 | Songs of a Stranger |  |
93
THE PALACE OF THE CAPPELLETTI.
“Where Juliet at the mask
Saw her loved Montague, and now sleeps by him.”
Rogers' Italy.
Saw her loved Montague, and now sleeps by him.”
Rogers' Italy.
The palace is a ruin; round the walls
The ivy hangs its venerable wreaths,
And birds of night flit through the lonely arches
That echoed once with music.
The ivy hangs its venerable wreaths,
And birds of night flit through the lonely arches
That echoed once with music.
Of those halls
Where the gay maskers fled like shadows by,
In many a strange fantastic shape, and all
Was mirth and splendour, a few stones remain!
The marble pillars twined with perfum'd flowers,
From whose propitious shade the unbidden guest
Gazed on the daughter of his enemy.
She, thoughtless who that palmer's robe conceal'd,
“Too early saw unknown, and knew too late!”
Where are they now?—The morning mist may trace
To Fancy's eye their visionary forms;
But day arises—they are there no more.
Where the gay maskers fled like shadows by,
In many a strange fantastic shape, and all
Was mirth and splendour, a few stones remain!
The marble pillars twined with perfum'd flowers,
From whose propitious shade the unbidden guest
Gazed on the daughter of his enemy.
She, thoughtless who that palmer's robe conceal'd,
“Too early saw unknown, and knew too late!”
Where are they now?—The morning mist may trace
94
But day arises—they are there no more.
Unhallow'd steps have trod the garden's bounds;
The meanest peasant of Verona strays,
Regardless where the youthful lovers met;
When the cold, silent moon look'd sadly down
On all the fatal vows they breath'd that night.
The meanest peasant of Verona strays,
Regardless where the youthful lovers met;
When the cold, silent moon look'd sadly down
On all the fatal vows they breath'd that night.
The pomp of Montagues and Capulets
Is faded in oblivion, and their names
Had passed away with time long since no more;
But they are made immortal by their victims.
Is faded in oblivion, and their names
Had passed away with time long since no more;
But they are made immortal by their victims.
There is a broken tomb that, legends say,
Once held their ashes:—years will come and vanish,
And not a vestige will be left of them;
Yet they have endless life and endless fame
Through him who told their sorrows.
Once held their ashes:—years will come and vanish,
And not a vestige will be left of them;
Yet they have endless life and endless fame
Through him who told their sorrows.
| Songs of a Stranger | |