ASOLO BROWNING AT ASOLO THIS is the loggia Browning loved, High on the flank of the friendly town; There to the West what a range of blue!— To his peerless Loves. O tranquil scene! The peaks and the shore and the lore between? See! yonder's his Venice-the valiant Spire, Yesterday he was part of it all- Sat here, discerning cloud from snow Or mused on the vineyard whose wine-stirred row Meets in a leafy bacchanal. Listen a moment-how oft did he! To the bells from Fontalto's distant tower Leading the evening in ah, me! Here breathes the whole soul of Italy As one rose breathes with the breath of the bower. Sighs were meant for an hour like this, When joy is keen as a thrust of pain. Do you wonder the poet's heart would miss This touch of rapture in Nature's kiss, And dream of Asolo over again? "Part of it yesterday," we moan? FAREWELL TO ITALY LINES ON LEAVING ITALY ONCE more among the old gigantic hills The vales of Lombardy grow dim behind, They beckon me, the giants, from afar, They wing my footsteps on; Their helms of ice, their plumage of the pine, Their cuirasses of stone. My heart beats high, my breath comes freer forth, Why should my heart be sore? I hear the eagle's and the vulture's cry, The nightingale's no more. Where is the laurel, where the myrtle's blossom? Bleak is the path around: Where from the thicket comes the ringdove's coo ing? Hoarse is the torrent's sound. Yet should I grieve, when from my loaded bosom A weight appears to flow? Methinks the Muses come to call me home I know not how, but in yon land of roses I startled at the warbling nightingale, They said the stars shone with a softer gleam,——— It seemed not so to me; In vain a scene of beauty beamed around, My thoughts were o'er the sea. ADAM GOTTLOB OEHLENSCHLAGER. I LEAVE thee, beauteous Italy! no more I did believe (what have I not believ'd?), As if the sight were unimpair'd by death, WALTER SAVAGE LANDor. FAREWELL TO ITALY WE lingered at Domo d'Ossola- The world from that Alpine shoulder |