And burn your ligly ! My country is there,

    Above tar pricked by t peak of snow :

    My Italy s th my brave civic Pair,

    to disfranchise despair !

    XIX.

    Forgive me. Some h,

    And bite back their pain in self-scorn ;

    But tions  length

    Into wail suc on forlorn

    he man-child is born.

    XX.

    Dead ! One of t by t,

    And one of t in t by the sea.

    Bot

    You  a great song for your Italy free,

    Let none look at me !

    [turin, a poetess and patriot, w

    Ancona and Gaeta.]