University of Virginia Library

THE BRIDESMAID AND THE WATER-SPIRIT.

An Italian Legend.

I.

October's month is on the wane;
Orion decks the starry train;
And from his belt profusely throws
Materials of impending snows.
The leaves are yellow, brown, and sere,
And every curlew, far and near,
Proclaims th' approaching ruin of the year:
While, far remote from haunts of men unholy,
Wanders o'er many a brake the child of melancholy.

II.

Oh! say what sorrow and what fears, unblest,
So wildly move the gentle Margaret's breast?
What drives her on, 'mid hail and rain and snow,
With stately gait, but undetermin'd brow,
At times elate with hope;—but wild and wandering now?

III.

IV.

Arno and Lucca were two rivals; who,
From boyish age, a rivalship would shew,
In arts, in arms, in sports, and banquets too.

V.

Arno was fierce, impetuous, and proud
Lucca was gentle as a summer cloud!
At length they met, their rivalship to cease:
They met,—they sign'd—and swore perpetual peace.
And still that peace with greater force to bind—
—Oh! unsuspecting folly of mankind!
To think that wolves, in equal games, will play,
With sheep and sheep-kin, all a summer's day,
And not resume their hatred and their power,
Should unsuspecting sheep offend in luckless hour!—
This peace to bind the firmer, Lucca's lord
Proposed to wed proud Arno's beauteous ward.

VI.

Arno consents!—And now the marriage day
Shines, as if mellowing all the tints of May.—
Now the goblets foam with wine:
Now the guests with rapture join;
Now the dance the maids prolong;
Now in numbers, wild and strong,
Each harp resounds the following song.

VII. SONG.

“When Nature had these lovers plann'd,
Struck with the wonders of her hand,
Envy, dark, malign, and proud,
Beheld the forms, and mutter'd loud;
“These forms were made in Nature's pride,
“When she and Love stood side by side;
“And, smiling in each other's eyes,
“The rainbow threw athwart the skies.
“But year on year may roll away,
“And each long year be deem'd a day,
“Ere, with such splendid, happy train,
“Those mighty powers may meet again!
“Forms then like these, shall man no more behold;
“Hating these lovers—I will break their mould.”
With giant hand and angry frown,
He dashed the ivory models down;
And, arm'd with triumph's sudden sway,
Grinning with rapture, stalk'd away!”

VIII.

The music o'er,—the happy guests employ
Each festive art to raise the general joy.
All is gay and social mirth!
Arno's “power” and Lucca's “worth”
Animate the glowing throng,
And flow from echoing tongue to tongue.

IX.

“Arno's power and Lucca's worth?”
—Arno's goblet fell to earth!—
“Lucca's worth, and Arno's power?
“Now, by the sacred midnight hour,
“If Lucca's praised for virtue, he's my foe,
“Unless they praise Lord Arno's virtues too.”
Thus thought the chief; his bosom writh'd with pain;
Inward it swell'd with anger and disdain;
While Envy straight resumed her ancient home again.

X.

The Bridesmaid sate the chief beside;
She saw his cheek distend with pride!
But Lucca dreams, and speaks of nought but love;
While fires through every nerve, in wildest rapture move!
The Bride at length, 'mid fears and hopes, is led
To bridal chamber by her bridal maid,
Lucca's sweet sister, Margaret; who stood
Beside her pillow long in melancholy mood.—
All grace she was;—all beauty:—but the look
Of Arno's lord her breast with terror shook.
No joy she shew'd, dissembling;—pity fill'd
Her bosom mantling; while her veins were chill'd.—

XI.

The Bride beheld, and wondering ask'd her, “Why
“So little pleasure gemm'd her beauteous eye?”
As mute she stood—with stern and glaring eyes
Lord Arno enters:—“Why this wild surprise?”
Thundering he said:—“Lord Lucca's host is fled,
And he himself lies weltering with the dead!”
They heard—the lovely Bridesmaid and the Bride;—
They heard;—the latter fell upon her side:—
The shock was mortal!—Wonder and affright
Closed her blue eyes in death's oblivious night.
Her form Lord Arno spurn'd upon the ground:
Then stamp'd the floor:—a Herald heard the sound.
“Take this maid!—Yon ivied tower
“Shall be to me a lover's bower.”
The Herald heard;—he raised the shrieking maid;
And to the ivied tower her angel form convey'd.

XII.

Arno return'd into the hall,
To triumph over Lucca's fall.
That all the rosy guests should raise
The notes of joy in Lucca's praise;
While all they gave to him alone,
—Though seated on the festal throne—
Was lordly power, enraged his soul
Beyond his measure of control!
And as the Bridegroom through the arches roved,
To the white arms of her, he fondly loved,
His path he way-laid; gave the treacherous wound:—
The unsuspecting youth fell lifeless on the ground!

XIII.

The Bridesmaid still her senses kept;
And though her gentle eyelids wept;
And though her heart was all forlorn;
And though with woe her breast was torn;
And though she fear'd the tyrant's vow,
Yet would her courage ebb and flow!

