Classic Poem

Is this the country, then, where I was born?
Is this my palace, and my castle this?
Is this the nest I woke in, every morn?
Is this my father's and my brother's kiss?
Is this the land they bred me to adorn?
Is this the good old bower of all my bliss?
Is this the haven of my youth and beauty?
Is this the sure reward of all my duty?

Where now are all my wardrobes and their treasures?
Where now are all my riches and my rights?
Where now are all the midnight feasts and measures?
Where now are all the delicate delights?
Where now are all the partners of my pleasures?
Where now are all the sweets of sounds and sights?
Where now are all my maidens ever near?
Where, do I say? Alas, alas, not here! . . .

Where now are all the woods and forests drear,
Wolves, tigers, bears, and dragons? Alas, here!

" O V' È , R INAIDO "

Oh where, Rinaldo, is thy gagliardize?
Oh where, Rinaldo, is thy might indeed?
Oh where, Rinaldo, thy repute for wise?
Oh where, Rinaldo, thy sagacious heed?
Oh where, Rinaldo, thy free-thoughted eyes?
Oh where, Rinaldo, thy good arms and steed?
Oh where, Rinaldo, thy renown and glory?
Oh where, Rinaldo, thou ? — In a love-story.

P UICI'S A LLTERATIONS

" La casa cosa parea bretta e brutta ," &c.

This holy hole was a vile thin -built thing ,
Blown by the blast ; the night nought else o'erhead
But staring stars the rude roof entering;
Their sup of supper was no splendid spread ;
Poor pears their fare, and such- like libelling
Of quantum suff.; — their butt all but ; bad bread ; —
A flash of fish instead of flush of flesh ;
Their bed a frisk al-fresco, freezing fresh .