The mad world raveth, Astraeus flieth back
Unto her Heavens of wrath.

Hence of the strongest the base victory,
Of friendship and of honour the alloy,
The law's corruption, the betrayer's joy,

The just man's misery.

Hence we behold descending, fierce, proud hordes, The Druids' prole, who of their violence shake Kingdoms and cause the hearts of all to quake

With weapons and with words;

The new Encéladi they who aspire

To storm Heaven's very gates, to overthrow

Jove's throne and steal his thunders and his so

Indocile darts of fire.

Nay, but his vengeance slumbereth not on high;
On the wind's wrathful pinions it draws near;
Of lightnings I can see, of bolts can hear,

The flash, and then the cry.

I

DOTE the more, the more I contemplate

This peerless canvas, and my yearning heart

In love's delirium from it doth await

The speech and kisses of its counterpart,
Whereon I run to gather her to me;
Alas, she doth not speak, but her glance strays
Gladly towards me: "Dearest father, see
How beautiful I am!" methinks it says.

"Daughter," I answer, "sweet serenity
Thy happy image showeth, worthless prove
All canvases by this supremely best;
But fairer still thou dost appear to me,
And to me only in the shape that Love
Hath graven in thy tender father's breast."

ORTE, che se' tu mai? Primo dei danni

l'alma vile e la rea ti crede e teme,

e vendetta del ciel scendi ai tiranni

che il vigile tuo braccio incalza e preme.
Ma l' infelice, a cui de' lunghi affanni
grave è l' incarco, e morta in cor la speme,
quel ferro implora troncator degli anni,
e ride all' appressar dell' ore estreme.
Fra la polve di Marte e le vicende
ti sfida il forte che ne' rischi indura ;
e il saggio senza impallidir ti attende.

Morte, che se' tu dunque ? Un' ombra oscura, un bene, un male, che diversa prende

agli affetti dell' uom forma e natura.

VILE un pensier mi dice: "Ecco bel frutto del tuo cercar le dotte carte, ir privo

sì della luce, che il valor visivo

già piega l' ale alla sua sera addutto."

66

Se l' acume," io rispondo, “ è già distrutto

della veduta corporal, più vivo

dentro mi brilla l'occhio intellettivo,

che terra e cielo abbraccia e suo fa il tutto."
Così mi spazio dal furor sicuro
delle umane follie, così governo
il mondo a senno mio, re del futuro,
poi su l'abisso dell'oblio m' assido,
e al solversi che fa nel nulla eterno
tutto il fasto mortal, guardo e sorrido.

HAT art thou, Death? The vile and guilty fear

Wand credit thee with nought save direst harm;

Vengeance divine dost seem to tyrants here,
Pursuing, smiting with a tireless arm.

But unto him whose load of constant grief
Is hard to bear, who with despairful heart
Doth hail his parting day with glad relief,
Stern arbiter of life, welcome thou art!

In dust and dreadful hazard of the fray
The strong defy thee, braced to meet the storm ;
The wise await thy coming unafraid.

What art thou, Death? A dark cloud on the day,
A blessing or a curse, in various form
And nature by the loves of men portrayed.

A

COWARD thought admonisheth: "Behold,

The fair fruits of thy learning, to forego
The light of day; thy wings of vision fold
Already and the shades of evening grow."
Then I reply: "Nay, if my bodily sight
Be lost, small harm since in my spirit's eye
There burneth a still clearer, brighter light
Embracing all the world of earth and sky.

Thus do I soar, from passionate foolishness
Of men secure; lord of futurity,

I rule the world to my desire; meanwhile,
Resting beside oblivion's abyss,

And in the void that is eternity,

Watching how earthly glory fades, I smile!"

UGO FOSCOLO, 1778-1827

RA la notte; e sul funereo letto

ERA

agonizzante il genitor vid' io

tergersi gli occhi, e con pietoso aspetto

mirarmi e dirmi in suon languido: "Addio." Quindi scordato ogni terreno obbietto, erger la fronte ed affissarsi in Dio; mentre, discolta il crin, batteasi il petto la madre rispondendo al pianto mio. Ei, volte a noi le luci lacrimose,

"Deh, basti !" disse, e alla mal ferma palma appoggiò il capo, tacque e si nascose.

E tacque ognun: ma alfin, spirata l' alma,
cessò il silenzio, e alle strida amorose
la notturna gemea terribil calma.

ost gl' interi giorni in lungo, incerto

Co

sonno gemo! ma poi quando la bruna notte gli astri nel ciel chiama e la luna, e il freddo aer di mute ombre è coverto, dove selvoso è il piano e più deserto allor, lento io vagando, ad una ad una palpo le piaghe onde la rea fortuna

e amore e il mondo hanno il mio core aperto. Stanco mi appoggio or al troncon d'un pino, ed or, prostrato ove strepitan l'onde, con le speranze mie parlo e deliro;

ma per te le mortali ire e il destino

spesso obliando, a te donna, io sospiro: "Luce degli occhi miei, che mi t' asconde ?"

UGO FOSCOLO, 1778-1827

T was at night; I saw my father lie
Wearily on his bed of agony ;

His eyes grew dim, faintly he breathed: "Good-bye,"
The while he gazed upon me piteously.

Then worldly things were put away to rest,
And his whole thought uplifted to God's grace;
My mother wept with me and beat her breast,
Her hair unbraided fell about her face.

Then once again he turned his tear-veiled eyes
Towards us all and sighed, " Enough," before
His head sank quietly on his tremulous palm.
We too were hushed, but when unto the skies
His spirit fled, then silence reigned no more;
Our love's despair shattered night's awful calm.

HUS I lament in a dim, endless swoon

All day! But when the sombre night hath called

The stars out into heaven and the moon,

And with mute shadows the cold air is palled,
Then 'tis that slowly to and fro I rove
Over the lonely wooded plain and start
Feeling each wound that adverse fate and love
And the world have wide-opened in my heart.
Weary I lean against some pine-trunk, or
Lay me down prostrate where the waters roar
And hold wild converse with my hopes; for thee,
Often forgetting human misery

And fate, O Lady, amid sighs I say:

"Light of my eyes, who hath concealed thy ray?"