Yet what dreams of both are blent
In the soft tale now begun,
Which the radiant Nina woo'd,
And which Nina won.
There a cypress raised to heaven
Its sepulchral head,
Like a stately column given
By the summer to the dead;—
There the young Rienzi slept.
In that grave his brother laid him,
'Neath the evening star;
While revenge and sorrow made him
What earth's great ones are;—
Long, drear vigils there he kept.
Now a sweeter one was lit
By the setting sun;
While that lady bright was woo'd,
While she was won.
By the grey cross o'er his brother,
By his heart's first care,
Did Rienzi ask another
In that heart to share.
To that maiden's feet he brought
All his early youth's affection,
All his early years;
All whose tender recollection
Only speaks in tears.
Thus to share his soul he sought:
All life's loveliest feelings grew
Round that lovely one;—
Thus was the bright Nina woo'd,
Thus was she won.
Ah! the glorious mind's aspiring
Needeth some repose—
Some sweet object for desiring,
Where its wings may close.
Wrapp'd in purple shadows, Rome
Rose afar off like a vision—
Stately, dark, and high;
But a softer one had risen
'Neath that twilight sky.
While the full heart found a home,
There were mighty words and hopes
Shared with his beloved one;—
Thus was the bright Nina woo'd,
Thus was she won.
