The Venetian bracelet :: :: University of Virginia Library

Leoni and his bride have left the hall.
Why does that cheek grow pale, that dark eye fall?
Why does that lip its wit, its smiling cease?—
It only pass'd for beauty's gay caprice.
She left the feast—but, oh, not yet alone;
Many a cavalier has eager flown
Upon her gondola's home course to wait,
And sigh farewell at her own palace-gate.

Her maidens gather'd round. What more, yet more,
To read the breast now throbbing to the core?
She hurried not their task,—each silken braid
Of raven hair was in set order laid:
But once she show'd her weakness,—when her hand
Strove vainly to unloose a glittering band,
It trembled like a leaf:—but that pass'd by;
Struggle she might, but no one heard her sigh;
And when her last good night was courteous said,
Never more queenlike seem'd that lofty head.
The last step died upon the marble stair,—
She sprang towards the door,—the bolt is there:—
She tried the spring, gave one keen look around,
Mutter'd “alone!” and dash'd her on the ground.
Corpse-like she lay,—her dark hair wildly thrown
Far on the floor before her; white as stone,

As rigid stretch'd each hand,—her face was press'd
Close to the earth; and but the heaving vest
Told of some pang the shuddering frame confess'd,
She seem'd as stricken down by instant death.—
Sudden she raised her head, and gasp'd for breath;
And nature master'd misery. She sought,
Panting, the air from yonder lattice brought.
Ah, there is blood on that white lip and brow!—
She struggles still—in vain—she must weep now:
She wept, childlike, till sleep began to press
Upon her eyes, for very weariness.
She sleeps!—so sleeps the wretch beside the stake:
She sleeps!—how dreadful from such sleep to wake!