Lér the pure unalloyed gold of this ring Declare the perfect love with which I love thee; Lét the firm, compact, indestructible metal Witness my love 's no evanescent passion; Ånd the strong, massy hoop, encircling thus Thy slénder finger, typify the pale Within which thou shalt pass thy days secure,
From áll harm guarded by these sheltering arms. Walking from PFUNDS to Ried (German TYROL), Sept. 4, 1854.
I would not, if I could, be wise, I énvy not the regal state, Weálth has small splendor in mine eyes, I am contented with my fate;
I live and breathe and see the sun, And feel the fresh air round me blow, For mé the earth is spread with flowers, For mé the gurgling waters flow;
And if I 'm loved by one alone, Lóved by one only let me be, For that one heart is all my own
Ye kings, wise, rich men, envy me. LANDRO in the valley of AMPEZZO, July 22, 1854.
'Twas ón a balmy day In the latter end of May I heard the cúckoo say,
Cuckoo! Cúckoo !
Évery day in June, Mórning, evening, noon, She repeated the same tune,
Cuckoo! Cúckoo!
But when búrning hot July Flared in the summer sky, Ah! the cúckoo bade good bye,
Cuckoo! Cuckoo !
Quick come again, sweet May, Till ón a balmy day Again I hear her say,
Cuckoo! Cuckoo !
While travelling in Stellwagen from SAUERLOCH to HOLZKIRCHEN (BAVARIA), July 8, 1854.
“My father, spare my father," Julia cried And at th' inexorable Roman's feet Threw herself, tearless: - “Spare, Oh spare, my father; Mércy is dearer far to heaven than justice; Mércy is fair and lovely and makes friends And binds with the indissoluble bond
Of grátitude; Oh spare my father, Roman; Róme is no petty state compelled to uphold By térror its precarious sovereignty; Róme can afford to have mercy on a rebel. Man, Roman, father, spare a man, a father, Spáre an Helvetian guilty and repentant; So at Aventia’s altar shall my prayers, The priestess' and the daughter's prayers, be daily Óffered for great Rome and for thee – Oh spare him, Magnánimous Roman, spare him, spare him, spare him.” In vain she supplicated and in vain Clúng to the Consul's knees; unpitying justice Lópped with remorseless axe the victim's head; And never in Aventia's temple after Officiated Julia, but away Pined grádual and at last died brokenhearted. After a thousand and six hundred years A stone found at Aventicum affirms The truth of the Historian: – "Here I lie, Júlia Alpínula, Aventia's priestess, Ill-fated daughter of ill-fated sire: The síre a rebel died by the hand of justice, The daughter's supplication failed to save The father's life her years were three and twenty.”
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Mán, egoistic, for his own self lives, Thinking he lives for honor, virtue, fame, Ór for his country, as he 's pleased to call The land which chanced to give the egoist birth; Wóman, devoted woman, knows no self, Lives only in and for the egoist Whó in the name of love has made her slave.
Walking from LIENZ to SILIAN in the PUSTERTHAL, July 21, 1854.
A man and woman travelling by the way And thirsty both, found each a cup of liquor; The man, as he drank hís, made a wry face And spát some oút and said it was most bitter. The woman, as she dránk hers, kept her eyes Fixed on the man, then meekly smiling said: “Bitter was my cup too, and I doubt not Bitterer than thine, but pleasant to me always Éven the most bitter draught if I have only Thy face before mine eyes while I am drinking.
Walking from LIENZ to Sulian in the PUSTERTHAL, July 21, 1854.
ANNA MARIA PRIETH. *
It was the morning of the Sunday first In Advent, when, four hours before daylight, Anna Maria Prieth, the widow, left House, home, and children five at Pitz and crossed The íce of Reschen's frozen lake to Graun, There made confession of her sins and eased By thát sweet sacrament her burthened mind. 'Twas not yet light when 'cross the ice returning, Pleased with herself and with the world at peace, And full of happy thoughts of home and children, She trod upon a spot
Ah! blessed Mary, Mother of God, where wast thou at that moment? Above a spring the weakened ice gave way, And nót till five months later, when May's sun Unboúnd the icy fetters of the Vintschgau, Was foúnd the body; the blessed spirit meanwhile A stone attests it on the banks of Reschen, And every Advent the officiating Cúrate of Graun confirms it from the altar Sank not into the abysm but, upward borne By hánds angelic, soared until it joined The harmonic choirs that never ceasing sing Glad hymns of praise around the eternal throne.
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