ALBANO. Buried in some strange talk. The Duke was leaning, 20 His finger on his brow, his lips unclosed. snow, And quivering-young Tasso, too, was there. MADDALO. Thou seest on whom from thine own worshipped heaven Thou drawest down smiles-they did not rain on thee. MALPIGLIO. Would they were parching lightnings for his sake On whom they fell! SONG FOR "TASSO." I. I LOVED-alas! our life is love; But when we cease to breathe and move I thought, but not as now I do, Keen thoughts and bright of linked lore, II. And still I love and still I think, The dregs of such despair, and live, And if I think, my thoughts come fast, III. Sometimes I see before me flee Still watching it, Till by the grated casement's ledge MARENGHI.1 I. LET those who pine in pride or in revenge, Visit the tower of Vado, and unlearn 1 Mrs. Shelley says "This fragment refers to an event, told in Sismondi's Histoire des Républiques Italiennes, which occurred during the war when Florence finally subdued Pisa, and reduced it to a province. Pietro Marenghi is said to have been a Florentine exile, who, while Florence was trying to reduce Pisa by famine, swam to a galley that was bringing provision for Pisa and fired it in circumstances of considerable heroism. The galley was taking refuge from the enemy under the tower of Vado at the time.-ED. II. A massy tower yet overhangs the town, Another scene ere wise Etruria knew Its second ruin through internal strife, And tyrants through the breach of discord threw The chain which binds and kills. As death to life, As winter to fair flowers (though some be poison) So Monarchy succeeds to freedom's foison. IV. In Pisa's church a cup of sculptured gold Sworn At sacrament: more holy ne'er of old Etrurians mingled with the shades forlorn Of moon-illumined forests. And reconciling factions wet their lips With that dread wine, and swear to keep each spirit Undarkened by their country's last eclipse. Was Florence the liberticide? that band Of free and glorious brothers who had planted, Like a green isle 'mid Æthiopian sand, VII. O foster-nurse of man's abandoned glory, Since Athens, its great mother, sunk in splendour; Thou shadowest forth that mighty shape in story, As ocean tender: its wrecked fanes, severe yet The light-invested angel Poesy Was drawn from the dim world to welcome thee. VIII. And thou in painting didst transcribe all taught By loftiest meditations; marble knew The sculptor's fearless soul-and as he wrought, The grace of his own power and freedom grew. And more than all, heroic, just, sublime, Thou wert among the false-was this thy crime? IX. Yes; and on Pisa's marble walls the twine A beast of subtler venom now doth make Its lair, and sits amid their glories overthrown, And thus thy victim's fate is as thine own. X. The sweetest flowers are ever frail and rare, And love and freedom blossom but to wither; And good and ill like vines entangled are, So that their grapes may oft be plucked together; Divide the vintage ere thou drink, then make Thy heart rejoice for dead Marenghi's sake. XI. No record of his crime remains in story, But if the morning bright as evening shone, It was some high and holy deed, by glory Pursued into forgetfulness, which won From the blind crowd he made secure and free The patriot's meed, toil, death, and infamy. XII. For when by sound of trumpet was declared So much of water with him as might wet His lips, which speech divided not he went Alone, as you may guess, to banishment. XIII. Amid the mountains, like a hunted beast, He hid himself, and hunger, toil, and cold, Month after month endured; it was a feast Whene'er he found those globes of deep-red gold Which in the woods the strawberry-tree doth bear, Suspended in their emerald atmosphere. XIV. And in the roofless huts of vast morasses, |