Southward he wended, and the landscape took A warmer tone, the sky a richer light. The gardens of the graceful, festooned with hops, With their slight tendrils binding pole to pole, Gave place to orchards and the trellised grape, The hedges were enwreathed with trailing vines, With clustering, shapely bunches, 'midst the growth Of tangled greenery. The elm and ash Less frequent grew than cactus, cypresses, And golden-fruited or large-blossomed trees. The far hills took the hue of the dove's breast, Veiled in gray mist of olive groves. No more He passed dark, moated strongholds of grim knights, But terraces with marble-paven steps, With fountains leaping in the sunny air, And hanging gardens full of sumptuous bloom. Then cloisters guarded by their dead gray walls, Where now and then a golden globe of fruit Or full-flushed flower peered out upon the road, Nodding against the stone, and where he heard Sometimes the voices of the chanting monks, Sometimes the laugh of children at their play, Amidst the quaint, old gardens. But these sights Were in the suburbs of the wealthy towns. For many a day through wildernesses rank, Or marshy, feverous meadow-lands he fared, The fierce sun smiting his close-muffled head; Or 'midst the Alpine gorges faced the storm, That drave adown the gullies melted snow And clattering boulders from the mountain-tops. At times, between the mountains and the sea Fair prospects opened, with the boundless stretch Of restless, tideless water by his side, And their long wash upon the yellow sand. Beneath this generous sky the country-folk Could lead a freer life,--the fat, green fields Offered rich pasturage, athwart the air Rang tinkling cow-bells and the shepherds' pipes. The knight met many a strolling troubadour, Bearing his cithern, flute, or dulcimer; And oft beneath some castle's balcony, At night, he heard their mellow voices rise, Blent with stringed instruments or tambourines, Chanting some lay as natural as a bird's. Then Nature stole with healthy influence Into his thoughts; his love of beauty woke, His Muse inspired dreams as in the past. But after this came crueler remorse, And he would tighten round his loins the rope, And lie for hours beside some wayside cross, And feel himself unworthy to enjoy The splendid gift and privilege of life. Then forth he hurried, spurred by his desire To reach the City of the Seven Hills, And gain his absolution. Some leagues more Would bring him to the vast Campagna land, When by a roadside well he paused to rest. 'T was noon, and reapers in the field hard by Lay neath the trees upon the sun-scorched grass. But from their midst one came towards the well,