Noble were those Latin laurels, cut on the hill where, in a time long past, the eagles descended bearing prophecies; where, in more recent though still fabulous times, a river of blood has been shed for the beauty of Italy by the legions of the Liberator. The branches were straight, dark, and strong; the leaves were firm, deeply veined, with sharp edges, green as the bronze of fountains, rich with triumphal aroma.
And they journeyed toward the Bavarian hill still sleeping beneath its frost and ice, while their trunks were already budding anew in the light of Rome, to the murmur of invisible waters.
_Settignano di Desiderio: February 13, 1900._
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Flame, by Gabriele D'Annunzio