Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 2.djvu/392

350 XXIX.

Filled with the face of heaven, which, from afar,

Comes down upon the waters! all its hues,

From the rich sunset to the rising star,

Their magical variety diffuse:

And now they change—a paler Shadow strews

Its mantle o'er the mountains; parting Day

Dies like the Dolphin, whom each pang imbues

With a new colour as it gasps away—

The last still loveliest, till—'tis gone—and all is gray.

XXX.

There is a tomb in Arqua;—reared in air,

Pillared in their sarcophagus, repose

The bones of Laura's lover: here repair

Many familiar with his well-sung woes,

The Pilgrims of his Genius. He arose

To raise a language, and his land reclaim

From the dull yoke of her barbaric foes:

Watering the tree which bears his Lady's name N8

With his melodious tears, he gave himself to Fame.