"And dost thou fear to greet
The Dead with me. They graced our wedding sweet."
--MOORE, _The Veiled Prophet of Khorassan_.
The following ballad may be classed as Florentine, since it was in
Florence that I heard it sung, but it is not attached to any particular
place. It is one of those compositions which are either sung or simply
recited, and quite as often intoned in a manner which is neither singing
nor speaking. In such chant, when a rhyme happens to fall in by chance,
the utmost is made of it by dwelling on the word or drawling it out.
Sometimes, as in the following, there are verses of four lines each, but
only the concluding line of every verse rhymes, _i.e._, with the
preceding last line of the previous stanza: