Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 2.djvu/396

354 In melancholy bosoms—such as were

Of moody texture from their earliest day,

And loved to dwell in darkness and dismay

Deeming themselves predestined to a doom

Which is not of the pangs that pass away;

Making the Sun like blood, the Earth a tomb,

The tomb a hell—and Hell itself a murkier gloom.

XXXV.

Ferrara! in thy wide and grass-grown streets,

Whose symmetry was not for solitude,

There seems as 'twere a curse upon the Seats

Of former Sovereigns, and the antique brood

Of Este, which for many an age made good

Its strength within thy walls, and was of yore