ROMAN GIRL'S SONG 159 But lift the proud mantle which hides from thy view The things thou shouldst gaze on, the sad and true; Nor fear to survey what its folds conceal : So must thy spirit be taught to feel!" ROMAN GIRL'S SONG "Roma, Roma, Roma! Non e piu come era prima." ROME, Rome! thou art no more As thou hast been ! On thy seven hills of yore Thou hadst thy triumphs then Purpling the street, Bowed at thy feet. They that thy mantle wore As gods were seen Rome, Rome! thou art no more As thou hast been ! Rome! thine imperial brow Never shall rise : What hast thou left thee now? Thou hast thy skies! Blue, deeply blue, they are, Gloriously bright! Veiling thy wastes afar With coloured light. Thou hast the sunset's glow, And all sweet sounds are thine Lovely to hear, While night o'er tomb and shrine Rests darkly clear. Many a solemn hymn, By starlight sung, Sweeps through the arches dim Thy wrecks among. Many a flute's low swell On thy soft air Lingers and loves to dwell With summer there. Thou hast the South's rich gift Of sudden song- Joyous and strong. Thou hast fair forms that move With queenly tread; Thou hast proud fanes above Thy mighty dead. Yet wears thy Tiber's shore A mournful mien : Rome, Rome! thou art no more As thou hast been ! THE SPELLS OF HOME 161 THE SPELLS OF HOME "There blend the ties that strengthen Our hearts in hours of grief, The silver links that lengthen Joy's visits when most brief."- BERNARD BARTON. By the soft green light in the woody glade, By the sleepy ripple of the stream, To the wind of morn at thy casement eaves, By the gathering round the winter hearth, In the parting prayer and the kind "Good-night!" A L And bless that gift!-it hath gentle might, Yes! when thy heart, in its pride, would stray When the sullying breath of the world would come And the sound by the rustling ivy made Think of the tree at thy father's door, And the kindly spell shall have power once more! THE DISTANT SHIP THE sea-bird's wing o'er ocean's breast Shoots like a glancing star, While the red radiance of the west And yet that splendour wins thee not- Look round thee! O'er the slumbering deep THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD A fire hath touched the beacon-steep, A thousand gorgeous clouds on high "A softening thought of human cares, A feeling linked to earth! Is not yon speck a bark which bears Oh! do not Hope, and Grief, and Fear And manhood's prayer and woman's tear Bright are the floating clouds above, The glittering seas below; But we are bound by cords of love Of glorious things and fair, THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD THEY grew in beauty side by side, They filled one home with glee ;Their graves are severed far and wide, By mount, and stream, and sea. 163 |