Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema, Between Hope and Fear, 1876
The stranger had a wound and we knew it not. How painful a sigh, marked you ? he heaved when he drank his third cup, and the roses, shedding their petals, fell from his garlands all upon the ground. He is badly burnt, by the gods, my guess is not amiss – a thief myself I know the tracks of a thief.
L’ospite aveva una piaga nascosta. Hai visto che sospiro doloroso uscì dal suo petto alla terza coppa di vino? Le rose della corona erano tutte a terra. Brucia certo d’amore e, per gli dei, ho ragione di dirlo! Io, ladro, riconosco ai segni il ladro.
