauty, with a zone Half girl's half woman's, smiled and then forgot Those gentle things to which she answered not. But when Colonna's heir bespoke her hand. And led her to the dance, she question'd why His brother joined not in that revelry : Careless he turned aside and did command Loudly the many instruments to sound, And well did that young couple tread the ground Each step was lost in each accordant note, Which thro' the palace seemed that night to float As merrily, as tho' the Satyr-god With his inspiring reed, (the mighty Pan,) Had left his old Arcadian woods, and trod Piping upon the shores Italian. Again vshe asked in vain : yet, as he turned (The brother) from her, a fierce colour burned Upon his cheek, and fading left it pale As death, and half proclaimed the guilty tale. MARCTAN COLONNA. j5 She dwelt upon that night till pity grew Into a wilder passion : the sweet dew That linger'd in her eye * for pity's sake,' Was (like an exhalation in the sun) Dried and absorbed by love. Oh ! love can take What shape he pleases, and when once begun His fiery inroad in the soul, how vain The after-knowledge which his presence gives ! We weep or rave, but still he lives and lives, Master and lord, 'midst pride and tears and pain. VII. Now may we seek Colonna. When he found Himself a prisoner in his cell, and bound. And saw the eye-less skull and glass of sand And ghastly crucifix before him, he 'Rose with a sudden shriek and burst the band That tied him to his pallet, and stood free : Not thus alone he stood, for the wild shock Darted upon his brain and did unlock The gates of memory, and from his soul 16 MARCIAN COLONNA. Gradual he felt the clouds of madness roll^ And with his mind's redemption every base And darker passion fled shrunk 'fore its light, As at the glance of morning shrinks the night. Not suddenly,- but slow, from day to day,, The shadow from his spirit passed away, And sometimes would return, at intervals, As blight upon the opening blossom falls. And then he pondered in his prison place, On many an awful theme ne'er conn'd before, Of darkness and decay, and of that shore Upon whose shadowy strand pale spirits walk, 'Tis said, fot many ages, and would talk Right eloquent with every monk who there Boasted of penitence, and felt despair. In whose dull eye Hope shone not, and whose breath Was one unvaried tale of Death and Death. VIII. But in his gentler moments he would gaze. With something of the love of earlier days, MARCIAN COLONNA. J7 On the far prospects, and on summer morns Would wander to a high and distant peak, Against whose rocky bosom the clouds break In showers upon the forests. It adorns The landscape, and from out a pine-wood high, Springs like a craggy giant to the sky. Here, on this summit of the hills, he loved To lie and look upon the world below ; And almost did he wish at times to know How in that busy world man could be moved To live for ever what delights were there To equal the fresh sward and odorous air, The valleys and green slopes, and the sweet call Of bird to bird, what time the shadows fall Toward the west : yet something there must be He felt, and that he now desired to see. As once he pondered there, on the far world. And on himself, like a lone creature hurled From all its pleasures its temptations, all, Over his heart there fell, like a dark pall. The memory of the past: he thought and thought, 18 MARCIAN COLONNA. 'Till in his brain a busier spirit wrought, And Nature then unlocked with her sweet smile The icy barrier of his heart, and he Returned unto his first humanity. He felt a void, and much he grieved the while, Within his heart, as tho' he wished to share A joy he knew not with another mind ; Wild were his thoughts, but every wish refined, And pure as waters of the mountain spring : Was it the birth of Love? did he unbind (Like the far scent of wild flowers blossoming) His perfumed pinions in that rocky lair, To save a heart so young from perishing there?- TX. Some memory had he of Vitelli's child, But gathered where he now remembered not ; Perhaps, like a faint dream or vision wild, (Which, once beheld, may never be forgot,) She floated in his fancy ; and when pain And fevers hot came thronging round his brain, MARCIAN COLONNA. J 9 Her shape and voice fell like a balm upon His sad and dark imagination. A gentle minister she was, when he Saw forms, 'twas said, which often silently Passed by his midnight couch, and felt at times Strange horror for imaginary crimes, (Committed, or to be,) and in his walk Of Fate and Death, and phantom things would talk. Shrieks scared him from his sleep, and figures came On his alarmed sight, and thro' the glades, When evening filled the woods with trembling shades. Followed his footsteps ; and a star-like flame Floated before his eyes palely by day. And glared by night and would not pass away. At last his brother died. Giovanni fell A victim in a cause he loved too well ; And the Colonna prince, without his heir. Bethought him of the distant convent, where A child had been imprison'd, that he might gain Riches for one he better lov'd : How vain, c2 20 MARCIAN COLONNA. And idle now ! Dead was the favoured son, And sad the father, but the crime was done. X. Then Marcian sought his home. A ghastly gloom Hung o'er the pillars and the wrecks of Rome, And scarcely, as the clouds were swiftly driven In masses shrouding the blue face of heaven, Was seen, by tremulous glimpses, the pale moon. Who looked abroad in fear and vanished soon. The winds were loud amongst the ruins, where The wild weeds shook abroad their ragged hair, And sounds were heard, like sobs from some lone man, And murmuring 'tween his banks the Tyber ran. In the Colonna palace there were tears Flowing from aged eyes that seldom wept; Their son was gone the hope of many years Cold in his marble home for ever slept. The father met his child: with tremulous grasp He pressed his hand, and he returned the clasp, MARCIAN COLONNA. 21 And spoke assuring words ' that he was come ' To soothe his grief and cheer his desolate home,' And then he bade him quite forget the past. Thus hand in hand they sate awhile ; at last A deep deep sob came bursting from the gloom That hid the far part of the palace room, And, after, all was silent as the grave. Colonna 'rose, and by the lamp that gave A feeble light, saw, like a shape of stone. His mother couching in the dusk, alone: Her hand was clenched, and her eye wandered wild Like one who lost and sought, (in vain,) a child; And now and then a smile, but not a tear. Told that she fancied still her darling near ; And then she shook her head and crossed her arms Over her breast, and turned her from the light, And seemed as tho' she muttered inward charms, To scare some doubtful phantom from her sight. He spoke to her in vain: her heart was filled With grief, and every passion else was stilled, Was buried, lost. Just as the mighty rains W^hich, gathering, flood the valleys in the days 22 MARCIAN COLONNA. Of Autumn, or as rivers when snow decays Sweep all things in their course, 'till nought remains Distinguishable, earth, and roots, and grass, And stones, and casual things, a mingled mass. Driven onwards by the waters, and o'erborne 'Till but the stream is seen : So they who mourn Deeply, and they, 'tis said, who love the best In one wild mastering passion lose the rest. XI. At last, the woes that wrapped the mother 'round Broke and dissolved, and a serener day Shone on her life ; but never more the sound Of noisy mirth or festal music gay Was heard within Colonna's walls, and yet A calm and pleasant circle often met. And the despised, neglected Marcian now Wore the descended honours on his brow. Unlike he was in boyhood, yet so grave They doubted sometimes if he quite forgave The past ; and then there played a moody smiii MARCIAN