Eccelino da Romano, surnamed the Tyrant of Padua. A poem, in twelve books

Preface

. Eccelino Count da Romano was descended from a German family, who were settled for some generations in the March of Treviso. He was born in the Castle of Romano, April 26, 1195, and died of wounds received in battle, in the Castle of Soncino, in the Cremonese, September 27, 1259- His character is well adapted to the song of the heroic Muse ; inasmuch as he combined the warlike genius of Napoleon with the sanguinary policy of Maximilian Robespierre ; the reckless bravery of our Richard III., crowned by the romantic ambition and wild superstition of Macbeth. The renown of his deeds in arms, however, surpassed the horror of his crimes ; and his memory became an object of admira-

PREFACE.

. IV tion, even whilst the tradition of his dreadful cruelties struck mankind aghast. The beauty, the address, the skill in magic, or the black art (then much practised in Padua), of his mother Adelaide, prepared the way for his ascendancy over the Ghibellin party, as well as the matrimonial alliances which he had contracted; for he was four times married, although he left no issue. One of his wives was a natural daughter of the Emperor Frederick II. of Germany, of the Suabian line ; the patron and protector of the Ghibellins ; the instigator of the deadly feuds, as well as the invader of Italy. Adelaide was a noble lady of Tuscany, sister to the Count of Mongona. Rolandmi tells us that she was an adept in the arcana of astrology, an interpreter of dreams and omens. She is said on her death-bed to have disclosed to her son the terrible secret of his birth : that he was the offspring of her adulterous intercourse with the demon.

This wonderful avowal, proclaimed by himself, gave Eccelino vast power over the dark and wild passions of that age of tremendous energy. This story is related by Salici ; by Benvenuto da Imola; by Albertino Mussato, in his tragedy; by Henri de Spondanus, in his Continuation of the Ecde-

PREFACE.

. V siastical Annals of Baronius; and by many others, who have added many legends appertaining thereunto. Ariosto says, in the Furioso, Ezzelino immanissimo tiranno Che fia creduto figlio del demonic Some historians assert, that on that death-bed she also revealed to him his future fortune ; the fall of his power ; the total wreck of his family, and the extinc tion of his race. Tradition makes her a sorceress, which proves that she was endowed with uncommon powers. Eccelino's hostility was particularly directed against the Church, which he persecuted with unrelenting ferocity : wherever he reigned absolute, the holy rites of religion were suppressed, and its ministers extermi nated. He strove, by unheard-of cruelties, to blot out the race of the nobles of the opposite side. The Church, the republics, and such of the nobles, who were not of German origin, were in the interest of the Guelphic party.

Dominion and Freedom were the standards under which each faction marched to the field ; and never in the history of the world was the question of liberty, or domination, brought more decidedly to issue, or con- VI

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. tested with more skill, valour, or perseverance, than in those bloody wars. The Ghibellins, during the epoch that I have endea voured to describe in these scenes, were supported by the person and armies of the German Emperor, and directed by the ferocious genius of Eccelino. The Lombard League, the assertors of national in dependence and the guardians of public liberty, were patronised by the Holy See, that even preached a crusade against the tyrant. This league boasted of Azzo V., Marquis of Este, a great and powerful prince, of illustrious birth, as their ablest and most valorous champion, and their most successful captain. The vicissitudes of this war illustrate the most memorable and extraordinary examples of human action. The play of the passions exceeded, in terrific energy, what we read of in Greek or Roman story.

Religion and Chivalry gave a principle of individual force to the actors of this awful drama, independent of the general motive of the seeking after liberty or domination. The history has been followed, as far as relates to Eccelino, as closely as could be consistent with the conduct of a poem. Having met with no detail of the life of Azzo of

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. VII Este, his particular story, as well as that of Hermione, the heroine, have been supplied by the imagination of the author. The measure is the English heroic, the best suited to the classic epic, because of the energy and rapidity of which it is susceptible, and because it adapts itself to the subject as it proceeds. The metre was recom mended by Thomas Campbell, the first English lyric poet of the age. I owe to a lady the suggestion of the story. Notwithstanding a ten years residence in Ialy, yet drawn away by other studies and pursuits, the Italian Muse is unknown to me. I can say the same with respect to the French and Spanish. I have not looked into the Classics since I left the University of Oxford. I consider these to be fortunate circumstances ; for I should never have had the resolution to have entered into the lists, had I been intimately acquainted with the mighty efforts of poetic genius that have flourished, and illumined the world.

