 | The Vision of Prophecy and Other Poems |  |
212
CORTONA.
Where hoar Cortona crests a mountain lone,Fenced by the massy walls Etruria reared,
Ere yet Rome's straggling cabins had appeared
By the low hills that were to be her throne,—
I looked o'er plains of richest verdure shown
In the still clearness of the summer air,
Far-surging waves of woodland, hamlets fair,
And storied castles, wildly overgrown.
The windless heat was settling on the broad
Sweet champaign, mellowing all its fruitage green,
From sharp Monte Pulciano, with a load
Of vines upon its slopes, to thy serene
And silent shore, O crystal Thrasymene!
Where olives fringe the rill that ran with blood.
| The Vision of Prophecy and Other Poems | |