Mr. Gladstone in Rome.
“Caffè-latte! I call to the waiter,—Non c’e latte.
This is the answer he makes me, and this is the sign of a battle.”
Clough in 1848.
1.
Old Rome in December. Take out your umbrella
For we picnic no more with Cæcilia Metella,
While flirtation is wholly unheard in the sheeny
And shadowy paths of the Aldobrandini.
Mr. Locker, to Rome a poetical rover,