O ITALY, my fateful mistress-land, That, like Delilah, won with deathful bliss Each conquering foe who wooed thy wanton kiss, And sheared thy lovers' strength with certain hand, And gave them to Philistia's bonds of vice; Smiling to see the strong limbs waste away, The manly vigor crippled by decay, Usurious years exact the minute's price. Ah! when @3my@1 great were greatest, ever glad, I thanked them with the hope of nobler deeds. Statesman and poet, painter, sculptor, knight,— These my dear lovers were ere days grew sad, And them I taught how mightily exceeds All other love the love that holds God's light. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CLOUDS: THE CLOUD CHORUS by ARISTOPHANES ULTIMA THULE: NIGHT by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW BEN JONSON ENTERTAINS A MAN FROM STRATFORD by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE EAGLE SWIFT by ADAM OF SAINT VICTOR |