 | The triumph of music |  |
When lost Manfredi, with dark fancies fraught,
Was gradually restor'd to lenient thought,
He still (what friendship hardly could allow)
Impos'd upon himself his well-meant vow,
For many a year (the term now almost o'er)
In scenes of social life to mix no more,
Unless he hurried to a sudden strife,
In hope to rescue some endanger'd life;
And O! how gladly would he now expire
To guard Venusia from her murd'rous sire,
Still madly thirsting for Lucilio's blood,
Tho' sav'd himself by Heaven, in danger's flood.
The faint Manfredi, pining in his bed,
Was now alarm'd, with no unfounded dread;
The secret of his guests had been betray'd:
Hence eager prayers to Theodore convey'd,
To watch Donado's movements, and to send
Hints of those movements to his anxious friend!
The quick Venetian knew he was observ'd;
Still keen in wrath, and not by age unnerv'd,
Most subtly arm'd with poison, and a dirk,
He took the garb, and semblance of a Turk;
With one attendant, like himself disguis'd,
The night half past, as he had well devis'd,
By moon-light now the lofty wall he gains,
That guards pure amity's retir'd domains:
By ropes he past, an undiscover'd foe,
Leaving his vassal, and his steeds below:
The shrine Lucilio used for morning prayer
He reaches, seeking for concealment there.
Was gradually restor'd to lenient thought,
He still (what friendship hardly could allow)
Impos'd upon himself his well-meant vow,
138
In scenes of social life to mix no more,
Unless he hurried to a sudden strife,
In hope to rescue some endanger'd life;
And O! how gladly would he now expire
To guard Venusia from her murd'rous sire,
Still madly thirsting for Lucilio's blood,
Tho' sav'd himself by Heaven, in danger's flood.
The faint Manfredi, pining in his bed,
Was now alarm'd, with no unfounded dread;
The secret of his guests had been betray'd:
Hence eager prayers to Theodore convey'd,
To watch Donado's movements, and to send
Hints of those movements to his anxious friend!
The quick Venetian knew he was observ'd;
Still keen in wrath, and not by age unnerv'd,
Most subtly arm'd with poison, and a dirk,
He took the garb, and semblance of a Turk;
With one attendant, like himself disguis'd,
The night half past, as he had well devis'd,
By moon-light now the lofty wall he gains,
That guards pure amity's retir'd domains:
139
Leaving his vassal, and his steeds below:
The shrine Lucilio used for morning prayer
He reaches, seeking for concealment there.
| The triumph of music | |