Came a spicy smell of showers On the purple wings of night, And a pearl-encrusted crescent On the lake looked still and white, While a sound of distant singing From the vales rose sad and light.
Dripped the musk of sodden roses From their million heavy sprays, And the nightingales were sobbing Of the roses amorous praise Where the raven down of even Caught the moonlight's bleaching rays.
And the turrets of the palace, From its belt of ancient trees, On the mountain rose romantic White as foam from troubled seas; And the murmur of an ocean Smote the chords of ev'ry breeze.
Where the moon shone on the terrace And its fountain's lisping foam; Where the bronzen urns of flowers Breathed faint perfume thro' the gloam, By the alabaster Venus 'Neath the quiet stars we'd roam.
And we stopped beside the statue Of the marble Venus there Deeply pedestaled 'mid roses, Who their crimson hearts laid bare, Breathing out their lives in fragrance At her naked feet and fair.
And we marked the purple dingles Where the lazy vapors lolled, Like thin, fleecy ribs of moonlight Touched with amethyst and gold; And we marked the wild deer glimmer Like dim specters where they strolled....
But from out those treach'rous roses Crept a serpent and it stung, Poisoned him who'd tuned my heart-strings Till for him alone they sung, Froze the nerves of hands that only From its chords a note had wrung.
Now the nightingales in anguish To cold, ashen roses moan; Now a sound of desolate wailing In the darkened palace lone From a harp Æolian quavers Broken on an empty throne.
In mail of black my limbs I girt, Angelica! And when the bugles clanged the charge, The rolling battle's bristling marge Beheld me a black storm of war Dash on the foe; While Durindana glitt'ring far Made many a foeman mouth the dirt In bleeding woe:-- For thou didst fire me to the war 'Mid many a Paynim scimetar, Angelica!
No more the battle fires my blood, Angelica! No more gay lists flaunt all their guiles, And chivalry's charge, and beauty's smiles! I wander lone the thistly wold When night-snows fall, And crispy frosts the wild grass hold. Great knights go glimmering thro' the wood, The clarion's call Wakes War upon his desert wold-- I see the dawning breaking cold, Angelica!