CANTO THE FIRST IX |
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CANTO THE FIRSTIX
Books, for his volume heretofore was Man,
With eye more curious he appear`d to scan,
And oft, in sudden mood, for many a day
From all communion he would start away:
And then, his rarely call`d attendants said,
Through night`s long hours would sound his hurried tread
O`er the dark gallery, where his fathers frown`d
In rude but antique portraiture around.
They heard, but whisper`d — "/that/ must not be known —
The sound of words less earthly than his own.
Yes, they who chose might smile, but some had seen
They scarce knew what, but more than should have been.
Why gazed he so upon the ghastly head
Which hands profane had gather`d from the dead,
That still beside his open`d volume lay,
As if to startle all save him away?
Why slept he not when others were at rest?
Why heard no music, and received no guest?
All was not well, they deem`d — but where the wrong?
Some knew perchance — but `twere a tale too long;
And such besides were too discreetly wise,
To more than hint their knowledge in surmise;
But if they would — they could" — around the board,
Thus Lara`s vassals prattled of their lord.
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