Page:Oriental Sketches Dramatic Sketches and Tales.pdf/190

On thy pure glassy mirror, Arno, where,
From thy blue depths reflected, tower, and tree,
The Roman ruin, garlanded with wreaths
Of flowing ivy, rests in calm repose.
Oh Italy! thou bright, romantic land,
Fit scene for love, and peace, and brotherhood,
Why art thou so defiled by human deeds?
Pride and ambition, hatred and revenge,
Have dyed thy crystal streams with crimson gore,
Tainted thy balmy air with corses strewed
Amid fair valleys redolent with bliss.
There, deep sequestered, bowered around with flowers,
Blooms the sweet nest of my felicity,
My joy-encircled home. Thou tender dove,
Like the white pinions of thy prototype,
Thy snowy garments flutter in the air.
Helena, blessings light upon thee, love,
Thou soft, thou gentle, stainless innocent;
Brief absence gives affection new delights,
Now could I leap the space that separates