  The twilight o'er Italia's sky Had spread a shadowy veil, And one by one the solemn stars Looked forth, serene and pale; As quietly the waning light Through a high casement stole, And fell on one with silver hair, Who shrived a passing soul. Relieved that chamber's gloom, But glowing forms, by limner's art Created, thronged the room: And as the low winds carried far The chime for evening prayer, The dying painter's earnest tones Fell on the languid air. "The spectral form of Death is nigh, The thread of life is spun: Ave Maria! I have looked Upon my latest sun. And yet 't is not with pale disease This frame is worn away; Nor yet—nor yet with length of years;— A child but yesterday," No fervent love to claim, The curse that marked me at my birth Devoted me to shame. I saw that on my brother's brow Angelic beauty lay; The mirror gave me back a form That thrilled me with dismay." "And soon I learned to shrink from all, The lowly and the high; To see but scorn on every lip, Contempt in every eye. And for a time e'en Nature's smile A bitter mockery wore, For beauty stamped each living thing The wide creation o'er," 'T was in a garden bower I mused one eve, and scalding tears Fell fast on many a flower; And when I rose, I marked, with awe And agonizing grief, A frail mimosa at my feet Fold close each fragile leaf." "Alas! how dark my lot, if thus A plant could shrink from me! But when I looked again, I saw That from the honey-bee, The falling leaf, the bird's gay wing. It shrank with pain or fear: A kindred presence I had found,— Life waxed sublimely clear." And communed with the skies, And felt within my grateful heart New aspirations rise. Then, thirsting for a higher lore, I left my childhood's home, And stayed not till I gazed upon The hills of fallen Rome." "I stood amid the glorious forms Immortal and divine, The painter's wand had summoned from The dim Ideal's shrine; And felt within my fevered soul Ambition's wasting fire, And seized the pencil, with a vague And passionate desire" Of earth, the phantom throng That swept before my sight in thought, And lived in storied song. Vain, vain the dream;—as well might I Aspire to light a star, Or pile the gorgeous sunset-clouds That glitter from afar." "The threads of life have worn away; Discordantly they thrill; And soon the sounding chords will be For ever mute and still. And in the spirit-land that lies Beyond, so calm and gray, I shall aspire with truer aim:— Ave Maria! pray!" |
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