f wonder and dismay.

LVIII.

Amid her loosen'd hair the night-breeze play'd,
And sent it waving wildly o'er her breast,
Until the snowy lawn with golden braid
In soft and waving traceries seemed drest.
And as she sped along a muffled shade
Still at her side o'er tombs and grasses prest,
As though insatiate Death in discontent
Pursuing his escaped victim went.

LIX.

Ah! whither shall she flee, poor hapless thing,
To find a rest more blissful than the grave,
For what sweet haven spread her weary wing,
To nestle from the foam of sorrow's wave?
The midnight winds are sadly whispering,
And coldly on her beating temples lave;
Yes!--on--an iron law is in her soul,
Peace! trembling heart, brave not its stern controul.

LX.

Weary and trembling tarried she at last
Before her bridal home, with fitful cries,
Till on the crooked Pietro limping past
The buried voice in trembling accents sighs.
The portal opens--but the wretch, aghast,
Before that white-draped phantom, livid, flies
As slayer 'fore his risen victim might,
Smitten with guilty terror at the sight.

LXI.

Woe to thee, coward, in thy secret places!
Woe to thee in the daylight haunts of men!
Cold terror wrap thee in his close embraces,
And bear thee shrieking to his haunted den.
Circle thy midnight couch with vengeful faces,
And conscience torture beyond mortal ken;
Ave Maria! blessings on the maid
All in the moonlight at thy portal laid.

LXII.

Vainly she calls for help in fainting tones,
Only the watchful echoes heed the sound,
Respondless bearing on her hapless moans,
Fainter and fainter o'er the moonlit ground--
On--on--she hurries o'er the flinty stones,
Like spirit on some dreadful mission bound;
And from that guilty threshold as she stept,
The grave clothes off her trembling footprints swept.

LXIII.

She sank nigh dead with weariness and fear
Before the dwelling of her early youth,
Breathing forth saddest sighs which but to hear
Might melt the heart with tenderness and ruth.
She lay there like a bud which tempests drear
Nip in its spring time with remorseless tooth;
Ah! sure a father's heart will tender be,
Nor close its issues 'gainst her utterly.

LXIV.

Amieri wander'd through his gloomy halls
With restless steps and vacant rolling eyne,
Whilst from each wide spread casement down there falls
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