Let this poem be received, therefore, as the festive song of a Troubadour, rather than a finished, laborious task, achieved by the light of the scholastic lamp. Much of it has been rapidly composed, during journies made on foot and on horseback, amidst the scenery

PREFACE.

. VIII that it describes, and where traditions yet remain to inflame the imagination. It was begun at Florence, February 1825 ; nine books were finished in Italy, September 1826; and the last lines were written in London, July 1827- In fine, I have been stimulated to this undertaking by the great admiration I have ever felt in the contem plation of the manners, the habits, the virtues, the devotion, the chivalry, and the daring spirit of liberty displayed in the Middle Ages ; and the disgust in hear ing the point contested in enlightened times, disgraced as they are by every species of political corruption, venality, and servility over the world; whilst the effrontery of despotism is displayed in pretending to meliorate man's civil condition by usurping and crush ing his political rights. London, May 1, 1828.

CORRIGENDA. Page Line 84 1112, for * chattering hoofs," read clattering hoofs 109 578, read, new horror brings 113 676, read, life inhale 141 418, for " no," read ore 232 639, for " his host," read his horse 304 455, for " Sillona," read Sillana's 313 691, read, And Nature's quickening universal soul 353 237, for " Trenta," read Trento 368 611, read, And deck'd all o'er with rosemary and rue. BOOK T. Of wars and cruel deeds of that fierce chief Who prey'd on Italy, and who pour'd forth Libations of her blood to his fell rage, That made the fuming earth, on which his foot Had printed deep his sire's infernal seal, Reeling and drunk, sing, oh aspiring Muse ! Oppression ! thou stern nurse of warlike feats, Alas ! in Italy thou'rt not yet dead, But hover' st still with dank and heavy wing To blight and mildew this bright realm of light.

With joyous voice I hail those valiant knights Whose banners then were bless'd by Holy Church ; Which, then interpreting the Lord's commands, Would not his image were defac'd on earth, Nor that his form divine were bound in chains. Hail, Est', great champion of the league ! thou, like The shepherd's boy of Bethlem, who arose To smite Goliah, foe to God, he then The crown of Israel receiv'd, the high Recompence for the rebel giant slain, 20 To God's own people timely succour brought ; Accept the crown of laurel I now strive To weave, to deck the memory of thy fame : For with no venal voice I sing in days When tyranny accurst is lauded loud, And incense fragrant burns for rule usurp'd, Which then by thy stout arm was overthrown. Oh, Italy, propitious smile on me ! Thy gracious smiles will be my highest meed ; Thee to propitiate e'er shall be my care. 30 War, dreadful War ! but sweet and soothin"- when Thou urgest the oppress'd and trodden down Furious to drive their rattling chariot wheels O'er conquerors, whirling their trembling limbs, Spurning with deadly hate and bitter scorn The rod of empire and dominion proud ; Zealous to thee I dedicate my song !

Book I

3 40 50 60 The sun had set upon the lofty walls Of Rocca de Montcilici ; though far Then Eccelino his new conquests had Survey'd, he yet insatiate was of blood. Before him spread the wide luxuriant plain On th' Adriatic shore, teeming with flow Of life. Here Nature's fruitful womb pour'd forth Her most delightful forms ; for here more fair Nor nymph, nor dame, in all Cisalpine Gaul, Could crown with grace her ever beauteous works. In stature full and graceful port surpass'd The rural nymphs of all rich Lombardy. Earth yielded here kindly her goodliest fruits. The milk white oxen heav'd along the wains, Groaning with weight of Bacchus' joyous toil ! Ceres and Pomona shed around their Smiles that met on ev'ry side his dark frown, Who from his lofty stand view'd that sad land, From which his iron grasp squeez'd tears and gore, Fast holding, had invested with despair.

