Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 23, Pages 549-550
THE BRIDAL-DAY.
On a Monument, in a Venetian Church, is an Epitaph, recording that the remains beneath are those of a noble Lady, who expired suddenly while standing as a Bride at the Altar.
We bear her Home! we bear her Home!
Over the murmuring salt-sea's foam;
One who has fled from the War of Liſe,
From sorrow-pains and the fever-strife.
Barry Cornwall.
Bride! upon thy marriage-day,
When thy gems in rich array
Made the glistening mirror seem
As a star-reflecting stream;
When the clustering pearls lay fair
Midst thy braids of sunny hair;
And the white veil o'er thee streaming,
Like a silvery halo gleaming,
Mellow'd all that pomp and light
Into something meekly bright;
Did the fluttering of thy breath,
Speak of joy or woe beneath?
And the hue that went and came
O'er thy cheek, like wavering flame,
Flow'd that crimson from th' unrest,
Or the gladness of thy breast?
—Who shall tell us?—from thy bower
Brightly didst thou pass that hour;
With the many-glancing oar,
And the cheer along the shore,
And the wealth of summer-flowers
On thy fair head cast in showers,
And the breath of song and flute,
And the clarion's glad salute,
Swiftly o'er the Adrian tide
Wert thou borne in pomp, young Bride!
Mirth and music, sun and sky,
Welcomed thee triumphantly!
—Yet perchance a chastening thought
In some deeper spirit wrought,
Whispering, as untold it blent
With the sounds of merriment,
