A TALE OF VILLAFRANCA.

TOLD IN TUSCANY.

My little son, my Florentine,
Sit down beside my knee,
And I will tell you why the sign
Of joy which flushed our Italy,
Has faded since but yesternight;
And why your Florence of delight
Is mourning as you see.

A great man (who was crowned one day)
Imagined a great Deed:

He shaped it out of cloud and clay,

He touched it finely till the seed

Possessed the flower: from heart and brain He fed it with large thoughts humane,

To help a people's need.

He brought it out into the sun—
They blessed it to his face :
"O great pure Deed, that hast undone
So many bad and base!

O generous Deed, heroic Deed,
Come forth, be perfected, succeed,

Deliver by God's grace !"

Then sovereigns, statesmen, north and south,
Rose up in wrath and fear,
And cried, protesting by one mouth,

"What monster have we here?

A great Deed at this hour of day?
A great just deed-and not for pay ?

Absurd, or insincere."

"And if sincere, the heavier blow

In that case we shall bear,

For where 's our blessed 'status quo,'
Our holy treaties, where,—
Our rights to sell a race, or buy,
Protect and pillage, occupy,

And civilize despair?"

Some muttered that the great Deed meant

A great pretext to sin;

And others, the pretext, so lent,

Was heinous (to begin).

Volcanic terms of "great" and “just?”

Admit such tongues of flame, the crust
Of time and law falls in.

A great Deed in this world of ours?
Unheard of the pretence is :

It threatens plainly the great Powers;
Is fatal in all senses.

A just Deed in the world?-call out
The rifles! be not slack about

The national defences !

And many murmured, "From this source
What red blood must be poured!"
And some rejoined, "'T is even worse;
What red tape is ignored!"

All cursed the Doer for an evil
Called here, enlarging on the Devil,—
There, monkeying the Lord!

Some said, it could not be explained,
Some, could not be excused;
And others," Leave it unrestrained,
Gehenna's self is loosed."

And all cried, "Crush it, maim it, gag it!
Set dog-toothed lies to tear it ragged,
Truncated and traduced!"

But HE stood sad before the sun,
(The peoples felt their fate).
"The world is many,—I am one;
My great Deed was too great.
God's fruit of justice ripens slow :
Men's souls are narrow; let them grow.
My brothers, we must wait."

The tale is ended, child of mine,
Turned graver at my knee.
They say your eyes, my Florentine,
Are English it may be :

And yet I 've marked as blue a pair
Following the doves across the square
At Venice by the sea.

Ah, child! ah, child! I cannot say
A word more. You conceive
The reason now, why just to-day
We see our Florence grieve.
Ah, child, look up into the sky!

In this low world, where great Deeds die,
What matter if we live?

A VIEW ACROSS THE ROMAN CAMPAGNA.

1861.

OVER the dumb Campagna-sea,

Out in the offing through mist and rain,

Saint Peter's Church heaves silently

Like a mighty ship in pain,

Facing the tempest with struggle and strain.

Motionless waifs of ruined towers,

Soundless breakers of desolate land:

252 A VIEW ACROSS THE ROMAN CAMPAGNA.

The sullen surf of the mist devours

That mountain-range upon either hand,
Eaten away from its outline grand.

And over the dumb Campagna-sea

Where the ship of the Church heaves on to wreck,
Alone and silent as God must be,

The Christ walks. Ay, but Peter's neck
Is stiff to turn on the foundering deck.

Peter, Peter, if such be thy name,

Now leave the ship for another to steer,
And proving thy faith evermore the same,

Come forth, tread out through the dark and drear,
Since He who walks on the sea is here.

Peter, Peter! He does not speak ;

He is not as rash as in old Galilee :

Safer a ship, though it toss and leak,
Than a reeling foot on a rolling sea!

And he 's got to be round in the girth, thinks he.

Peter, Peter! He does not stir;

His nets are heavy with silver fish ;

He reckons his gains, and is keen to infer

"The broil on the shore, if the Lord should wish; But the sturgeon goes to the Cæsar's dish."

Peter, Peter! thou fisher of men,

Fisher of fish wouldst thou live instead?
Haggling for pence with the other Ten,
Cheating the market at so much a head,
Griping the Bag of the traitor Dead?

At the triple crow of the Gallic cock

Thou weep'st not, thou, though thine eyes be dazed.
What bird comes next in the tempest-shock ?
---Vultures! see,—as when Romulus gazed,-
To inaugurate Rome for a world amazed!

A COURT LADY.

HER hair was tawny with gold, her eyes with purple were dark,

Her cheeks' pale opal burnt with a red and restless

spark.

Never was lady of Milan nobler in name and in race; Never was lady of Italy fairer to see in the face.

Never was lady on earth more true as woman and wife, Larger in judgment and instinct, prouder in manners and life.

She stood in the early morning, and said to her maidens,

"Bring

That silken robe made ready to wear at the court of the

king.

"Bring me the clasps of diamond, lucid, clear of the

mote,

Clasp me the large at the waist, and clasp me the small at the throat.

“Diamonds to fasten the hair, and diamonds to fasten the sleeves,

Laces to drop from their rays, like a powder of snow from the eaves."

Gorgeous she entered the sunlight which gathered her up in a flame,

While, straight in her open carriage, she to the hospital

came.

In she went at the door, and gazing from end to end, "Many and low are the pallets, but each is the place of a friend."