John Keats

“ The thing was vile with green and livid spot,
⁠And yet they knew it was Lorenzo's face:
The guerdon of their murder they had got,
⁠And so left Florence in a moment's space,
Never to turn again.—Away they went,
With blood upon their heads, to banishment.⁠480
LXI.
O Melancholy, turn thine eyes away!
⁠O Music, Music, breathe despondingly!
O Echo, Echo, on some other day,
⁠From isles Lethean, sigh to us—O sigh!
Spirits of grief, sing not your "Well-a-way!"
⁠For Isabel, sweet Isabel, will die;
Will die a death too lone and incomplete,
Now they have ta'en away her Basil sweet. ”

“ And they had found Lorenzo's earthy bed;
The flint was there, the berries at his head.
XLV.
Who hath not loiter'd in a green church-yard,
⁠And let his spirit, like a demon-mole,
Work through the clayey soil and gravel hard,
⁠To see scull, coffin'd bones, and funeral stole;
Pitying each form that hungry Death hath marr'd,
⁠And filling it once more with human soul?
Ah! this is holiday to what was felt
When Isabella by Lorenzo knelt.⁠360
XLVI.
She gaz'd into the fresh-thrown mould, as though
⁠One glance did fully all its secrets tell ”

“ And many once proud-quiver'd loins did melt
⁠In blood from stinging whip;—with hollow eyes⁠110
Many all day in dazzling river stood,
To take the rich-ored driftings of the flood.
XV.
For them the Ceylon diver held his breath,
⁠And went all naked to the hungry shark;
For them his ears gush'd blood; for them in death
⁠The seal on the cold ice with piteous bark
Lay full of darts; for them alone did seethe
⁠A thousand men in troubles wide and dark:
Half-ignorant, they turn'd an easy wheel,
That set sharp racks at work, to pinch and peel.⁠120 ”

“ From her dead eyes; and many a curious elf,
⁠Among her kindred, wonder'd that such dower
Of youth and beauty should be thrown aside
By one mark'd out to be a Noble's bride.
LVIII.
And, furthermore, her brethren wonder'd much
⁠Why she sat drooping by the Basil green,
And why it flourish'd, as by magic touch;
⁠Greatly they wonder'd what the thing might mean:
They could not surely give belief, that such⁠461
⁠A very nothing would have power to wean
Her from her own fair youth, and pleasures gay,
And even remembrance of her love's delay. ”