Behind arose the towers of Padua, Trickling with blood, like Niobe in tears ; From these he turn'd his fiery glance away, Gorg'd and content ; then pacing to and fro, His bosom swelling with the lust of rule b ECCEI.IN0 DA ROMANO. 70 80 Supreme, in thought thus to himself began : " Ambition, master of my soul, all hail ! Thee do I worship, only thee, and then Revenge delicious comes with its sweet draughts To steep my feverish and my jealous soul ; Intoxicating draught, that sets it on Its great design ! deep down to darkest Hell, I'll trample those my reign who dare to scorn, And thrive in their despite. I'm not the fool Who owes his station to the love of men ! My rule's the sword, and terror is my law!" Terror, the short-lived plan of tyrant's rule, With him succeeded long, for smoking streams Of blood on field and scaffold shed, imbued The earth ; like trees he lopp'd the human form, Severing the limbs from the unsightly trunk ; With deep disgrace the human face assail'd, And blurr'd its beauty with the stamp of shame Indelible.

God's image thus he marr'd To slake the thirst of his stupendous hate ; (Hate from self-love intense that did arise.) In Amnion's son 'twas glory, a whirlwind That swept th' embattled and ensanguin'd plain, And quench'd compassion in the glowing heart ; In Eccelino love of rule, without

BOOK I.

90 100 110 Remorse, contempt for his adopted soil, And fear of vengeance for his own misdeeds. But his stern thoughts soon interrupted were By other calls more urgent, that appalld That heart that fear could ne'er appal before. His mother on her death-bed now lies stretch'd, Prophetic warns him, with no soothing voice ; And if remorse she wakes not, yet she wakes Fear, the worst anguish of our being, that e'er Imprisons and benumbs the tortur'd soul, Humbling in dust the front erect of man. With awful reverence her duteous son Approaches straight the gloomy matron's couch, Whose eyes th' advance of death had not yet dimm'd With fearful gaze her son beheld those eyes, That saw, by magic fell and sinful aid, Far into fate ; and ever and anon Recoil'd their glance deep in her own dark breast, That strange alliances had form'd, beyond The pale of nature ; and by adult'ry Infernal, this her fav'rite son had yean'd, Who now aghast before his mother stood, From her prophetic voice to know his doom.

Severe though anxious was her dying look, As best became one who full well might know That fate that doth transcend the grave, for her Was hopeless ; for in magic she had dealt, And scorning still a death-bed penitence, Proudly rejected recompense of Heaven, Eternal bliss, ills present that repays ; For Adelaide had long the doctrines learn'd Of Manichaeans, and, or good, or ill, Believing absolute the ill she chose To prop her house, and feed ambition high, For present good derided future ill. Half raised from her couch she wav'd her hand Attention to impose : her brow sublime Declar'd her vast and penetrating thought ; Her tongue in accents broken, shrill, and sharp, Like the north wind that cuts benumbing all, The Sybil's oracles did thus disclose : " List, oh, my son, to this thy awful fate, Fate that will pass thy grave, and blast thy name Success will cease to crown thy daring arms; Our house, our rule, will all extinguished be ; Thy memory, a blazing beacon still Will burn, of horror ever to be spurn'd, A foil to heroes, and supreme in blood ! When on my nuptial night entranc'd I lay Warm clasped in thy pretended father's arms.

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140 150 160 He started from a wild and dreadful dream ; He thought his castle of Romano toss'd Aloft in air, high borne upon the clouds Hov'ring a while, then sank into the depth Of earth unfathomable, ingulph'd, and lost ! And now the fearful secret hear of thine Own monstrous birth : half fiend thou art, and born Rebel to Heaven. Behold ! thy motley blood Flows partly from the great apostate's veins, He who defied the eternal King Supreme, And still on earth rebellion doth excite ! Thou his own son, his chosen captain art, His blood imbues thee with his reckless rage, And all his dev'lish stratagems and wiles, To compass thy designs, and rule in spite Of mankind's deep and universal hate ; For thine own creatures loathe and fear thy sight. Ambitious was I born, and scorn'd the sphere That nature fixes for our being to fill.

By necromancy, and the magic art, I strove to gain ascendancy o'er men. Voluptuous beauty did my power enhance, I scorn'd to tarry for Heaven's late reward, My virgin vows were to the demon made : His aid (and not in vain) implor'd, the view Enchanting, brighten'd to my dazzled sight. Fate I unravell'd by sorcery and dreams, Omens and mysteries, all dark and dread, The tools of minds superior, of great souls, Who boldly climb ambition's highest steep, Spurning mean fear, that dares not pay the price Of brilliant glory, and advancement high ! My impulse carried me to other worlds ; My will undaunted sought alliance close With him, th' Infernal, kindred with myself In thoughts and feelings ; thus, in hope to hold A course superior, safe, 'mid all those ills Of fate, that meaner mortals' steps beset !"

