Page:Keats, poems published in 1820 (Robertson, 1909).djvu/90

62 "Love, Isabel!" said he, "I was in pain Lest I should miss to bid thee a good morrow Ah! what if I should lose thee, when so fain I am to stifle all the heavy sorrow Of a poor three hours' absence? but we'll gain Out of the amorous dark what day doth borrow. Goodbye! I'll soon be back."—"Goodbye!" said she:— And as he went she chanted merrily.

So the two brothers and their murder'd man Rode past fair Florence, to where Arno's stream Gurgles through straiten'd banks, and still doth fan Itself with dancing bulrush, and the bream Keeps head against the freshets. Sick and wan The brothers' faces in the ford did seem, Lorenzo's flush with love.—They pass'd the water Into a forest quiet for the slaughter.