Page:Carducci - Poems of Italy.djvu/38

 Ah, 'twas no song of love or high exploit, No music of guitars that waited him To sound a welcome in the Aztec Spain! Long on the air,

What is that wail which from Salvor's sad Point Sounds midst the raucous sobbing of the flood? Do dead Venetians sing, or else the old, Old Istrian Fates?

—"Ah, Son of Hapsburg, in an ill-starred hour You mount, upon our seas, the fated ship! Darkly the Furies, by you, to the wind                                Shake out the sails.

See how the sphinx perfidiously gives back As you advance, and puts on other forms! It is mad Joan's livid look that fronts That of your wife;

It is the severed head of France's Queen Grinning at you; and with deep-sunken eyes Fastened on yours, 'tis Montezuma's fierce Yellow-hued face. 32