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52

TWO DIRGES.

I. “Bianca, Bella, Buona, Beata.”

[_]

(Set to the Tune “Farewell Manchester.”)

Blanche the beautiful,
Blanche the good and blest,
Under the cypress trees
Lies far off at rest.
Oh, the weary years!
Oh, the bitter tears!
For Blanche the beautiful,
The good and blest.
When Italian night
Falls on her white tomb,
And in starry dance
Fireflies thread the gloom,
Over land and sea
Back she comes to me,
Me drearily asleep
In my sad room.

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Smiling, speaking low,
Tenderly carest,
Through the house she glides,
Like a sweet new guest.
But I wake in pain,
And she dies again,
Blanche the beautiful,
The good and blest.
L.
 

From an inscription on a tomb.

II. “Beneath the Cypress' Gloomy Shade.”

Beneath the cypress' gloomy shade,
Deep in a still and leafy glade,
In peace my grey-haired sire is laid,
To wake on earth no more.
None knows save I his quiet tomb;
Each morn with saddened heart I come,
And gaze upon his narrow home,
Till grief's full cup runs o'er.
E.
 

These lines were written by her who is the subject of the first poem in the book, “Elegies.”