And little children 'neath her dark wings smiling,
Their rosy arms outstretched for toys and sunshine.
Ah, dreary homes, where thou before the fathers
Hast spoiled the early buds, O pale, mute Goddess!
These rooms will wake no more to jest and laughter,
To happy murmurs as of nests in springtime!

They will not know the passing years' gay story,
Love's sacrifice, nor Hymen's dancing footsteps;

Here those, spared unto grief and age, O Goddess,
Yearn for the thunder of thy homing pinions!

T

EDIOUSLY drifteth the snow through a sky grey as ashes;

Not a sound, not a breath from the life of the city ariseth, Neither rattle of wheels on the road, nor a fruit-vendor's crying, Nor the gay tones of youth nor the rapturous singing of lovers.

From the tower in the square the harsh voice of the hours, like lamenting

Of worlds far from dawn, rends the air with a mournful complaining.

Vagrant birds peck the frost-clouded window-panes; souls of departed

Companions return, they are gazing upon me and calling.

Wait a little while, loved ones-be still, dauntless heart-and I also Will seek the great silence and sleep in the valley of shadows!

Sa

EI grande. Eterno co 'l sole l' iride de' tuoi colori consola gli uomini, sorride natura a l' idea

giovin perpetüa ne le tue

forme. Al baleno di quei fantasimi roseo passante su 'l torvo secolo posava il tumulto del ferro,

ne l'alto guardavano le genti;

e quei che Roma corse e l' Italia,
struggitor freddo, fiammingo cesare,
sè stesso obliava, i pennelli
chino a raccogliere dal tuo piede.

Di' sotto il peso de' marmi austriaci, in quel de' Frari grigio silenzio, antico tu dormi? o diffusa

anima erri tra i paterni monti,

qui dove il cielo te, fronte olimpia cui d'alma vita ghirlandò un secolo, il ciel tra le candide nubi

limpido cerulo bacia e ride?

Sei grande. E pure là da quel povero marmo più forte mi chiama e i cantici antichi mi chiede quel baldo

viso di giovine disfidante.

Che è che sfidi, divino giovane ?

la pugna, il fato, l' irrompente impeto dei mille contr' uno disfidi,

anima eroica, Pietro Calvi.

IGHTY thou art. Eternal as the sun

MThy rainbow hues console the heart of men;

Nature exulteth over the ideal

Of youth perennial manifest by thee.

The roseate lightnings of thy fantasies,
Flashing athwart the sombre century, lulled
To rest awhile the clamorous noise of war,
Lifting all glances upwards to the skies,

And him, who harried Italy and Rome,
Ruthless destroyer, Flemish Cæsar, all
Unmindful of his dignity, bowed down
To gather up the brushes at thy feet.

O say, dost sleep, time-honoured 'neath a mole
Of Austrian marble, folded in the dim,
Hushed twilight of the Friary? or dost err,
Ethereal soul, mid thy paternal hills,

Here where the sky, aglow 'twixt snowy clouds,
In its soft blue limpidity doth smile,
Setting a kiss on thy Olympian brow,
Crowned by a century of transcendent life?

Mighty thou art. But a more potent voice
Calleth me yonder to that humble stone
Where the bold features of defiant youth
Are pleading with me for the songs of old.

O godly youth, who is it wouldst defy?
O Peter Calvi! O heroic soul !

'Tis battle thou defiest, destiny

The flood-tide of a thousand against one!

Deh, fin che Piave pe' verdi baratri
ne la perenne fuga de' secoli
divalli a percuotere l' Adria

co' ruderi de le nere selve,

che pini al vecchio San Marco diedero
turriti in guerra giù tra l' Echinadi,
e il sole calante le aguglie
tinga a le pallide dolomiti

sì che di rosa nel cheto vespero
le Marmarole care al Vecellio
rifulgan, palagio di sogni,
eliso di spiriti e di fate,

sempre, deh, sempre suoni terribile
ne i desideri da le memorie,

o Calvi, il tuo nome; e balzando pallidi i giovini cerchin l' arme.

Non te, Cadore, io canto su l' arcade avena che segua de l'aure e l'acque il murmure:

te con l' eroico verso che segua il tuon de' fucili giù per le valli io celebro.

Oh due di maggio, quando, saltato su 'l limite de la strada al confine austriaco,

il capitano Calvi-fischiavan le palle d' intornobiondo, diritto, immobile,

leva in punta a la spada, pur fiso al nemico mirando, il foglio e 'l patto d' Udine,

e un fazzoletto rosso, segnale di guerra e sterminio, con la sinistra sventola !

As long as the Piavé floweth down
Green chasms in the everlasting course
Of ages, smiting Adria's breast with spoils
Uprooted from the dusky woods that gave

Pine trees to old Saint Mark, for masts of war
Towering down yonder in the Echinades ;
As long as setting suns their colours weave
About the peaks of the wan Dolomites,

Until in the hushed eventide, as red
As roses, flush the Marmarolé dear
Unto Vecellio's heart, palace of dreams,
Elysian dwelling-place of wraiths and fays;

O Calvi, may thy name with paurous might
Re-echo in both memory and desire,
And, in a passion of pale eagerness,
Youth's dauntless spirit rise and fly to arms!

Nay, not on Arcadian reeds, O Cadore, will I praise thee with murmur of zephyr and stream:

Heroic the strain I will sing to thy glory, like thunder of guns down below in the vale.

Second morning of May, on the edge of the roadway that traces the confine of Austria, see

Captain Calvi, while bullets are shrilling around and about him, springs upright, immobile and fair,

Upraising the treaty of Udine fixed to his sword-point and dauntlessly facing the foe,

With a kerchief of crimson, the signal for war and destruction, waving freely displayed in his left!