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the floor with her dazzling and beautiful feet, and, while he gazed, she was gone. Yet still he gazed; and, snatching up a bracelet which she had dropt in her flight, “ Then she is earthly!” he cried. 6. But whence could she come? All innocence, all purity, she must have wandered in her
When he arose, his anxious eyes sought her everywhere; but in vain. Many of the young and the gay were abroad, and moving as usual in the light of the morning; but, among them all, there was nothing like her. Within or without, she was nowhere to be seen; and, at length, in his despair he resolved to address himself to his hostess.
“Who were my nearest neighbors in that turret ?”
66 The Marchioness de * and her two daughters, the ladies Clara and Violetta ; the youngest beautiful as the day!" 66 And where are they now?"
They are gone; but we cannot say whither. They set out soon after sunrise."
At a late hour they had left the pavilion, and had retired to their toilet-chamber, a chamber of oak richly carved, that had once been an oratory, and, afterwards, what was no less essential to a house of that antiquity, a place of resort for two or three ghosts of the family. But, having long lost its sanctity, it had now lost its terrors; and, gloomy as its aspect was, Violetta was soon sitting there alone. "Go,” said she to her sister, when her mother withdrew for the night, and her sister was preparing to follow, “go, Clara. I will not be long." And down she sat to a chapter of the Promessi Sposi 23 But she might well forget her promise, forgetting where
She was now under the wand of an enchanter;
and she read and read till the clock struck three, and the taper flickered in the socket. She started up as from a trance; she threw off her wreath of roses; she gathered her tresses into a net; 26 and, snatching a last look in the mirror, her eyelids heavy with sleep, and the light glimmering and dying, she opened a wrong door, a door that had been left unlocked; and, stealing along on tip-toe, (how often may Innocence wear the semblance of Guilt !) she lay down as by her sleeping sister; and instantly, almost before the pillow on which she reclined her head had done sinking, her sleep was as the sleep of childhood.
When morning came, a murmur strange to her ear alarmed her. What could it be ? - Where was she ? - she looked not; she listened not; but, like a fawn from the covert, up she sprung and was gone.
It was she, then, that he sought; it was she who, so unconsciously, had taught him to love; and, night and day, he pursued her, till in the Cathedral of Perugia he discovered her at a solemn service, as she knelt between her mother and her sister among the rich and the poor.
From that hour did he endeavor to win her regard by every attention, every assiduity that love could dictate; nor did he cease till he had won it, and till she had consented to be his : but never did the secret escape from his lips; nor was it till some years afterwards that he said to her, on an anniversary of their nuptials, “ Violetta, it was a joyful day to me, a day from which I date the happiness of my life; but, if marriages are written in heaven," and, as he spoke, he restored to her arm the bracelet which he had treasured up so long, "how strange are the circumstances by which they are sometimes brought about; for, if you had not lost yourself, Violetta, I might never have found you.”
I AM in ROME! Oft as the morning-ray
Thou art in ROME! the city that so long
Thou art in Rome! the city, where the Gauls, Entering at sunrise through her open gates, And, through her streets silent and desolate, Marching to slay, thought they saw gods, not men; The city, that, by temperance, fortitude, And love of glory, towered above the clouds, Then fell - but, falling, kept the highest seat,
And in her loneliness, her pomp of woe,
once an avenue
Where VIRGIL read aloud his tale divine,
But what the narrow space
Here and there appears,
It was once,
dust we tread stirs as with life
We are come, Are now where once the mightiest spirits met In terrible conflict; this, while RoME was free, The noblest theatre on this side heaven !
Here the first BRUTUS stood, when o'er the corse Of her so chaste all mourned, and from his cloud Burst like a god. Here, holding up the knife That ran with blood, the blood of his own child, VIRGINIUS called down vengeance. But whence spoke They who harangued the people; turning now 223 To the twelve tables,224 now with lifted hands To the Capitoline Jove, whose fulgent shape In the unclouded azure shone far off
, And to the shepherd on the Alban mount Seemed like a star new-risen ? 223 Where were ranged In rough array, as on their element,