Dead to the wonder that was _Italy_?

Farewell thy peace, farewell thy pride, farewell
The roseate rapture of the radiant years.
Thy breast shall nourish sorrows, and thy fears
Shall haunt the olives and the sunset bell;
Ah, thou shalt sigh for Francis and his cell,
And beat with Dante to the bourn of tears.

II.

Italia, dowered with Asia's amorous eyes,
With India's glow through snows Circassian,
The Muses' love since Dorian lightning ran
Kindling the west to perilous surprise,--
Crowned with thy dawn-star, lo! portentous-wise,
Steps the stern pupil of the Mantuan
And lowers toward moon-mute deserts African
Where, stained with rapine's rose, thy honour lies.

Dim grows the vision of th' enchanted shore.
Queen of the lovely and the lonely vow,
Farewell. False time hath charmed thee, and thy brow
Is toward eclipse and storms that rend and roar.
Fond valedictions fade afar, but thou
Canst be our dream's Italia nevermore.

A SON OF CAIN

By

JAMES A. MACKERETH

_Crown 8vo, 3/6 net._

SOME OPINIONS OF THE PRESS.

_Westminster Review._--We write under the conviction that Mr. Mackereth
is destined to compel the admiration not only of a few critics but also
of the general public.

_Times Literary Supplement._--He has a note of his own; one can always
enjoy the rich exuberance of his fancy and of his diction.

_Daily Telegraph._--A true singer whom no reader with a taste for
contemporary poetry should overlook.

_Yorkshire Daily Observer._--... We cannot afford to neglect such
poetry--it is vital... Alive with the spirit of the new century.

_Aberdeen Free Press._--The "Ode on the Passing of Autumn"... a really
splendid poem... Mr. Mackereth is undoubtedly a poet of considerable
power and originality.

_The Literary World._--There is a strength about his work which is very
rare in English verse.... Mr. Mackereth's name deserves to stand very
high among the poets of to-day.

_The Star._--"A Son of Cain"... is a good goad for the withered
imagination.... Why does Mr. Mackereth's poem "The Lion" flash the light
on our sickly glazed eyeballs? Its symbolism makes the soul wince and
tremble and ache.... The virtue in the poem sounds a spiritual tocsin.

_Irish Times._--... A note of his own, a passionate, vibrant note, but
true and strong.

_Glasgow Evening Times._--... A volume of singular