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Count Julio.
Cast his eye down-ward o'er his shrunken form,
His meager garments. Few the words he spake,
And muttered low; hut in them came a curse
So blasphemous, so hideous in its depth
Of impotent rage, that they who at his side
Yet stood in lingering pity, with blanched lips
Turned to the threshold, and crept shuddering forth.
His meager garments. Few the words he spake,
And muttered low; hut in them came a curse
So blasphemous, so hideous in its depth
Of impotent rage, that they who at his side
Yet stood in lingering pity, with blanched lips
Turned to the threshold, and crept shuddering forth.
He breathed his sorrow to no human ear,
But left it charnelled in his heart, to breed
Corruption there. None knew how wearily
The hours passed on beneath those lonely walls;
None saw him when, by midnight still a watcher,
Starting and trembling as, inconstantly,
The night winds swayed the curtains to and fro;
Fancying the rustle of her silken robe,
Her footfall on the staircase! Time sped on,
To strike the dulled bloom from his cheek, and scare
The soul that once had queened it on his brow:
A bent and worn old man, upon whose breast
Hung the neglected masses of his beard,
With meager hands habitually clenched,
But left it charnelled in his heart, to breed
Corruption there. None knew how wearily
The hours passed on beneath those lonely walls;
None saw him when, by midnight still a watcher,
Starting and trembling as, inconstantly,
The night winds swayed the curtains to and fro;
Fancying the rustle of her silken robe,
Her footfall on the staircase! Time sped on,
To strike the dulled bloom from his cheek, and scare
The soul that once had queened it on his brow:
A bent and worn old man, upon whose breast
Hung the neglected masses of his beard,
With meager hands habitually clenched,
