A BALLAD.
“I go, sweet sister! yet, my heart would linger with thee fain,
And unto every parting gift some deep remembrance chain:
Take, then, the braid of Eastern pearls which once I loved to wear,
And with it bind for festal scenes the dark waves of thy hair!
Its pale, pure brightness will beseem those raven tresses well,
And I shall need such pomp no more in my lone convent-cell.”
“Oh, speak not thus, my Leonor! why part from kindred love?
Through festive scenes, when thou art gone, my steps no more shall move!
How could I bear a lonely heart amid a reckless throng?