House by the sea : a poem / Thomas Buchanan Read [electronic text]

VIII.

WHILE the songs were sung, each passing breath Seemed breathed from the feverish breast of Death; All the air which had heard the tune Hung sultry and heavy and dead, Pulsed through and through with flushes of red, And hot as a broad, unshielded noon In a fiery clime at the end of June.

In the purple sky, an hour too soon, Like a wedding-bark await At a Venetian palace-gate, Floated the empty, crescent moon, Moored at a crimson cloud,—a barge of state In the sunset's broad lagune.

But to Agatha that cloud Seemed like a world consuming with fire— Whereon the avenging sun had breathed his ire! And the moon was only a poor corpse in a shroud, Which had been shot from a bark forlorn Into the tranquil sea at morn, That rose at eve a ghastly sight, To blanch the mariner's cheek with fright!

Incongruous fancies, a maniac crowd,Leaped through her brain, and shrieked aloud; While, as to a blighting gust Of red ashes and dust, With a desperate wail her sad soul bowed. And when with dry, hot eyes she saw— Each throbbing like a burning heart— The glowing lady lean and draw Roland close to her heaving side, And smoothing his floating locks apart, With looks of mingled passion and pride,

Press on his brow a heated kiss,— Her heart, as one in a nightmare dream, Striving with fruitless effort to scream, Seemed plunging down a black abyss.

But when the lady, with sidelong eyes Half-veiled in mocking hate's eclipse,— A look which pitied, yet seemed to despise— Glanced at the maiden's face of despair, And bending down and down with triumphant air, Set the hot seal of her love on his lips— There was more than a frenzied soul could bear! A sudden shriek—wild, sharp, and shrill! A plunge!—a gurgle!—a widening thrill Rippling the water! And all was still!

"Oh, see!" cried the lady,—"O Roland, behold! She has leapt in the sea! She is drowned in the sea! And it is all for the love of thee!

Her heart was so warm, and your blood was so cold!" "By Heaven!" he cried, "it shall not be!" Then another plunge and another thrill Rippled the wave; and a voice as shrill As ever a fiend could shout in glee, Cried, "Adieu! adieu! Till we meet anew In our palace of splendour far under the sea!"

And all the air, the moment after, Was filled with wild demoniac laughter— And like swift hounds in pursuit of a wolf, Sudden flaws from the leash of the gale Leapt upon the straining sail, And chased it over the flashing gulf. Away and away, with a murderous flight, Sped the bark,—away and away! Doubling the headland into the bay, Like a red-handed homicide flying from sight!