I will send at once to Asco, Blackest pine-black I will crave, Black as raven's wing the raiment That from henceforth I will have; While my life ebbs back and forwards Like the rain-flood in their grave. See ye not the ceaseless fountains From these clouded eyes that well, O'er the two beloved brothers That in one hour bravely fell? Two deaths are at once proclaimed By the tolling of one bell. Thou my crown of gold so ruddy— Thou my ring of precious stone; O Pierù! my former gladness— O Orà! my present moan! In the Chapel of Tallanu, Like you two there is not one. And to you, too, Rev'rend Curate, Bitter words I needs must say; For the love my kin still show'd you, Thanklessly you now repay; Three years since we number'd seven— You have borne them all away. Only to the first street's ending Will I follow in your train— Follow, blinded by my weeping— Weeping, get me home again, This the saddest, last procession Of the five dear brothers slain. VOCERO OF A HERDSMAN'S WIFE OF TALAVO, ON HER HUSBAND. On the beach his corpse is lying Where the two old cork-trees spread; O Francesco! faithful herdsman! Fearful 'tis to see thee dead! How shall I, by thee forsaken, Gloomy forest-pathways tread? I will tear away the branches From yon spreading Palo-tree— Leathern bags and caps shall no more From its boughs suspended be; And the sheep-dog he most valued, With his ears clipp'd, all shall see. Wo! wo! wo! my heart is breaking, Let your wailing fill the air; O my brothers! O my sisters! Such a stroke is hard to bear. From the house the head is taken, God has doom'd me to despair. (_After the burial is over, the shepherdess returns to her cabin, and describes the ceremony to her friends and relations._) On the bier I saw them lay him, Towards Prunelli carry slow; There, in dumb but heartfelt mourning. Flocks and cattle bleat and low— E'en the kids between the hurdles Bah, bah, bah! their loss to show. In the Church of Blessed Mary, In the holy churchyard ground, Chants and prays the rev'rend Father, With attendant priests around; Loud as at a noble's burial, Peals the sad and solemn sound. When the funeral was over, Oh, how hastily each rose! Straight an open grave discov'ring, My Francesco to enclose; Borne on by a rush of people. Towards that grave the coffin goes. Oh! but what their cruel purpose! Oh! the thought is endless wo; I looked down, in hopes the sunlight Through some grave-wall chink might flow; But I saw then my husband lower'd Into darkness—lower'd slow. VOCERO ON THE DEATH OF ROMANA, THE DAUGHTER OF DARIOLA DANESI OF ZUANI. (_The Mother sings._)