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And having seen him laid upon the bed,
No further look he gave him, nor tear shed,
But went away, such as he used to be,
With looks of stately will, and calm austerity.

Tristan, who, when he was to make the best
Of something sad and not to be redressed,
Could shew a heart as firm as it was kind,
Now locked his tears up, and seemed all resigned,
And to Francesca's chamber took his way,
To tell the message of that mortal day.
He found her ladies up and down the stairs
Moving with noiseless caution, and in tears,
And that the news, though to herself unknown,
On its old wings of vulgar haste had flown.
The door, as tenderly as miser's purse,
Was opened to him by the aged nurse,

Who shaking her old head, and pressing close
Her withered lips to keep the tears that rose,
Made signs she guessed what grief he came about,
And so his arm squeezed gently, and went out.

The princess, who had passed a fearful night,

Toiling with dreams, fright crowding upon fright, Had missed her husband at that early hour,

And would have ris'n, but found she wanted power.

Yet as her body seemed to go, her mind

Felt, though in anguish still, strangely resigned;

And moving not, nor weeping, mute she lay,
Wasting in patient gravity away.

The nurse, sometime before, with gentle creep
Had drawn the curtains, hoping she might sleep:

But suddenly she asked, though not with fear,

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Nina, what bustle's that I seem to hear?"

And the poor creature, who the news had heard,
Pretending to be busy, had just stirred

Something about the room, and answered not a word. "Who's there," said that sweet voice, kindly and clear, Which in its stronger days was joy to hear: Its weakness now almost deprived the squire Of his new firmness, but approaching nigher, "Madam," said he, "'tis I; one who may say, He loves his friends more than himself to-day; Tristan.". - She paused a little, and then said "Tristan my friend, what noise thus haunts my

head?

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Something I'm sure has happened - tell me whatI can bear all, though you may fancy not."

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Madam," replied the squire, "you are, I know,
All sweetness - pardon me for saying so.
My master bade me say then," resumed he,
"That he spoke firmly, when he told it me,-
That I was also, madam, to your ear
Firmly to speak, and you firmly to hear,-
That he was forced this day, whether or no,
To combat with the prince; and that although
His noble brother was no fratricide,

Yet in that fight, and on his sword, he died."

"I understand," with firmness answered she; More low in voice, but still composedly.

"Now, Tristan-faithful friend-leave me; and take
This trifle here, and keep it for my sake."
So saying, from the curtains she put forth

Her thin white hand, that wore a ring of worth;
And he, with tears no longer to be kept

From quenching his heart's thirst, silently wept,
And kneeling took the ring, and touched her hand
To either streaming eye, with homage bland,
And looking on it once, gently up started,
And, in his reverent stillness, so departed.

Her favorite lady then with the old nurse Returned, and fearing she must now be worse, Gently withdrew the curtains, and looked in: O, who that feels one godlike spark within, Shall bid not earth be just, before 'tis hard, with sin? There lay she praying, upwardly intent,

Like a fair statue on a monument,

With her two trembling hands together prest,
Palm against palm, and pointing from her breast.
She ceased, and turning slowly towards the wall,
They saw her tremble sharply, feet and all,
Then suddenly be still. Near and more near
They bent with pale inquiry and close ear; -
Her eyes were shut no motion - not a breath -
The gentle sufferer was at peace in death.

I pass the grief that struck to every face,
And the mute anguish all about that place,
In which the silent people, here and there,
Went soft, as though she still could feel their care.
The gentle-tempered for a while forgot

Their own distress, or wept the common lot :

The warmer, apter now to take offence,

Yet hushed as they rebuked, and wondered whence Others at such a time could get their want of sense.

Fain would I haste indeed to finish all;

And so at once I reach the funeral.

Private 'twas fancied it must be, though some
Thought that her sire, the poor old duke, would come.
And some were wondering in their pity, whether
The lovers might not have one grave together.
Next day, however, from the palace gate

A blast of trumpets blew, like voice of fate;
And all in sable clad, forth came again

Of knights and squires the former sprightly train;
Gerard was next, and then a rank of friars;
And then, with heralds on each side, two squires,

The one of whom upon a cushion bore
The coroneted helm Prince Paulo wore,

His shield the other; - then there was a space,
And in the middle, with a doubtful pace,
His horse succeeded, plumed and trapped in black,
Bearing the sword and banner on his back:
The noble creature, as in state he trod,
Appeared as if he missed his princely load;

And with back-rolling eye and lingering pride,
To hope his master still might come to ride.
Then Tristan, heedless of what passed around,
Rode by himself, with eyes upon the ground.
Then heralds in a row and last of all
Appeared a hearse, hung with an ermined pall,
And bearing on its top, together set,

A prince's and princess's coronet.

Mutely they issued forth, black, slow, dejected,

Nor stopped within the walls, as most expected;

But passed the gates — the bridge — the last abode, And towards Ravenna held their silent road.

The prince, it seems, struck, since his brother's death,

With what he hinted with his dying breath,
And told by others now of all they knew,
Had fixed at once the course he should pursue;
And from a mingled feeling, which he strove
To hide no longer from his taught self-love,
Of sorrow, shame, resentment, and a sense
Of justice owing to that first offence,
Had, on the day preceding, written word
To the old duke of all that had occurred: -
"And though I shall not," (so concluded he)
"Otherwise touch thine age's misery,

Yet as I would that both one grave should hide,
Which can, and must not be, where I reside,

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