Published by @piggymouse1 on 2019-10-18
Persistent lovers will repair
(In time) to my suburban tomb,
A pilgrimage, when I become
A local deity of love,
And pious vows and votive prayer
Shall hover in my sacred grove
Sustained on that Italian air.
When my athletic marble form
Forever lithe, forever young,
With grateful garlands shall be hung
And flowers of deflowered maids;
The cordial flame shall keep me warm,
A bloodless shade among the shades
Doing no good, nor yet much harm.
While the melodious fountain falls
(Carved by the cunning Bolognese)
The Adepts twine beneath the trees
In sacramental exercise.
They terminate the festivals
With an invariable surprise
Of fireworks, or an Austrian waltz.
But if, more violent, more profound,
One soul, disdainful or disdained,
Shall come, his shadowed beauty stained
With colours of the withered year,
Self-immolating on the Mound
Upon the crisis, he shall hear
A breathless chuckle underground.
SOVEGNA VOS AL TEMPS DE MON DOLOR
Consiros vei la pasada folor