COLONNA. gg About his mouth, and he at times would speak Of one with heavenly bloom upon her cheek, Whose vision did his convent hours beguile; A phantom shape, and which in sleep still came And fanned the colour of his cheek to flame. Sometimes has he been known to gaze afar Watching the coming of the evening star. And as it progress'd toward the middle sky. Like the still twilight's lonely deity. Would fancy that a spirit resided there, A gentle spirit and young, with golden hair. And eyes as blue as the blue dome above, And a voice as tender as the sound of love. xu. Some months thus passed among the wrecks of Rome, And seldom thought he of the fearful doom On which he used to ponder : still he felt That he alone amidst the many dwelt, Lonely ; but why he cared not, or forgot 24 MARCIAN COLONXI, The jibings cast upon his early lot, One morning as he lay half listlessly Within the shadow of a column, where His forehead met such gusts of cooling air As the bright summer knows in Italy, A gorgeous cavalcade went thundering by, Dusty and worn with travel: As it passed Some said the great Count had returned, at last, From his long absence upon foreign lands : *Twas told that many countries he had seen, (He and his lady daughter,) and had been A long time journeying on the Syrian sands. And visited holy spots, and places where The Christian roused the Pagan from his lair. And taught him charity and creeds divine, By spilling his bright blood in Palestine. XIII. Vitelli and his child returned at last. After some years of wandering, Julia Had been betrothed and widow'd : she had passed MARCIAN COLONNA. 25 From bondage into liberty, and they Who knew the bitter husband she had wed, Rejoiced to learn that he indeed was dead. She had been sacrificed in youth, to one She never loved; but he she loved was gone, And so it raatter'd not: 'tis true some tears Stained her pale cheek at times in after years, And much unkindness from the man on whom She had bestowed her beauty, drew a gloom Around her face, and curtained up in shade The eyes that once like sunny spirits played. But he was dead : Sailing along the sea, His pleasure barque was gliding pleasantly. When sudden winds arose, and mighty waves Were put in motion, and deep yawning graves Opened on every side with hideous roar : He screamed and struggled, and was seen no more. This was the tale. Orsini's titles fell Upon a student youth, scarce known before. Who took the princely name and wore it well. 26 MARCI.VN COLONNA. XIV And Julia saw the youth she loved again: But he was now the great Colonna's heir, And she whom he had left so young and fair, A few short years ago, was grown, with pain Of thoughts unutter'd (a heart-eating care,) Pale as a statue. When he met her first He gazed and gasped as tho' his heart would burst. Her figure came before him like a dream Revealed at morning, and a sunny gleam Broke in upon his soul and lit his eye With something of a tender prophecy. And was she then the shape he oft had seen. By day and night, she who had such strange power Over the terrors of his wildest hour ? And was it not a phantom that had been Wandering about him ? Oh with what deep fear He listened now, to mark if he could hear The voice that lulled him, but she never spoke ; For in her heart her own young love awoke From its long slumber, and chained down her tongue, MARCIAN COLONNA. 21 And she sate mute before him : he, the while, Stood feasting on her melancholy smile, Till o'er his eyes a dizzy vapour hung And he rushed forth into the freshning air, Which kissed and played about his temples bare, And he grew calm. Not unobserved he fled, For she who mourned him once as lost and dead. Saw with a glance, as none but women see, His secret passion, and home silently She went rejoicing, 'till Vitelli asked ' Wherefore her spirit fell,' and then she tasked Her fancy for excuse wherewith to hide Her thoughts and turn his curious gaze aside. XV. That fateful day passed by ; and then there came Another and another, and the flame Of love burned brightly in Colonua's breast, But while it filled it robbed his soul of rest : At home, abroad, at morning, and at noon 2g MARCIAN COLONNA. In the hot sultry hours, and when the moon Shone in the cool fresh sky, and shaped those dim And shadowy figures once so dear to him, Wheree'er he wandered, she would come upon His mind, a phantom like companion ; Yet, with that idle dread with which the heart Stifles its pleasures, he would ever depart And loiter long amongst the streets of Rome, When she, he feared, might visit at his home. A strange and sad perverseness ; he did fear To part with that pale hope which sholie at last Glimmering upon his fortunes. Many a year Burthen'd with evil o'er his head had passed. And stamped upon his brow the marks of care, And so he seemed as old before his time : And many would pretend that in his air There was a gloom that had its birth in crime. 'Tis thus the wretched are trod down. Despair Doth strike as deep a furrow in the brain, As mischief or remorse ; and doubt will pain And sear the heart like sin accomplished. MARCIAN COLONNA. 29 But slander ever hath hung upon the head Of silent sorrow, and corroding shame Preys on its heart, and its defenceless name Is blotted by the bad, until it flies From the base world a willing sacrifice. END OF THE FIRST PART. MARCIAN COLONNA. PART THE SECOND. MARCIAN COLONNA PART THE SECOND. " Love surely hath been breathing here." SYBILLINE LEAVES. We will leave them to themselves, To the moon and the stars, these happy elves. To the murmuring wave aud the zephyr's wing, That dreams of gentlest joyance bring. To bathe their slumbering eyes."' ISLE OF PALMS. I. Oh power of Love so fearful and so fair Life of our life on earth, yet kin to care Oh ! thou day-dreaming Spirit, who dost look Upon the future, as the charmed book Of Fate were open'd to thine eyes alone Thou who dost cull, from moments stolen and gone Jnto eternity, memorial things To deck the days to come thy revellings Were glorious and beyond all others : Thou Didst banquet upon beauty once ; and now The ambrosial feast is ended! Let it be. D 34 iMARCIAN COLOWA. Enough to say ' It was.' Oh ! upon me From thy o'ershadowing wings etherial Shake odorous airs, so may my senses all Be spell-bound to thy service, beautiful power. And on the breath of every coming hour Send me faint tidings of the things that were, And aid me as I try gently to tell The story of that young Italian pair. Who loved so lucklessly, yet ah I so well. II. How long Colonna in his gloomier mood Remained, it matters not : I will not brood On evil themes ; but, leaving grief and crime, At once I pass unto a blyther time. One night one summer night he wandered far Into the Roman suburbs ; Many a star Shone out above upon the silent hours, Save when, awakening the sweet infant flowers, The breezes travell'd from the west, and then A small cloud came abroad and fled again. MARCIAN COLONNA. 35 The red rose was in blossom, and the fair And bending lily to the wanton air Bared her w^hite breast, and the voluptuous lime Cast out his perfumes, and the wilding thyme Mingled his mountain sweets, transplanted low 'Midst all the flowers that in those regions blow. He wandered on : At last, his spirit subdued By the deep influence of that hour, partook E'en of its nature, and he felt imbued With a more gentle love, and he did look At times amongst the stars, as on a book Where he might read his destiny. How bright Heaven's many constellations shone that night ! And from the distant river a gentle tune. Such as is uttered in the months of June, By brooks, whose scanty streams have languished long For rain, was. heard ; a tender, lapsing song, Sent up in homage to the quiet moon. d2 36 MARCIAN COLONNA. HI. He mused, 'till from a garden, near w hose wall He leant, a melancholy voice was heard inj^ing alone, like some poor widow bird That casts unto the woods her desert call. It was the voice the very voice that rung Long in his brain that now so sweetly sung. He passed the garden bounds and lightly trod, Checking his breath, along the grassy sod, (By buds and blooms half-hidden, which the breeze Had ravished from the clustering orange trees,) Until he reached a low pavillion, where He saw a lady pale, with radiant hair Over her forehead and in garments white ; A harp was by her, and her fingers light Carelessly o'er the golden strings were ilung ; Then, shaking back her locks, with upward eye, And lips that dumbly moved, she seemed to try 'To catch an old disused melody A sad Italian air it was, which I MARCIAN COLONNA. 