It was an hour of universal joy.
The lark was up and at the gate of heaven,
Singing, as sure to enter when he came ;
The butterfly was basking in my path,
His radiant wings unfolded. From below
The hell of prayer rose slowly, plaintively;
Ad odours, such as welcome in the day,
salute the early traveller,
one and go, each sweeter than the last, prising Hill and valley breathed delight; ad not a living thing but blessed the hour! very bush and brake there was a voice nsive! From the THRASYMENE, that now in the sun, a lake of molten gold,
from the shore that once, when armies met,
d to and fro unfelt, so terrible
ge, the slaughter, I had turned away;
th, that led me, leading through a wood,
dry-wilderness of fruits and flowers,
by a brook that, in the day of strife,
Wood, but now runs amber-when a glade,
It was an hour of universal joy.
The lark was up and at the gate of heaven,
Singing, as sure to enter when he came;
The butterfly was basking in my path,
His radiant wings unfolded. From below
The bell of prayer rose slowly, plaintively;
And odours, such as welcome in the day,
Such as salute the early traveller,
And come and go, each sweeter than the last,
Were rising. Hill and valley breathed delight;
And not a living thing but blessed the hour!
bush and brake there was a voice
Responsive!From the THRASYMENE, that now
Slept in the sun, a lake of molten gold,
And from the shore that once, when armies met,
Rocked to and fro unfelt, so terrible
The rage, the slaughter, I had turned away;
The path, that led me, leading through a wood,
A fairy-wilderness of fruits and flowers,
And by a brook that, in the day of strife,
Ran blood, but now runs amber-when a glade,
Far, far within, sunned only at noon-day,
Suddenly opened. Many a bench was there,
Each round its ancient elm; and many a track,
Well-known to them that from the high-way loved
Awhile to deviate. In the midst a cross
Of mouldering stone as in a temple stood,
Solemn, severe; coeval with the trees
That round it in majestic order rose;
And on the lowest step a Pilgrim knelt
In fervent prayer. He was the first I saw,
(Save in the tumult of a midnight-masque,
A revel, where none cares to play his part,
And they, that speak, at once dissolve the charm)
The first in sober truth, no counterfeit ;
And, when his orisons were duly paid,
He rose, and we exchanged, as all are wont,
A traveller's greeting.-Young, and of an age
When Youth is most attractive, when a light
Plays round and round, reflected, while it lasts,
From some attendant Spirit, that ere long
(His charge relinquished with a sigh, a tear)
Wings his flight upward-with a look he won
My favour; and, the spell of silence broke,
I could not but continue.
Whence art thou?'-' From Mont'alto,' he replied, My native village in the Apennines.'
And whither journeying?
Of Saint Antonio in the City of PADUA.
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