The beamy tenants of all space

Each in its lasting shining-place.

Yet many are they to whom yon light
Is but to guilt a lovely guide,
And only welcome to their sight
Because the all-forsaken night

The doers of dark deeds can hide;
And, journeying by Locarno's side,
There is a band of men to whom
More fitting were the wintry gloom;
Who, in this season of sweet rest,
Are speeding to a work unblest.
To yonder halls of joy they go,
The pitiless harbingers of woe.
It is not gold for which they toil,
But hatred claims a dearer spoil;
And theirs, ere long, may be a prize
Shall oft bring tears into those eyes
That interchange such glances now
As tell the young heart's overflow.

Within Alviano's ancient halls,

The voice of music softly calls

To hearts that answer boundingly;

E

And glancing to the festal ray

The vestures of the proud and gay-
The knightly badges-honour's fee-
Sparkle, with everchanging gleam
Of gold and jewels rare, that beam

Now half bedimmed, now dazzlingly,
Where'er the graceful wearers move,
Where'er the untired eye may rove.
The stateliest knight those lords among,
The noblest in that high-born throng,
Is Giulio, now the only one

Of six all warlike brethren left:

The others from the world are reft,

In manhood's noon of lustre, gone

From all that life's fresh outset hath.

Two fell before a lover's wrath;

Another perished in the wave;

Two more have found an unknown grave, Where murderers beset their path :

So all believe, but none can tell

Where or by whose strong hand they fell:

When last among the living seen,

They journeyed, with a noble band Who sought their own Italian land, But never reached their homes, I ween.

Not one of those escaped to show

Who laid his slaughtered fellows low.

Three years have thrice
have thrice gone by since then,
Nor brought a tiding of their lot :
Unmarked is still their burial-spot,

And rarely from the lips of men
Their names or rueful fate are heard,

And the strange truth has ne'er appeared.
That heir of great Alviano's name

Is wedded to a beauteous dame,

And not, alone, their hands are joined ;

They were wedded, mind to mind,

More firmly than the Church can bind,

And hoped together, to this hour,

Even from their childhood. Hope hath power

Doubly to betray the few

Who have believed her as those two

Have done, and more than ever do.

Few love or wed like them I wis:

Oh their's should be a life of bliss!

All at the banquet-board seemed glad :
Whatever might be felt within,
All there, beneath a goodly mien,

Had power to keep their souls unseen,

That Lord turned quickly round to see
The man who spoke so daringly:

"Bold babbler, thou'rt unknown to me,
"Nor shalt thou dare, this roof beneath,
"To give thy senseless raving breath :

“ Hence! drag him forth !" Stern was the smile That stranger's features wore the while;

Then, looking round, he waved his hand,
And pointed to a gallery high:

"There waits above a hardy band,

،، Whose oft-dyed blades are now upreared "O'er all your lives, till they have heard

"The breath of mine that bids you

die.

"Their fellows hem you round :-beware!

"Madness alone methinks could dare

"Here to dispute my kingly sway,

"For whom such liegemen thirst to slay.

"Mark me, good lords! should but one hand

"Grasp dagger-hilt, or draw a brand

"Even half way from the sheath

"Should but one voice a menace breathe

"The brainless doer of such deed

"Shall find an undelaying meed,

"And death full near at hand."

As he spoke, they round them saw
The sudden gleam of iron clear,
On many a mail-clad breast,

And waving sword, and lifted spear,
In hands that knew no other law

Than yonder chief's behest.

Then was deep stillness in that hall:
Wonder and fear had mastered all;
They stirred not. 'Twas as if a spell
Were in that stranger's glances fell,
To bind them where they were.
The boldest hearts more quickly beat

While his dark words and bitter threat

Still rung in every ear.

None could look from him; he did seem

The spectre of a ghastly dream;

None spoke; all thoughts were wrapped in one;

They saw, they heard but him alone.

Hark! 'tis he again that speaks,

And fade again the listener's cheeks,

While to each heart

goes every word :

"It is unto this castle's lord

"That I have come-a guest unsought;

"And with unwelcome tidings fraught.