XIV.

Beside her stood the rude and rugged guard,
With face all gloomy as the angry pard.
Yet as he stood in silent, savage state,
A cunning avarice on each eyelid sate.
He look'd, and on her finger threw
His wishful eye:—she saw;—she drew,
From off the joint the brilliant gem:
“I thank thee, fair and injur'd dame!”
The shining toy the guard surveys;
With rapture hugs the proffer'd prize;
And then, through secret vaults, he steals his way;
Leads the fair Bridesmaid to the starry ray;
Then closed the pond'rous door,—and wish'd her well away.

XV.

Thus, thus she triumph'd:—climb'd the mountain's brow:
Nor stopt to gaze upon the scene below.
Loud shouts her fancy echoes to her ears;
Each fountain's fall Lord Arno's voice appears:
Each star that rose,—each glow-worm of the night,
Fill her sad soul with withering affright!
She hears Lord Arno breathe in every wind;
Forward she darts, nor casts one look behind!

XVI.

The moon, now rising, fringed the speckled cloud,
That on the summit of Vancenza bow'd.
No guide had she;—no venerable man,
Whose age seem'd measur'd long ere hers began;
Whose sole employ might be, with care intent,
To guide her footsteps wheresoe'er she went!
No guide had she;—but frantic and alone
To rocks and echoing woods, she made her tearless moan.
As on she strays, unheeding where,
A prey to all the storms of care,
The wandering moon, through fleeces, gave
A dubious light to Mincio's wave;
Which rushing, foaming, wildly on,
Warn'd the lone stranger to be gone:
While chimes from distant convent's tower,
Proclaim'd it midnight's solemn hour.

XVII.

On what green turf, or on what mossy bed,
Shall this poor wandering virgin rest her weary head?

XVIII.

Full many a path, which ne'er before
The maid had seen, she traversed o'er;
While many a flower of dubious hue
Their fragrance o'er the midnight threw;
Though now was heard no eager hum
Of loaded bee returning home.
But as he slew each sleeping bird,
The sound of distant kite was heard.
And now the scene is thrill'd with fright!
For, riding on the wing of night,
Loud cries of wolves spread wild alarm,
From wood to wood, from farm to farm.

XIX.

XX.

Thus as she stood, 'twixt hope and fear, she spy'd,
On the torn margin of the river's side,
A form more beauteous than that shepherd wore,
Whom Venus tempted on the Syrian shore.
Slumbering he lay: yet seem'd in dreams to say,
“Turn not, sweet maid, thy gentle steps away.”

XXI.

The lovely youth, who thus reposed,
With cheeks all pale, and eyelids closed,
On nearer view and strict survey,
Which Margaret taught her eyes to pay,
Display'd no signs of heaving breath;
He seem'd to sleep the sleep of death!

XXII.

Form'd in Nature's mildest mood,
The pitying nymph affrighted stood;
And view'd, with awe and conscious fear,
The lifeless body on its bier.
“Poor youth!” thought she, “what power divine
“Could see a matchless form like thine,
“And yet not stay the fatal blow,
“That laid thy manly spirit low.”

XXIII.

XXIV.

Ah! who could see such beauty stand,
In all the pride of Nature's hand;
And ah! what maid but now had bow'd,
However fair, however proud,
In this eventful, sacred hour,
To that insidious, wanton power,
Who rules by smiles, or frowns, alone,
From cot to convent, tower, and throne?

XXV.

Night now once more her mantle spreads;
The moon her ray no longer sheds;
No longer her soft influence throws,
To charm the flocks from sweet repose.
Wild roll the angry waters on the shore;
The forest echoes to the thunder's roar;
While, as quick lightnings through heaven's concave play,
By turns 'tis sable night;—by turns 'tis brilliant day!

XXVI.

Appall'd she stands, bewilder'd with her fears;
For instant death in every flash appears!
“Heed not yon light,—this darkness,—nor this sound;”
(As o'er her form he throws his mantle round;—)
“Heed not the flash;—'twill light us on our way;
“Heed not the darkness;—soon returns the day:
“Heed not the sound;—stern music 'tis of heaven,
“When might to right its wonted power has given.
“Lord Arno dies!—His tower, involved in flames,
“Hisses loud music at his funeral games.
“See—how yon flashes mingle with the clouds!
“See—how yon towers, which circling ivy shrouds,
“See—how they nod!—Now list—that groan, that shriek,
“Which through these woods, in frightful echoes, speak,
“Flow from the heart of Arno's hated lord;
“The last, last sounds his agonies afford!—
“Now turn thee, fair one, turn; thy lover speaks;
“Softly he whispers; from these pallid cheeks
“He wipes thy tears and agonies away.
“He bids thee live;—he bids thee to survey
“The coral riches that adorn his sway.”

XXVII.

The maid, o'ercome with tumults and alarms,
Sunk;—and in sinking fill'd the Spirit's arms!

XXVIII.