Italia, dowered with Asia's amorous eyes,
With India's glow through snows Circassian,
The Muses' love since Dorian lightning ran
Kindling the west to perilous surprise,—
Crowned with thy dawn-star, lo! portentous-wise,
Steps the stern pupil of the Mantuan
And lowers toward moon-mute deserts African
Where, stained with rapine's rose, thy honour lies.
Dim grows the vision of th' enchanted shore.
Queen of the lovely and the lonely vow,
Farewell. False time hath charmed thee, and thy brow
Is toward eclipse and storms that rend and roar.
Fond valedictions fade afar, but thou
Canst be our dream's Italia nevermore.
A SON OF CAIN
By
JAMES A. MACKERETH
Crown 8vo, 3/6 net.
SOME OPINIONS OF THE PRESS.
Westminster Review.—We write under the conviction that Mr. Mackereth is destined to compel the admiration not only of a few critics but also of the general public.