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238 ADVERTIZEMENT TO ROSALIND AND HELEN.
which I sent from Italy, was written after a day's excursion among those lovely mountains which surround what was once the retreat, and where is now the sepulchre, of Petrarch. If any one is inclined to condemn the insertion of the introductory lines, which image forth the sudden relief of a state of deep despondency by the radiant visions disclosed by the sudden burst of an Italian sunrise in autumn on the highest peak of those delightful mountains, I can only offer as my excuse, that they were not erased at the request of a dear friend, with whom added years of intercourse only add to my apprehension of its value, and who would have had more right than any one to complain, that she has not been able to extinguish in me the very power of delineating sadness.
NAPLES, Dec. 20, 1818.
ROSALIND AND HELEN.
ROSALIND, HELEN and her CHILD.
COME hither, my sweet Rosalind.
Those heathy paths, that inland stream,
30 That cannot be! Rosalind, speak, Speak to me. Leave me not.-When morn did
come, When evening fell upon our common home, When for one hour we parted,—do not frown : I would not chide thee, though thy faith is
broken : But turn to me. Oh! by this cherished token Of woven hair, which thou wilt not disown, Turn, as 'twere but the memory of me, And not my scornèd self who prayed to thee.
Wondering I blush, and weep that thou
Thou lead, my sweet, And I will follow.
'Tis Fenici's seat Where you are going? This is not the way, Mamma; it leads behind those trees that grow Close to the little river.
Yes : I know:
1 In Shelley's edition we read a sound from thee. This is an obvious error; and I have followed Mr. Rossetti in substituting there for thee. The sound Helen finds so painful is “the murmur of the lake," which recalls to her mind the wash of the waves about the fane where Lionel died (see line 1049 et seq.). -ED.
I do not know : But it might break any one's heart to see 80 You and the lady cry so bitterly.
glee Of light and unsuspecting infancy, And whispered in her ear, “ Bring home with you
90 That sweet strange lady-friend." Then off he
flew, But stopped, and beckoned with a meaning
smile, Where the road turned. Pale Rosalind the while, Hiding her face, stood weeping silently. In silence then they took the way Beneath the forest's solitude. It was a vast and antique wood, Through which they took their way; And the grey shades of evening O’er that green wilderness did fling 100 Still deeper solitude. Pursuing still the path that wound The vast and knotted trees around Through which slow shades were wandering, To a deep lawny dell they came, To a stone seat beside a spring,