WHEN the chill morning from the mountain-tops
Forecasting, sped its shadows o'er the dew;
And all the cocks, as once for Peter, crew,
Greeting the wind that waved the moorland crops;
Came a foul crone towards me from a copse,
With weeds in her long fingers, dank and blue,
And a sharp hook, that 'cross the air she drew,
Beckoning to me as one that charmed stops.
And I bethought me, if committed sin
Takes ever elvish shape, then this might be
Image of some of old this wood within;
But then superior to her witchery
I past, for cheerful daylight did begin,
And I the sun through the forest boughs could see.
VER the vast and seven-vaulted dome
That holds thy shrine, St. Anthony, the shade
Had shifted quite; and in each long arcade,
Hanging its curtain in the sunshine's room:
Onward we went to a memorial tomb,
Peacefully in the vine-covered mountains laid;
And evening came, and the luccioli made
Their road-side flashes in the willowy gloom;
And we with silent and considerate pace
Returned, as what we sought for having seen;
Till rose the turrets of that antique place
Padova in the dusk air.-O home serene,
That wearest by his grave Petrarca's grace,
Oft now I see thee, as in a fountain's sheen.
HEARING OF THE INDULGENCES GRANTED BY LEO X.
A Raven Song-the first few notes of it.
AR flies the raven over the German land;
FAR fits the ravens and castles
Over brown heaths and castles goeth he,
Perching on tower and city linden-tree,
He hath the earth and air at his command.
What saith the maiden with the jewelled hand,
From her bright lattice, raven black, to thee,
Noble, and knight, and burgher, what said he,
That thou before his gate so long dost stand?
'Tis a dark saying, like the wind's; but eve
Comes on apace; and earth-o'erscattered fires
Shine out, with light and darkness strangely blending:
There is one spot that thou art loath to leave,
Where green-worn steps, by a cathedral's spires,
Two croaking withered beldams are descending.
One quoth to the other, wrinkling up her eye,
"Hast thou no sins, old gossip Ursula?"
And she respondeth with a hoarse “ Ha, ha,
Well, we were young, but now those days are by ;
She twirls her distaff with a muttering sigh,
And strives to pass; the other still doth bar
The wayside "It were well to balk the star
Thou know'st of," whispers she, “once ere we die :
Aye, marry, these are comfortable times,
'Tis a good church to balk his spite, that there
Would whirl us but in mockery, like the snow-”
Then, as a rat that some old witch berhymes,
She who doth listen, at the Prince of air
Muttering, goes on, with feeble steps and slow.
She mutters; loud and long for many a day
Hath one been crying; and at eve it went
Still through the silence-"Come, repent, repent ;"
But not like John the Baptist's was the way.
Albrecht of Mayence hath his pall to pay;
Ten thousand florins must to Rome be sent ;
Thrice ten; 'tis therefore do they cry "repent;"
And against sins gold in the balance weigh.
1 For his pallium, and cardinal's hat, he had to pay 30,000 florins, to defray which the Pope granted him the farm of the sins of Germany.
The while, beneath Bolsena's shady boughs,
Spurs the great father of the Church, and swears
This brach or that is keenest at the game;
And crowns at eve some ribald's stupid brows
With laurel wreath, and of a patron wears
With jovial pride the Medicean name.
HERE'S not a dog, nor note of any bird,
Nor shepherd's laugh, nor echo's lightest tones,
Only the lizard on the giant stones
Moves in Mycena-moves, for this vain word
Affrights him from his wont, where lies interred
The treasure of Agamemnon; aye, the bones'
Perchance, then Greece, in him of all her thrones
The leader, when in Aulis there was heard
The gathering after Helen, and the wind
Sighing among the congregated shrouds,
The waves, the songs, the augurs on the shore.
O solitude far deeper than the clouds',
For voices in their dwellings ye may
Here is the sun and shadow, and no more!
1 Leo was then the guest of Cardinal Alessandro Farnese. mainder of these verses, which were intended to be descriptive of scenes in the Reformation, is wanting.
2 This sonnet, written more than thirty years before Dr. Schliemann's discoveries, might seem to be prophetical of them.
AKED wast thou, at thy birth-time, utterly,
Merchant whose sails are furled; and now the birds
Build under thy broad cornices, and the herds
Sleep in the shadow of thy planted tree:
The waves have borne thee onward, thou may'st see
The stars in new perspective; the full thirds
Of thy great wealth no more are inky words,
Paper and trust, but woods and swelling lea.
Then wilt thou keep the balance in thine house,
Emblem of its just seignory, and the cause;
Or with those harlequin heralds poorly feign?
Keep it, for noble citizenship thus,
And truth, the fountain that doth never pause,
Free from the weeds of folly thou wilt maintain.
H Proserpine, that in the paths of Dis
Joyously once wert gathering wreaths and flowers,
Feeding thy spirit with a maiden's bliss,
Now art thou throned amid the infernal powers;
The breathless air broods o'er thee, and the towers
Loom dimly, girding Phlegython around:
Before, quick coming from Elysian bowers
Stands Mercury, and Hell's unnatural hound
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