Giovanni.
She lies deep in earth—
The forest boughs wave o'er her; birds will sing
As blithely, and the fawn shall calmly sleep
Upon her unblest grave, as tho' he stretched
His limbs on sod undrenched with human blood.
There is no witness of my crime; the world
Will call me good and virtuous, and my tomb
Be sculptured o'er with poets' flatteries—
'Tis here, 'tis in my brain, that I am stamped
With deadly sin! What would my prayer avail?
Can I repent that I have saved my child
And thee from shame? Were it to do again,
This arm is ready. I have murdered her—
A helpless woman, and my wedded wife;—
Could I repent of this, I had been mad
When I performed the deed. I knew the crime
Was hopeless, and I shrunk not from it; but
Never, oh never, nor on earth nor heaven
Shall I taste peace again.
