"Before the duomo shuts; go in,
"And wait till Tenebræ begin;
"Walk to the third confessional,
"Between the pillar and the wall,

"And kneeling whisper, Whence comes peace? "Say it a second time, then cease;

"And if the voice inside returns,

"From Christ and Freedom; what concerns

"The cause of Peace ?-for answer, slip

66

My letter where you placed your lip;

"Then come back happy we have done "Our mother service-I, the son,

"As you the daughter of our land ! ”

Three mornings more, she took her stand
In the same place, with the same eyes :
I was no surer of sun-rise

Than of her coming: we conferred
Of her own prospects, and I heard
She had a lover-stout and tall,
She said then let her eyelids fall,

"He could do much —as if some doubt
Entered her heart,-then, passing out,
"She could not speak for others, who
"Had other thoughts; herself she knew :'
And so she brought me drink and food.
After four days, the scouts pursued
Another path; at last arrived

The help my Paduan friends contrived
To furnish me: she brought the news.
For the first time I could not choose
But kiss her hand, and lay my own
Upon her head-" This faith was shown

"To Italy, our mother; she

"Uses my hand and blesses thee."

She followed down to the sea-shore;

I left and never saw her more.

How very long since I have thought Concerning much less wished for-aught Beside the good of Italy,

For which I live and mean to die!

I never was in love; and since

Charles proved false, what shall now convince
My inmost heart I have a friend?
However, if I pleased to spend

Real wishes on myself—say, three

I know at least what one should be.
I would grasp Metternich until

I felt his red wet throat distil

In blood thro' these two hands. And next,
-Nor much for that am I perplexed-
Charles, perjured traitor, for his part,
Should die slow of a broken heart

Under his new employers. Last

-Ah, there, what should I wish? For fast
Do I grow old and out of strength.
If I resolved to seek at length
My father's house again, how scared
They all would look, and unprepared!
My brothers live in Austria's pay
--Disowned me long ago, men say;
And all my early mates who used
To praise me so-perhaps induced
More than one early step of mine—
Are turning wise: while some opine
"Freedom grows license," some suspect
"Haste breeds delay," and recollect
They always said, such premature
Beginnings never could endure !
So, with a sullen "All 's for best,"

The land seems settling to its rest.
I think then, I should wish to stand
This evening in that dear, lost land,
Over the sea the thousand miles,
And know if yet that woman smiles
With the calm smile; some little farm
She lives in there, no doubt: what harm
If I sat on the door-side bench,
And while her spindle made a trench
Fantastically in the dust,

Inquired of all her fortunes-just
Her children's ages and their names,
And what may be the husband's aims
For each of them. I'd talk this out,
And sit there, for an hour about,
Then kiss her hand once more, and lay
Mine on her head, and go my way.

So much for idle wishing-how
It steals the time! To business now.

THE ENGLISHMAN IN ITALY.

PIANO DI SORRENTO.

FORTÙ, Fortù, my beloved one, sit here by my side,
On my knees put up both little feet! I am sure, if I

tried,

I could make you laugh spite of Scirocco. Now, open

your eyes,

Let me keep you amused, till he vanish in black from

the skies,

With telling my memories over, as you tell your beads; All the Plain saw me gather, I garland-the flowers or the weeds.

Time for rain! for your long hot dry Autumn had networked with brown

The white skin of each grape on the bunches, marked like a quail's crown,

Those creatures you make such account of, whose heads, -specked with white

Over brown like a great spider's back, as I told you last night,

Your mother bites off for her supper. Red-ripe as could

be,

Pomegranates were chapping and splitting in halves on the tree.

And betwixt the loose walls of great flintstone, or in the thick dust

On the path, or straight out of the rock-side, wherever could thrust

Some burnt sprig of bold hardy rock-flower its yellow

face up,

For the prize were great butterflies fighting, some five for

one cup.

So, I guessed, ere I got up this morning, what change was

in store,

By the quick rustle-down of the quail-nets which woke me

before

I could open my shutter, made fast with a bough and a stone,

And look through the twisted dead vine-twigs, sole lattice that 's known.

Quick and sharp rang the rings down the net-poles, while, busy beneath,

Your priest and his brother tugged at them, the rain in their teeth.

And out upon all the flat house-roofs, where split figs lay

drying,

The girls took the frails under cover: nor use seemed in

trying

To get out the boats and go fishing, for, under the cliff, Fierce the black water frothed o'er the blind-rock. No

seeing our skiff

Arrive about noon from Amalfi !—our fisher arrive,
And pitch down his basket before us, all trembling

alive,

With pink and grey jellies, your sea-fruit; you touch the strange lumps,

And mouths gape there, eyes open, all manner of horns and of humps,

Which only the fisher looks grave at, while round him like

imps,

Cling screaming the children as naked and brown as his

shrimps;

Himself too as bare to the middle-you see round his

neck

The string and its brass coin suspended, that saves him from wreck.

But to-day not a boat reached Salerno: so back, to a

man,

Came our friends, with whose help in the vineyards grapeharvest began.

In the vat, halfway up in our house-side, like blood the juice spins,

While your brother all bare-legged is dancing till breathless he grins

Dead-beaten in effort on effort to keep the grapes under, Since still, when he seems all but master, in pours the

fresh plunder

From girls who keep coming and going with basket on shoulder,

And eyes shut against the rain's driving; your girls that are older,

For under the hedges of aloe, and where, on its bed
Of the orchard's black mould, the love-apple lies pulpy

and red,