HERO.

Gentle and modest Hero! I can see

Her delicate figure, and her soft blue eye,

Like a warm vision — lovely as she stood,

Veiled in the presence of young Claudio.

Modesty bows her head, and that young heart

That would endure all suffering for the love

It hideth, is as tremulous as the leaf

Forsaken of the Summer. She hath flung

Her all upon the venture of her vow,

And in her trust leans meekly, like a flower

By the still river tempted from its stem,

And on its bosom floating.

Once again

I see her, and she standeth in her pride,

With her soft eye enkindled, and her lip

Curled with its sweet resentment, like a line

Of lifeless coral. She hath heard the voice

That was her music utter it, and still

To her affection faithful, she hath turned

And questioned in her innocent unbelief,

“Is my lord well, that he should speak so wide?” —

How did they look upon that open brow,

And not read purity? Alas for truth!

It hath so many counterfeits. The words,

That to a child were written legibly,

Are by the wise mistaken, and when light

Hath made the brow transparent, and the face

Is like an angel's — virtue is so fair —

They read it like an over-blotted leaf,

And break the heart that wrote it.