Ma Poi Che 'L Dolce Riso Umile E Piano

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HER RETURN GLADDENS THE EARTH AND CALMS THE SKY.

But when her sweet smile, modest and benign, / No longer hides from us its beauties rare, / At the spent forge his stout and sinewy arms / Plieth that old Sicilian smith in vain, / For from the hands of Jove his bolts are taken / Temper'd in AEtna to extremest proof; / And his cold sister by degrees grows calm / And genial in Apollo's kindling beams.

Moves from the rosy west a summer breath, / Which safe and easy wafts the seaward bark, / And wakes the sweet flowers in each grassy mead.

Malignant stars on every side depart, / Dispersed before that bright enchanting face, / For which already many tears are shed.

MACGREGOR.

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