Explore "Translation from Du Bellay" by G.K. Chesterton on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Happy, who like Ulysses or that lord / Who raped the fleece, returning full and sage, / With usage and the world's wide reason stored, / With his own kin can wait the end of age.
When shall I see, when shall I see, God knows!
My little village smoke; or pass the door, / The old dear door of that unhappy house / That is to me a kingdom and much more?
Mightier to me the house my fathers made / Than your audacious heads, O Halls of Rome!
More than immortal marbles undecayed, / The thin sad slates that cover up my home; / More than your Tiber is my Loire to me, / Than Palatine my little Lyre there; / And more than all the winds of all the sea / The quiet kindness of the Angevin air.