"I will repeat a translation," said I, "which I made when a boy,
which though far from good, has, I believe, in it something of the
spirit of the original:-
"O Italy! on whom dark Destiny
The dangerous gift of beauty did bestow,
From whence thou hast that ample dower of wo,
Which on thy front thou bear'st so visibly.
Would thou hadst beauty less or strength more high,
That more of fear, and less of love might show,
He who now blasts him in thy beauty's glow,
Or woos thee with a zeal that makes thee die;
Then down from Alp no more would torrents rage
Of armed men, nor Gallic coursers hot
In Po's ensanguin'd tide their thirst assuage;
Nor girt with iron, not thine own, I wot,
Wouldst thou the fight by hands of strangers wage
Victress or vanquish'd slavery still thy lot."
CHAPTER XXV
Lacing-up High-lows - The Native Village - Game Leg - Croppies Lie
Down - Keeping Faith - Processions - Croppies Get Up - Daniel
O'Connell.
I SLEPT in the chamber communicating with the room in which I had
dined. The chamber was spacious and airy, the bed first-rate, and
myself rather tired, so that no one will be surprised when I say
that I had excellent rest. I got up, and after dressing myself
went down. The morning was exceedingly brilliant. Going out I saw
the Italian lacing up his high-lows against a step. I saluted him,
and asked him if he was about to depart.
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