Eidolon, or The Course of a Soul Part 8

XLV.

The life-long night they watched and laboured there, With fearful whispers pulsing on the ear, The trembling women gasping many a prayer, Wrung by a rustle, freighted up with fear, Till morning came, and with it came despair, So still she lay, so icy cold and sere; And silently and slow they crept away, With bated breath as though she slumb'ring lay.

XLVI.

They 'lumed pale torches at her moveless feet, That flung grey shadows round the ghostly room, And ofttimes misty clouds of incense sweet Went wreathing upward through the death-like gloom; There was no sound, not e'en a faint heart-beat, But all was silent as it were Death's tomb, And from without the breezes as they drave, Sigh'd low and sad like mourners o'er a grave.

XLVII.

The maiden lay there beautiful and pure, As one that slept and sunn'd her soul in heaven, From every chance of grief and pain secure, Sublimed from every taint of earthly leaven; Her placid bosom through white vest.i.ture Shone soft and holy, that poor breast so riven, And her small hands prest gently as in prayer, Breath'd from the Earth to Heaven, and ended there.

XLVIII.

They came with stilly tread and panting breath, And softly laid her on the narrow bier, A lovely sleeper in the arms of death, Unruffled by a dream or chilly fear, As some fair child that sweetly slumbereth Upon the bosom of her mother dear.

They bore the dead forth over flowers to rest, Whose living feet on cruel thorns had prest.

XLIX.

He, crooked though in frame, in spirit more, Went by her now as erst he did in life, A slayer, watching whilst they slowly bore The helpless victim of his unseen knife; And sorrow for a mask he broadly wore, To cloak the guilt that in his heart was rife.

Woe to thee, base heart, from the lids that weep!

Woe to thee, base heart, from the eyes that sleep!

L.

There was a vault within whose stifling maw Lay many a scion of Amieri's race, Crumbling to dust beneath Death's sapping thaw, That still melts down mortality apace; And round the fastness distillations raw Moulder'd the stones with damp and hideous trace; And here they laid her beautiful and pure, From every chance of grief and pain secure.

LI.

Close in their cold and narrow coffins pent, Around her lay ancestral ashes heaped, That through the dank and clammy darkness sent Currents in foul and noxious vapours steeped; And loudly through the gloomy stillness went The oozy plashes from the roof that dripped, Marking the minutes as they slid away, With slimy tokens of the frame's decay.

LII.

The rank air slumber'd deep on midnight wings, Dead as the dead that fester'd 'neath its shade, Hush'd from those low and fearful whisperings, That make the living pallid and afraid, Till nigh amid its awful shadowings, The cerements silver'd round the hapless maid, As might a lucent gem with radiance glow, Caught from the brightness of the soul below.

LIII.

Soh! 'tis a sigh--low drawn and very faint, A spirit stirring 'mid the slumb'ring dead, Bodiless, homeless, breathing forth its plaint, Nor yet from life and its sad memories fled.

Soh! it comes swooning through the air so taint Acute and clear as ever arrow sped; Ah! miserere for the hapless soul, That from the sh.o.r.es of death thus wafts its dole.

LIV.

Soh! the soft raising of a white clad arm-- Are holy angels bearing her away?

Ave Maria! shield thy child from harm, And guard her from this mansion of decay!

Soh! how the lady trembles with alarm, How wildly round the cave her glances stray, Until amid the torpid gloom they die Of s.p.a.ce deep darken'd to immensity.

LV.

With frenzied strength from off her naked feet, She tore the linen fetters they had bound, And mantled closely in white winding sheet, The maiden slid upon the icy ground; With tottering steps that terror rendered fleet, And trembling hands she traced the vault around, Stumbling o'er rotten sh.e.l.ls whose prison'd bones Rattled beneath her touch with hollow groans.

LVI.

Her palm grew clammy with the slimy ooze That fester'd on the walls in sick'ning streams, As on the pallid brow Death's icy dews Gather, the presage of corruption's seams; Pale horror every sound and motion glues, So corpse-like all around the dungeon seems; But on--and a low portal met her hand, By iron staunchions in quaint tracings spann'd.

LVII.

And so escaping from her death-like swoon, Forth sped she to the clear and healthful air, Fearing her shadow which the orbed moon Flung darkly on the moss-enwoven stair; And her white feet, used to the silken shoon, Chilled 'neath the stone so comfortless and bare, Falling unechoed as she sped away, Wing'd with the strength of wonder and dismay.

LVIII.

Amid her loosen'd hair the night-breeze play'd, And sent it waving wildly o'er her breast, Until the snowy lawn with golden braid In soft and waving traceries seemed drest.

And as she sped along a m.u.f.fled shade Still at her side o'er tombs and gra.s.ses prest, As though insatiate Death in discontent Pursuing his escaped victim went.

LIX.

Ah! whither shall she flee, poor hapless thing, To find a rest more blissful than the grave, For what sweet haven spread her weary wing, To nestle from the foam of sorrow's wave?

The midnight winds are sadly whispering, And coldly on her beating temples lave; Yes!--on--an iron law is in her soul, Peace! trembling heart, brave not its stern controul.

LX.

Weary and trembling tarried she at last Before her bridal home, with fitful cries, Till on the crooked Pietro limping past The buried voice in trembling accents sighs.

The portal opens--but the wretch, aghast, Before that white-draped phantom, livid, flies As slayer 'fore his risen victim might, Smitten with guilty terror at the sight.

LXI.

Woe to thee, coward, in thy secret places!

Woe to thee in the daylight haunts of men!

Cold terror wrap thee in his close embraces, And bear thee shrieking to his haunted den.

Circle thy midnight couch with vengeful faces, And conscience torture beyond mortal ken; Ave Maria! blessings on the maid All in the moonlight at thy portal laid.

LXII.