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