- Performer Name:
- Sestini
- Performance Venue:
- Performance Date:
- Author:
- Hemans, Felicia
- Date Written:
- Language:
- English
- Publication Title:
- New Monthly Magazine
- Article Title:
- The Dying Improvisatore
- Page Numbers:
- 22:403-04
- Additional Info:
- Vol. 22, part 1
- Publisher:
- Henry Colburn
- Place of Publication:
- London
- Date Published:
- 1828
Text:
[403] The Dying Improvisatore.*
"My heart shall be poured over thee—and break." Prophecy of Dante. THE spirit of my land, It visits me once more!—though I must die Far from the myrtles which thy breeze hath fann'd, My own bright Italy! It is, it is thy breath, Which stirs my soul e'en yet, as wavering flame Is shaken by the wind;—in life and death Still trembling, yet the same! Oh! that love's quenchless power Might waft my voice to fill thy summer sky, And through thy groves its dying music shower, Italy! Italy! The nightingale is there, The sunbeam's glow, the citron-flower's perfume, The south wind's whisper in the scented air— It will not pierce the tomb! Never, oh! never more, On thy Rome's purple heaven mine eye shall dwell, Or watch the bright waves melt along thy shore— —My Italy! farewell! Alas!—thy hills among Had I but left a memory of my name, Of love and Grief one deep, true, fervent song, Unto immortal Fame! But like a lute's brief tone, Like a roze-odor on the breezes cast, Like a swift flush of dayspring, seen and gone So hath my spirit pass'd! Pouring itself away As a wild bird amidst the foliage turns That which within him triumphs, beats, or burns, Into a fleeting lay; That swells, and floats, and dies, Leaving no echo to the summer woods Of the rich breathings and impassion'd sighs Which thrill'd their solitudes. Yet, yet remember me! Friends! that upon its murmurs oft have hung, When from my bosom, joyously and free, The fiery fountain sprung. Under the dark rich blue Of midnight heavens, and on the star-lit sea, And when woods kindle into Spring's first hue, Sweet Friends, remember me! [404] And in the marble halls, Where Life's full glow the dreams of beauty wear, And Poet-thoughts embodied light the walls, Let me be with you there! Fain would I bind for you My memory with all glorious things to dwell; Fain bid all lovely sounds my name renew— Sweet Friends! bright Land! farewell!*Sestini, the Roman Improvisatore, when on his deathbed at Paris, is said to have poured forth a Farewell to Italy, in his most impassioned poetry.
Notes:
- Collected by:
- DP