Marcian Colonna An Italian Tale with Three Dramatic Scenes and Other Poems: By Barry Cornwall [i.e. Bryan Waller Procter] |
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 | Marcian Colonna |  |
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XIV.
He ended, and with kisses sweet and softShe 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.”
| Marcian Colonna | |