She paus'd for breath : ghastly and awful now Appear'd ; her spirit heav'd and groan'd amain, Restless to take its airy flight from realms Of day to those dark shades below, and there Regain its strength, once more to range by night A ghost, and haunt those spots, the seat of all Its former cares, and anxious daring toil. For souls like her's, far from the realms of bliss In troubles dwell, fit agents they for Hell ; Thus while she spoke, each fury rack'd his breast, And all by turns his heaving entrails gnaw'd. Fear but a moment had usurp'd the rule B O O K I 190 200 210 Of that proud heart, which was ambition's seat ; For Eccelino never crouch'd to fear, An instant it might quiver all his frame With a moist tremor, then his limbs bedew ; But, like a shadow pass'd, his swelling breast Would burst, or grapple then with every foe.

In pride and exultation he replied, " Hence with thy bodings ! I defy the ills, Whate'er they be, of destiny ; nor aught Fear I, so much as gloriously rejoice, For this my regal lineage now first known." Then with a look profound, that seem'd to search The bowels of the earth, with solemn voice He to his father thus his prayer address'd : " O thou that givest impulse to my soul, Thou that rewardest ever daring hearts With present gain, may now thy matchless wiles Encompass me about, to guide my way Through blood and dangers to a well earn'd crown With sparkling diadem encircle now This brow superb, that only then to thee Would fealty true, and homage ever pay. Through thee alone I deign to mount a throne, And scoff at terrors that transcend the grave !" Then Adelaide, exhausted, calm replied, " Farewel], my son ! run on thy great career, Vengeance deal out upon our many foes ; Call to thine aid to strengthen thy tough arm Th' infernal spirit, who assum'd the form Of man, when, lending a too willing ear, He to my vows in lover's guise appear'd, With gentle ardour then did fan love's flame.

Ah me ! wherefore fell I, most womanlike, In that incautious moment, steep'd in deep Delight that fir'd to frenzy all my being ; And for that dreadful concubinage high, Losing for me, and thee, all hope to come ? Fortune with golden wings hath me up-borne, And fann'd those gilded wings with rosy breath Of morn continual. My daughters fair Have all espoused been to mightiest lords ; My sons all revel in their rich domains ; And then thy youthful valiant deeds brilliant Were blazon 'd forth, like to the orient sun, Who chases far and quick the gloom of night ; So thy renown once shone through the dark clouds Of vapours foul, that dimm'd thy early day. Success will blazon crime till it become Virtue ; so has the victor ever chain'd His gory victims to his chariot wheels,

BOOK I

240 250 260 And yet th' incense of their applause receiv'd. Oh, dreadful thought ! appalling horror strikes When fate we know, yet cannot 'scape our doom. By astrologians bred, their track pursued, I could divine what the dark womb of time Contain'd ; of all my race the horoscope I cast, and in the future see a blank ! This done, long years have not yet seen me smile, Nor, till this fatal night, has the dread sound Of my portentous voice assail'd the ear Of those it now to sure destruction dooms." Faint, and more faint, she utter'd these last words ; Her quicken'd spirit saw the near approach Of its escape, and shot a sudden flash From her majestic eye, whose steady glare Shew'd absence of all fear ; she stretch'd, and heav'd ; Then her stern ghost departed, free to prowl Through regions whence its wicked impulse came.

She ceas'd to breathe, and her afflicted son Back started, —frenzy seized his rolling eye; He stamp'd, and spurn'd the earth with high disdain, Scorning the thought, that thus his mother could Give proof of mortal frailty, die, and leave Him midst his foes alone. Fain would he then Have follow'd, duteous to attend upon ECCEI.INO DA ROMANO. 270 2S0 His mother's steps ; his dagger then he drew Against his breast ; three times the hilt he smote, Then held the clutched dagger high in air, Exclaiming, " Those who would outlive the shock Of my proud steed, and conquer'd lay around, And who would rise again whene'er my face Is turn'd, of them create an hecatomb, To sooth my mother's great and awful shade." But now with feelings calm'd, approaching near The couch, bending with reverential awe, He said, " Oh thou that cold and lifeless best !

