Like a fearful, shadowy spirit, whom a curse is hanging o’er.
What! so soon from far Palermo?
Has he left the feast of pride—
Has he left the knightly tourney
For the happy homeward journey
And the greeting of his bride?
Coldly, darkly, in her bosom, the upspringing rapture died!
With a glance of tender meaning
On the maid he softly smiled,
And the answering smile, and token