37 Remember in my boyhood to have heard, And still (tho' here and there perhaps a word Be now forgot,) I recollect the song, Which might to any lovelorn tale belong. SONG. Whither ah! whither is my lost love straying Upon what pleasant land beyond the sea ? Oh ! ye winds now playing Like airy spirits 'round my temples free, Fly and tell him this from me : Tell him, sweet winds, that in my woman's bosom My young love still retains its perfect power, Or, like the summer blossom, That changes still from bud to the full-blown flower, Grows with every passing hour. 38 MARCIAN COLONNA. Say (and say gently) that since we two parted. How little joy much sorrow I have known : Only not broken-hearted Because I muse upon bright moments gone, And dream and think of him alone. IV. The lady ended, and Colonna knelt Before her with outstretched arms : He felt That she, whom in the mountains far away His heart had loved so much, at last was his. " Is there, oh ! is there in a world like this" (He spoke) " such joy for me ? Oh ! Julia, Art thou indeed no phantom which my brain Has conjured out of grief and desperate pain And shall I then from day to day behold Thee again, and still again ? Oh I speak to me, Julia and gently for I have grown old In sorrow ere my time : I kneel to thee." Thus with a passionate voice the lover broke Upon her solitude, and while he spoke MARCIAN COLONNA. 39 In such a tone as might a maiden move, Her fear gave place to pride, and pride to love. Quick are fond women's sights, and clear their powers. They live in moments years, an age in hours ; Thro' every movement of the heart they run In a brief period with a courser's speed, And mark, decide, reject ; but if indeed They smile on us oh ! as the eternal sun Forms and illuminates all to which this earth (Impregnate by his glance) hath given birth, Even so the smile of woman stamps our fates. And consecrates the love it first creates. At first she listened with averted eye, And then, half turning towards him, tenderly She marked the deep sad truth of every tone, Which told that he was hers, and all her own, And saw the hectic flush upon his cheek, (That silent language which the passions speak 40 MARCIAX COLONNA. So eloquently well,) and so she smiled Upon him. With a pulse rapid and wild. And eyes lit up with love, and all his woes Abandoned or forgot, he lightly rose, And placed himself beside her. " Julia! My own, my own, for you are mine," he said ; Then on her shoulder drooped his feverish head. And for a moment he seemed dying away : But he recovered quick. " Oh ! Marcian I fear" she softly sighed : " Again, again; Speak, my divinest love, again, and shower The music of your words which have such power. Such absolute power upon my fainting soul Oh ! I've been wandering toward that fearful goal, Where Life and Death, Trouble and Silence meet, (The Grave) with w*eak, perhaps with erring feet, A long, long time without thee but no more ; For can I think upon that shadowy shore, Whilst thou art here standing beside me, sweet I" She spoke " Dear Marcian I" " How soft she speaks, He uttered: " Nay " (and as the daylight breaks MARCIAN COLONNA. 41 Over the hills at morning was her smile,) " Nay you must listen silently, awhile." " Dear Marcian, you and I for many years Have suffered : I have bought relief with tears ; But, my poor friend, I fear a misery Beyond the reach of tears has weighed on thee. What 'tis I know not, but (now calmly mark My words) 'twas said that that thy mind was dark, And the red fountains of thy blood, (as Heaven Is stained with the dying lights of Even,) Were tainted that thy mind did wander far. At times, a dangerous and erratic star, Which like a pestilence sweeps the lower sky, Dreaded by every orb and planet nigh. This hath my father heard. Oh ! Marcian, He is a worldly and a cruel man. And made me once a victim ; but again It shall not be. I have had too much of pain, Too much for such short hours as life affords. And I would fain from out the golden hoards Of joy, pluck some fair ornament, at last, To gild my life with but my life hath past," 42 MARCIAN COLONNA. Her head sank on her bosom : gently he Kissed off the big bright tears of misery. Alas ! that ever such glittering drops should flow (Bright as tho' born of Happiness,) from woe! He soothed her for a time, and she grew calm, For lovers' language is the surest balm To hearts that sorrow much : that night they parted With kisses and with tears, but both light hearted. And many a vow was made, and promise spoke, And well believed by both and never broke : They parted, but from that time often met, In that same garden when the sun had set, And for awhile Colonna's mind forgot, In the fair present hour, his future lot. VI. To those o'er whom pale Destiny with his stiug Hangs, a mere glance, a word, a sound will bring The bitter future with its terrors, all Black and o'erwhelmiug. Like Colonna's star, Tho' hidden for awhile or bauish'd far, MARCIAN COLON NA. 43 The time will come, at prayer or festival, Slumber or morning sport or mid-day task ; The soul can never fly itself, nor mask The face of fate with smiles. How oft by some strange ill of body or mind Man's fine and piercing sense is stricken blind ; No matter then how slight the shadows be, The veil is thick to him who cannot see. Solid and unsubstantial, false and true, Are Fear and Fate ; but to that wretched few, Who call the dim phantasmas from their graves. And bow before their own creations, slaves, They are immortal holy fix'd supreme. No more of this. Now pass I to my theme. VII. The hours passed gently, even happily Awhile ; tho' sometimes o'er Colonna's brow There shone a meaning strange, as tho' his doom Flashed like a light across his memory, And left behind a momentary gloom ; 44 MARCIAN COLONNA. This would he smile away, and then forget, And then again, sighing, remember : yet. Over pale Julia's face that shadow cast A shadow like itself, and when it passed Its sad reflection vanished. Lovers' eyes Bright mirrors are where Love may look and see Its gladness, grief, beauty, deformity, Pictured in all their answering colours plain, So long as the true life and Soul remain ; For when the substance shrinks the shadow flies. Thus lived Colonna, 'till to common eyes He seemed redeemed and rescued from despair ; And often would he catch the joyous air Of the mere idler, and the past would seem, To him and others, like a terrible dream Dissolved : 'twas then a clearer spirit grew In his black eye, and over the deep blue Of Julia's a soft happier radiance hung. Like the dark beauty from the starlight flung Upon the world, which tells Heaven's breast is clear Within, and that abroad no cloud is near. MARCIAN COLONNA. 45 VIII. Once only once ('twas in a lonely hour) He felt the presence of his evil power Weighing upon him, and he left his home In silence, amidst fresher scenes to roam. 