Lagente segreto (Biblioteca Ideale Giunti) (Italian Edition)

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Bernhard Aichner - Totenfrau. Enzo Bianchi - Raccontare l'amore. Dario Bressanini, Mautino Beatrice - Contro natura. Bruno Vespa, Candida Morvillo - La signora dei segreti. Domenico De Masi - Tag. Luca Sofri - Notizie che non lo erano. Francesco Gungui - Con te ho imparato a volare. Ida Simons - Una vergine sciocca. Simone Sarasso - Aeneas. Aldo Cazzullo - Possa il mio sangue servire. Herrndorf Wolfgang - Goodbye Berlin.

Paolo Nori - La bambina fulminante. Gino Saladini - L'uccisore. James Grady - Il ritorno del Condor. Pupi Avati - Il ragazzo in soffitta. Katherine Rundell - Sophie sui tetti di Parigi. Dubini Miriam - Non toccate la terra. Marco Damilano - La Repubblica del selfie. Carmen Totaro - Le piene di grazia. Gino Rigoldi - Non amate troppo Dio. Fabrizio Lo Bianco - La guerra di Toni. Maria Grazia Siliato - Il sangue di Lepanto.

Alexie Sherman - Diario assolutamente sincero di un indiano John Boyne - La casa dei fantasmi. Maurizio De Giovanni - Il resto della settimana. Geronimo Stilton - Storie da ridere. Mara Rockliff, Iacopo Bruno - Mesmerized. Giampaolo Pansa - La destra siamo noi. Jean-Paul Didierlaurent - Un amore di carta. Filippo Facci - Uomini che amano troppo.

Collana Storie di cucina. Alessia Gazzola - Una lunga estate crudele. Maurizio Molinari - Il Califfato del terrore.

Richard Preston - The hot zone. Francesco Fioretti — La selva oscura. Anne Frank - Diario. Robert Seethaler - Il tabaccaio di Vienna. Vittorino Andreoli - Ma siamo matti. Giuliano Ferrara - Il Royal Baby. John Boyne - Resta dove sei e poi vai.

Guido Sgardoli - Il giorno degli eroi. Tom Clancy - Command Authority. Tzvetan Todorov - La pittura dei lumi.

Gianni Vattimo, Santiago Zabala - Comunismo ermeneutico. Oriana Fallaci - In parole e immagini. Anthony Doerr - Tutta la luce che non vediamo. Ulrich Hub - L'arca parte alle otto. Lilli Gruber - Tempesta. Luciano Canfora - Il presente come storia. Sebastiano Vassalli - La chimera. James Lecesne - Trevor.

George Plimpton - Truman Capote. Vito Mancuso - Io amo. Robert Karjel - Lo svedese. Walter Siti - Il dio impossibile. David Barrie - Il viaggio del Sestante. Vittorino Andreoli - Il corpo segreto. Sophia Loren - Ieri, oggi, domani. Colum McCann - TransAtlantic. Maria Montessori - Impariamo dai bambini a essere grandi. Yannick Grannec - La dea delle piccole vittorie. David McCullough - Ragazzi, non siete speciali! Anita Nair - Il custode della luce. Matteo Corradini - Annalilla. Andrea Camilleri - Donne.

Giorgio - Diritti Noi due. Bill Bryson - Breve storia di quasi tutto. Giulia Gubellini - Under. David Dalglish - Shadow Dance.

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Fannie Flagg - Voli acrobatici e pattini a rotelle. Stella Martini - Twelve. Xisela Lopez - Arance a colazione. Jeffery Deaver - October list. Katy Regan - Baciare uno sconosciuto a Central Park. Irene Cao - Per tutti gli sbagli, Per tutto l'amore. Albert Sanchez Pinol - Victus. Collettivo Sabot - Padre Nostro. Elizabeth Gilbert - Il cuore di tutte le cose. Collana la Biblioteca di Papa Francesco. Sandro Catani - Gerontocrazia. Giammarco Ercole - Andare in bici. Claudio Cerasa - Le catene della sinistra.