Oh whither has thy spirit fled ? For sooth A spirit such as thine, a glorious soul, Could not be quenched with thy living form, Nor be absorb'd as thy life's blood congeal'd. Shall great intent, and high emprize, deep search And thought divine, and mighty impulse, that O'erflows great hearts (whether to good or ill), Shall these prove mortal and extinguish'd be, Or wrapt in sleep eternal ? Thought forlorn ! Then hope eternal mocks our idle being, Our life, in truth, a very jest would prove ! Oh, soul of man, that speakest through remorse, And in thy conscience testify 'st to thine Immortal self, that on the rapid wing

BOOK I

290 300 310 Of thought, transcends all bounds of space and time, Shalt thou be quench'd? dim as the lustrous fire Of those once fear-inspiring eyes, that shot Their rays through every breast, and lighted up The preternat'ral vision of her soul ? Cold, lifeless corse ! from thee I turn away. In thought, in wish, in precept, now I fly With thy departed soul. My polar star Which ever present, still shall be to me Alive ; for in my breast thy soul exists, And still exerts its undiminish'd force." Three times the sun his fiery orb had quench'd In darkness, and again dim night had spread Her vast and sable pall o'er all the heavens, Unspangled by its brilliant gems ; and morn, Sickly and faint, appear'd e'en now to weep. This happy omen Eccelino seiz'd, Once pious, to devote the night to her Great obsequies.

Rumour had spread both far And wide ; all were in wild amazement lost That she, who half in other worlds had dwelt, Still should be doom'd to die ; for Padua, Great in the magic art, had blazon'd forth » Her fame, high moving in ambition's sphere. Most kind she was to those of low degree, A gracious mistress ever prov'd, unlike Her son, jealous, irascible, and vain ; She ne'er for mischief warr'd, or cruel spite. And now when pious hearts prepar'd to breathe " Ave Maria !" grateful prayer of close Of day, countless the multitude that then Assembled round the lofty frowning brow Of that fam'd mount, steep and erect, that stands A giant sentinel, and keeps afar His vigils o'er that vast and fertile plain Extending wide from Padua to Po ; Now mov'd the awful pageant forth, winding Like th' antique triumphs round the fretted frieze Of temples dedicate to Delphos' God ; Or like the mimic hosts of martial Rome, In proud array, that seem to move around Great Trajan's column ; gloriously it wound From summit to the base in solemn file, Marshall'd to minstrelsy lugubrious.

First In order came the bands of Holy Church, With all the train of priests and monks recluse, Chaunting aloud the service of the dead ; A requiem for her soul, that needed prayer And intercession strong, t' obtain the "race Divine, which without limit is, on all

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340 350 360 May fall chasing away deepest despair, Deep though it be as ocean's raging waves, Engulphing without hope. The deep ton'd choir Pour'd their melodious hymns with hearts sincere, Earnest and contrite, to assuage the wrath Of Heaven, that now, in chastisement of sin, Wreak'd his worst vengeance by a tyrant's arm. Next came the damsels clad in virgin white, Emblem of their own spotless state, and from Their heads depended decent the long veil ; Enrob'd like Grecian daughters, graceful on They mov'd as to a sacrifice of yore ; Each in her hand a basket held, from which At every step she scatter 'd flowers around : Herbs aromatic, rosemary and rue. Mournful they cast their eyes upon the ground, At every step their hearts responsive beat. The age of love is oft the age of woe, For hearts attun'd to love are most attun'd To grief; Religion's saintly rites will oft The woman's heart to love and woe invite ; For at her sacred shrine love we invoke, Eternal bliss, that glowing seraphs share.

Religion, hail ! that fruit delicious dost Yield unto all in ev'ry clime ; among Mankind thy joys diffused are, with tongue That speaks the same to universal man ! And in each age, thy consolation bland Hath thine own grace and birth divine declar'd. And hail, thou universal man ! that art Link'd in one chain of pure intelligence. Hail ! wheresoe'er thou art, in every clime ; 370 To thee I hold, nor vainly pride myself, To be here number'd in a partial race, Nor to one spot as man to be tied down. The earth our portion is, and instinct is Our law ! our hearts the monitors of ill. And hail, thou holy faith, that link'st mankind In one vast chain of gentle brotherhood, And draw'st the line 'twixt man and brute ! Thou speak 'st Wisdom through a voice divine, following Pure nature, pruning her excrescence wild. 380 Solemn and slow the bier approached now, Like Eastern palanquin ; the Afric bird Had her rich plumage lent : it wav'd on high, Like willows weeping o'er some hallow'd spot, The load proclaiming, now so solemn borne, The emblem of our frail mortality, That makes our quailing lives hang tremblingly 'Twixt hope and doubt. In nobler minds will hope

