Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=391534" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Imelda</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">……………….Sometimes<br>The young forgot the lessons they had learnt,<br>And lov'd when they should hate, like thee, Imelda! ~ <br>Italy, a Poem</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Passa la bella Donna, e par che dorma. ~ <br>Tasso</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We have the myrtle's breath around us here,<br>Amidst the fallen pillars; this hath been<br>Some Naiad's fane of old. How brightly clear,<br>Flinging a vein of silver o'er the scene,<br>Up thro' the shadowy grass, the fountain wells,<br>And music with it, gushing from beneath<br>The ivy'd altar! that sweet murmur tells<br>The rich wild-flowers no tale of wo or death; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet once the wave was darken'd, and a stain<br>Lay deep, and heavy drops but not of rain?<br>On the dim violets by its marble bed,<br>And the pale shining water-lily's head. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sad is that legend's truth. A fair girl met<br>One whom she lov'd, by this lone temple's spring,<br>Just as the sun behind the pine-grove set,<br>And eve's low voice in whispers woke, to bring<br>All wanderers home. They stood, that gentle pair<br>With the blue heaven of Italy above,<br>And citron-odours dying on the air,<br>And light leaves trembling round, and early love<br>Deep in each breast. What reck'd their souls of strife<br>Between their fathers? Unto them young life<br>Spread out the treasures of its vernal years;<br>And if they wept, they wept far other tears </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Than the cold world wrings forth. They stood, that hour,<br>Speaking of hope, while tree, and fount, and flower,<br>And star, just gleaming thro' the cypress boughs,<br>Seem'd holy things, as records of their vows. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But change came o'er the scene. A hurrying tread<br>Broke on the whispery shades. Imelda knew<br>The footstep of her brother's wrath, and fled<br>Up where the cedars make yon avenue<br>Dim with green twilight: pausing there, she caught-<br>Was it the clash of swords? a swift dark thought<br>Struck down her lip's rich crimson as it pass'd,<br>And from her eye the sunny sparkle took<br>One moment with its fearfulness, and shook<br>Her slight frame fiercely, as a stormy blast<br>Might rock the rose. Once more, and yet once more,<br>She still'd her heart to listen all was o'er;<br>Sweet summer winds alone were heard to sigh,<br>Bearing the nightingale's deep spirit by. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">That night Imelda's voice was in the song,<br>Lovely it floated thro' the festive throng<br>Peopling her father's halls. That fatal night<br>Her eye look'd starry in its dazzling light,<br>And her cheek glow'd with beauty's flushing dyes,<br>Like a rich cloud of eve in southern skies,<br>A burning, ruby cloud. There were, whose gaze<br>Follow'd her form beneath the clear lamp's blaze,<br>And marvell'd at its radiance. But a few<br>Beheld the brightness of that feverish hue,<br>With something of dim fear; and in that glance<br>Found strange and sudden tokens of unrest,<br>Startling to meet amidst the mazy dance,<br>Where thought, if present, an unbidden guest,<br>Comes not unmask'd. Howe'er this were, the time<br>Sped as it speeds with joy, and grief, and crime<br>Alike: and when the banquet's hall was left<br>Unto its garlands of their bloom bereft,<br>When trembling stars look'd silvery in their wane,<br>And heavy flowers yet slumber'd, once again </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There stole a footstep, fleet, and light, and lone,<br>Thro' the dim cedar shade; the step of one<br>That started at a leaf, of one that fled,<br>Of one that panted with some secret dread:<br>What did Imelda there? She sought the scene<br>Where love so late with youth and hope had been;<br>Bodings were on her soul?a shuddering thrill<br>Ran thro' each vein, when first the Naiad's rill<br>Met her with melody?sweet sounds and low;<br>We hear them - yet they live along its flow -<br>Her voice is music lost! The fountain-side<br>She gain'd?the wave flash'd forth?'twas darkly dyed<br>Ev'n as from warrior-hearts; and on its edge,<br>Amidst the fern, and flowers, and moss-tufts deep,<br>There lay, as lull'd by stream and rustling sedge,<br>A youth, a graceful youth. 'Oh! dost thou sleep,<br>Azzo?' she cried, 'my Azzo! is this rest?'<br>?But then her low tones falter'd: 'On thy breast </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Is the stain - yes, 'tis blood! and that cold cheek -<br>That moveless lip! thou dost not slumber? speak,<br>Speak, Azzo, my belov'd - no sound - no breath -<br>What hath come thus between our spirits? Death!<br>Death? I but dream - I dream!' and there she stood,<br>A faint, frail trembler, gazing first on blood,<br>With her fair arm around yon cypress thrown,<br>Her form sustain'd by that dark stem alone,<br>And fading fast, like spell-struck maid of old,<br>Into white waves dissolving, clear and cold;<br>When from the grass her dimm'd eye caught a gleam?<br>'Twas where a sword lay shiver'd by the stream,?<br>Her brother's sword! - she knew it; and she knew<br>'Twas with a venom'd point that weapon slew!<br>Wo for young love! But love is strong. There came<br>Strength upon woman's fragile heart and frame, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There came swift courage! On the dewy ground<br>She knelt, with all her dark hair floating round,<br>Like a long silken stole; she knelt, and press'd<br>Her lips of glowing life to Azzo's breast,<br>Drawing the poison forth. A strange, sad sight!<br>Pale death, and fearless love, and solemn night!<br>So the moon saw them last.<br>The Morn came singing<br>Thro' the green forests of the Appenines,<br>With all her joyous birds their free flight winging,<br>And steps and voices out amongst the vines.<br>What found that day-spring here? Two fair forms laid<br>Like sculptured sleepers; from the myrtle shade<br>Casting a gleam of beauty o'er the wave,<br>Still, mournful, sweet. Were such things for the grave?<br>Could it be so indeed? That radiant girl,<br>Deck'd as for bridal hours!?long braids of pearl </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Amidst her shadowy locks were faintly shining,<br>As tears might shine, with melancholy light;<br>And there was gold her slender waist entwining;<br>And her pale graceful arms how sadly bright!<br>And fiery gems upon her breast were lying,<br>And round her marble brow red roses dying.<br>But she died first! the violet's hue had spread<br>O'er her sweet eyelids with repose oppress'd,<br>She had bow'd heavily her gentle head,<br>And on the youth's hush'd bosom sunk to rest.<br>So slept they well! the poison's work was done;<br>Love with true heart had striven?but Death had won.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Felicia+Dorothea+Hemans">Felicia Dorothea Hemans</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=391534" data-title="Imelda de Felicia Dorothea Hemans" data-description="……………….Sometimes
The young forgot the lessons they had learnt,
And lov'd when they should hate, like thee, Imelda! ~ 
Italy, a Poem


Passa la bella Donna, e par che dorma. ~ 
Tasso

We have the myrtle's breath around us here,
Amidst t..."></div>
</div>
</div>