Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/The Birthplace of Tasso

The Birth-Place of Tasso.

Torquato Tasso, born at Sorrento, 1544; died at Rome, 25th April, 1595. Ho was the author of "Jerusalem Delivered," and one of the most celebrated of the Italian poets.

Beautiful are the waves that flow  Beneath Sorrento's walls;With rippling swell, and foam of snow,And murmuring sounds, that come and. go,  Like fitful waterfalls.

Beautiful are those skies that shine  Above that sparkling bay,Where hang the rich, luxuriant vine,And thousand plants that climb and twine  With light, fantastic spray.

Beautiful are those shores, and meet  For poet's charmèd lay,Who traced the siren's treacherous feetUpon those sands, and heard them greet  The wanderer on his way.

Beautiful is that Sunbright scene  For poet's cradle framed,Where scented flowers, and woods of green,And mountains blue are distant seen,  His songs in childhood claimed.

But why within that verdant spot,  So lovely and so still,By all the noisy world forgot,Where even the ocean waves are not  More loud than mountain rill;

Why fiercely rose the warrior's crest  Upon his early dream;Was it that in his youthful breast,He loved the foam, the tumult, best,  Of some enchanted stream?

And wherefore broke the clash of arms,  The rattling shield and spear,With all tho battle's wild alarms,The groan that chills, the shout that warms,  Upon his listening ear?

Was it that in his fervent soul  A burning thirst aroseTo drink where troubled waters roll,And fill the intoxicating bowl  With human joys and woes?

Yes. Thus he felt and thus he sung,  For genius woke the fire.A warrior bard he proudly Sprung,While round his brows her wreaths she flung  And tuned his virgin lyre.

But not alone the battle-field,  With skilful touch, he drew;The waving plume, the glittering shield,Beauty in gentlest form concealed,  And thus he painted, too.

And not alone the conqueror's cry  Of triumph, wild and strong,Inspired his numbers bold and high,But loftier strains he dared to try—  The Christian's faith he sung.

Wherefore? Ask not. There rolled above  His youthful head that sky,These glorious heavens, so far aboveAll earthly change—the type of love  And immortality.