Vol. XXVII, No. 6 



WASHINGTON 



June, I9I5 



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Or 



MATHONAL 

 ©(SI^AFMa 

 MBAZI 



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FRONTIER CITIES OF ITALY 



By Florence Craig Albrecht 



Author of "Austro-Itauan Frontikrs," "Munstsr — The Town of Many 



Gables," and "The City of Jacqueline," in the National 



Geographic Magazine 



Illustrations from photographs by Ernil Poole Albrecht 



Italia, Italia, O tu cui feo la sorte 



Dono infelice di bellezza, onde liai 



Funesta dote d'infiniti gtiai, 



Che in fronte scritti per gran doglia porte; 



O fossi tu men bella, o almen piu forte, 

 Onde assai piu ti paventasse, o assai 

 Ti amasse men chi del tuo bello ai rai 

 Par che si strugga e pur ti sfida a morte ! 



Che or giu dalle Alpi non vedrei torrenti 

 Scender d'armati, ne di sangue tinta 

 Bever I'onda del Po gallici armenti. 



Ne te vedrei del non tuo ferro cinta 

 Pugnar col braccio di straniere genti, 

 Per servir sempre, o vincitrice, o vinta. 



Vincenso Filicaia, i642-i'/0'j. 



TO THE great plain of northern 

 Italy, the basin of the River Po, 

 which stretches from the Alps to 

 the Apennines, from Saluzzo to the Adri- 

 atic, Genoa la Superba does not belong. 

 The little strip of coast land between the 

 Maritime Alps, the Apennines, and the 

 sea. stretching from Nice to Spezia, the 

 Liguria of ancient days, the Riviera of 

 our own, is ridged by spurs and branches 

 of the great mountain chains to the 



Italia, Italia, O thou to whom fate gave 

 The unhappy gift of beauty, so that thou 

 A funest dowrj^ of infinite woes must bear 

 All on thy forehead written by great grief; 



O wert thou but less lovely or more strong. 

 So that thou mightest be more feared or less 



beloved 

 By those who in the beauty of thy radiance 



fain would bask 

 And then all suddenly challenge thee to death ! 



That from the Alps descending no more 



shouldst thou see 

 Torrents of warriors ; nor should vast Gallic 



hordes 

 Drink more the blood-tinted waters of the Po. 



Nor shouldst be seen again thee, in foreign 

 armor girded. 



Battling with aid of hireling stranger peoples. 



Only to serve them ever, conquering or con- 

 quered. 



A literal translation. 



For metrical one see Byron's Childe Harold. 



northward ; its level places are but floors 

 of steep, narrow valleys or meadows at 

 river mouths. But Genoa is such a charm- 

 ing gateway into northern Italy that one 

 may not ignore it nor press too hastily 

 up into that fair land beyond. 



Rivals in loveliness she has — Naples 

 close at home, Constantinople, Hong- 

 kong — but superbly indifferent she sits 

 upon terrace above terrace, encircling 

 her close port, looking far out over the 



