His Sword was gone; the Goatherd Swain Seem’d guilty, past recalling: The BARON now his life demands Where the tall Gibbet skirts the lands With black’ning bones appalling! Low at the BARON’s feet, in tears Fair ZORIETTO kneeling, The Goatherd’s life requir’d;—but found That Pride can give the deepest wound Without the pang of feeling. That Pow’r can mock the suff’rer’s woes And triumph o’er the sighing; Can scorn the noblest mind oppress’d, Can fill with thorns the feeling breast Soft pity’s tear denying. “Take me,” she cried, “but spare his age— “Let me his ransom tender; “I will the fatal deed atone, “For crimes that never were my own, “My breaking heart surrender.” The marriage day was fix’d, the Tow’rs With banners rich were mounted; His heart beat high against his side While GOLFRE, waiting for his bride, The weary minutes counted. The snow fell fast, with mingling hail, The dawn was late, and louring; Poor ZORIETTO rose aghast! Unmindful of the Northern blast And prowling Wolves, devouring. Swift to the wood of Pines she flew, Love made the assignation; For there, the sov’reign of her soul Watch’d the blue mists of morning roll Around her habitation. The BARON, by a Spy appriz’d, Was there before his Bride; He seiz’d the Youth, and madly strew’d The white Cliff, with his steaming blood, Then hurl’d him down its side. And now ’twas said, an hungry wolf Had made the Youth his prey: His heart lay frozen on the snow, And here and there a purple glow Speckled the pathless way. The marriage day at length arriv’d, The Priest bestow’d his blessing: A _clasp of orient pearl_ fast bound A _zone of amber_ circling round, Her slender waist compressing. On ZORIETTO’s snowy breast A ruby cross was heaving; So the pale snow-drop faintly glows, When shelter’d by the damask rose, Their beauties interweaving! And now the holy vow began Upon her lips to falter! And now all deathly wan she grew And now three lamps, of livid hue Pass’d slowly round the Altar.