whose despair has echoed through so many centuries, and whose history still often makes the theme of their song to the mariners and the marsh labourers of the Orbetellano, of Massa Marittima, and of the Patrimony of S. Peter, as the lower part of the province is still called.
But when she sang of love and all its sorrows, she knew nothing of the meaning of the words; and she liked better songs of war and death. When she sang
Tortorella c'ha perso la compagna
Di giorno e notte va melanconesca,
she did not understand why any one should grieve to be alone; when she sang
Come volete faccia che non pianga
Sapendo che da voi devo partire?
E tu, bello, in Maremma, ed io'n montagna,
Questa partenza mi farà morire,
it seemed to her but poor and feeble nonsense. And yet her voice gave intensest passion and longing to the words; and when she sang
Andai a bere alla fonte d'Amore,
Joconda shook her head and thought with wistful pain,—
