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82
ROME.
Roma! Roma! Roma!
Non é piu come era prima.
Non é piu come era prima.
A terrace lifts above the People's square,
Its colonnade;
About it lies the warm and crystal air,
And fir-tree's shade.
Its colonnade;
About it lies the warm and crystal air,
And fir-tree's shade.
Thence a wide scene attracts the patient gaze,
Saint Peter's dome
Looms through the far horizon's purple haze,
Religion's home!
Saint Peter's dome
Looms through the far horizon's purple haze,
Religion's home!
Columns that peer between huge palace walls,
A garden's bloom,
The mount where crumble Cæsar's ivied halls,
The Castle-Tomb;
A garden's bloom,
The mount where crumble Cæsar's ivied halls,
The Castle-Tomb;
Egypt's red shaft and Travertine's brown hue,
The moss-grown tiles,
Or the broad firmament of cloudless blue
Our sight beguiles.
The moss-grown tiles,
Or the broad firmament of cloudless blue
Our sight beguiles.
83
Once the awed warrior from yon streamlet's banks
Cast looks benign,
When pointing to his onward-moving ranks,
The holy sign.
Cast looks benign,
When pointing to his onward-moving ranks,
The holy sign.
Fair women from these casements roses flung
To strew his way,
Who Laura's graces so divinely sung
They live to-day.
To strew his way,
Who Laura's graces so divinely sung
They live to-day.
In those dim cloisters Palestine's worn bard
His wreath laid by,
Yielding the triumph that his sorrows marred,
Content to die.
His wreath laid by,
Yielding the triumph that his sorrows marred,
Content to die.
From yonder court-yard Beatrice was led,
Whose pictured face
Soft beauty unto sternest anguish wed
In deathless grace.
Whose pictured face
Soft beauty unto sternest anguish wed
In deathless grace.
Here stood Lorraine to watch on many an eve
The sun go down;
There paused Corinne from Oswald to receive
Her fallen crown.
The sun go down;
There paused Corinne from Oswald to receive
Her fallen crown.
84
By such a light would Raphael fondly seek
Expression rare,
Or make the Fornarina's olive cheek
Love's blushes wear.
Expression rare,
Or make the Fornarina's olive cheek
Love's blushes wear.
A shattered bridge here juts its weedy curve
O'er Tiber's bed,
And there a shape whose name thrills every nerve,
Arrests the tread.
O'er Tiber's bed,
And there a shape whose name thrills every nerve,
Arrests the tread.
O'er convent gates the stately cypress rears
Its verdant lines,
And fountains gaily throw their constant tears
On broken shrines.
Its verdant lines,
And fountains gaily throw their constant tears
On broken shrines.
Fields where dank vapors steadily consume
The life of man,
And lizards rustle through the stunted broom,—
Tall arches span.
The life of man,
And lizards rustle through the stunted broom,—
Tall arches span.
There the wan herdsman in the noontide sleeps,
The gray kine doze,
And goats climb up to where on ruined heaps
Acanthus grows.
The gray kine doze,
And goats climb up to where on ruined heaps
Acanthus grows.
85
From one imperial trophy turn with pain
The Jews aside,
For on it emblems of their conquered fane
Are still descried.
The Jews aside,
For on it emblems of their conquered fane
Are still descried.
The mendicant, whose low plea fills thine ear
At every pass,
Before an altar kings have decked, may hear
The chanted mass.
At every pass,
Before an altar kings have decked, may hear
The chanted mass.
On lofty ceilings vivid frescoes glow,
Auroras beam;
The steeds of Neptune through the water go,
Or Sybils dream.
Auroras beam;
The steeds of Neptune through the water go,
Or Sybils dream.
As in the flickering torchlight shadows weaved
Illusions wild,
Methought Apollo's bosom slightly heaved,
And Juno smiled!
Illusions wild,
Methought Apollo's bosom slightly heaved,
And Juno smiled!
Aerial Mercuries in bronze upspring,
Dianas fly,
And marble Cupids to their Psyches cling,
Without a sigh.
Dianas fly,
And marble Cupids to their Psyches cling,
Without a sigh.
86
In grottoes, see the hair of Venus
creep
Round dripping stones,
Or thread the endless catacombs where sleep
Old martyrs' bones.
Round dripping stones,
Or thread the endless catacombs where sleep
Old martyrs' bones.
Upon this esplanade is basking now
A son of toil,
But not a thought rests on his swarthy brow
Of Time's vast spoil.
A son of toil,
But not a thought rests on his swarthy brow
Of Time's vast spoil.
His massive limbs with noblest sculptures vie,
Devoid of care
Behold him on the sunny terrace lie,
And drink the air!
Devoid of care
Behold him on the sunny terrace lie,
And drink the air!
With gestures free and looks of eager life,
Tones deep and mild,
Intent he plies the finger's harmless strife —
A gleesome child!
Tones deep and mild,
Intent he plies the finger's harmless strife —
A gleesome child!
The shaggy Calabrese, who lingers near,
At Christmas comes to play
His reeds before Madonna every year,
Then hastes away.
At Christmas comes to play
His reeds before Madonna every year,
Then hastes away.
87
Now mark the rustic pair who dance apart;
What gay surprise!
Her clipsome bodice holds the Roman heart
That lights her eyes:
What gay surprise!
Her clipsome bodice holds the Roman heart
That lights her eyes:
His rapid steps are timed by native zeal;
The manly chest
Swells with such candid joy that we can feel
Each motion's zest.
The manly chest
Swells with such candid joy that we can feel
Each motion's zest.
What artless pleasure her calm smile betrays,
Whose glances keen
Follow the pastime as she lightly plays
The tambourine!
Whose glances keen
Follow the pastime as she lightly plays
The tambourine!
They know when chestnut groves repast will yield,
Where vineyards spread;
Before their saint at morn they trustful kneeled,
Why doubt or dread?
Where vineyards spread;
Before their saint at morn they trustful kneeled,
Why doubt or dread?
A bearded Capuchin his cowl throws back,
Demurely nigh;
A Saxon boy with nurse upon his track,
Bounds laughing by.
Demurely nigh;
A Saxon boy with nurse upon his track,
Bounds laughing by.
88
Still o'er the relics of the Past around
The Day-beams pour,
And winds awake the same continuous sound
They woke of yore.
The Day-beams pour,
And winds awake the same continuous sound
They woke of yore.
Thus Nature takes to her embrace serene
What Age has clad,
And all who on her gentle bosom lean
She maketh glad.
What Age has clad,
And all who on her gentle bosom lean
She maketh glad.
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