He reached the river, and swam gaily through:
The corpse lay there before him in the light!—
Why breaks that mournful shriek upon the night?
Why motionless stands Giulio gazing there,
A form of stone, a statue of despair?
At length he spoke—"Is this the wolf I've sought
In glen, and mount, and precipice remote?
Its skin is soft, its eyes are bright and fair,
And still they smile on me,—the wolf's should glare;
But sweet though sad, still do they charm my view,