Roberto Napoletano - Viaggio in Italia. Luigi Zingales - Europa e no. Federico Ferrero - Missione leggerezza. Almo Bibolotti - Ufficiale gentilcuoco. Alessandro Barbera, Stefano Feltri - La lunga notte dell'eur Errico Buonanno - Lotta di classe al terzo piano. Antonio Forcellino - Gli ultimi giorni di Leonardo. Canti delle terre divise. I once have fought in honor's cause, And prov'd that death I well could face, Nor sought I then the world's applause, Or admiration's warm embrace.

But fought, as e'er I would again. My country's honor to sustain. A single combat; man to man; My foe from Gaul a froward churl — We cross'd the steel near lake Leman, Where hoary to the sky unfurl The Alps in majesty sublime. Their bulwarks to my sunny clime. And through that year of bitterness. Nought sear'd me more than Her distress. For in that fight alone I stood The champion of my native blood. That combat done — that ordeal o'er, Joy dawn'd on "JTer" wan cheek again: And I forsook my native shore.

And journey 'd far, and sought her then. And vow'd, while clasp'd in fond embrace. No more t'o'ergloom her gladdened face. Burst over Europe's broad expanse. And war spread forth her crimson shroud Before Italia's eager glance — My breth'ren fought — my breth'ren bled- I heard their distant crj-, but stay'd! My heart beat high— I would have flown To mingle where our banners wav'd — I knew, my absence once made known. My name was branded — yet I brav'd The world — and curbed and thrust aside These longings of a generous pride. My country had enough of men.

Her sons by thousands fiU'd the plain; They stood her honor's champions then. She needed not my arm or brain. Unskilled in war's dark art could I Propitiate then her liberty? Then why from pride, or for the joy Of meeting death in that bright cause. Should I forsake ''Her'' and destroy ''Her'' new-born peace? Its sneer I scorn, its praise I shun: Say not — say not the land must be The dearest to my hearty Where first the germ of life to me The Maker did impart.

Can I prefer cold Albion's shore Where first my life begun? Can I my destiny deplore While 'neath Italia's sun? Ah f no, the land, the fairy land Of fame, of art, of thought. Where man has vied with Nature's hand. And both have wonders wrouorht. In other lands, by other seas, I could not brook the light — My heart would lack its glow, and freeze. My eyes would close in night 1 What's that — what's that, my dear. Stuck round that fellow's tile? A piece of gold lace, eh? Or I will pitch him hat and all Over the Kimla like a ball t " "Madam, no sneer, the time is past When nonsense of this foolish sort Was all the go with you — but cast To the to the devil in short Such recollections.

Or else, I tell you, there '11 be a row! You bluster like a madman, you f With flashing eye and bellowing voice You shake the house with your to-do — Calm yourself, Tom, and talk some sense. And then I'll grant you a conference.

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I am a farmer and my boast Lies in my fields and horned host. That forerunner of vice and rot. Which I dont wish her yet to chance. Believe me, many another eye Would soon, I'm sure, be seen to glow. And longing gaze as we pass by; And she a suitor, suiting, perhaps. Would own ere many a week elapse. Dress as you like, but leave me all Pertaining to a mother's care: Stay you at home, but I will go Abroad, and make a little show I " Written in a letter to M" H.

When, when again shall I behold thy shore And feel the raptare of my days of yore? That rapture, enthusiasm, and gladness, known On thy rich plains and fairy heights alone! Which hallowed feelings my own darling mate With her sweet love will tend to triplicate. With her sweet love, which even here can bar The wretched venom that my life would mar. And my glance freeze, and fix in glassy stare, Ere each lov'd scene again be mirror'd there 1 — 60 — If such my fate — ah! But yield it to yon Ocean's stormy wave — 'Twill sooth my soul to own that watery grave; For in the race of ages yet to come.

Some pilgrim-billow may convey me home 1 The days have come — the days have come f The Hydra 's crush'd — for ever dumb — And ne'er again to rise. There now's an end to Freedom's brawl — Let gladness fill your eyes 1 The French have crouch'd beneath a prince. And he has made them cease to wince. And rue indeed the day In which their God-anointed king Was forc'd by them his crown to fling, And humbly run away! Yet they too now have newly bow'd Their heads and, hush'd their wranglings loud, Accept their former chain.

