Page:Records of Woman.pdf/69

Rh

Sometimes The young forgot the lessons they had learnt, And lov'd when they should hate, like thee, Imelda!4 Italy, a Poem.

Passa la bella Donna, e par che donna.

have the myrtle's breath around us here, Amidst the fallen pillars;—this hath been Some Naiad's fane of old. How brightly clear, Flinging a vein of silver o'er the scene, Up thro' the shadowy grass, the fountain wells, And music with it, gushing from beneath The ivied altar!—that sweet murmur tells The rich wild flowers no tale of wo or death;