Dost thou not hear from the green pastures where sleeps Bianore
the sound of Virgilius' voice?
O Lalage, turn and adore! From yonder tower of the Scaligers
looks out a face stern and grand.
“Suso in Italia bella,” smiling he murmurs, and looks
at the water, the earth, and the sky.
Odi Barbare.
XVII TO A HORSE
Hail to thee, valiant steed! To thee the palm,
To thee its wild applause the ring is raising.