Eastward, or Northward, or West? I wander and ask as I wander; 
Weary, yet eager and sure, Where shall I come to my love? 
Whitherward hasten to seek her? Ye daughters of Italy, tell me, 
Graceful and tender and dark, is she consorting with you? 
Thou that out-climbest the torrent, that tendest thy goats to the summit, 
Call to me, child of the Alp, has she been seen on the heights? 
Italy, farewell I bid thee! for whither she leads me, I follow. 
Farewell the vineyard! for I, where I but guess her, must go; 
Weariness welcome, and labour, wherever it be, if at last it 
Bring me in mountain or plain into the sight of my love. 



I. Claude to Eustace,--from Florence.

Gone from Florence; indeed! and that is truly provoking;-- 
Gone to Milan, it seems; then I go also to Milan. 
Five days now departed; but they can travel but slowly;-- 
I quicker far; and I know, as it happens, the home they will go to.-- 
Why, what else should I do? Stay here and look at the pictures, 
Statues and churches? Alack, I am sick of the statues and pictures!-- 
No, to Bologna, Parma, Piacenza, Lodi, and Milan, 
Off go we to-night,--and the Venus go to the Devil! 




II. Claude to Eustace,--from Bellaggio.

Gone to Como, they said; and I have posted to Como. 
There was a letter left; but the cameriere had lost it. 
Could it have been for me? They came, however, to Como, 
And from Como went by the boat,--perhaps to the Splügen,-- 
Or to the Stelvio, say, and the Tyrol; also it might be 
By Porlezza across to Lugano, and so to the Simplon 
Possibly, or the St. Gothard,--or possibly, too, to Baveno, 
Orta, Turin, and elsewhere. Indeed, I am greatly bewildered. 



III. Claude to Eustace,--from Bellaggio.

I have been up the Splügen, and on the Stelvio also: 
Neither of these can I find they have followed; in no one inn, and 
This would be odd, have they written their names. I have been to Porlezza; 
There they have not been seen, and therefore not at Lugano. 
What shall I do? Go on through the Tyrol, Switzerland, Deutschland, 
Seeking, an inverse Saul, a kingdom to find only asses? 
There is a tide, at least, in the love affairs of mortals, 
Which, when taken at flood, leads on to the happiest fortune,-- 
Leads to the marriage-morn and the orange-flowers and the altar, 
And the long lawful line of crowned joys to crowned joys succeeding.-- 
Ah, it has ebbed with me! Ye gods, and when it was flowing, 
Pitiful fool that I was, to stand fiddle-faddling in that way! 



IV. Claude to Eustace,--from Bellaggio.

I have returned and found their names in the book at Como. 
Certain it is I was right, and yet I am also in error. 
Added in feminine hand, I read, By the boat to Bellaggio.-- 
So to Bellaggio again, with the words of he writing to aid me. 
Yet at Bellaggio I find no trace, no sort of remembrance. 
So I am here, and wait, and know every hour will remove them. 



V. Claude to Eustace,--from Bellaggio.

I have but one chance left,--and that is going to Florence. 
But it is cruel to turn. The mountains seem to demand me,-- 
Peak and valley from far to beckon and motion me onward. 
Somewhere amid their folds she passes whom fain I would follow; 
Somewhere amid those heights she haply calls me to seek her. 
Ah, could I hear her call! could I catch the glimpse of her raiment! 
Turn, however, I must, though it seem I turn to desert her; 
For the sense of the thing is simply to hurry to Florence, 
Where the certainty yet may be learnt, I suppose, from the Ropers. 



VI. Mary Trevellyn, from Lucerne, to Miss Roper, at Florence.

Dear Miss Roper,--By this you are safely away, we are hoping, 
Many a league from Rome; ere long we trust we shall see you. 
How have you travelled? I wonder;--was Mr. Claude your companion? 
As for ourselves, we went from Como straight to Lugano; 
So by the Mount St. Gothard; we meant to go by Porlezza, 
Taking the steamer, and stopping, as you had advised, at Bellaggio, 
Two or three days or more; but this was suddenly altered, 
After we left the hotel, on the very way to the steamer. 
So we have seen, I fear, not one of the lakes in perfection. 
Well, he is not come, and now, I suppose, he will not come. 
What will you think, meantime? and yet I must really confess it;-- 
What will you say? I wrote him a note. We left in a hurry, 
Went from Milan to Como, three days before we expected. 
But I thought, if he came all the way to Milan, he really 
Ought not to be disappointed: and so I wrote three lines to 
Say I had heard he was coming, desirous of joining our party;-- 
If so, then I said, we had started for Como, and meant to 
Cross the St. Gothard, and stay, we believed, at Lucerne, for the summer. 
Was it wro