Classic Poem

If thou shouldst ever come by choice or chance
To Modena , where still religiously
Among her ancient trophies is preserved
B OLOGNA'S bucket (in its chain it hangs
Within that reverend tower, the Guirlandine),
Stop at a palace near the Reggio-gate,
Dwelt in of old by one of the O RSINI .
Its noble gardens, terrace above terrace,
And rich in fountains, statues, cypresses,
Will long detain thee; through their arched walks,
Dim at noon-day, discovering many a glimpse
Of knights and dames such as in old romance,
And lovers such as in heroic song, —
Perhaps the two, for groves were their delight,
That in the spring-time, as alone they sate,
Venturing together on a tale of love,
Read only part that day. — — A summer-sun
Sets ere one-half is seen; but, ere thou go,
Enter the house — prithee, forget it not —
And look a while upon a picture there.
'Tis of a lady in her earliest youth,
The very last of that illustrious race,
Done by Z AMPIERI — but by whom I care not.
He who observes it, ere he passes on,
Gazes his fill, and comes and comes again,
That he may call it up when far away.
She sits, inclining forward as to speak,
Her lips half-open, and her finger up,
As though she said " Beware! " her vest of gold
Broidered with flowers, and clasped from head to foot,
An emerald-stone in every golden clasp;
And on her brow, fairer than alabaster,
A coronet of pearls. But then her face,
So lovely, yet so arch, so full of mirth,
The overflowings of an innocent heart —
It haunts me still, though many a year has fled,
Like some wild melody!
Alone it hangs
Over a mouldering heirloom, its companion,
An oaken-chest, half-eaten by the worm,
But richly carved by A NTONY of Trent
With scripture-stories from the life of Christ;
A chest that came from V ENICE , and had held
The ducal robes of some old ancestor.
That by the way — it may be true or false —
But don't forget the picture; and thou wilt not,
When thou hast heard the tale they told me there.
She was an only child; from infancy
The joy, the pride, of an indulgent sire.
Her mother dying of the gift she gave,
That precious gift, what else remained to him?
The young G INEVRA was his all in life,
Still as she grew, forever in his sight;
And in her fifteenth year became a bride,
Marrying an only son, F RANCESCO D ORIA ,
Her playmate from her birth, and her first love.
Just as she looks there in her bridal dress,
She was all gentleness, all gayety,
Her pranks the favorite theme of every tongue
But now the day was come, the day, the hour;
Now, frowning, smiling, for the hundredth time,
The nurse, that ancient lady, preached decorum;
And, in the lustre of her youth, she gave
Her hand, with her heart in it, to F RANCESCO .
Great was the joy; but at the bridal feast,
When all sate down, the bride was wanting there
Nor was she to be found! Her father cried,
" 'Tis but to make a trial of our love! "
And filled his glass to all; but his hand shook,
And soon from guest to guest the panic spread
'Twas but that instant she had left F RANCESCO ,
Laughing and looking back and flying still,
Her ivory-tooth imprinted on his finger
But now, alas! she was not to be found;
Nor from that hour could anything be guessed
But that she was not! — Weary of his life,
F RANCESCO flew to V ENICE , and forthwith
Flung it away in battle with the Turk
O RSINI lived; and long was to be seen
An old man wandering as in quest of something,
Something he could not find — he knew not what.
When he was gone, the house remained a while
Silent and tenantless — then went to strangers.
Full fifty years were past, and all forgot,
When on an idle day, a day of search
'Mid the old lumber in the gallery,
That mouldering chest was noticed; and 't was said
By one as young, as thoughtless as G INEVRA ,
" Why not remove it from its lurking-place? "
'Twas done as soon as said; but on the way
It burst, it fell; and, lo! a skeleton,
With here and there a pearl, an emerald-stone,
A golden clasp, clasping a shred of gold.
All else had perished — save a nuptial ring,
And a small seal, her mother's legacy,
Engraven with a name, the name of both,
" G INEVRA . " — — There, then, had she found a grave!
Within that chest had she concealed herself,
Fluttering with joy, the happiest of the happy;
When a spring-lock, that lay in ambush there,
Fastened her down forever!