An Italian Extravaganza.
Addressed to a beautiful lady.
Se tutti gli alberi del mondo
Fossero penne—
Il cielo fosse carta,
Il mare, inchiostro—
Non basterebbero a descrivere
La minima parte della vostra perfexione!
An Attempt at Translation.
Could we the sky's unbounded range,
To paper all convert—
And had we power, miraculous, to change,
To pens, the trees,
To ink, the seas—
These would not all suffice to paint, in part,
The rich perfections of thy mind and heart—
Thy graces—thy desert!
ELLA.
For the Southern Literary Messenger.
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