.SPIRIT OF THE YEARS
Yea, for a moment\ wouldst.
The Spirit of Rumour enters the apartment in the form of a personage of fashion, newly arrived. He advances and addresses the group.
The Treaty moves all tongues to-night.—Ha, well— So much on paper !
What on land and sea ? You look, old friend, full primed with latest thence.
Yea, this. The Italy our mighty pact
Delivers from the French and Bonaparte
Makes haste to crown him!—Turning from Boulogne
He speeds toward Milan, there to glory him
In second coronation by the Pope,
And set upon his irrepressible brow
Lombardys iron crown.
The Spirit of Rumour mingles with the throng, moves away, and disappears.
Fair Italy, Alas, alas!
Yet thereby English folk Are freed him.—Faith, as ancient people say, It's an ill wind that blows good luck to none!
Who is your friend that drops so ^airily This precious pinch of salt on our raw skin ?