The mountain sentinel. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1844-1853, 1852-04-08
BROKEN BARBITON,
1Yitbered LaureI-Wreath and Broken
Heart.
A Scene From Bulrsr's Zanoni.

II was the close of day upon the shores
Ofbeauteous Naples The low murmuring waves
That rose and fell upon the &" SIRENS sea-
cleaned like pale rubies in the sunset glow;
The dim isle vciled in mists of silver, rose
Far through the dim and shadowy atmosphere: !:
The pale. sweet stars shone calm and beautiful
In the blue diadem of night, and shapes
Of loveliness and beauty seemed to steal
Forth from the soft and deepening shades as
Love
And star-eyed Hope and pensive Memory
Steal from the twilight of the heart. Atar,
Like huge column moving in the heavens,
Scared the gray smoke of old Nesuyius,
From its broad base of lurid faaae; the shaft,
Of Maro's tomb above the beettliag cliff
Vas drawn against the deep, blue sky, the soft
The scattered gardens of the Caprea shone,
Like wrecks of Paradise No human voice
Broke the deep spell of silence and repose
That rested like Il calm, mysterious dream
Upon the landscape, yet the air still seemed
All musical and strangely eloquent
With the hushed cadenccs and passion signs
Oi deep and burning love.
All. mid this scene
Ofloveliness and deep serenity,
The traces Of despair and woe and death
We're darkly visible. Tire twilight's last
Sweet, rosy smile of gentleness and love
Stole softly, calmly, beautifully through
The window of an humble cottage home,-
And fell upon the white brow of the dead,
As human love falls vainly on the heart
Of cold despair. Alone the minstrel slept
In his unbreathing rest. Upon the floor.
Beside him, lay the cherished laurel-wreath,
His only wealth. the guerdon of his tolls,
The one dear boon for which, through weary
years
Of bitter sorrows, he had patiently
Strr,rrlpl and suffnrnd ,aos,yiro forth his Will
Deep soul of music. while keen agony
Was tearing his great heart. There, there it lay
All pale and withering, like the throbless brow
Whence it had fallen.
There, beside him too,
Broken and silent lay his barbiton,
His own familiar, in whose spirit tones
His spirit e'er had found in JOY and grief
faithful echo. 1t had been his friend,
True and unfaiing, mid the darkened wrecks
Of human friendship. 1t had been his love,
His child, his life, and his religion lie
Had talked to il at twilight's wizard hour,
The hour that now closed over it and him,
and it had answered him in tones Of more
Than earthly sympathy. And he had won,
With its dear aid, the wreath so fondly deemed
The emblem of fame S Immortality.
But now the dust was on its loosened chords;
That, like his dark tresses, swept the floor,
To sound no more, save when perchance the wind,
Straying at night-fall through that ruined cot,
Should gently stir them with its breath of sighs,
To one low wall, one melancholy moan,
For him who so had loved them.
Twas scene
20 move the heart to tears. The world around
The air, the earth, the sky, the ocean, seemed
Flooded with beauty; every isle that cleaned
In the deep sea, and every sweet star-isle
That glittered in the blue sky, seemed bright
Calaypso of the heart; yet in that lone
And silent cottage home, the minstrel pale
The wreath that he had purchased with the cries,
Ihe Wild shrieks of the spirit-and the Tyre,
Inc sole companion of his life of toll,
ms hearts dear idol-moldered side by side,
Ohheeded by the careless race Of men.