shore, did I love aught like
this.'

"A voice came from the river: 'For a love thou hast chosen me;
henceforward, sweet, for ever thine own love I will be. Wherever
there is water, of Florence the fairest daughter, by night or day or
far away, thou'lt find me close by thee.'

"She saw bright eyes a shining in dewdrops on her path--she returned
unto the palace, she entered in a bath. 'How the water doth caress
me; 'tis embracing me, I vow! _M'abbracia_, _mi baccia_--my lover
has me now. Since fate has really willed it, then to my fate I bow.'

"Seven years have come and vanished, seven years of perfect bliss.
Whenever she washed in water, she felt her lover's kiss. She washed
full oft, I ween; 'twas plain to be seen there was no maid in
Florence who kept herself so clean.

"Little by little, as summer makes frogs croak in a ditch, there
spread about a rumour that the damsel was a witch. They showed her
scanty mercies; with cruelty extreme, with blows and bitter curses,
they cast her in the stream. 'If she be innocent, she'll sink, so
hurl her from the Arno's brink; if guilty, she will swim!'

"Up rose from the sparkling river a youth who was fair to see. 'I
have loved thee, and for ever thine own I'll truly be.' He took her
in his arms; she felt no more alarms. 'Farewell to you all!' sang
she; 'a fish cannot drown in the water; now I am a fish, you
know--the Arno's loving daughter. _Per sempre addio_!'"

The foregoing is not literal, nor do I know that it is strictly
"traditional;" it is a mere short tale or anecdote which I met with, and
put into irregular metre to suit the sound of a rushing stream. I take
the liberty of adding to it another water-poem of my own, which has
become, if not "popular," at least a halfpenny broadside sold at divers
street-stands by old women, the history whereof is as follows:--I had
written several ballads in Italian in imitation of the simplest
old-fashioned lyrics, and was anxious to know if I had really succeeded
in coming down to the level of the people, for this is a very difficult
thing to do in any language. When I showed them to Marietta Pery, she
expressed it as her candid opinion that they were really very nice
indeed, and that I ought for once in my life to come before the public as
a poet. And as I, fired by literary ambition, at last consented to
appear in this _rol