Yet may a lightning glance at times be seen,
Of fiery passions, darting o’er his face,
And fierce the spirit kindling in his eye—
But e’en while yet we gaze, its quick wild flashes die.
And calmly can Pietra smile, concealing,
As if forgotten, vengeance, hate, remorse;
And veil the workings of each darker feeling,
Deep in his soul concentrating its force;
But yet he loves—Oh! who hath loved, nor known
Affection’s power exalt the bosom all its own?