Canto V
There is a city, upbuilt on the quays of the turbulent Arno,Under Fiesole’s heights,—thither are we to return?There is a city that fringes the curve of the inflowing waters,Under the perilous hill fringes the beautiful bay,—Parthenope, do they call thee?—the Siren, Neapolis, seatedUnder Vesevus’s hill,—are we receding to thee?—Sicily, Greece, will invite, and the Orient;—or are we turn toEngland, which may after all be for its children the best?