Page:Keats - Poetical Works, DeWolfe, 1884.djvu/185

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"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.

Good-by! I'll soon be back."—"Good-by!" 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 straighten'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.

There was Lorenzo slain and buried in,
 * There in that forest did his great love cease;

Ah! when a soul doth thus its freedom win,
 * It aches in loneliness—is ill at peace

As the break-covert blood-hounds of such sin:
 * They dipp'd their swords in the water, and did tease

Their horses homeward, with convulsed spur, Each richer by his being a murderer.