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The Bridge of Lodi

 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!

Poem by Thomas Hardy
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