Where now I sigh for home. Here wert thou wont
To smile on him beneath yon linden tree,
That now with scattered foliage seems to weep
Because it droops not o’er the old man’s urn
Who once sought peace beneath its cooling shade.
Perchance thou, goddess, wandering among graves
Unhonor’d, vainly seek’st the spot where rests
Parini’s sacred head! The city now
To him no space affords within her walls,
Nor monument, nor votive line. His bones