329
PROLOGUE TO THE TRAGEDY OF FIESCO.
Too long apart, a bright but severed band,
The mighty minstrels of the Rhine's fair land,
Majestic strains, but not for us, had sung,—
Moulding to melody a stranger tongue.
Brave hearts leaped proudly to their words of power,
As a true sword bounds forth in battle's hour;
Fair eyes rained homage o'er the impassioned lays,
In loving tears, more eloquent than praise;
While we, far distant, knew not, dreamed not aught
Of the high marvels by that magic wrought.
