IMITAZIONE. Lungi dal proprio ramo, Povera foglia frale Dove vai tu? Dal faggio Là dov’ io nacqui, mi divise il vento. Esso, tornando, a volo Dal bosco alla campagna, Dalla valle mi porta alla montagna Seco perpetuamente; Vo pellegrino, e tutto l’altro ignoro. Vo dove ogni altra cosa Dove naturalmente Va la foglia di rosa E la foglia d’alloro. Leopardi translated these lines from a collection of fables by A. V. Arnault, Paris, 1826, where they are styled:―― DE LA TIGE DÉTACHÉE. Pauvre feuille desséchée, Ou vas-tu? Je n’en sais rien. L’orage a brisé le chêne Qui seul etait mon soutien. De son inconstante haleine Le zéphir ou l’acquilon Depuis ce jour me promène De la montagne à la plaine, De la forêt au vallon, Je vais où le vent me mène, Hélas! sans trop m’effrayer; Je vais où va toute chose, Où va la feuille de rose, Où va la feuille de laurier. These lines had been previously translated into English, before Rossetti, by Macaulay, as follows:―― Thou poor leaf, so sear and frail, Sport of every wanton gale, Whence and whither dost thou fly Through this bleak autumnal sky? On a noble oak I grew, Green and broad and fair to view; But the monarch of the shade By the tempest low was laid. From that time I wandered o’er Wood and valley, hill and moor; Wheresoe’er the wind is blowing, Nothing caring, nothing knowing. Thither go I whither goes Glory’s laurel, Beauty’s rose. Before leaving Rossetti mention must be made of a singular series of illustrated parodies which appeared in _Punch_, March 3, 10, 17, 24 and 31, 1866. The illustrations, by Du Maurier, seem to have been intended partly to ridicule Burne Jones’s style, and partly that of Rossetti; as to the poem, it is of the ultra weird and sensational ballad form, with a slight dash of the “Lady of Shalott” thrown in, and the inevitable refrain, popularly supposed to be inseparable from Pre-raffaelite art. A LEGEND OF CAMELOT. Tall _Braunighrindas_ left her bed At cock-crow with an aching head, _O Miserie!_ “I yearn to suffer and to do,” She cried, “ere sunset, something new! _O Miserie!_ “To do and suffer, ere I die, I care not what. I know not why. _O Miserie!_ “Some quest I crave to undertake, Or burden bear, or trouble make.” _O Miserie!_ She shook her hair about her form In waves of colour bright and warm. _O Miserie!_ It rolled and writhed and reached the floor; A silver wedding-ring she wore. _O Miserie!_ She left her tower, and wandered down Into the High street of the town. _O Miserie!_ Her pale feet glimmered, in and out, Like tombstones as she went about. _O Miserie!_