English elements out of them. _Paracelsus_ and _Sordello_ belong to
Germany and Italy, and there are scarcely three poems in the whole of
the seven numbers of the _Bells and Pomegranates_ which even refer to
England. Italy is there, and chiefly Italy. In _De Gustibus_ he
contrasts himself with his friend who loves England:

Your ghost will walk, you lover of trees,
(If our loves remain)
In an English lane
By a cornfield-side a-flutter with poppies.

* * *

What I love best in all the world
Is a castle, precipice-encurled,
In a gash of the wind-grieved Apennine.

"Look for me, old fellow of mine, if I get out of the grave, in a
seaside house in South Italy," and he describes the place and folk he
loves, and ends:

Open my heart and you will see
Graved inside of it, "Italy."
Such lovers old are I and she:
So it always was, so shall ever be!

It is a poem written out of his very heart.

And then, the scenery? It is not of our country at all. It is of many
lands, but, above all, it is vividly Italian. There is no more minute