University of Virginia Library

II.

For oh, what a paradise was there,
Set open by that kindly key!
Joyous, gentle, debonair,
The soul of every grape that dwells
By Tuscan slopes, o'er Umbrian dells,
Or else, where, oft, in azure air,
Round serene Parthenope
Witless wandering everywhere,
Drunken sings the sultry bee,
Or where, purpling tombs of kings,
Castel d' Aso's violet springs:
Montepulciano, the master-vine;
Chiante, that comforts the Florentine;
With many a merry-hearted wine
From Dante's own delicious vale,
Whose sweetness hangs, in odours frail
Of woods and flowers, round many a tale
Of tears, along the lordly line
Of the scornful Ghibeline,
— Dante's vale, and Love's, and mine,
The pleasant vale of the Casentine!
Nor lack'd there many and many a train
Of kingly gifts,—the choicest gain
Of terraced cities over the sea:
The fiery essence of fierce Spain,
The soul of sunburnt Sicily,
The Frankish, Rhenish, vintage, all
The purple pride of Portugal,
—Whole troops of powers celestial,
The slayers of sullen Pain!
O what spirits strong and subtle!
Whether to quicken the pulses' play,
And dance the world, like a weaver's shuttle
To and fro in the dazzling loom
Where Fancy weaves her wardrobe gay;
Or soften to faintness, sweet as the fume
From silver censers swung alway
To music, making a mellow gloom,
The too intrusive light of the day.
Some that bathe the wearied brain,
And untie the knotted hair
On the pucker'd brows of Care;
Soothe from heavy eyes the stain
Of tears too long represt; make fair
With their transcendent influence
Fate's frown; or feed with nectar-food
The lips of Longing, and dispense
To the tired soul despair'd-of good:
Others that stir in the startled blood
Like tingling trumpet notes intense,
To waken the martial mood.
By the mere faint thought of it, well I wis
Such a heaven on earth were hardly amiss;
And I hold it no crime to set it in rhyme
That I think a man might pass his time
In company worse than this.