Page:The poems of Emma Lazarus volume 1.djvu/310

296 Have darkened the fair fame of my white dove, Naples shall rue it. Let them not forget The chapel of Saint Januarius!

Tommaso judged aright. I dare not tell him. Dear father, listen. Pray, be calm. Sit down; Your own hot rage engenders in my mind Thoughts, fears, suspicions. You are right, Annicca. I am foolish, hasty ; but it makes me mad. Listen to me. Here sits the Prince before me ; We talk, we laugh. We have discussed all themes, From the great Angelo s divinity, Down to the pest of flies that fret us here At the day s hottest. Sometimes he will pace The studio such young blood is seldom still. He brought me once his mandoline, and drew Eloquent music thence. I study thus The changeful play of soul. I catch the spirit Behind the veil, and burn it on the plate. Maria comes and goes will sit awhile Over her broidery, then will haste away And serve us with a dish of golden fruit. That is for me ; she knows the sweet, cool juice, After long hours of work, refreshes me More than strong wine. She meets his Royal Highness