'Twas said that he did wander far and wide O'er desert heaths, and on the Latian plains Bared his hot forehead to the falling rains, Which there bring death ; and, with a heart allied To gentle pleasures still, on the green hill's side Would stretch his length upon the evening grass, Shedding sweet tears to see the great sun pass Away like a dream of boyhood. Darkness then Grew his familiar, and in caverns deep, (By the strange voice of silence lulled asleep,) He oft' would hide himself within its arms ; Or gaze upon the eyes of Heaven, when She stands illustrious with her midnight charms Revealed all unobscured by moon or sun, Gay-tincted cloud, or airy rainbow won From lisht and showers ; and when storms were high 4(; MARCIAN COLONNA. He listened to the Wind-God riding by The mountain places, and there took his stand, Hearkening his voice of triumph or command, Or heard him thro' the piny forests rave, Ere he went murmuring to his prison cave. IX. And then unto the rocks of Tivoli He went: Alas! for gone Antiquity Its holy and mysterious temple where The Sybil spread abroad her hoary hair. And spoke her divine oracles. Her home Is crumbling into dust, and sheeted foam Now sparkles where her whitened tresses hung ; And where her voice, like Heaven's, was freely flung Unto the echoes, now fierce torrents flow. Filling with noise and spray the dell below. Not useless are ye yet, ye rocks and woods Of Tivoli, altho' long since have vanished From your lost land its gorgeous palaces. And tho' the spirit of the place be banished MARCIAN COLONNA. 47 The earth for ever yet your silver floods Remain, (immortal music !) and the breeze Brings health and freshness to your waving trees. X. For weeks amongst the woods did Marcian rove And wilds : At last, unto his widowed love He came again, while yet the fever stained His cheek and darkness on his brow remained. She saw the hectic colour burning bright Clouded by looks of sorrow, and one night It was a night of sultry summer weather, ^ And they were sitting in the garden where. Guided by fate, and drawn like doves together, They once had met, and meeting mocked at care. And he first sank upon her bosom fair : Her white and delicate fingers now by his Were held and not withdrawn, and with a kiss He thanked her, yet with idle question tried To cheat away the grief she could not hide. He felt that he had planted in her heart 4S -AURCIAN COLONNA. The seeds of grief ; and could he then depart And leave the lady of his love in tears Weighed down (and for his sake) by silent fears ? He could not : Oh he felt the pleading look Of her who loved him so, nor could he brook .Still to be thought a frantic. " Thou shalt know, Dearest," he said, " my hidden story now ; Forgive me that before I told thee not : I thought I wished to think the thing forgot." He pondered then, as to regain a thought: At length, with a firm tongue, (but mingling still Much fancy with the fact, as madmen will,) He told his tale his dream : XI. " From my sad youth I never was beloved, never. Truth Fell mildew'd from my lips, and in my eye Gloomed, it was said, the red insanity. I was not mad nor am ; but I became Withered by malice, and a clouded flame MARCIAN COLONNA. 49 Rose from my heart and made my eyesight dim. And my brain turn, and palsied every limb, And the world stood in stupor for a time. Yet from my fiery cloud I heard of crime, Of parents' brother's hate, and of one lost For want of kindness. Then? aye ; then there came The rushing of innumerable wings By me, and sweets, such as the summer flings, Fell on my fainting senses, and I crept Into some night-dark place, and long I slept. I slept, until a rude uneasy motion Stirred me : what passed I know not then, and yet Methought the air blew freshly, and the ocean Danced with its bright blue waters : I forget Where all this happened ; but at last my brain Seemed struggling with itself, awhile in vain. There was a load on it, like hopeless care Upon the mind a dreary heavy load, And, now and then, it seemed as shapes did goad My soul to recollection, or despair." 50 MARCIAN COLONNA. XII. " Clearer and clearer now from day to day The iBgures floated on my sight, but when I moved they vanished. Then, a grim array, Like spectres from the graves of buried men, Came by in silence : each upon his face Wore a wild look, as tho' some sad disgrace Had stamped his life (or thus I thought) with sorrow. They vanished too ; but ever on the morrow They came again, in greater sadness, 'till I spoke ; then one of them gave answer shrill As blasts that whistle thro' the dungeon's grate On bleak December nights, when in her state Comes the white Winter. ' Look !' (I thus translate The sounds it uttered) ' Look,' the phantom said, ' Upon thine ancestry departed dead. * Each one thou seest hath left his gaping tomb * Empty, and comes to warn thee of thy doom : * And each, whilst living, bore within his brain * A settled madness : start not so dost thou : * Thou art our own, and on thy moody brow MARCIAN COLONNA. 5J ' There is the invisible word ne'er writ in vain. ' Look on us all : we died as thou shalt die, ' The victims of our heart's insanity. ' From sire to son the boiling rivers ran ' Thro' every vein, and 'twas alike with all : ' It touched the child and trampled down the man ; ' And every eye that, with its dead dull ball, ' Seems as it stared upon thee now, was bright ' As thine is, with the true transmitted light. ' Madness and pain of heart shall break thy rest, ' And she shall perish whom thou lovest the best. ' Once thou hast been a mockery unto men, ' But thus, at least, it shall not be again. ' Behold where yon red rolling star doth shine ' From out the darkness : that fierce star is thine, ' Thy Destiny, thy Spirit, and its power ' Shall guard and rule thee to thy latest hour ; ' And never shall it quit thy side, but be ' Invisible to all and dim to thee, ' Save when the fever of thy soul shall rise, ' And then that light shall flash before thine eyes, ' And thou shalt then remember that thy fate e2 52 MARCIAN COLONNA. ' Is murder.'' Thus upon the silence broke The spectre's hollow words ; but while it spoke. Its pale lip never moved, nor did its eye Betray intelligence. With sweeping state, Over the ground the train then glided by, And vanish'd vanish'd. Then raethought I 'woke." XIII. " It was no dream, for often since that hour The star has flashed, and I have felt its power, ('Twas in my moodier moments,) and my soul Seemed languishing for blood, and there did roll Rivers of blood beside me, and my hands. As tho' I had obeyed my Fate's commands, Were smeared and sanguine, and my throbbing brow Grew hot and blistered with the fire within, And my heart withered with a secret sin. And my whole heart was tempested: it grew Larger methought with passion even now I feel it swell within me, and a flood Of fiery wishes, such as man ne'er knew, MARCIAN COLONNA. 