Under the promontory its tall tower And long flat roofs, just such as Poussin drew, Caught by a sun-beam slanting through a cloud; A quay-like scene, glittering and full of life, And doubled by reflection. What delight, After so long a sojourn in the desert, To hear once more the sounds of cheerful labour ! But in a clime like this where are they not? Along the shores, among the hills 'tis now The hey-day of the Vintage; all abroad, But most the young and of the gentler sex, Busy in gathering; all among the vines, Some on the ladder, and some underneath, Ꭰ Filling their baskets of green wicker-work, While many a canzonet and frolic laugh Come through the leaves; the vines in light festoons From tree to tree, the trees in avenues, And every avenue a covered walk Hung with black clusters. 'Tis enough to make The sad man merry, the benevolent one Melt into tears so general is the joy! While up and down the cliffs, over the lake, Wains oxen-drawn, and panniered mules are seen, Laden with grapes, and dropping rosy wine. Here I received from thee, Filippo Mori, One of those courtesies so sweet, so rare! When, as I rambled through thy vineyard-ground On the hill-side, thou sent'st thy little son, Charged with a bunch almost as big as he, To press it on the stranger. May thy vats O'erflow, and he, thy willing gift-bearer, Live to become ere-long himself a giver; And in due time, when thou art full of honor, Such things, however trifling, reach the heart, And through the heart the head, clearing away The narrow notions that grow up at home, And in their place grafting Good-Will to All. At least I found it so, nor less at eve, When, bidden as an English traveller, ('Twas by a little boat that gave me chase With oar and sail, as homeward-bound I crossed The bay of Tramezzine,) right readily I turned my prow and followed, landing soon Where steps of purest marble met the wave; Where, through the trellisses and corridors, Soft music came as from Armida's palace, Breathing enchantment o'er the woods, the waters; And through a bright pavilion, bright as day, Forms such as hers were flitting, lost among Such as of old in sober pomp swept by, Such as adorn the triumphs and the feasts Painted by Cagliari " ; where the world danced |