Proof both to cannon and to wile, Still raise base freedom's flag — Yet lo 1 the Czar has Austria lent His legions, and already rent. No doubt, that piteous rag. Then Austria's dealt another blow. And stretch'd the Italian champions low Who join'd in freedom's broil — Italians, rascals, why forget That on the Emperor's brow was set Jehovah's holy oil!

In treason's self the aid to find That Heaven's justice fram'd. And 'tis a right divine, I say, For though the far-fam'd Castlereagh As rumours were afloat For drawing up such rights divine All conscience-stricken did repine. The tighter thou shalt tie the knot. The higher thy name will soar. And not the base and abject crew, Call'd "" people," will thy path bestrew With leaves of oak and bay — But Dukes and Emperors and Kings Will fill thy button-holes with strings And crosses bright as day.

Freedom, indeed, that 's all a joke — Men are but cattle and the yoke Must bear by God's decree — To kings, their masters, they must bow Implicitly their heads, and vow Their humble slaves to be. Such is the will of God, such is The only social state that bliss Entails to Adam's race.

And let diplomacy decide Of spoils so long delay'd — In Italy, that classic land. Quick let a new congress be held. Down, down with Freedom, down to hell. There let it raise its impious knell To privilege and tlirones. Hurrah 1 for apathetic peace And all that tends but to encrease The happiness of drones! Prom the French of Beranger. Last night my breth'ren you must know, The Pope at supper made good cheer. And freely quaff'd the goblet so.

That soon his thoughts grew very queer. His eyes shot forth with fever'd glare, And shock'd each card'nal at the sight, Cried: I'll the same as he — "The blow he 'gainst Loyola struck, "Shall now be follow'd up by me! When he was rais'd and put to bed. He but admitted to his sight Roothan, the Jesuit's General!

Our Gracious Lord up in the sky, On waking, from liis lattice high' Once gaz'd to see what we were doing; "What!

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Containing a delineation of various characters. Methouglit that Earth had wasted all away. Nor left a track of mankind and their clay — And that the throne of Minos, ready hewn, Tower'd on a stately rock within the moon — I heard a sound — it was the trumpet's blast Proclaiming loud the reign of Time had pass'd.

And that Eternity's broad pale now claim'd Her children back, dishonour'd or unblam'd. I felt as if I swam athwart the space. And with a myriad manes ran a race — I heard some of them laugh and others cry — Saw them with brow serene or faces wry — And on on fled, until I heard at length A voice resounding with gigantic strength: And grinn'd with lurid eyes and chafing jaws. I met the look of one, and thought I held Some record of the face I thus beheld — The wretch saw through my thought, and, with a coal.

Did scribble on a stone the sequent scroll, Which to my feet he threw with gesture proud: And with a crimson dye her forehead glow; She trembled — set her teeth — yet rage and woe Soon yielded to a laugh — but laugh so dry. As clearly prov'd her seeming mirth a lie — She dar'd not look around — but gaz'd on high. Dreading lest she should meet the writer's eye — That eye had haunted her for ages gone.

Which once disclos'd would cause her second knell. I still retain'd my glance on that poor soul. Whose nerves were thus affected by that scroll. And marvell'd how far yet my scanning look Could dive within her heart's most inner nook — When I was startled by the thundering strain Calling again on those that bore no stain. I turn'd my eyes on Minos and his Throne — Above his brow a halo circling shone, And in its orb, with pinions of the dove, Myriads of spirits flew all bliss, all love — "How bright, how peaceful, how serene are they, "Oh! I caught her eye just then, but no dismay Was trac'd in its infatuated ray.

Doubtless convinc'd that like the fiery car. Which bore Elijah to the worlds afar. She deem'd that flame appalling God had sent Her bliss to hasten, not her chastisement — Yet all the myriads round that heard the crash. In horror trembled and their teeth did gnash — For well they knew 'twas the terrific fire That spoke of Heaven's unrelenting ire — The same as had upset in ages gone The rival spirit of the Mighty Throne.

