Fancying strange comments in her dizzy brain Of objects and of persons passed like things The vows to which her lips had sworn assent And so she moved under the bridal veil, Which made the paleness of her cheek more pale, And deepened the faint crimson of her mouth, And darkened her dark locks, as moonlight doth, And of the gold and jewels glittering there She scarce felt conscious, but the weary glare Lay like a chaos of unwelcome light, Vexing the sense with gorgeous undelight. A moonbeam in the shadow of a cloud Was less heavenly fair - her face was bowed, And as she passed, the diamonds in her hair Were mirrored in the polished marble stair Which led from the cathedral to the street; And even as she went her light fair feet Erased these images. The bride-maidens who round her thronging came, Some with a sense of self-rebuke and shame, Envying the unenviable; and others Making the joy which should have been another's Their own by gentle sympathy; and some Sighing to think of a unhappy home ; 22 was less were less, Rossetti. Some few admiring what can ever lure But they are all dispersed and lo! she stands Looking in idle grief on her white hands, Alone within the garden now her own; And through the sunny air, with jangling tone, Killing the azure silence, sinks and swells;- He lifted his wan eyes upon the bride, And said "Is this thy faith?" and then as one Whose sleeping face is stricken by the sun With light like a harsh voice, which bids him rise And look upon his day of life with eyes Which weep in vain that they can dream no more, Ginevra saw her lover, and forbore To shriek or faint, and checked the stifling blood Rushing upon her heart, and unsubdued Said "Friend, if earthly violence or ill, Of parents, chance, or custom, time, or change, we love not. If the grave, which hides The victim from the tyrant, and divides The cheek that whitens from the eyes that dart Imperious inquisition to the heart That is another's, could dissever ours, We love not." "What! do not the silent hours Beckon thee to Gherardi's bridal bed? Is not that ring" a pledge, he would have said, Of broken vows, but she with patient look And said "Accept this token of my faith, so soon That even the dying violet will not die Making her but an image of the thought, Which, like a prophet or a shadow, brought The pale betrayer he then with vain repentance Would share, he cannot now avert, the sentence Antonio stood and would have spoken, when The compound voice of women and of men Was heard approaching; he retired, while she Was led amid the admiring company Back to the palace, and her maidens soon Meanwhile the day sinks fast, the sun is set, And in the lighted hall the guests are met; The beautiful looked lovelier in the light Of love, and admiration, and delight, Reflected from a thousand hearts and eyes Kindling a momentary Paradise. This crowd is safer than the silent wood, From every living heart which it possesses, Treasured i' the instant; so Gherardi's hall Till some one asked, "Where is the Bride?" A bridesmaid went, and ere she came again a pause Of expectation, as when beauty awes All hearts with its approach, though unbeheld; They found Ginevra dead! if it be death To lie without motion, or pulse, or breath, With waxen cheeks, and limbs cold, stiff, and white, And open eyes, whose fixed and glassy light Mocked at the speculation they had owned; If it be death, when there is felt around A smell of clay, a pale and icy glare, And silence, and a sense that lifts the hair From the scalp to the ankles, as it were Corruption from the spirit passing forth, And giving all it shrouded to the earth, And leaving as swift lightning in its flight 129 winds || lands, Forman conj., waves, or sands, or strands, Rossetti conj. |