I heard a voice from Etna's side;
       &nbspWhere o'er a cavern's mouth
       &nbspThat fronted to the south
A chesnut spread its umbrage wide:
A hermit or a monk the man might be;
       &nbspBut him I could not see:
And thus the music flow'd along,
In melody most like to old Sicilian song:


'There was a time when earth, and sea, and skies,
       &nbspThe bright green vale, and forest's dark recess,
With all things, lay before mine eyes
       &nbspIn steady loveliness:
But now I feel, on earth's uneasy scene,
       &nbspSuch sorrows as will never cease;—
       &nbspI only ask for peace;
If I must live to know that such a time has been!'
A silence then ensued:
       &nbsp       &nbsp       &nbspTill from the cavern came
       &nbsp       &nbsp       &nbspA voice;—it was the same!
And thus, in mournful tone, its dreary plaint renew'd:

'Last night, as o'er the sloping turf I trod,
       &nbspThe smooth green turf, to me a vision gave
Beneath mine eyes, the sod—
       &nbspThe roof of Rosa's grave!

My heart has need with dreams like these to strive,
       &nbspFor, when I woke, beneath mine eyes I found
       &nbspThe plot of mossy ground,
On which we oft have sat when Rosa was alive.—
Why must the rock, and margin of the flood,
       &nbspWhy must the hills so many flow'rets bear,
Whose colours to a murder'd maiden's blood,
       &nbspSuch sad resemblance wear?—


'I struck the wound,—this hand of mine!
For Oh, thou maid divine,
       &nbspI lov'd to agony!
The youth whom thou call'd'st thine
       &nbspDid never love like me!


'Is it the stormy clouds above
       &nbspThat flash'd so red a gleam?
       &nbspOn yonder downward trickling stream?—
'Tis not the blood of her I love.—
The sun torments me from his western bed,
       &nbspOh, let him cease for ever to diffuse
       &nbspThose crimson spectre hues!
Oh, let me lie in peace, and be for ever dead!'


Here ceas'd the voice. In deep dismay,
Down thro' the forest I pursu'd my way