He plied them, soar'd, and soon was out of sight. And Minos rose, and holding out his hand, Wav'd silence to the myriads on the strand: And fast these spectres of the night Dispers'd before its glorious ray; Yet fill'd me not with feelings gay — These baseless dreams of time to come When pass'd the ordeal of the tomb, — These airy visions of the brain Rous'd into shape by thoughts insane — Still forcibly impress the mind How ignorant man is and blind, When his aspiring thoughts presume To cross the threshold of the tomb. And mix within the ethereal world.

To which fall soon he must be hurl'd. Reproduction into English verse of a few stanzas, taken at random from an Italian version of OMld Harold. I cannot live within myself, but part Become of all around — each peak of blue Yields in itself a thought to bless my heart — The noise of towns a torture to me grew — Alone with beauteous nature I imbue Feelings of gladness; save indeed the one Which brings me to reflect that all I view Are links of Matter's chain, and kindred none Claim to the soul whose home lies far beyond the sun.

Through sins unknown, I have been forced to dwell And suffer — but at length I rise — and though My wings be young — I still shall ply them well. And stem the heavy clouds that hedge me in this hell. Upon the same flower often The bee feeds and the snake, Yet strangely in them alter'd is The juice they thns partake — For in the serpent's bosom To poison soon it turns — Whilst in the bee's it thriveth. And nectar'd sweetness earns. And madden'd was my brain with dark despair — Oh f pardon my wild thoughts, pardon that e'er My lips contracted with maternal ire. Cherishing one dear thought to nerve my pride.

Thou granting that this task myself should satisfy. And then each hour of bitterness would yield Its minute's joy, and, happy in my woe, I'd wait resign'd for death to reach my turn — — But now begone ye cheerless dreams that throw Shadows within my yet-stunn'd brain, while lo! The sun of joy redawns within my gate. For there my little Cherub's eye doth show Not lit with sickly lustre as of late. But with a beam of health with which its orbs dilate. When hearts, that love do truly feel. Are link'd and beat harmoniously, Then life's for them no empty dream, This earth's no more a vale of woe.

The same athwart each changing scene," Is bliss, celestial bliss below. Such as but few can share, but few. To whom a foretaste God doth grant Of what each righteous soul will earn In heaven above — And you my friends Whose gentle hearts have met and blended In one undying flame — ah! This trance of gladness, which imparts New elements to reach perfection's goal.

Enhancing all the nobler thoughts That blossom in the soul. Mute to the glance profane are they, Nor to such hearts will e'er convey The magic of their spell. The Muses but the bosom bless Whose warmth can woo their fond caress. But fly the Vandal fell! After having appeared at a ball when in the last stage of consumption. Up from my bed of death I rose. And wrapp'd my form in silk and gauze. And clasp'd with wreaths of flowerets fair The tendrils of my raven hair. Which stream'd in locks all dark as night Adown my cheek of marble white. And on my lips so parch'd and cold I strove to call, as wont of old, A smile of mirth and wild caprice — Alas!

They would obey no other nerve Save that which sadness urg'd to curve. And forth from out my dim abode. Unto the haunts of men I strode — And in the glare of gaudy hall Soon stood, wherein, at pleasure's call. The young, the gay, with fever'd glance, All eager came to speed the dance. They could not trust their sight, and deem'd I could not be the thing I seem'd. But that I was a spirit fled From the dark regions of the dead, A comrad lost in Lethe's wave Who came a souvenir to crave — Anon, howe'er, their stupor gone.

They came and spake in gentle tone — But on my ear their kindly speach As sounds by space subdued did reach — And I now felt as though my soul Were tottering o'er its final goal. One moment more, and it will leave This sublunary scene, and cleave With pinions hid from human view The welkin's vault of sapphire hue, And o'er each star and planet soar To rest in God for evermore. And sinking fast, and rent from all Man's pleasures, vanities and gall. Behold the full-of-life display Their bright and eddying phalanx gay. Stretch'd on my bed of death again, I lie to rise no more t In vain On fancy's vivid inner gaze Crowd back the dreams of early days.

