The Venetian bracelet the lost Pleiad, a history of the lyre, and other poems. By L. E. L. [i.e. Landon] |
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 | The Venetian bracelet |  |
VIII.
The fountain's music murmur'd through the grove,Like the first plaint that sorrow teaches love;
The orange boughs shut out the sultry sky,
While their rich scent, as pass'd the Countess by,
Came homage like. For hours that chesnut-tree—
The only one that grew there—wont to be
Her favourite summer-seat;—but now she paced
Hurriedly, though 'twas noon; her memory traced
Her galling wrongs, and many an evil thought
Envy and hatred in her bosom wrought.
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Hers was but youthful fantasy's light vow.
Had he not trifled with her?—She, the proud,
The cold, had of such mocking suit allow'd.
Her heart was wrung, and worse, her pride was bow'd.
—She hears a step: who is it dares intrude
On this her known and guarded solitude?
She sees an aged Jew; a box he bore
Fill'd with gay merchandise and jewell'd store.
Ere she could speak, he spread before her eyes
Those glittering toys that loveliest ladies prize:—
“Fair dame, in sooth so fair thou seem'st to be,
That almost it is vain to offer thee
The many helps for meaner beauty made:
But yet these gems would light that dark hair's shade;
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Each purple vein that wanders through its snow.”
Angrily turned the Countess,—“Fool, away!”—
“So young, so fair, has vanity no sway?—
But I have things most curious, and 'mid these
Somewhat may chance your wayward fancy please.”
—He took a bracelet,—'twas of fine wrought gold,
And twisted as a serpent, whose lithe fold
Curl'd round the arm:—he spoke in whispering tone—
“Here, lady, look at this, I have but one:
Here, press this secret spring; it lifts a lid,—
Beneath there is the subtlest poison hid.
I come from Venice; of the wonders there
There is no wonder like this bracelet rare.”
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Now struggled like a storm within her breast.
Alas! alas! how plague-spot like will sin
Spread over the wrung heart it enters in!
Her brow grew dark:—“Amid thy baubles shine
This ruby cross,—but be the bracelet mine.”
Around her arm the fatal band is fast;
Away its seller, like a vision, pass'd.
| The Venetian bracelet | |