Along the circling shores its measures flinging
Came as of bees hid in Ravenna's gloom
The Tuscan verse of Dante softly ringing;
The Po sent back its trumpet note of doom.
Thou ceased. No more was heard the holy singing,
Virgil was still, and Allighieri's tomb.
Juvenilia.
XXVII GIOVAN BATTISTA NICCOLINI
The time will come when the ancient mother, raising
Her eyes upon the examples of the past,