IN ENGLISH POETRY
XLIV
See, as they creep along the river side, 345
How she doth whisper to that aged dame,
And, after looking round the champaign wide,
Shows her a knife.—'What feverous hectic flame
Burns in thee, child ?—what good can thee betide
That thou shouldst smile again ?*—The evening
came, 350
And they had found Lorenzo's earthly bed;
The flint was there, the berries at his head.
XLV
Who hath not loitered in a green church-yard,
. And let his spirit, like a demon-mole,
Work through the clayey soil and gravel hard, ^
To see the skull, coffined bones, and funeral stole;
Pitying each form that hungry Death had marred,
And filling it once more with human soul ?
Ah I this is holiday to what was felt
When Isabella by Lorenzo knelt. 360
XL VI
She gazed into the fresh-thrown mould, as though
One glance did fully all its secrets tell;
Clearly she saw, as other eyes would know
Pale limbs at bottom of a crystal well ;
Upon the murderous spot she seemed to grow, 365
Like to a native lily of the dell:
Then with her knife, all sudden she began
To dig more fervently than misers can.
XLVII
Soon she turned up a soiled glove, whereon
Her silk had played in purple phantasies; ' . -370
144