Hither, recovered the clue, shall not the traveller haste?
CANTO V.
There is a city, upbuilt on the quays of the turbulent Arno,
Under Fiesole’s heights,—thither are we to return?
There is a city that fringes the curve of the inflowing waters,
Under the perilous hill fringes the beautiful bay,—
Parthenope, do they call thee?—the Siren, Neapolis, seated
Under Vesevus’s hill,—are we receding to thee?—
Sicily, Greece, will invite, and the Orient;—or are we to turn to