53 Seem to consume me. Sometimes I have stood Looking at Heaven for Hope, with these sad eyes, In vain for I was born a sacrifice. What Hope was there for me, a murderer? What lovely ? nothing yes I err, I err." " Yes, mixed with these wild visionings, a form Descended, fragile as a summer cloud, And w ith her gentle voice she stilled the storm : I never saw her face, and yet I bowed Down to the dust, as savage men, they say, Adore the sun in countries far away. I felt the music of her words like balm Raining upon my soul, and I grew calm As the great forest lion that lay down At Una's feet, without a single moan, Vanquish'd by love, or as the herds that hung Their heads in silence when the Thracian sung. I never saw her, never : but her voice Was the whole world to me. It said ' Rejoice, For I am come to love thee, youth, at last. To recompence thy pains and sorrow past. 54 .MARCIAN COLONNA. No longer now, amongst the mountains high, Shalt thou over thy single destiny Mourn : I am come to share it. I, whom all Have worshipped like a shrine, have left the hall Of my proud parents, and without a sigh, Am come to roam by caverns and by floods. And be a dweller with thee in the woods." " Here let me pause, for now I must not say, How she, my gentle spirit, fades away ; And now, and now 'Alas ! and must I die, The martyr of a crime I cannot shun? What have I what have my dead fathers done. That thus from age to age a misery Is seared and stamped upon us ? Shall it be For ever thus ? It shall not. I will run My race as fearless as the summer sun, When clouds come not, and like his course above Shall mine be here, below, all light and love." MARCIAN COLONNA, 55 XIV. He ended, and with kisses sweet and soft She recompensed his words, and bade him dwell No more upon the past, but look aloft And pray to Heaven ; and yet she bade him tell Again the story of that lady young, Who o'er him in such dream like beauty hung , " You saw her, Marcian No ?" " My love, my love, My own," he said, " 'twas thou, my forest dove, Who soothed me in the wilderness, and crept Into my heart, and o'er my folly wept From dusky evening to the streaming morn. Showers of sparkling tears. Oh ! how forlorn Was I without thee. Should I lose thee now " " Away, away," she said, and on his brow Pressed her vermillion lips, and drew his hair Aside and kissed again his forehead fair. " Come, thou shalt lie upon aye, on my breast. And I will sing thee into golden rest." 56 aiARCIAN COLONNA. XV. Thus talked they, follying, as lovers will ; A pleasant pastime, and when worldly pain Comes heavily on us, it is pleasant still To read of this in song : it brings again The hours of youth before man's jaded eye, Spreading a charm about him, silently. Oh ! never shall thy name, sweet Poesy, Be flung away, or trampled by the crowd As a thing of little worth, while / aloud May (with a feeble voice indeed) proclaim The sanctity, the beauty of thy name. Thy grateful servant am I, for thy power Has solaced me thro' many a wretched hour ; In sickness aye, when frame and spirit sank, I turned me to thy chrystal cup and drank Intoxicating draughts. Faithfullest friend. Most faithful perhaps best when none were nigh Unto thy green recesses did I send My thoughts, and freshest rills of poesy Came streaming all around from fountains old ; MARCIAN COLONNA. 57 And SO I drank and drank, and hapiy told How thankful was I unto the night wind Alone, a cheerless confidant, but kind. And now, Colonna, and sweet Julia, A few few words to ye : If I have sung Imperfectly your loves, or idly hung Upon your griefs, forgive it. One fair day Shone on your lives and lingered, yet and yet I now must pass what I may ne'er forget. Thou bright and hymeneal Star, whose wane (For thou alone canst never rise again,) Is as the dark declining of the soul. Roll gently over youth and beauty roll In thy so sweet and silent course along, A soft sigh only thy companion-song: In all the light of love I leave thee now, Unclouded and sublime Upon the brow Of each shed thy soft influence calm, not gay : For me, a word I'll speak, and then away. 5g MARCIAN COLONNA. XVI. Sleep softly, on your bridal pillows, sleep, Excellent pair ! happy and young and true ; And o'er your days, and o'er your slumbers deep And airy dreams, may Love's divinest dew Be scatter'd like the April rains of Heaven : And may your tender words, whispered at even, Be woven into music ; and, as the wind Leaves when it flies a sweetness still behind. When distant, may each silver sounding tone Weigh on the other's heart, and bring (tho' gone) The absent back ; and may no envy sever Your joys, but may each love be loved for ever. ******** Now, as I write, lo ! thro' my window streams The midnight moon crescented Dian, who 'Tis said once wandered from her wastes of blue. And all for love ; filling a shepherd's dreams With beauty and delight. He slept, he slept, And on his eyelids white the huntress wept MARCIAN COLONNA. Till morning ; and looked thro', on nights like this, His lashes dark, and left her dewy kiss. But never more upon the Latmos hill May she descend to kiss that forest boy, And give receive gentle and innocent joy, When clouds are distant far, and winds are still : Her bound is circumscribed, and curbed her will. Those were immortal stories : are they gone? The pale queen is dethroned. Endymion Hath vanished ; and the worship of this earth Is bowed to golden gods of vulgar birth. 50 END OF THE SECOND PART. MARCIAN COLONNA. PART THE THIRD. MARCIAN COLONNA PART THE THIRD. The tale I follow to its last recess Of suffering and of peace." VAUDRACOUR AND JULIA- I. Farewell unto the valleys and the shores Lashed by the sounding sea : awhile farewell To every haunted fountain, lawny dell, And piny wood thro' which the night wind roars- And oh I sweet Love, soon must I say farewell Even to thee, and Happiness gay flowers Ye are who shew yourselves in sunny hours, But die away before your buds are blown. Life's earliest relics, in its spring-time strewn Like wither'd weeds before the steps of Fate. Frail, fading offerings, yet ere I sate Myself with sorrow, in a pleasant rhyme Would I speak somewhat of a gentler time. C4 M.VRCIAN' COLONNA. II. Oh ! full of languishment, too deep to last, The bridal hours in happy beauty passed, (The feather footed hours I) and hoary Time Smoothed his pale brow, and with a look sublime, From out the stream of joy a measure quaffed, And young Love shook his rosy wings and laughed. Dance and Arcadian tale and sylvan song, Which to those moments did of right belong, Went round and then returned : the morning Sun Met brighter eyes than e'er he glanced upon. And evening saw them still the same, and night Looked from her star-lit throne, on stars more bright. The morn was given to tale, the noon to ease And musing beneath shade of branching trees ; The night to slumber ; but at evening gray. When the too fiery Sun had passed away. Music was heard beneath the smiling moon. Till midnight came, (it ever came too soon,) And songs which lovers once were wont to sing Of knight forlorn and lady triumphing; MARCIAN COLONNA, And flowers that lie upon the breast of May, Like gems, were plucked to fashion garlands gay, And laurels green to deck the poet's head, For then the bard was loved and honoured. Some lay beside a river lapsing clear. And fancied Sylph or Naiad watching near, While some of fabled Faun and Dryad told, Or Fairy haunting well or fountain cold ; And ever and anon the fitful breeze Came aiding those most gentle phantasies, And died away, as voices by a lyre (Touched by the trembling of its notes) expire. Around the lovers brows white roses hung, And at their feet the wealth of spring was flung ; And they at times would sit apart and speak Each to the other with a flushing cheek. Or note the gentle look in maiden's eye, Called up by lordly gallant whispering by. 65 QQ MARriAV COLOVW. 111. Fate was at hand a snake amidst tho flowor?;. And looked and laughed upon the passing hours ; And envy and pale hate then exiled far Foretold the setting of Love's brighter star. Oh ! the deep sorrow of that weary day When Marcian chanced, as he was wont, to stray Scarce listening to the Tyber's gentle sound, Yet winding as the maz.y river wound. At morn he left his home, and paced along, Companion'd only by a heart-felt song, That sprung like incense to the gates of Heaven. By the gay fever of his spirit driven, He travelled swiftly onwards ; but his sight Was buried in deep thought : the enchantments bright That lie amongst the clouds he noticed not, And all the promise of the year forgot. The golden fruitage from its grove of green Looked out unheeded, and no longer seen The sky-bird mounted toward the morning Sun, And shrilly told aloft of day begun. MARCIAN COLONNA. 