BOOK I

17 390 400 410 Be of our obscure being the essence bright ; For still we live in future and in past ; The present never can we grasp ; we live In hope that swells our being coequal with All time. So ponder'd then that chieftain proud, Who hardly now could bear the galling thought That e'en himself was but a denizen Of earth, and must at last return in dust To elements primeval ; yet still more Fear'd he that if his spirit surviv'd, never Peace should he find : he, who in mock'ry held Those orisons and prayers to God above, Whom tyrants all rebelliously defy. With wonder all beheld the man who now, Duteous to rites divine, could thus appear Mantled in sable garb, though his bright mail Shining amid the folds, like twinkling stars Through the black clouds, betray 'd at once the man That from himself ne'er could abstracted be.

Heavy he hung upon his airy steed, That with elastic step pac'd buoyantly Over the ground, whose breathing nostrils now Seem'd from afar to snuff his native gales Of Happy Araby ; a Moor each side Rein'd in his stag-like head ; with folded arms c Upon his breast, his rider mus'd, in thought, On things that might have check'd his daring flight. Behind him came six hundred valiant knights ; Each 'stead of warlike brand, a flaming torch High held ; as when the moon upon the sea Sheds her chaste light, so did their armour clear Reflect the pallid gleam around ; ghastly Th' unvizor'd warriors look'd, grim as a troop Of ghosts that wander on the banks of Styx. These were the knights, true to his high commands, To pierce through squadrons on the trembling field, O'erthrow an host in battle, or pour forth Vengeance on a devoted land ; these were The knights who, at his signal, proudly drew Their flaming falchions in the cavalcade Of that imperial chief, who in dispute Did to bis vassal then maintain his sword Was best (for Eccelino once did pay Homage and fealty to a sovereign lord).

His own true blade he drew, flourish'd aloft : The lightning fir'd the bosoms of his knights ; Six hundred swords all glitter'd in the air. Sullen the Emperor said, " Thy sword, I own, O, Eccelino, better is than mine!" Opening wide its pond'rous gates, the church, Portal of tombs, the pageant now receives.

BOOK I

440 450 460 Portal of the grave : for Religion is The lofty arch that's thrown from earth to worlds We cannot reach, but o'er that arch that doth Th' infinite combine with our darker state Below, that hath thrown man drifting betwixt Two awful tides, half angel, half a brute ; Swimming on hope, he strives and gasps for breath Eternal. Eccelino enters now The fane, struck with these thoughts, that ever will Flit through the heart of e'en a reckless man. A thousand voices swell th' harmonious choir, Ten thousand tapers brilliant burn around ; The solemn dirge — the march of death — deep in The dismal grave the heart benumb'd doth sink. Quick from their steeds the mailed warriors spring In double rows ; their torches' fitful blaze Glares on their warlike mien ; the tomb receives Its sacrifice, remorseless and most sure Pledge of mortality, that none e'er spares !

The tomb is clos'd : sudden the thunder growls Aloud, shaking the riven dome, now struck By forked bolts of Heaven's high wrath defy'd ; The rain in torrents pours, then suddenly Is parch'd by blasts of a resistless wind ; The shiver'd roof now inward falls ; horrid c 4S0 It tortuous hurls its flaring beams, and in Combustion pours its molten lead, mingling With rain, o'erwhelming, scattering hideous Ruin around, torture, and wounds, and death. Sudden the devastation, as from shocks Of earth in far Peru, where cities sink, Heaven's harbinger of wrath to guilty man. So doth a tyrant stumbling go to his Predestin'd fate, for God doth sometimes speak In thunder, often through the people's voice ! Rout and confusion wild quick clear the church, Tenebrious its rich broken columns stand. Darkness and silence reign; again aghast Stands Eccelino solitary there, Nor quitted he the spot where his firm step Once fix'd ; alone, intrepid, unsubdued.

Still to his purpose ever was he true ! Behold in utter darkness, from the tomb Portentous rises now a pale blue flame, Nor light, nor heat emits around, itself Alone is visible. All yet is still In deep night mantled, when the son aghast In speechless horror sees his mother's form Rise mid the flame; slowly it glides along, Waving its arm, then vanishes in air :