ITALY. Sanguinetto. "THERE are two little rivulets which run from the Gualandro into the lake. The traveller crosses the first of these at about a mile after he comes into the plain, and this divides the Tuscan from the Papal territories. The second, about a quarter of a mile farther on, is called 'the bloody rivulet'; and the peasants point out an open spot to the left between the 'Sanguinetto' and the hills, which, they say, was the principal scene of slaughter."- Hobhouse's Notes to Childe Harold. BROOK OF SANGUINETTO. WE win where least we care to strive, And where the most we strive we miss. Old Hannibal, if now alive, Might sadly testify to this. He lost the Rome for which he came; And what he never had in petto· John Kenyon. THEY Sapri. THE GLEANER OF SAPRI. HEY were three hundred, they were young and strong, One morning, as I went to glean the grain, Landed with arms, but not as foemen land, A tear and smile in each one I could trace! "We for our native land have come to die!" With eyes of azure, and with hair of gold, I made myself, and, having seized his hand, I go to die for this fair land of thine!" I felt my heart was trembling through and through, That morning I forgot to glean the grain, We heard the drums beat and the trumpets call, They were three hundred, and they would not fly; Luigi Mercantini. Tr. Anon. |