67 How he was wakened from that dreaming mood, Alas, must now be known. In the broad day Marking the clear blue river roll away, In squalid weeds a savage creature stood. It is it cannot be Oh ! Death and night ! Hath he come peering from his watery home, Mocking and withering every human sight ? Hath dark Orsini still a power to roam ? Daemon or ghost or living thing he stands. Staring with sullen eyes upon the sands, As tho' he brooded o'er some wrong, or strove To wreck on happier hearts the slights of love. Like one escaped from toil, but fit for strife The last and lingering ill the blight of life. IV. Colonna, sad Colonna he hath fled Wildly unto his home ; there Julia lay Upon her pillow slumbering, calm and gay As sleep may be. " The waves, the waves" he said, " The sick sea- waters yawn and yield their dead f2 6g MARCIAN COLONXA. The dead? he is alive : Peril nor pain Death nor the grave would keep him in its bed. The black Orsini is retiirned,^ again.'' " Marcian," she utter'd faintly, and a gleam Played 'round her mouth: it was a happy dream. " Thou lovely thing whom nature made so fair, Young treasure of creation must despair Sear thy transcendent beauty, because thou Wrapped thy sweet arms about a maniac's brow ? Julia! she sleeps, she sleeps; a happy sleep. Oh why did I draw her within the sweep I of my fiery star ? It comes. I see The comet red, which Fate, mine enemy. Hath placed about me like a circle sure ; I cannot fly, and yet, shall I endure ? Endure I must, evil and hate I must. And Hell, until 1 wither into dust : That may be soon. She moves poor wench. My love ! Hearest thou I call upon thee ? My pale dove ? Still on my bosom, still." She woke : his eye Rolled round and round, like one in misery, AIAIICIAX COLOiWA. 69 Fearful to speak : But silence is not dumb, And in his deep eloquent agony- She read strange fearful things. He whispered " Come We must be gone " (" Be gone ? dear Marcian !") " Aye, quickly, for alas, we have no home Nor refuge here. On land Italian We must not build our hearths, nor hope to dwell In safety now, from youth to age " tis well Perhaps 'tis well," she said " And wilt thou go On a long journey with me, far away ? I may not tell thee now ; but a dire foe Has risen upon me. Wilt thou wander say ?" (" All the world over I") " Oh ! thou hast said Comfort unto my soul," he uttered. " Whilst I may lay my head upon thy breast, It matters not; my Heaven is there my rest. Let the red star shine on, for I am thine Thine while I am : In darkness and dismay, Here, or in wildernesses far away. In poverty forlorn, or love divine. In prisons or in freedom aye, in death." He ceased, and straightway he was calm : his breath 70 MAIUMAN COLONNA. Was in a moment stilled ; one gentle sigh Came from pale Julia, but he trembled not. For she was his the rest was all forgot. That night they left the land of Italy. V. There was a tempest brooding in the air Far in the west. Above, the skies were fair, And the sun seemed to go in glory down : One small black cloud (one only) like a crown, Touched his descending disk and rested there. Slow then it came along, to the great wind Rebellious, and (although it blew and blew,) It came increasing, and across the blue Spread its dark shape, and left the sun behind The day-light sank, and the winds wailed about The barque wherein the luckless couple lay, And from the distant cloud came scattering out Rivers of fire : it seemed as though the day Had burst from out the billows, far away. No pilot had they their small boat to steer MARCIAX COLOXNA. 71 Aside from rocks, no sea-worn mariner Who knew each creek and bay and sheltering sleep, And all the many dangers of the deep. They fled for life, (for happiness is life,) And met the tempest in his hour of strife, Abroad upon the waters : they were driven Against him by the angry winds of heaven : And all around the clouds, the air, the sea Rose from unnatural dead tranquillity, And came to battle with their legions : Hail Shot shattering down, and thunders roared aloud, And the wild lightning from his dripping shroud Unbound his arrowy pinions blue and pale, And darted thro' the heavens : Below, the gale Sang like a dirge, and the white billows lashed The boat, and then like ravenous lions dashed Against the deep wave-hidden rocks, and told Of ghastly perils as they backward rolled. 72 MARCIAN COLONNA. VI. The lovers, driven along from hour to hour, Were helpless, hopeless, in the ocean's power. The storm continued, and no voice was heard, Save that of some poor solitary bird, Which sought a shelter on the quivering mast, But soon borne off by the tremendous blast Sank in the waters screaming. The great sea Bared like a grave its bosom silently ; Then sank and panted like an angry thing, With its own strength at war : The vessel flew Towards the land, and then the billows grew Larger and white, and roared as triumphing, Scattering afar and wide the heavy spray That shone like loose snow as it passed away. At first the dolphin and the porpoise dark Came rolling by them, and the hungry shark Followed the boat, patient and eager-eyed, jo And the gray curlew slanting dipped her side And the hoarse gull his wing within the foam ; But some had sank, the rest had hurried home. -MARCIAN eOLONNA. 73 And there pale Julia and her husband, clasped Each in the other's arms, sate viewing Death : She for his sake at times in terror gasped, But he to cheer her kept his steady breath, Talking of hope, and smiled like morning There They sate together in their sweet despair : At times upon his breast she laid her head, And he upon her silent beauty fed, Hushing her fears and 'tween her and the storm Drew his embroidered cloak to keep her warm : She thanked him with a look upturned to his, The which he answered with a gentle kiss Pressed and prolonged to pain. Her lip was cold ; And all her love and terror mutely told. vir. O thou vast Ocean I Ever sounding Seu 1 Thou symbol of a drear immensity I Thou thing that windest round the solid world Like a huge animal, which, downward hurl'd From the black clouds, lies weltering and aloue, Lashing and writhing till its strength be gone, 74 MARCIAN COLONNA. Thy voice is like the thunder, and thy sleep Is as a giant's slumber, loud and deep. Thou speakest in the East and in the West At once, and on thy heavily laden breast Fleets come and go, and shapes that have no life Or motion yet are moved and meet in strife. The earth hath nought of this : no chance nor change Ruffles its surface, and no spirits dare Give answer to the tempest- waken air ; But o'er its wastes the weakly tenants range At will, and wound its bosom as they go : Ever the same, it hath no ebb, no flow ; But in their stated rounds the seasons come, And pass like visions to their viewless home, And come again, and vanish : the young Spring Looks ever bright with leaves and blossoming, And Winter always winds his sullen horn, When the wild Autumn with a look forlorn Dies in his stormy manhood ; and the skies Weep and flowers sicken when the Summer flics. Thou only, terrible Ocean, hast u [jower, A will, a voice, and in thy wrulhi'nl hour. When thou (h,st lilt iliino augrr io llio clouds, MARCIAN COLONNA. 