THE APENNINES: — THE BRIGAND.

Behind thick vines he paces to and fro,
Grasping a carbine strung with ribbons gay;
Tiger-like waiting for a chance to slay,
While fires infernal in his dark eyes glow.

The sunny roads no weary traveler show,
And the dull, idle hours are whiled away
In dreams of deeds that may surpass some day
The bloody fame of Fra Diavolo!

Then, when is heard a slow, advancing tread,
Coward unto the heart, he swift will hide
To send his bullet with supreme address!
And, as he robs his victim, prone and dead,
In all the ignorance of his surly pride
He thanks the Virgin for his foul success.