And start up shapes that stir my heart, And bid me live — I ynust depart f — Mine was a foolish dream withal t And yet as I those days recall Of fiery youth, when, on my steed, All reckless I was wont to lead The chase athwart my native vale, — Methinks my star was not so pale. The free, the bold enthusiasm then.

Which stirr'd me in the verdant glen, Was food to my aspiring soul. Which never would admit control, — Was bliss divine, for freedom's air I there did breathe, and breath'd but there f But soon did clouds of grief obscure That rosy dawn serene and pure!

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The shock struck heavy on my heart. And wither'd its most vital part — They who have caus'd my cruel doom. Let them ignore I have a tomb. For should they thither step profane I'd 'wake outrag'd to yell forth Cain f — Which shall in after-years unfold, And waft Carlino's name afar — A hero in the coming war! When champions of this classic land Again shall grasp the Roman brand. And vindicate Italia's worth Amidst the nations of the earth I For warm within Carlino's breast His father's blood doth flow.

And his, instinctive, is the thirst Of vengeance 'gainst our foe. Then ask not why such knitted brow In one so young as he. When his unconscious heart e'en now Must yearn for liberty! Which long as I may live, shall be One of the Household-Gods to me — And well it may, for what is there More heav'nly than childhood's prayer? That fervent look and brow serene Still radiant with the glorious sheen Of those far regions up above.

Where all is bliss and all is love Shall daily meet my childrens' gaze. And guide their mind to Him who sways O'er all yon boundless Canopy, — And blend the thought with love for thee. Oft her most seraph-like Aspect deceiveth. Alike when joyful, Or when it grieveth. Doom'd is the mortal. Who to her art Incautious trusteth His loving heart — She but delighting In kindling love, Soon turns on others Her might to prove. One day two mastives met, and fought, And round the neck each other caught With teeth so firm, that neither would Relinquish but with death his hold.

The men who gathered round the fight Tugg'd at the dogs with all their might. And back'd their cause of peace with kicks, Or e'en resorted to their sticks. But all in vain — they heeded not ; And lay as rooted to the spot — Their tusks steep'd in each other's blood, To fury lent too sweet a food — They there must linger on till both Expire relentless of their wrath. And all around began t' abate In their vain efi'orts and to fate.

The hapless mastives would, I trow, — Have left — when, stepping forward now — 93 — A man approach'd the rageful pair. In murderous silence gnawing there. And, from his pocket having ta'en His snuff-box, on the noses twain Did pour its prickling dust, which lo! Its magic working soon did show. Each mastif snorting, bit no more, — But rose and toss'd behind, before.

And snuff 'd and sneez'd, and quite put out, Skulk'd off amidst a gen'ral shout. The sage replac'd his snuff-box then. And, as he pass'd, did tell the men: In ev'ry thing the whole world o'er. Knowledge was, is, and will be power. Yet dost thou think th' ethereal flame. Which life imparted to her clay. Awaits a like fate as her frame. And quench'd in sleep be lost for aye? Within another lid doth pour Already now the light of day, With life more brilliant than before.

The life-drop that from heaven flows Is life's own essence, nor can end. Dust unto dust must e'er return. Yet not the quickening breath doth share The lot of flesh — but wakes in turn All forms that garb our nature fair. Far on a bare rock's rugged side Which juts o'er ocean high in air. An eagle's eyre may be descried. The queen-bird in it brooding e'er — And whilst her life lost here the wren, An eaglet sees the day therein: Methinks that life progressing then Has passed the regal chick within. I lov'd her — she was beautiful — her eye Was dark as velvet with a diamond ray — I left her but awhile — her deep heav'd sigh Was earnest of continued love — away I hied me to the battle — but full soon Return'd with victor's pride the self-same moon.