75 A fearful and magnificent beauty shrouds Thy broad green forehead. If thy waves be driven Backwards and forwards by the shifting wind, How quickly dost thou thy great strength unbind, And stretch thine arms, and war at once with Heaven. Thou trackless and immeasureable Main ! On thee no record ever lived again To meet the hand that writ it : line nor lead Hath ever fathomed thy profoundest deeps, Where haply the huge monster swells and sleeps, King of his watery limit, who 'tis said Can move the mighty ocean into storm Oh ! wonderful thou art, great element : And fearful in thy spleeny humours bent, And lovely in repose : thy summer form Is beautiful, and when thy silver waves Make music in earth's dark and winding caves, I love to wander on thy pebbled beach, Marking the sunlight at the evening hour, And hearken to the thoughts thy waters leuch " Eternity, Eternity, and Power. " 76 .MAIU'IAN COLONNA. VIII. And now whither are gone the lovers now? Colonna, wearest thou anguish on thy brow, And is the valour of the moment gone ? Fair Julia, thou art smiling now alone : The hero and the husband weeps at last Alas, alas ! and lo ! he stands aghast, Bankrupt in every hope, and silently gasps Like one who maddens. Hark! the timbers part And the sea-billows come, and still he clasps His pale pale beauty, closer to his heart, The ship has struck. One kiss the last Love's own. They plunge into the waters and are gone. The vessel sinks, 'tis vanished, and the sea Rolls boiling o'er the wreck triumphantly, And shrieks are heard and cries, and then short groans, Which the waves stifle quick, and doubtful tones Like the faint moanings of the wind pass by, And horrid gurgling sounds rise up and die, And noises like the choaking of man's breath But why prolong the tale it is of death. MARCIAN COLONNA, 77 IX. Years came and fled. To many Time was fraught With joy to some imperfect pleasures brought: But to the Prince Colonna gray and old A dull unchanging tale he ever told. The children of his winter years were gone They lay, 'twas told, amongst the waters, dead : In the bright spirit of their youth they fled, And left him, in his pallid age, alone. He wet the dust with bitter tears, and bowed Before his idols, and vast treasures vowed To saint or virgin from his coffers bright ; And often fiercely at the deep midnight Would he do torture for his sin, and drank Unto the very dregs the cup of pain. With steel and stripe he wrought, until he sank Beneath the bloody penance : 'twas in vain. Remorse, Remorse (a famished creature bred From Sin, and feasting on its father dead,) Sprang like a withering snake upon his heart. It wrapped him in its fiery folds around : 7g .AIARCIAN COLOXNA. It stung, and withered, but it had no sound ; And the' he prayed and wept would not depart, X. The palace of his fathers, once so gay, Was mossed and green and crumbling to decay : The pillars yellowed in the marble halls. And thro' the ruined casements the wild rains Rushed with destroying wrath, and shapeless stains Ran o'er, disfiguring, all the painted walls. Few servants tended on their antient lord, And mirthful revel, banished from his board, Sought refuge w ith the humble. Song or sound Echoed no more within the gallery's bound, But in a lonely tower a lamp at times Was seen, and startling thro' the silent air Flew shrieks, as from a wretch whom many crimes Had seared, and driven to life's last hold, Despair. Friends passed, by one, and one, and one, away : His foes grew glad ; his brother's children gay Cast dice for his domain, while bending low MARCIAN COLONNA. 79 Before the papal chair one whispered ho\v Report had gone abroad of some dark crime Done by the old man in his early time, And hinted of his vast possessions, which Divided, might the holy church enrich, And his contented heirs. The mitred king Disdained to parley with so poor a thing ; Yet questioned the great prince, whose answers cold Confirmed the story which the slanderer told. And so he lived, (a perished shape,) like one Lost in a lovely world alone, alone. XI. And hath thy fiery planet then not set Colonna? When the winds and thunder met In tumult, and around in many shapes Death hovered with his dart. Fate turned aside The arrow^s, laughing o'er the waters wide, Till the sea trembled. Ah ! but who escapes Who can escape from Fate? It frowned, and hung, Darker than Death itself, the foreheads o'er ^Q MARCIAN rOl-OXNA. Of that sad pair, and when the billows Hung Their limbs in scorn upon the foamy shore, Uprose the veering wind, and the next wave Scarce touched the ringlet of Colonna's hair, Which, streaming black upon the strand, lay there The image of his fortunes Dark and wild. Neglected, torn, with an unquiet grave Open beside him, there Colonna smiled, Or so it seemed, in death, but in his grasp Still held the lost and lifeless Julia. There, tempest-stricken in each others clasp, Beautiful on the sea-beat shore they lay : Around her body were his arms enwove. Her head upon his bosom, close as love. . XII. They died not. Housed within a fisher's cot Life dawned on them, and pain was soon forgot. Time flew, and health returned and quietness. And still i' the world they found enough to bless. Colonna plied him in the fisher's trade ; MARCIAN COLONNA. ^f And Julia watched his evening sail, afraid If but a crested wave was on the deep, And if she heard the ocean billows sweep Loudly along the shore, she looked on high, And prophesied of storm and tempest nigh. One eve, returning home with shout and song, The fishers plied their tossing boat along, And Marcian at the helm the rudder guided, And looked upon the waters, which divided Beside the barque, seeming to rise and die. Like short hours in a deep eternity. He saw a menial standing on the strand. Who, turning from a chart within his hand, Looked round to note the place Again It was He saw Orsini's slave Alas, Alas! Oh ! Love, fair Love ! is there no wilderness For thee to hide thee in thy dark distress? No haven and no hope, sweetest of all, For thee to celebrate thy festival ? A sad short world is this, and yet thou hast No home where thou may'st dream 'till life be past. Tumult and strife and storm, and wild dismay, G ^2 MARCTAN COLONNA. Envy and hate, and thus we pass away ; And trample on the flowers that deck our road, And goad ourselves, if others do not goad. XIII. No more in that lone hamlet were they seen : But the remembrance of what once had been, (Their deep and sad affection) still survived Their going. They had lived, and gently lived Amongst the wild and sea-beat mariners : His eye was clearing to a calm, and hers Troubled, but still at times, and always soft. And her sweet voice, (like music heard aloft By tender hermitess in rocky cell. Or in dreams of love, at night, By young and hopeless anchorite,) Was after many a year remembered well. They fled into the mountains. Night and day. By strange and lonely paths they sought their way Wild as a creature in the forests born. iMARCIAN COLONNA. g^ That spring on Asian sands, Colonna grew, And with his burthen on his bosom flew, Supporting, watching her from night to morn. At last the chesnut groves and woods of pines Frowned on them from the gloomy Appenines, And then Colonna felt his bride was safe. He placed her near Laverna in a cave, High, overgrown and haunted, yet his sport Had been to slumber there in former days. And, from its dizzy height, he had loved to court The breeze which ever o'er the mountains plays. Clad in his fisher's weeds, and with a brow Bronzed by his sea-ward life, Colonna now Went fearless to the convent, and would toil For the pale monks and till their rocky soil. And gain their bounty, (garments coarse, and food,) Which he would carry to his cavern rude, And feed the dove that lay within his nest. And hush her every evening to her rest. ^4 -MARCTAN rOLOXNA. XIV At last she learned the tale * Orsini How ! ' Given up and banished from his grave, below ' Orsini, dark Orsini !' On her soul The hollow words came like a thunder roll Sounding at distance over hill and vale : And Marcian marked her and his cheek grew pale, And his hand trembled as he soothed her then, And thro' his brain a terror flew again. Now paused he in his toil, and daily walk. And in the gloom would often idly talk Of poison and of blood, and tears would stream In rivers down his cheeks when he did dream : Sometimes in bitter spleen his tongue would chide, And then, in anguish that he could not hide. He wept and prayed her not to leave him there, A lone man, in his madness in despair. And then he told her of his wretched youth, And how upon her love and gentle truth His life had rested ; yet, she did not speak, Save in the pallid hues that sunk her cheek, MARCIAN rOLONNA. 