Page:Poems of Sentiment and Imagination.djvu/32

28 Fountains gushed in the shade, and flowers bloomed,

And vines were clambering over trellised walks,

And balconies were radiant with bloom;

All things without were lovely; and within

Was a charmed dwelling; so much art,

With wealth and skill, had fashioned that was fair.

But one who came, paused at the outer gate,

And pondered long before he took his way

Toward the high-arched portal. There he paused,

And laid his hand upon his beating heart

To still its sickening tumult.

Menials bade

The stranger enter softly, for that death

Was then within their walls. He hushed his heart,

And questioned of them who had lately died;

And they told him this story: "She who lies

Shrouded in yonder chamber, has long been

Bereft of reason, though so sweet and kind,

And so majestic in her daily port,

That none except her household ever knew

The wildness of her fancies. But she had

A phantasy that some one, one Alberto,

Was gone upon a pilgrimage, from which

When he returned he'd claim her for his bride.

And so she planned this palace and these grounds,

And furnished all things to receive her love.

She had a portrait in a certain chamber,

Which she said was Alberto's; and a chair,

Fashioned luxuriously, was set beside

A table covered with the choicest books;

And here she sat sometimes with her guitar,

On a low ottoman, beside that chair,

And thought that she was listened to by him;

And would look up, and smile, and chide his frowns;

But this was only in her wildest moods.

At length her reason came, and she fell ill,

And wasted with consumption. But she died

In the room called Alberto's.