UGOLINO.
15
Or grant he should, this transfer of my favor,
(To one whom he hath ever held a foe,
Since his defeat at Rome upon the Corso,)
Will blow the spark, however small to flames,
Which may prove fatal in their rage to thee.
Ser. Banish such thoughts—to-morrow's happy eve,
Shall give thee to these faithful arms for ever;
Then let his rage blaze out, thou dear Olympia
Shalt be my amulet, the charm worn,
Next to my heart, can ward off every ill,
Or turn its edge, and make its fall unheeded.
Thy voice, my love, sweet as the silver bells
Of Paradise, which Eastern poets sing of,
Shall with its holy and melodious spell,
Balsam thy wounds of care, and call down peace
To spread her downy and immaculate wings,
Benignly o'er us.—Love shall make our hours,
Glide placidly as lilies down the stream,
When the hush winds amidst its sedges sleep
And its clear bosom looks another heaven.
Olym. I will be ruled, indeed I will, Serassi;
I'll strive to chase this sadness from my soul,
It hath no business there; but like a rude,
And unexpected guest, came bluntly in,
And fill'd the seat which joy should occupy.
Good night, Serassi!
Ser. Why good night, my love?
'Tis early yet. send me not hence so soon.
Olym. Nay, nay, but thou shalt leave, dost thou think
I've promised what I care not to perform,
I would be left to combat with this folly;
But go not to Monteno's.
Ser. Sweet, I will not. [Crosses to l.
Olym. Well then, good night!
Ser. Good night, my own Olympia. [Exit Serassi l.
Olym. He's gone, and now my spirits sink again,
His own Olympia! why should such sweet words
Fall like a parting knell upon mine ear?
And yet they did, and when he said "good night,"
Methought it sounded like good night for ever!
Nay, this is weakness, and shame on thee, Olympia,
Let not such fancy with this dusky veil,
Scarf up the brightest prospect, which ere dawned
On thy delighted soul. What noise was that?
Sure, 'twas the Raven's note.—Hence, fatal bird,
Hence with thy ominous shriek—go flap thy wings,
O'er tow'rs where guilt on downy couch reclines,
And bid him wake to fear! Lash! dark-brow'd night,
Thy ebon coursers down the western sky,
Break up thy starry court, descend thy state,
(To one whom he hath ever held a foe,
Since his defeat at Rome upon the Corso,)
Will blow the spark, however small to flames,
Which may prove fatal in their rage to thee.
Ser. Banish such thoughts—to-morrow's happy eve,
Shall give thee to these faithful arms for ever;
Then let his rage blaze out, thou dear Olympia
Shalt be my amulet, the charm worn,
Next to my heart, can ward off every ill,
Or turn its edge, and make its fall unheeded.
Thy voice, my love, sweet as the silver bells
Of Paradise, which Eastern poets sing of,
Shall with its holy and melodious spell,
Balsam thy wounds of care, and call down peace
To spread her downy and immaculate wings,
Benignly o'er us.—Love shall make our hours,
Glide placidly as lilies down the stream,
When the hush winds amidst its sedges sleep
And its clear bosom looks another heaven.
Olym. I will be ruled, indeed I will, Serassi;
I'll strive to chase this sadness from my soul,
It hath no business there; but like a rude,
And unexpected guest, came bluntly in,
And fill'd the seat which joy should occupy.
Good night, Serassi!
Ser. Why good night, my love?
'Tis early yet. send me not hence so soon.
Olym. Nay, nay, but thou shalt leave, dost thou think
I've promised what I care not to perform,
I would be left to combat with this folly;
But go not to Monteno's.
Ser. Sweet, I will not. [Crosses to l.
Olym. Well then, good night!
Ser. Good night, my own Olympia. [Exit Serassi l.
Olym. He's gone, and now my spirits sink again,
His own Olympia! why should such sweet words
Fall like a parting knell upon mine ear?
And yet they did, and when he said "good night,"
Methought it sounded like good night for ever!
Nay, this is weakness, and shame on thee, Olympia,
Let not such fancy with this dusky veil,
Scarf up the brightest prospect, which ere dawned
On thy delighted soul. What noise was that?
Sure, 'twas the Raven's note.—Hence, fatal bird,
Hence with thy ominous shriek—go flap thy wings,
O'er tow'rs where guilt on downy couch reclines,
And bid him wake to fear! Lash! dark-brow'd night,
Thy ebon coursers down the western sky,
Break up thy starry court, descend thy state,
