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THE LAST MOMENTS OF LORENZO

DE MEDICI.

FROM SISMONDI'S HISTORY.

UPON

PON his death-bed when Lorenzo lay,

He chose Savonarola to absolve him. Then said Savonarola, “ Dost thou trust In Heaven's forgiveness ?" and Lorenzo said, “ Yea, heartily!” The monk yet further asked, “ Wilt thou yield up all thou hast gained unjustly?" With faltering speech Lorenzo said, "I will." Then said the holy man, “ And wilt thou grant Immunity to Florence-aye or no ?” Whereon Lorenzo motioned him

away, With cold thin hands, and fixed regard; and then Turned to the wall in silence, and expired.

Florence, 1844.

AN HISTORICAL EVENT.

(A. D. 1174.) FROM SISMONDI'S HISTORY.

WI

HEN the might of Barbarossa

Stern Ancona did blockade, There a warrior, faint with hunger,

Drooped, and leaned upon his blade.

A nursing mother that bebeld him,

Plucked her infant from her breast, Rushed to aid the famished hero,

Loosed his helmet, and addressed :

Drink, drink; I blush not thus to greet thee;

These veins run o'er with patriot food;
God be thanked I for my country
May boast this way to shed my

blood :

“Go thou forth refreshed to battle:

I will every hope renew, Presaging of thy foster-brother,

By the deeds thou now shalt do!”

Florence, December, 1843.

SONNET.

THE WALL-FLOWER IN THE COLISEUM.

WHE

HERE Emperors sate, with fourscore thousand

more, Plebeians, knights, and senators, and dames, Intoxicate with gladiatorial games, From morn till eve; where rose the loud uproar Above the undulating canopy, That a refined luxurious lustre shed Upon the victors, and the vanquished Trained with theatric grace to fall and die; By soft regeneration, not decay, And mellowing influence of sun and shower, Nature is clothing arch and corridor With shrubs and grasses; moulding to her sway Thee, Coliseum; and thy wall-flowers tell, Methinks, where once some pitying tear drops fell.

Rome, February, 1844.

SONNET

ON GUIDO'S AURORA.

AY

URORA here saluting the eastern height,

Floats, scattering roses along heaven's high-way, Before the chariot of the Lord of day; About whose wheels in choral

group

unite Sweet morning Hours, “the best of dark and bright;" Light shapes, whose draperies stream upon the wind Their train creates, wind which they leave behind, Speeding amain from the ebon gates of night. On high, a boy attendant wings his flight, And bears a torch instinct with living flame, That points towards the West, with onward aim; Forerunner of the car itself of Light, That the whole sphere of air with glory fills, Above that deep blue sea, those deep blue hills.

Rome, February, 1844.

THE AQUEDUCT.

R

ELIC ! that wouldst still bestride

The campagna drear and wide,
With indomitable pride,
I see thy multitudinous arches
Straggling on by broken marches :
Their continuity is lost;
Yet they are a gallant host:
For in their very wreck is seen
The soul of Roman discipline;
And thus the mind fills up the line,
Aqueduct, that once was thine.

The fountain of the Alban hills, No more thy lofty channel fills. From thy thousand piers of stone The bounding pulse—the life is gone: Thou art a shattered skeleton. But the imperishable fountain Bubbles from its native mountain; And in the joyous eye of day Its unimprisoned waters stray

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