Their dark exuberance of hair,
Black eyes, rich tints, and sundry graces
Of classic pure Italian faces!
Di. Ah me, me!
Clear stars above, thou roseate westward sky,
Take up my being into yours; assume
My sense to know you only; steep my brain
In your essential purity, or, great Alps,
That wrapping round your heads in solemn clouds
Seem sternly to sweep past our vanities,