"Il spirito usci dal fiume a un tratto, E venne come Dio l'aveva fatto, E presentando come un cortegiano Alla donna gentil la destra mano, 'Scusate,' disse si io vengo avanti E se vi do la mano sensa guanti."-_Paranti_.

The following, as a French book of fables says, is "a poem, or rather prose rhymed:"

"Two pretty maids one morning sat by the rushing stream. It murmured glittering in the sun; it seemed to sing as on it run, enchanting while a wantoning, as in a merry dream.

"Said one unto the other: 'I wish, and all in truth, that the glorious dancing river were as fine and brave a youth. Its voice is like an angel's, its drops of light like eyes so bright are beautiful I wis. Oh, ne'er before, on sea or sh.o.r.e, did I love aught like this.'

"A voice came from the river: 'For a love thou hast chosen me; henceforward, sweet, for ever thine own love I will be. Wherever there is water, of Florence the fairest daughter, by night or day or far away, thou'lt find me close by thee.'

"She saw bright eyes a shining in dewdrops on her path-she returned unto the palace, she entered in a bath. 'How the water doth caress me; 'tis embracing me, I vow! _M'abbracia_, _mi baccia_-my lover has me now. Since fate has really willed it, then to my fate I bow.'

"Seven years have come and vanished, seven years of perfect bliss.

Whenever she washed in water, she felt her lover's kiss. She washed full oft, I ween; 'twas plain to be seen there was no maid in Florence who kept herself so clean.

"Little by little, as summer makes frogs croak in a ditch, there spread about a rumour that the damsel was a witch. They showed her scanty mercies; with cruelty extreme, with blows and bitter curses, they cast her in the stream. 'If she be innocent, she'll sink, so hurl her from the Arno's brink; if guilty, she will swim!'

"Up rose from the sparkling river a youth who was fair to see. 'I have loved thee, and for ever thine own I'll truly be.' He took her in his arms; she felt no more alarms. 'Farewell to you all!' sang she; 'a fish cannot drown in the water; now I am a fish, you know-the Arno's loving daughter. _Per sempre addio_!'"

The foregoing is not literal, nor do I know that it is strictly "traditional;" it is a mere short tale or anecdote which I met with, and put into irregular metre to suit the sound of a rushing stream. I take the liberty of adding to it another water-poem of my own, which has become, if not "popular," at least a halfpenny broadside sold at divers street-stands by old women, the history whereof is as follows:-I had written several ballads in Italian in imitation of the simplest old-fashioned lyrics, and was anxious to know if I had really succeeded in coming down to the level of the people, for this is a very difficult thing to do in any language. When I showed them to Marietta Pery, she expressed it as her candid opinion that they were really very nice indeed, and that I ought for once in my life to come before the public as a poet. And as I, fired by literary ambition, at last consented to appear in this _role_, Marietta took a ballad, and going to E. Ducci, 32 Via Pilastri, who is the Catnach of Florence (I advise collectors of the really curious to buy his _soldo_ publications), made an arrangement whereby my song should appear as a broadside, the lady strictly conditioning that from among his blocks Signore Ducci should find a ship and a flying bird to grace the head and the end of the lyric. But as he had no bird, she took great credit to herself that for five francs she not only got a hundred copies, but also had specially engraved for the work and inserted an object which appears as flying to the right hand of the ship. The song was as follows:

LA BELLA STREGA.

_Nuova Canzonetta di_ CHARLES G.o.dFREY LELAND.

Era una bella strega Che si bagnava alla riva; Vennero i pirati Lei presero captiva.

Il vento era in poppa Sull' onde la nave ball La donna lacrimante Al capitan parl.

"O Signor capitano!

O Capitano del mar!

Dar cento ducati, Se tu mi lasci andar."

"Non prender cento ducati, Tu costi molto piu Io ti vendr al Sultano,"

Disse il Capitano, "Per mille zecchini d'oro Vi stimi troppo giu."

"Non vuoi i cento ducati Ebben tu non gli avrai, Ho un' amante amato Non mi abbandona mai."

Essa sede sul ponte Principi a cantar, "Vieni il mio amante,"

Da lontano il vento Si mette a mugghiar.

Forte e piu forte La tempesta ruggio, Gridava il capitano: "Io credo che il tuo amante E il vento che corre innante, Ovvero il diavolo."

Forte e piu forte La procella url, "Sono rocce davanti, E il vento vien di dietro Benvenuto sei tu mio amante!"

La bella donna cant.

[Picture: A sailing ship with flying bird]

"Vattene al tuo amante All' inferno a cantar!"

Disse il Capitano E gett la donna fuori, Della nave nel mar.

Ma come un gabbiano Sull' onde essa volo.

"O mio Capitano, Non sarai appiccato, Ma sarai annegato: Per sempre addio!"

The Beautiful Witch.

A pretty witch was bathing In the sea one summer day; There came a ship with pirates, Who carried her away.

The ship due course was keeping On the waves as they rose and broke; The lovely lady, weeping, Thus to the captain spoke:

"O Signor Capitano!

O captain of the sea!

I'll give you a hundred ducats If you will set me free."

"I will not take a hundred, You're worth much more, you know; I will sell you to the Sultan For a hundred gold sequins; You set yourself far too low."

"You will not take a hundred- Oh well! then let them be, But I have a faithful lover, Who, as you may discover, Will never abandon me."

Upon the windla.s.s sitting, The lady began to sing: "Oh, come to me, my lover!"

From afar a breeze just rising In the rigging began to ring.

Louder and ever louder The wind began to blow: Said the captain, "I think your lover Is the squall which is coming over, Or the devil who has us in tow."

Stronger and ever stronger The tempest roared and rang, "There are rocks ahead and the wind dead aft, Thank you, my love," the lady laughed; And loud to the wind she sang.

"Oh, go with your cursed lover, To the devil to sing for me!"

Thus cried the angry rover, And threw the lady over Into the raging sea.

But changing to a seagull, Over the waves she flew: "Oh captain, captain mine," sung she, "You will not swing on the gallows-tree, For you shall drown in the foaming sea- Oh captain, for ever adieu!"

I must in honesty admit that this my _debut_ as an Italian poet was not noticed in any of the reviews-possibly because I did not send it to them-and there were no indications that anybody considered that a new Dante had arisen in the land. It is true, as Marietta told me with much delight, that the printer, or his foreman, had declared it was a very good song indeed; but then he was an interested party. And Marietta also kindly praised it to the skies (after she had corrected it); but then Marietta was herself a far better poet than I can ever hope to be, and could afford to be generous.

The reader will pardon me if I avail myself of the opportunity to give another Italian ballad which I wrote on a theme which I also picked up in Florence.

Il Giardino d'Amore, o La Figlia del Re, e il Contino Stregone.

Era un giovine Contino, Di tutto il paese il fior, Aveva un bel giardino, Il bel giardin d'amor.

"Chi batte alla mia porta?"

Domanda il bel Contin'.