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"Nor were there wanting
lays of other lands,
For these were all familiar in his hands:
And Dante's dream of horror worked its spell, -
And Petrarch's sadness on our bosoms fell, -
And prisoned Tasso's - he, the coldly-loved,
The madly-loving! he, so deeply proved
By many a year of darkness, like the grave,
For her who dared not plead, or would not save,
For her who thought the poet's suit brought shame,
Whose passion hath immortalized her name!
And Egmont, with his noble heart betrayed, -
And Carlos, haunted by a murdered shade, -
And Faust's strange legend, sweet and wondrous wild,
Stole many a tear: - Creation's loveliest child!
Guileless, ensnared, and tempted Margaret,
Who could peruse thy fate with eyes unwet?
"Then, through the lands we read of, far away,
The vision led me all a summer's day:
And we looked round on southern Italy,
Where her dark head the graceful cypress rears
In arrowy straightness and soft majesty,
And the sun's face a mellower glory wears;
Bringing, where'er his warm light richly shines,
Sweet odours from the gum-distilling pines;
And casting o'er white palaces a glow,
Like morning's hue on mountain-peaks of snow.
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