oment passed over him that he had chosen to
set his life up in stone, like to Donato's, in the face of Florence,
rather than to weave its light and tangled skein out from the breaths of
the wandering winds and the sands of the shifting shore.

* * *

Come out here in the young months of summer, and leave, as we left, the
highways that grim walls fence in, and stray, as we strayed, through the
field-paths and the bridle-roads in the steps of the contadini, and you
will find this green world about your feet touched with the May-day
suns to tenderest and most lavish wealth of nature.

The green corn uncurling underneath the blossoming vines. The vine
foliage that tosses and climbs and coils in league on league of verdure.
The breast-high grasses full of gold and red and purple from the
countless flowers growing with it.

The millet filled with crimson gladioli and great scarlet poppies. The
hill-sides that look a sheet of rose-colour where the lupinelli are in
bloom. The tall plumes of the canes, new-born, by the side of every
stream and rivulet.

The sheaves of arum leaves that thrust themselves out from every joint
of masonry or spout of broken fountain. The flame of roses that burns on
every handbreadth of untilled ground and springs like a rainbow above
the cloud of every darkling roof or wall. The ocean spray of arbutus and
acacia shedding its snow against the cypress darkness. The sea-green of
the young ilex leaves scattered like light over the bronze and purple of
the older growth. The dreamy blue of the iris lilies rising underneath
the olives and along the edges of the fields.

* * *

All greatest gifts that have enriched the modern world have come from
Italy. Take those gifts from the world, and it would lie in darkness, a
dumb, barbaric, joyless thing.

Leave Rome alone, or question as you will whether she were the mightiest
mother, or the blackest curse that ever came on earth. I do not speak of
Rome, imperial or republican, I speak of Italy.

Of Italy, after the greatness of Rome dropped as the Labarum was raised
on high, and the Fisher of Galilee came to fill the desolate place of
the Caesars.

Of Italy, when she was no more a vast dominion, ruling over half the
races of the globe, from the Persian to the Pict, but a narrow slip
bounded by Adriatic and Mediterranean, divided into hostile sections,
racked by foreign foes, and torn by internecine feud.

Of Ita