Her eye — her smile had chang'd — I knew Her heart had play'd me false — her crime — her guilt Some whispering tongue laid bare and prov'd too true — I to her sire complain'd — he sneer'd — the hilt Soon of my glaive I sought — his head I cleft. And her, to glut my rage, to starve I left! And, with a glance all masterly, he scann'd. From pole to pole, what pass'd on see and land — Perplex'd, to Peter, close behind, he said. Lord, allay thy woe, "Not thine the blame of all those evils, no I "On kings, priests, and the pope, the blame must fall,— "Those numokuUs all f " "Well, Peter, listen, never have I yet "Play'd childish freaks, but, once I'm in a pet, "Myself rii beat them hard to vent my wrath.

When men were far less clever, less refin'd, They hang'd thieves to the cross, as we may find But progress now so well its work achieves. That crosses oft are seen hang'd upon thieves! But now, that 'neath the yoke she bends, Venice, with love repress'd for years. These bridal flowers all steep'd in tears, To him, tiie truthful Mng, she sends. This is the site — a valley stern and drear — A desert track betwixt two rugged steeps, Where both the rosy morn and blushing eve Are yet unknown.

Bounds past appall'd, for, with a rumbling noise. She hears, at intervals, some heavy mass Of livid basalt leave the parent rock, And crush adown — a sullen threat of death — Hears it, and, with a trembling voice, she lifts Her hand in haste to trace the holy sign. Each eminence doth pour from hundred pools.

In headlong rivulets, th' excess of rain, — And to the cadence of the frequent drops The hollow caverns sound, and brilliantly Shines forth around the all-pervading green — Whilst many a glittering iris in mid -air, All gaily chequers then the lonely scene. Then to the genial air of early spring. When germs, impatient of their lot inert, Yearning to live, press on the quick'ning breast Of nature, — now preparing to display The treasur'd brightness of her nuptial time; — When spreads, we know not how, love's magic spell Within the maiden's heart, the floweret's core, — And e'en perchance among the very stars — This lonely vale, these naked rocks themselves.

Smile through their frowns, and rays of beauty show. The plover blithely sends his courtship note — From 'neath the scatter'd blocks, entwin'd with fern. Shoots out the cyclamen in rich perfume — And the wild vine sends forth afar the sweet Fragrance it steals from balmy zephyr's breath. Do totally consume their span of life.

And ardently seek out their trysting-place — Where, knotted in voluptuous spirals, they Give forth a languid whistle — and the sun. With equal ray, imbrues the viper's tooth. And ripens honey in the floweret's cup. Lit up the downward slopes of bush and brake — And in the western heavens fading shone The narrow crescent of the new-born moon. Here, but few hours before, a fight had raged Long, desperate and holy, 'tween the sons Of Italy and their Teutonic foe.

How many a human heart there stilled in death - How many a despairing agony In youth's entrancing dream of hope and joy I — How many a life-flower sever'd by the sword I What love, and noble impulses, and thoughts — — Of daring, and poetic visions gone. There with those breasts, those fair blond heads, now gash'd By flying hoofs and wheels — a ghastly sight!

What crowds thus sudden of immortal souls, Launched to the threshold of another world. Whilst yet unlook'd for by their loved dead! Which migrate rapidly to distant shores. The mournful news spread fast o'er mount and main — And from the Transylvanian hills afar, To the Moravian plains, an echo rose Of wailings loud from mothers, sires bereft, — And agonizing sobs from wife and child In grief forlorn I — and many a gothic arch Shone to the torches of funereal rites In pious honor for the poor who fell. And dews, did lie this hecatomb of slaves, Chain'd to the sword.

That at the sudden call, they '11 fear that still They 're follow'd up by our unslak'd revenge, Along the shores of the eternal realms! Within my soul the darkest gloom had sunk — The saddest spirit moved the Poet's Muse. And centuries of outrage unaveng'd — Shock'd at the cruel sight of thousands slain — My hand I rais'd in wrath, as tho' I would A curse invoke — but mid-way stay'd — and chang'd The act to sign of blessing — and then stepp'd Down from the hill-side to the gory plain Beneath, — half tottering with emotion keen.

