I repeated Filicaia's glorious sonnet on Italy, and then asked him if he understood it.

"Only in part, signore; for it is composed in old Tuscan, in which I am not much versed. I believe I should comprehend it better if you were to say it in English."

"Do say it in English," said the landlady and her daughter; "we should so like to hear it in English."

"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 a.s.suage; 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 Highlows-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 s.p.a.cious 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 highlows against a step. I saluted him, and asked him if he was about to depart.

"Yes, signore; I shall presently start for Denbigh."

"After breakfast I shall start for Bangor," said I.

"Do you propose to reach Bangor to-night, signore?"

"Yes," said I.

"Walking, signore?"

"Yes," said I; "I always walk in Wales."

"Then you will have rather a long walk, signore, for Bangor is thirty-four miles from here."

I asked him if he was married.

"No, signore; but my brother in Liverpool is."

"To an Italian?"

"No, signore; to a Welsh girl."

"And I suppose," said I, "you will follow his example by marrying one; perhaps that good-looking girl the landlady's daughter we were seated with last night?"

"No, signore; I shall not follow my brother's example. If ever I take a wife she shall be of my own village, in Como, whither I hope to return, as soon as I have picked up a few more pounds."

"Whether the Austrians are driven away or not?" said I.

"Whether the Austrians are driven away or not-for to my mind there is no country like Como, signore."

I ordered breakfast; whilst taking it in the room above I saw through the open window the Italian trudging forth on his journey, a huge box on his back, and a weather-gla.s.s in his hand-looking the exact image of one of those men his country people, whom forty years before I had known at N.

I thought of the course of time, sighed and felt a tear gather in my eye.

My breakfast concluded, I paid my bill, and after inquiring the way to Bangor, and bidding adieu to the kind landlady and her daughter, set out from Cerrig y Drudion. My course lay west, across a flat country, bounded in the far distance by the mighty hills I had seen on the preceding evening. After walking about a mile I overtook a man with a game leg, that is a leg, which either by nature or accident not being so long as its brother leg, had a patten attached to it, about five inches high, to enable it to do duty with the other-he was a fellow with red shock hair and very red features, and was dressed in ragged coat and breeches, and a hat which had lost part of its crown, and all its rim, so that even without a game leg he would have looked rather a queer figure.

In his hand he carried a fiddle.

"Good morning to you," said I.

"A good marning to your hanner, a merry afternoon and a roaring joyous evening-that is the worst luck I wish to ye."

"Are you a native of these parts?" said I.

"Not exactly, your hanner-I am a native of the city of Dublin, or, what's all the same thing, of the village of Donnybrook which is close by it."

"A celebrated place," said I.

"Your hanner may say that; all the world has heard of Donnybrook, owing to the humours of its fair. Many is the merry tune I have played to the boys at that fair."

"You are a professor of music, I suppose?"

"And not a very bad one as your hanner will say if you will allow me to play you a tune."

"Can you play 'Croppies Lie Down'?"

"I cannot, your hanner; my fingers never learnt to play such a blackguard tune; but if ye wish to hear 'Croppies Get Up' I can oblige ye."

"You are a Roman Catholic, I suppose?"

"I am nat, your hanner-I am a Catholic to the backbone, just like my father before me. Come, your hanner, shall I play ye 'Croppies Get Up'?"

"No," said I; "It's a tune that doesn't please my ears. If, however, you choose to play 'Croppies Lie Down,' I'll give you a shilling."

"Your hanner will give me a shilling?"

"Yes," said I, "if you play 'Croppies Lie Down': but you know you cannot play it, your fingers never learned the tune."

"They never did, your hanner; but they have heard it played of ould by the blackguard Orange fiddlers of Dublin on the first of July, when the Protestant boys used to walk round Willie's statue on College Green-so if your hanner gives me the shilling they may perhaps bring out something like it."

"Very good," said I; "begin!"

"But, your hanner, what shall we do for the words? Though my fingers may remember the tune, my tongue does not remember the words-that is unless . . ."

"I give another shilling," said I; "but never mind you the words; I know the words, and will repeat them."

"And your hanner will give me a shilling?"

"If you play the tune," said I.