I

When of tender mind and body

   I was moved by minstrelsy,

And that strain “The Bridge of Lodi”

   Brought a strange delight to me.

II

In the battle-breathing jingle

   Of its forward-footing tune

I could see the armies mingle,

   And the columns cleft and hewn

III

On that far-famed spot by Lodi

   Where Napoleon clove his way

To his fame, when like a god he

   Bent the nations to his sway.

IV

Hence the tune came capering to me

   While I traced the Rhone and Po;

Nor could Milan’s Marvel woo me

   From the spot englamoured so.

V

And to-day, sunlit and smiling,

   Here I stand upon the scene,

With its saffron walls, dun tiling,

   And its meads of maiden green,

VI

Even as when the trackway thundered

   With the charge of grenadiers,

And the blood of forty hundred

   Splashed its parapets and piers . . .

VII

Any ancient crone I’d toady

   Like a lass in young-eyed prime,

Could she tell some tale of Lodi

   At that moving mighty time.

VIII

So, I ask the wives of Lodi

   For traditions of that day;

But alas! not anybody

   Seems to know of such a fray.

IX

And they heed but transitory

   Marketings in cheese and meat,

Till I judge that Lodi’s story

   Is extinct in Lodi’s street.

X

Yet while here and there they thrid them

   In their zest to sell and buy,

Let me sit me down amid them

   And behold those thousands die . . .

XI

—Not a creature cares in Lodi

   How Napoleon swept each arch,

Or where up and downward trod he,

   Or for his memorial March!

XII

So that wherefore should I be here,

   Watching Adda lip the lea,

When the whole romance to see here

   Is the dream I bring with me?

XIII

And why sing “The Bridge of Lodi”

   As I sit thereon and swing,

When none shows by smile or nod he

   Guesses why or what I sing? . . .

XIV

Since all Lodi, low and head ones,

   Seem to pass that story by,

It may be the Lodi-bred ones

   Rate it truly, and not I.

XV

Once engrossing Bridge of Lodi,

   Is thy claim to glory gone?

Must I pipe a palinody,

   Or be silent thereupon?

XVI

And if here, from strand to steeple,

   Be no stone to fame the fight,

Must I say the Lodi people

   Are but viewing crime aright?

XVII

Nay; I’ll sing “The Bridge of Lodi”—

   That long-loved, romantic thing,

Though none show by smile or nod he

   Guesses why and what I sing!