  [Born in Duchy of Parma, Italy—1813-1901.] The life of Verdi reads as well As any fairy tale; To interest a girl or boy I'm sure it could not fail. The stork brought him to Mother Earth In time of dreadful strife. Hid in an ancient church belfry His mother saved his life. And in this church which sheltered him From cruel blood-thirsty men He played as the church organist When he was only ten. The imps of evil troubled him But fairies came along To help him in his sorrows Like the proverbial mother cat Nine lives he seemed to have And for each injury received There always was some salve. Into the water once he fell And down he went times three Then some one rescued this young lad As if by Fate's decree. The poor child yearned for music land And also longed for bread. And for a girdle round his waist He often wore, 'tis said, A bit of rope which he pulled taut When hunger did assail. And yet this lad all poorly clad And weak and wan and pale Forgot his hunger and his wants When Music's tones he heard In rippling of the waters bright, Close to the fence of a rich man Whose daughter played each night Verdi when only six years old Would listen with delight. This hungry lad prayed often there That some day he might own A lovely spinet in whose keys Were fairies' magic tones. One night while it was raining hard O'er the high fence he crawled Of an Italian wealthy man, Signor Barezzi called. He heard the daughter sweetly play A grand Beethoven air And while he lay enraptured there A coachman found his lair And beat the poor starved youngster whom He called a "dirty thief," And drove him from the music's reach But on the next night Verdi went Though filled with quaking fear And crawled again beneath the fence Sweet music there to hear. And here Barezzi found the lad As by the fence he lay And took the boy into his home To hear his daughter play. He took an interest in this child And placed him in a school Where he could learn of music Each necessary rule. But disappointed he became When all the teachers said This boy who plays so queerly Will never rank ahead; As a musician of true worth He cannot hold his own And in Apollo's circle And so discouraged, this poor lad Became a grocer boy Though every night he practised hard— This was his only joy. And then quite foolishly alas The grocer's daughter wed And two small children came to him; For them there was no bread, And his young wife and children too From dreadful hunger died Just when his first great opera Most loudly was decried And he himself hissed off the stage. No wonder that he thought This life for him with sorrow's face Forever would be fraught, And it were better now to cross The Border-Land's dark path Through Suicide's short awful route Than live 'neath dark Fate's wrath. But after two sad dreary years Of darkness and despair His operas succeeded He married a good second wife And wealthy he became; Legion of Honor given him Was added to his fame. In the Italian parliament Verdi received a seat And many other honors great Were cast down at his feet. While his Il Trovatore great When first 'twas sung in Rome Became so very popular 'Twas heard in every home, And e'en to-day in every land This opera is played And glory for its author Will never, never fade. The name Giuseppe Verdi Stands for composer great And one whose heart was ever filled With love instead of hate. But one bad fault this genius had Of flying into fits, And in great anger once he broke And when he taught his pupils He often boxed their ears, So of the music master Their hearts were filled with fears. But he was always good and kind To all the poor and weak, And to help his fellow men He would ever seek. And when his works brought fame and wealth Barezzi's house he bought, Tore down the fence and made the grounds Into a music lot. And there this benefactor Invited one and all To come on every pleasant night And hear Apollo's call. |
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