Oh t why didst thou not still "Follow thy course, and gladden, with thy notes "Of songs inherited, the longing crowd "Of thine own native hamlet? She her future lot "Meanwhile with hope entwines, — and, to sustain "With food her slender frame, gladly submits "The prophets' instrument to drag about "Through courts, and passages of inns profane; — "But when the humble rumour of thy fate "Shall reach the distant Elbe, — then will those haunts "Soon cease their echo to the Hebrew harp, — "And through the ringlets of the broken chords "The spider soon shall weave her net unclean — "And the young harper's weary head shall lie "Beneath the sacred grave-yard's silent turf!

To scare some dreaded sprite, I know not of. There lay supine upon the level stone. With open arms, a man struck through the heart. By the dark dead-hue of the forehead low. By the profile oblique and bristling hair. And by the wiry muscles showing through The garments rough, — I knew him well as one.

Born from the savage fire and wild embrace Upon the Croat's bed. Who, on their entrance in the world, receive. At the baptismal fount, the brand of slaves, — Dull intellects, amidst the Carnic caves, In all the wiles of ruthless tigers drill'd To hunt Italians, — and to whom the spoil Is the sole mover on the battle field. Here, seated restless, she surveys the sun About to set beyond that sea, that shore, Whereon noble Ravenna mutely rests.

Cause of thy sorrows, deep within the sea — Thy land has grown the land of widows now — Ye women all in chorus, raise the dirge Of mourning 'midst the Servian hills and dales — Alas f nor can ye consolation reap From the sad comfort of a tear let fall Upon the grass that springs up from the blood Ill Of your dead mates, who vanquish'd and accurs'd. The winds have spread their ashes far and wide f Go forth ye women, with your famish'd babes Clasp'd in your meagre arms, — spreading aloft The black and yellow flag — funereal sign Of boundless mourning and eternal woe — Go forth, and raise aloud, in tearful strains.

Your wailiniJ-s o'er the Servian hills and dales t 6. A prey to stormy thoughts, such as in vain Would the depictive art of song aspire To call to light in verse, — onward I stepp'd Within the plain, still more by human limbs Choked, and with shatter'd carts and weapons strewn, And bleeding entrails sick'ning to the sight. His eye Was tearless. Yet far bitterer than tears Was the deep anguish of his pallid brow. I near'd him — still he stirr'd not — but his pray'r Ended — and then, without directing yet His glance on mine, he said: Contrasted sadly with the snowy tint Of linen seen beneath, and gentle hand Wearing a gem enwrought with heraldries.

The strong broad chest, and reins inert and loose. Towards his brother stretch'd his only hand. Already with sepulchral violet stain'd. Yet undivided from a hilt most rude. Near him there lay a sever'd hand, — his own. Such as flow from the lip when brimming tears Are by the will forc'd back upon the heart — "He at Tarnow, of dread funereal fame, "To Lithuanian sires of ancient worth, "Ow'd the misfortune of receiving life, — "Though from his birth a coronet of Count "Spread lustre on his name.

And he, thou lifeless vie west there, "Saw in those days, with the marauders' spades, "His father done to death. The sacred head "All like a fruit fell'd from the tree, did roll "Upon the ground and, taken up, was sold. Records awaking of atrocious hours. These words with delicate forbearance he. The minister of God, in whisper spake, Lest, with the groan of mem'ry, and the wrath Of accents, were the soul, that just had fled. Startled to feel in her first doubtful steps Upon the threshold of the second life. Nor aught was heard within that dismal vale.

Save waters breaking on the torrent's bed, — Then he resumed: Poet, feel that never there "Dawn'd to the AVorld a day more fiercely fell "Than that, though gilt in brightest summer-sheen! He with excited accents here pursued: As tho' a thing divine, then taking wing. Disclosed perchance afar the secret cell. Wherein the bard's afflicted brow lies hid.

Unconscious, I myself found that I knelt, — And when I mark'd that he again return'd On earth with fancy's glance, render'd serene By roaming through the worlds of light above. For there the flying hordes "Of routed Austrians halted once at eve — "Nor sated with the spoil, in wanton rage, "The mansion and my sire together burnt I — "Oh! Spurr'd on by secret fear I left in haste That field of woe, — and hied me thro a path Which quicker reach'd the hill — and, rushing on, Methought, from time to time, that I beheld. Athwart the parch'd lips of the tombless dead.

