That treaty whereby

Mother.

Luigi.

Well?

(Sure he's arrived,

The telltale cuckoo-Spring's his confidant,
And he lets out her April purposes !)

Or-better go at once to modern time—
He has-they have-in fact, I understand
But can't restate the matter; that's my boast:
Others could reason it out to you, and prove
Things they have made me feel.

Mother.

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Morn's for adventure. Jupiter is now

A morning-star. I cannot hear you, Luigi!

Luigi. I am the bright and morning-star,' saith GodAnd, to such an one I give the morning-star!'

The gift of the morning-star! Have I God's gift
Of the morning-star?

Mother.

Chiara will love to see

That Jupiter an evening-star next June.

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Luigi. True, mother. Well for those who live through June!

Great noontides, thunder-storms, all glaring pomps

Which triumph at the heels of June the God

Leading his revel thro' our leafy world.

Yes, Chiara will be here

Mother.

In June: remember,

Yourself appointed that month for her coming.

Luigi. Was that low noise the echo?
Mother.

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The night-wind.

160

She must be grown-with her blue eyes upturned
As if life were one long and sweet surprise :

In June she comes.

Luigi.

The Titian at Treviso. There, again!

We were to see together

(From without is heard the voice of PIPPA singing)

A king lived long ago,

In the morning of the world,

When earth was nigher heaven than now;
And the king's locks curled,

Disparting o'er a forehead full

As the milk-white space 'twixt horn and horn

Of some sacrificial bull

Only calm as a babe new-born :

For he was got to a sleepy mood,
So safe from all decrepitude,

Age with its bane, so sure gone by—

The gods so loved him while he dreamed,
That, having lived thus long, there seemed
No need the king should ever die.

Luigi. No need that sort of king should ever die !

Among the rocks his city was:

Before his palace, in the sun,
He sat to see his people pass,
And judge them every one
From its threshold of smooth stone.
They haled him many a valley-thief
Caught in the sheep-pens, robber-chief
Swarthy and shameless, beggar-cheat,
Spy-prowler, or rough pirate found
On the sea-sand left aground;
And sometimes clung about his feet,
With bleeding lip and burning cheek,
A woman, bitterest wrong to speak
Of one with sullen thickset brows;

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And sometimes from the prison-house

The angry priests a pale wretch brought,

Who through some chink had pushed and pressed,
On knees and elbows, belly and breast,

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Worm-like into the temple,--caught

At last there by the very god,

Who ever in the darkness strode

Backward and forward, keeping watch

O'er his brazen bowls, such rogues to catch!
These, all and every one,

The king judged, sitting in the sun.

Luigi. That king should still judge sitting in the sun!

His councillors, on left and right,
Looked anxious up,-but no surprise
Disturbed the king's old smiling eyes,
Where the very blue had turned to white.
'Tis said, a Python scared one day
The breathless city, till he came,
With forky tongue and eyes on flame,
Where the old king sat to judge alway;
But when he saw the sweepy hair,
Girt with a crown of berries rare
Which the god will hardly give to wear
To the maiden who singeth, dancing bare
In the altar-smoke by the pine-torch lights,
At his wondrous forest rites-

Seeing this, he did not dare

Approach that threshold in the sun,
Assault the old king smiling there.

Such grace had kings when the world begun!

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(PIPPA passes.)

Luigi. And such grace have they, now that the world

ends!

The Python at the city, on the throne,

And brave men, God would crown for slaying him,
Lurk in bye-corners lest they fall his prey.

225

Are crowns yet to be won, in this late time,

Which weakness makes me hesitate to reach?

'Tis God's voice calls, how could I stay? Farewell!

Talk by the way, while PIPPA is passing from the Turret to the Bishop's brother's House, close to the Duomo Santa Maria. Poor Girls sitting on the steps.

1st Girl. There goes a swallow to Venice-the stout seafarer!

Seeing those birds fly, makes one wish for wings.

Let us all wish; you, wish first!

2d Girl.

To finish.

I? This sunset

3d Girl. That old-somebody I know, Grayer and older than my grandfather,

To give me the same treat he gave last week—
Feeding me on his knee with fig-peckers,
Lampreys, and red Breganze-wine, and mumbling
The while some folly about how well I fare,
Let sit and eat my supper quietly-

Since had he not himself been late this morning,
Detained at-never mind where,—had he not—
'Eh, baggage, had I not!'—

2d Girl.

Ist Girl.

How she can lie!

My turn.

Spring's come and summer 's coming: I would wear
A long loose gown-down to the feet and hands,
With plaits here, close about the throat, all day;
And all night lie, the cool long nights, in bed;
And have new milk to drink, apples to eat,

Deuzans and junetings, leather-coats-ah, I should say,
That is away in the fields-miles!

3d Girl.

Say at once

You'd be at home-she 'd always be at home!

Now comes the story of the farm among

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The cherry orchards, and how April snowed

White blossoms on her as she ran. Why, fool,

They 've rubbed the chalk-mark out, how tall you were,
Twisted your starling's neck, broken his cage,

Made a dunghill of your garden!

1st Girl.

They destroy

My garden since I left them? well-perhaps!
I would have done so-so I hope they have!
A fig-tree curled out of our cottage wall;
They called it mine, I have forgotten why,

It must have been there long ere I was born:
Cric-cric-I think I hear the wasps o'erhead
Pricking the papers strung to flutter there

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And keep off birds in fruit-time-coarse long papers,
And the wasps eat them, prick them through and through.
3d Girl. How her mouth twitches! Where was I?—before
She broke in with her wishes and long gowns

And wasps-would I be such a fool?-Oh, here!
See how that beetle burnishes in the path!
There sparkles he along the dust; and, there—

Your journey to that maize-tuft spoiled at least!

1st Girl. When I was young, they said if you killed one

Of those sunshiny beetles, that his friend

Up there would shine no more that day nor next.

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2d Girl. When you were young? Nor are you young, that's true!

How your plump arms, that were, have dropped away!
Why, I can span them! Cecco beats you still?

No matter, so you keep your curious hair.

I wish they'd find a way to dye our hair
Your colour-any lighter tint, indeed,

Than black-the men say they are sick of black,
Black eyes, black hair!

4th Girl.

Sick of yours, like enough!

Do you pretend you ever tasted lampreys

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