5 And in her heaving breast, and rayless eye Which spoke of some fixed grief that would not fly. " And will she leave me then, who loved her so (So utterly, beyond the love of men,) And pass into a wretch's arms again. From mine so true from mine? she shall not Oh! Yet wherefore should I stay her, if her love Be gone, indeed" and then at times he strove To think that he might live and she afar, The beauty of his life, the hope, the star. Oh ! melancholy thought, and vain, and brief: He felt that like the i\.utumn's perished leaf. His frame would wither, and from its great height His mind must sink, and lose itself, in night. No talk was pleasant now ; no image fair ; No freshness and no fragrance filled the air ; No music in the winds nor in the sound The wild birds uttered from the forests I'ound : The sun had lost its light, and drearily The morning stole upon his altered eye ; 86 AlARCIAN COLOWA. And night with all her starry eyes grew dim, For site was changed, and nought was true to him. XV. From pain at length, from pain, (for could ho bear The sorrow burning wild without a tear?) He rushed beside her : Towards him gloomily She looked, and then he gasped " We list to me We we must part, must part: is it not so?" She hung her head and murmured " Woe, oh I woe. That it must be so nay, Colonna nay. Hearken unto me: little can 1 say, But sin (is it not sin ?) doth wear my heart Away to death. Alas ! and must we part. We who have loved so long and truly ? yes ; Were we not born, (we were,) for wretchedness. Oh ! Marcian, Marcian, 1 must go : my road Leads to a distant home, a calm abode, There 1 may pine my few sad years away. And die, and make my peace ere 1 decay " MARCIAX COLON'NA. g'J She spoke no more, for now she saw his soul Rising in tumult, and his eyeballs roll Wildly and fiery red, and thro' his cheek Deep crimson shot : he sighed but did not speak. Keeping a horrid silence there he sate, A maniac, full of love, and death, and fate. Again the star that once his eye shone o'er Flash'd forth again more fiercely than before : And thro' his veins the current fever flew Like lightning, withering all it trembled through He clenched his hands and rushed away, away, And looked and laughed upon the opening day. And mocked the morn with shouts, and w^andered wild For hours, as by some meteor thing beguiled. He wandered thro' the forests, sad and lone. His heart all fiery and his senses gone ; Till, at the last, (for nature sank at last,) The tempest of the fever fell and past, And he lay down upon the rocks to sleep, And shrunk into a troubled slumber, deep. Long was that sleep long very long, and strange, 88 MARCIAN COLON'NA. And frenzy suffered then a silent change, And his heart hardened as the fire withdrew, Like furnaced iron beneath the winter's dew. XVI. He gained he gained (why droops my story ?) then, An opiate deadly from the convent men, And bore it to his cave : she drank that draught Of death, and he looked on in scorn, and laughed With an exulting, terrible joy, when she Lay down in tears to slumber, silently. She had no after sleep ; but ere she slept Strong spasms and pains throughout her body crept, And round her brain, and tow'rds her heart, until They touched that seat of love, -and all was still. Away he wandered for some lengthened hour When the black poison shewed its fiercest power. And when he sought the cavern, there she lay, The youDg, the gentle, dying fast away. MARCIAN COLOXNA. He sate and watched her, as a nurse might do, And saw the dull film steal across the blue, And saw, and felt her sweet forgiving smile, That, as she died, parted her lips the while. Her hand ? its pulse was silent her voice gone, But patience in her smile still faintly shone, And in her closing eyes a tenderness, That seemed as she would fain Colonna bless. She died, and spoke no word ; and still he sate Beside her like an image. Death and Fate Had done what might be then : The morning sun Rose upon him : on him? his task was done. The murderer and the murdered one as pale As marble shining white beneath the moon, The other dark as storms, when the winds rail At the chafed sea, but not to calm so soon No bitterness, nor hate, nor dread was there ; But love still clinging round a wild despair, A wintry aspect, and a troubled eye. Mourning o'er youth and beauty, born to die. 89 90 MARCIAN COLONNA. Dead was she, and her mouth had fallen low, Bat still he watched her with a stedfast brow : Unaltered as a rock he sate, while she Lay changed to claj, and perish'd. Drearily Came all the hues of death across her face : That look, so lovely once, had lost its grace, The eye its light, the cheek its colour, now. Oh ! human beauty, what a dream art thou, That we should cast our life and hopes away. On thee and dost thou like a leaf decay, In Spring-tide as in Autumn ? Fair and frail, In bud or blossom, if a blight prevail, How ready art thou from the world to fly ; And we who love thee so are left to die. XVII. Fairest of all the world, thy tale is told : Thy name is written in a record old. And I from out the legend now rehearse. Thy story, shaping it to softer verse. And thou, the lost Colonna. thou, whose brain Was fever-struck with love and jealous pain. MARCIAX COLONNA. 91 A wanderer wast thou lonely thro' the earth ? Or didst thou tread, clad in thy pride of birth, With high patrician step the streets of Rome ? I know not ; no one knew. A heavy gloom, Wrapped thy last fortunes, luckless Marcian 1 Some told in after times that he was found, Dying within the Inquisition's bound ; Some said that he did roam, a wretched man, In pilgrimage along the Arabian sands. And some that he did dwell in the far lands Of vast America, with savage men. The chase bis pastime, and bis home a den. What object is there now to know ? what gain ? He passed away, and never came again. He left his home, his friends, his titles, all. To stand, or live, or perish in their pride. And, seeking out some unknown country, died. He died, and left no vain memorial Of him or of his deeds, for scorn or praise ; No record for the proud Colonna race To blot or blazon, cherish or compare, His fate is: lost : his name (hke others) air. 92 MAllCIAN COLONNA. XVIII. My tale hath reached its end : yet still there dwells A superstition in those piny dells, Near to Laverna. Forms 'tis said, are seen Beside the cave where once Colonna lay, And shadows linger there at close of day, And dusky shapes amongst the forests green Pass off like vapours at the break of morn ; And sometimes a faint figure, (with a star Crowning her forehead,) has been seen afar, To haunt the cliff and hang her head forlorn : And peasants still at the approach of night, t^ven at distance, shun that starry light. And dread ' The Lady of the Mountains' when She rises radiant from her haunted glen. The convent? still it stands : its pile is strong, And well it echoes back the tempest's song ; And still the cave is there ; but they, alone Who made it famous, they are passed and gone. THE END. JULIAN THE APOSTATE, Many of the facts stated or referred to in this Sketch, may be found in Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. On the night before the Emperor Julian fought his last battle, he had the dream which I have detailed in the first Scene of this Sketch; and it is recorded that on the night of his death he addressed his soldiers, distributed rewards amongst them, and conversed with the sophists around him, respect- ing the immortality of the Soul. The names of Anatolius, Nevitta,