Flashing a smile ferociously — and hands All livid stretching forth, which, groping, seem'd Bent at my limbs to clutch as on I sped. In whole devoted bands fallen I saw — Better had they with their sagacious hounds — Their hats of felt, adorn'd with mountain-blooms, — Still follow'd on the snows of desert heights. Upon the Rhoetian Alps, the stone-buck fleet — Or slain upon the open green the hare That darted from the bush disturb'd.

The summit having reach'd, I turn'd to view The nether space which seemed but one huge grave! Now hastens to a close this tragic feud Of centuries — between the Latin blood. And German race ; — and from the idioms all, — Which cunning Austrian craft rear'd with the gall Of hatred and of envy, — shall the word Of love soon issue now. Has fix'd the limits of all Fatherlands. Let all possess their tombs, their fathers' home. And Italy shall brandish it once more. And following out her mission as of yore.

With it new paths of Progress shall explore.

And thereon guide her sister nations, who All own her tutoress, and mother too. The execrated Austrian chargers tread — And that between the Po and Alps, — between Catullo's lake and Adria's shore is seen. Writhing with torture's agonizing pains. One last Prometheus bound with hundred chains. With oak-leaves on their casques, and spreading wide Their pall-like flag, in dense and ceaseless tide The bound'ries pass, and here encamp — in vain f — Each hearth is here a plot, on hill and plain.

Each town Pontida now! In circling dances, many a fair-hair'd head. As o'er my roof, the banners tricolor — And I a wanderer see whose turbid youth Bedizen'd many diadems, forsooth i — With vacant stare he wends his way alone. There at the gate of one, whose father's head Was sever'd on the block through his behest. Whose beams in threefold tints adorn the skies Whilst pale, adown the western heaven, dies The comet of the Hapsburgs' — and arise. On lands and oceans, strains that loud convey High words of shame against its parting ray.

The handle is about two feet in length and the whip is linked to it with a small iron chain. The Hungarian herdsmen use it as the South-Americans the lasso. Nine were hanged; the others were alloiccd to be shot. There are few battles that cost so many brave Generals as thus met with their death on that day. Santa-Croce is in fact the Pantheon of Italy. The Carpathians fold it to the South with their gigantic bulwarks, where live the Szeklers or Szeklerians, who are a hardy branch of the Magyar race. They were the Benjamins of General Bem.

Extemporaneous verses by the famous Italian Improvvisatore Rossetti. The Past is not — but Recollection's gaze Reflects its features with their fading light — The Future 's not — but Fancy's vivid rays With Fear or Hope depict it dark or bright. The Present only is — a point alone — One instant spans it — and the next 'tis gone. Thus all Life's elements, together join'd. Are Recollection, Hope and Fear — one point.

Fill the cup again — again — Drain its purple juice until Vapours, rising to the brain, Bid each searing thought be still! Fill the cup, — if friends forsake. If no heart be true to thee — Nought can Bacchus ever shake. Still thy soother will he be!

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We 're ofl' to Italy — what fun We '11 have beneath her genial sun! For though we 're children of the North, Let us from thence but once get forth, And breathe Ausonia's fiery air, — Our breast soon beats harmonious there! The sorrows all alone can heal, Which Fate, within this vale of tears, Would heap upon our youthful years. Italy, thou land of love, In thee in ecstasy to rove. And fold within our snowy arms Some lover there of swarthier charms. Is all our longing hearts desire. And ours is like the lava flood!

The brain of woman is the heart — Her thoughts all thence do take their start Nor careth she for aught on earth. Save for what thence derives its birth. And you, my fair one, who are not Unlike the rest, must share this lot. And prove, in keeping wi,th this rule, Your head to be your bosom's tool. And what's your bosom? Allowed a captain brave and strong. In it with all his force to throng. And plant his flag triumphant there. Get fast, free shipping with Amazon Prime. Get to Know Us. English Choose a language for shopping.

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