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Back from my youth it floated, with a tone Of life's first music, and a thought of one— Where is she now? and where the gauds of pride Whose hollow splendour lured me from her side? All lost!—and this is death!—I cannot die Without forgiveness from that mournful eye! Away! the earth hath lost her. Was she born To brook abandonment, to strive with scorn? My first, my holiest love!—her broken heart Lies low, and I—unpardon'd I depart."

But then Costanza rais'd the shadowy veil From her dark locks and features brightly pale, And stood before him with a smile—oh! ne'er Did aught that smiled so much of sadness wear— And said, "Cesario! look on me; I live To say my heart hath bled, and can forgive. I loved thee with such worship, such deep trust As should be Heaven's alone—and Heaven is just! I bless thee—be at peace!"