FIORANTE.

A FLORENTINE LEGEND.

269

FIORANTE;

OR, THE BRIDAL EVE.

IN Florence, that sweet gem of Italy,
Dwelt a young maiden past description fair;
Her figure tall and graceful, and her eye

Was bright and azure as the skies are there : In short, her beauty was so wondrous rare, She was a marvel to all passers by!

Her name was Fiorante,-rich and good:
The Count Rigondi was her lover; he
(So it was rumoured in the neighbourhood)
Was on the brink of his felicity.

He truly loved her,—to idolatry,

And her fond ear to early marriage woo'd.

"Hast thou e'er loved, my Fiorante dear?" "Am I not thine (said she) by every vow?” "Hast thou e'er loved another?" and a fear Stole on her as she answer'd,-"Not till now." He pressed his lips upon her blushing brow, And clasped her to his heart more fond and near!

"I made a vow in early youth," he said, "And knit myself by every solemn oath, That I would scorn to wed the fairest maid, Had she been ever bound by lover's troth; And this resolve has strengthened with my growth. Right blest am I that all my fear has fled!"

And then he kissed her fair and gem-wreathed brow, Bidding adieu with many a lingering word.

The Lady Fiorante ne'er till now

Those accents sweet with so much sadness heard:

Those tones, whose music she to all preferred, Fell on her ear like to a broken vow!