Like a star, in ocean mirrored, Beamed her liquid, tender eye; But within her bearing queenly, Deepest passion slept serenely As the flame in summer’s sky, Which to fiercest being wakens, when we dream it least is nigh! She had grown, in soul and beauty, Like her own delicious clime— With the warmth and radiance showered On its gardens, citron-bowered, And its winds that woo in rhyme: With its fiery tropic fervors, and its Etna-throes sublime! Near her stood the fair Bianca, Once a shepherd’s humble child, Who with tender hand was twining Through her tresses, raven-shining, Pearls of lustre pure and mild; And the lady in the mirror saw their braided gleam, and smiled. Falling over brow and bosom, Swept her dark and glossy hair; And the flash on Etna faded, As Bianca slowly braided With her fingers small and fair, While a deeper shadow gathered o’er the chamber’s scented air. On the jeweled mirror gazing, Spoke the lady not a word, When, within its picture certain, Slowly moved the silken curtain, Though the breezes had not stirred, And its faintly falling rustle on the marble was unheard. Breathless, o’er her tender musing Came a strange and sudden fear. With a nameless, chill foreboding, All her fiery spirit goading, Listened she with straining ear; Through the dusky laurel foliage, all was silent, far and near! Not a stealthy footfall sounded On the tesselated floor; Yet she saw, with secret terror, Count Alberto, in the mirror, Stealing through the curtained door, Like a fearful, shadowy spirit, whom a curse is hanging o’er. What! so soon from far Palermo? Has he left the feast of pride— Has he left the knightly tourney For the happy homeward journey And the greeting of his bride? Coldly, darkly, in her bosom, the upspringing rapture died! With a glance of tender meaning On the maid he softly smiled, And the answering smile, and token In her glowing blushes spoken, Well betrayed the shepherd’s child! To her gaze, within the mirror, stood that picture dim and wild! Moved again the silken curtain, As he passed without a sound; Then the sunset’s fading ember Died within the lonely chamber, And the darkness gathered round, While in passion’s fierce delirium was the lady’s bosom bound.