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Both mothers absent; the luxuriant, silken

Tresses of childhood seemed to crave the pressure Of a caress maternal; but instead

Their youthful souls leapt out into the darkness, Nor comfort nor their country's praise companioned Them to the essay with sound of love and glory.

Not this thy promise to the babe, O sombre

Son of Hortensia, when evoking other
Fates before Paris than the King of Rome's !

Victory and peace out of Sebastopol lulled
The child with murmur of white pinions; Europe
Admired; the Column blazed forth like a signal.

But of December, of Brumaire, the mire
Is foul, the mist perfidious; no trees spring,
Or if they do their fruits are dust and ashes.

O thou, Ajaccio's solitary dwelling,
Shadowed by lofty, verdant oaks, and circled
With placid summits, by the sounding sea!

Here bode Letitia, gracious name Italic,
Now through the centuries spelling desolation,
Too brief a season wife and happy mother!

Here was thy place, with sea and God thou trustedst,
Consul, when thy last bolt all thrones had shaken
And thou concordant laws hadst given the peoples.

Domestica ombra Letizia or abita la vuota casa: non lei di Cesare il raggio precinse: la còrsa

madre visse fra le tombe e l' are.

Il suo fatale da gli occhi d'aquila, le figlie come l' aurora splendide, frementi speranza i nepoti,

tutti giacquer, tutti a lei lontano.

Sta ne la notte la còrsa Niobe,
sta su la porta donde al battesimo
le usciano i figli, e le braccia
fiera tende su '1 selvaggio mare:

e chiama, chiama, se da l' Americhe,
se di Britannia, se da l' arsa Africa
alcun di sua tragica prole

spinto da morte le approdi in seno.

Tu parli, e, de la voce a la molle aura

lenta cedendo, si abbandona l'anima

del tuo parlar su l' onde carezzevoli e a strane plaghe naviga.

Naviga in un tepor di sole occiduo ridente a le cerulee solitudini :

tra cielo e mar candidi augelli volano, isole verdi passano,

e i templi su le cime ardui lampeggiano

di candor pario ne l' occaso roseo,

ed i cipressi de la riva fremono, e i mirti densi odorano.

Letitia, homely shade, now haunts the empty

Dwelling; no crown imperial clasped her forehead;
She, Corsican mother, lived mid tombs and altars.

Her fatal son, the eagle-eyed, her daughters
Radiant as dawn, their offspring of the frenzied
Visions, are fallen, all from her far distant.

At night the Corsican Niobe, from the door

Through which her prole were borne from her to baptism, Despairful, spreads her arms to the wild sea,

And calls, calls, lest from the Americas, from Britain,
From Afric's wastes one of her tragic children,
Wafted by death, should come to her heart's haven.

HEAR thy voice; a spell of languid music Bindeth my soul at last, and it is borne Upon the dulcet waters of thy speech

To unknown shores.

My happy soul is borne in sunset glory
To azure solitudes; green isles float past;
Between the sea and sky there is a murmur
Of snowy wings.

White temples shimmer upon lofty summits
Unsullied by the passionate western rose ;

Cypresses stir on the shore and luxuriant myrtles
Breathe fragrance around.

Erra lungi l'odor su le salse aure

e si mesce al cantar lento de' nauti,

mentre una nave in vista al porto ammaina
le rosse vele placida.

Veggo fanciulle scender da l' acropoli
in ordin lungo; ed han bei pepli candidi,
serti hanno al capo, in man rami di lauro,
tendon le braccia e cantano.

Piantata l'asta in su l' arena patria,

a terra salta un uom ne l' armi splendido :
è forse Alceo da le battaglie reduce
a le vergini lesbie?

UANDO a le nostre case la diva severa discende,
da lungi il rombo de la volante s' ode,

Qa

e l'ombra de l'ala che gelida gelida avanza diffonde intorno lugubre silenzio.

Sotto la venïente ripiegano gli uomini il capo,

ma i sen feminei rompono in aneliti.

Tale de gli alti boschi, se luglio il turbine addensa,

non corre un fremito per le virenti cime :

immobili quasi per brivido gli alberi stanno,

e solo il rivo roco s' ode gemere.

Entra ella, e passa, e tócca; e senza pur volgersi atterra gli arbusti lieti di lor rame giovani;

miete le bionde spiche, strappa anche i grappoli verdi, coglie le spose pie, le verginette vaghe

Sweet perfumes wander far on salted breezes
And mingle with the chanting of the sailors;
In sight of land a placid ship is lowering
Her crimson sails.

From the Acropolis I see a file

Of maidens draped in candid veils descending,
Garlands they wear, they carry sprays of laurel;
And beckon and sing.

Who is it leaps ashore in radiant armour
And plants his victor lance in native soil?
Is it Alcaeus, from the wars returning

To the virgins of Lesbos ?

W

HEN the stern Goddess unto us descends,
We hear afar the thunder of her flight,

And in the nearing shadow of her pinions
The earth is frozen into mournful silence.

Strong men incline their foreheads at her coming,
But women's tender breasts are wrung with weeping.

So, in July when storm-clouds gather darkly
O'er wooded heights, no tremor stirs the summits,

Each tree stands still as if in terror, only
The hoarse voice of a stream is heard lamenting.

She enters, passes, touches, without pause
Tears from the festal branches their young sprays,

Harvests the unripe corn, pulls the green clusters,
And gathers gentle matrons, lovely virgins,

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