LIX.

Know’st thou the land where bloom the orange bowers?[216] Where, through dark foliage, gleam the citron’s dyes? --It is their own. They see their fathers’ towers Midst its Hesperian groves in sunlight rise: They meet, in soul, the bright Italian eyes Which long and vainly shall explore the main For their white sails’ return: the melodies Of that sweet land are floating o’er their brain-- Oh! what a crowded world one moment may contain!