Page:Prometheus bound - Browning (1833).djvu/164



Si fia muta ogni altra cosa, al fine Parlerà il mio morire, E ti dirà la morte il mio martire. Author:Giovanni Battista Guarini.

room was darken’d; but a wan lamp shed Its light upon a half-uncurtain’d bed, Whereon the widow’d sate. Blackly as death Her veiling hair hung round her, and no breath Came from her lips to motion it. Between Its parted clouds, the calm fair face was seen In a snow paleness and snow silentness, With eyes unquenchable, whereon did press A little, their white lids, so taught to lie, By weights of frequent tears wept secretly.