Page:The Vespers of Palermo.pdf/61



Joy be to this fair meeting!—Who hath seen The viceroy's bride ?

I saw her, as she pass'd The gazing throngs assembled in the city. 'Tis said she hath not left for years, till now, Her castle's wood-girt solitude. 'Twill gall These proud Sicilians, that her wide domains Should be the conqueror's guerdon.

'Twas their boast With what fond faith she worshipp'd still the name Of the boy, Conradin. How will the slaves Brook this new triumph of their lords?

In sooth It stings them to the quick. In the full streets They mix with our Provençals, and assume A guise of mirth, but it sits hardly on them. 'Twere worth a thousand festivals, to see With what a bitter and unnatural effort They strive to smile!

Is this Vittoria fair?

Of a most noble mien; but yet her beauty Is wild and awful, and her large dark eye, In its unsettled glances, hath strange power, From which thou'lt shrink, as I did.

Hush! they come.