first
of May.

With love to dear Annie and Minny,

I remain, most truly yours,
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.

* * * * *

_To Miss I. Blagden_

Rome: Saturday, [about May 1861].

Ever dearest Isa,--Now that Robert's letter is gone, I am able for shame
to write. His waiting did not _mean_ a slackness of kindness, but a
tightness of entanglement in other things; and then absolutely he has
got to the point of doing without reading. Nothing but clay does he care
for, poor lost soul. But you will see, I hope, from what he has written
(to judge by what he speaks), that he is not so lost as to be untouched
by Agnes.[102]...

I send you, dear, two more translations for Dall' Ongaro. You will have
given him my former message. I began that letter to him, and was
interrupted; and then, considering the shortness of our time here, would
not begin another. You will have explained, and will make him thoroughly
understand, that in sending him a verbal and literal translation I never
thought of exacting such a thing from _him_, but simply of letting him
have the advantage of seeing the _raw, naked poetry as it stands_. In
fact, my translation is scarcely Italian, I know very well. I mean it
for English rather. Conventional and idiomatical Italian forms have been
expressly avoided. I have used the Italian as a net to catch the English
in for the use of an Italian poet! Let him understand.

We shall be soon in our Florence now. I am rather stronger, but so weak
still that my eyes dazzle to think of it. Povera me!

Tell Dall' Ongaro that his friend M. Carl Gruen had enough of me in one
visit. He never came again, though I prayed him to come. I have not been
equal to receiving in the evening, and perhaps he expected an
invitation. I go to bed at eight on most nights. I'm the rag of a Ba.
Yet I _am_ stronger, and look much so, it seems to me. Mr. Story is
_doing_ Robert's bust, which is likely to be a success.[103] Hatty
brought us a most charming design for a fountain for Lady Marion Alford.
The imagination is unfolding its wings in Hatty. She is quite of a mind
to spend the summer with you at Florence or elsewhere. The Storys talk
of Switzerland....

Andersen (the Dane) came to see me yesterday--kissed my hand, and seemed
in a general _verve_ for embracing. He is very earnest, very simple,
very childlike. I like him. Pen says of him, 'He is not really pretty.
He is rather like his own ugly duck