Shelley! whose song so sweet was sweetest here, We knew each other little; now I walk Along the same green path, along the shore Of Lerici, along the sandy plain Trending from Lucca to the Pisan pines Under whose shadow scatter'd camels lie, The old and young, and rarer deer uplift Their knotty branches o'er high-feather'd fern. Regions of happiness! I greet ye well; Your solitudes, and not your cities, stay'd My steps among you; for with you alone Converst I, and with those ye bore of old. He who beholds the skies of Italy Sees ancient Rome reflected, sees beyond, Into more glorious Hellas, nurse of Gods And godlike men: dwarfs people other lands. Frown not, maternal England! thy weak child Kneels at thy feet and owns in shame a lie. |