The Ancient Tuscan Poetry

A child in gardens, fields, and city squares
I grew 'mid war's alarms and love's alluring;
But manhood's school of mysteries and cares
Enticed me to the temple's dark immuring.

Where now the lofty dames, with glance securing
What free-born knight or brave civilian dares?
Bright April days the roses bloom assuring?
The oak that through the castle rampart stares?

Poor and alone, again to that dear dwelling
I come where pious love did once deny
That I should heed the Enchantress' sweet impelling.
Open! O Child: though be the times awry,
Thy vision, Beatrice, wakes my heart's rebelling,—
Open! The Tuscan poesy am I!