The Dream Of The Two Sisters. From Dante.

A poem by Thomas Moore

Nell ora, credo, che dell'oriente
Prima raggio nel monte Citerea,
Che di fuoco d'amor par sempre dente,
Giovane e bella in sogno mi parea
Donna vedere andar per una landa
Cogliendo flori; e cantando dicea ;--
Sappia qualunque'l mio nome dimanda,
Ch'io mi son Lia, e vo movendo 'ntorno
Le belle mani a farmi una ghirlanda--
Per piacermi allo specchio qui m'adorno;
Ma mia suora Rachel mai non si smaga
Dal suo ammiraglio, e siede tutto il giorno.

Ell' รจ de'suoi begli occhi veder vaga,
Com' io dell'adornarmi con le mani;
Lei lo vodere e me l'ovrare appaga.

DANTE, Purg. Canto xxvii.

'Twas eve's soft hour, and bright, above.
The star of beauty beamed,
While lulled by light so full of love,
In slumber thus I dreamed--
Methought, at that sweet hour,
A nymph came o'er the lea,
Who, gathering many a flower,
Thus said and sung to me:--
"Should any ask what Leila loves,
"Say thou, To wreathe her hair
"With flowerets culled from glens and groves,
"Is Leila's only care.

"While thus in quest of flowers rare,
"O'er hill and dale I roam,
"My sister, Rachel, far more fair,
"Sits lone and mute at home.
"Before her glass untiring,
"With thoughts that never stray,
"Her own bright eyes admiring,
"She sits the live-long day;
"While I!--oh, seldom even a look
"Of self salutes my eye;
"My only glass, the limpid brook,
"That shines and passes by."

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