Imagens das páginas

Feeling of that which is, and fancy of

of poesy, which peoples but the air That which should be, to such a recompense With thought and beings of our thought reflected, Conduct? shall their bright plumage on the rough Can do no more: then let the artist share

Storm be still scattered? Yes, and it must be ; The palm, he shares the peril, and dejected,
For, form'd of far too penetrable stuff,

Faints o'er the labor unapproved-Alas !
These birds of Paradise but long to flee

Despair and Genius are too oft connected.
Back to their native mansion, soon they find Within the ages which before me pass,

Earth's mist with their pure pinions not agree, Art shall resume and equal even the sway,
And die or are degraded, for the mind

Which with Apelles and old Phidias,
Succumbs to long infection, and despair, She held in Hellas' unforgotten day.
And vulture passions flying close behind,

Ye shall be taught by Ruin to revive Await the moment to assail and tear;

The Grecian forms at least from their decay, And when at length the winged wanderers stoop, And Roman souls at last again shall live

Then is the prey-vird's triumph, then they share In Roman works wrought by Italian hands, The spoil, o'erpower'd at length by one fell swoop. And temples, loftier than the old temples, give

Yet some have been untouch'd who learn'd to bear, New wonders to the world; and while still stands Some whom no power could ever force to droop, The austere Pantheon, into heaven shall soar Who could resist themselves even, hardest care! A dome, 12 its image, while the base expands

And task most hopeless; but some such have been, Into a fame surpassing all before,
And if my name among the number were,

Such as all flesh shall flock to kreel in: ne'er That destiny austere, and yet serene,

Such sight hath been unfolded by a door
Were prouder than more dazzling fame unblest ; As this, to which all nations shall repair,

The Alp's snow summit nearer heaven is seen, And lay their sins at this gate of heaven.
Than the volcano's fierce eruptive crest,

And the bold Architect unto whose care
Whose splendor from the black abyss is fung, The daring charge to raise it shall be given,

While the scorch'd mountain, from whose burning Whom all arts shall acknowledge as their lord,
A temporary torturing filame is wrung, [breast Whether into the marble chaos driven
Shines for a night of terror, then repels

His chisel bid the Hebrew, 13 at whose word
Its fire back to the hell from whence it sprung, Israel left Egypt, stop the waves in stone,
The hell which in its entrails ever dwells.

Or hues of Hell be by his pencil pour'd
Over the damn'd before the Judgment throne, 4

Such as I saw them, such as all shall see,

Or fanes be built of grandeur yet unknown,

The stream of his great thoughts shall spring from CANTO IV.

The Ghibelline, who traversed the three realms MANY are poets who have never penn'd

Which form the empire of eternity.
Their inspiration, and perchance the best : Amidst the clash of swords, and clang of helms,
They felt, and loved, and died, but would not lend The age which I anticipate, no less
Their thoughts to meaner beings; they compress'd Shall be the Age of Beauty, and while whelms

The god within them, and rejoin'd the stars Calamity the nations with distress,
Unlaurell'd upon earth, but far more blest The genius of my country shall arise,
Than those who are degarded by the jars

A Cedar towering o'er the Wilderness,
Of passion, and their frailties link'd to fame, Lovely in all its branches to all eyes,
Conquerors of high renown, but full of scars. Fragrant as fair, and recognized afar,
Many are poets, but without the name,

Wafting its native incense through the skies. For what is poesy but to create

Sovereigns shall pause amidst their sport of war, From overfeeling good or ill; and aim

Wean'd for an hour from blood, to turn and gaze At an external life beyond our fate,

On canvas or on stone; and they who mar
And be the new Prometheus of new men, All beauty upon earth, compell’d to praise,
Bestowing fire from heaven, and then, too late, Shall feel the power of that which they destroy,
Finding the pleasure given repaid with pain, And Art's mistaken gratitude shall raise

And vultures to the heart of the bestower, To tyrants, who but take her for a toy,
Who having lavish'd his high gift in vain,

Emblems and monuments, and prostitute
Lies chain'd to his lone rock by the sea-shore? Her charms to pontiffs proud, 18 who but employ

So be it: we can bear.—But thus all they The man of genius as the meanest brute
Whose intellect is an o'ermastering power

To bear a burden, and to serve a need,
Which still recoils from its incumbering clay,

To sell his labors and his soul to boot. Or lightens it to spirit, whatsoe'er

Who toils for nations may be poor indeed, The form which their creations may essay,

But free; who sweats for monarch is no more Are bards; the kindled marble's bust may wear

Than the gilt chamberlain, who, clothed and More poesy upon its speaking brow,

Than auglat less than the Homeric page may bear; Stands sleek and slavish, bowing at his door.
One noble stroke with a whole life may glow Oh, Power that rulest and inspirest! how
Or deify the canvass till it shine

Is it that they on earth, whose earthly power With beauty so surpassing all below,

Is likest thine in heaven in outward show, That they who kneel to idols so divine

Least like to thee in attributes divine, Break no commandment, for high heaven is there Tread on the universal necks that bow, Transfused, transfigurated: and the line And then assure us that their right are thine ?

me, 15

And how is it that they, the sons of fame, Florence! when this lone spirit, which so long Whose inspiration seems to them to shine

Yearn'd, as the captive toiling at escape, From high, they whom the nations oftest name, To fly back to thee in despite of wrong, Must pass their days in penury or pain,

An exile, saddest of all prisoners, Or step to grandeur through the paths of shame, Who has the whole world for a dangeon strong, And wear a deeper brand and gaudier chain? Seas, mountains, and the horizon's verge for bars, Or if their destiny be born aloof

Which shut him from the sole small spot of earth From lowliness, or tempted thence in vain,

Where-whatsoe'er his fate

he still were hers, In their own souls sustain a harder proof, His country's, and might die where he had birth

The inner war of passions deep and fierce ? Florence! when this lone spirit shall return

Florence! when thy harsh sentence razed my roof, To kindred spirits, thou wilt feel my worth, I loved thee; but the vengeance of my verse, And seek to honor with an empty urn The hate of injuries which every year

The ashes thou shalt ne'er obtain--Alas!
Makes greater, and accumulates my curse, “What have I done to thee, my people ?”17 St In
Shall live, outliving all thou holdest dear, Are all thy dealings, but in this they pass

Thy pride, thy wealth, thy freedom, and even that, The limits of man's common malice, for
The most infernal of all evils here,

All that a citizen could be I was;
The sway of petty tyrants in a state ;

Raised by thy will, all thine in peace or war, For such sway is not limited to kings,

And for this thou hast warr’d with me.—'Tis done: And demagogues yield to them but in date, I may not overleap the eternal bar As swept off sooner; in all deadly things (other, Built up between us, and will die alone,

Which make men hate themselves, and one an- Beholding with the dark eye of a seer

In discord, cowardice, cruelty, all that springs The evil days to gifted souls foreshown, From Death the Sin-born's incest with his mother, Foretelling them to those who will not hear. In rank oppression in its rudest shape,

As in the old time, till the hour be come (a tear, The faction Chief is but the Sultan's brother, When truth shall strike their eyes through many And the worst despot's far less human ape: And make them own the Prophet in his tomb.



4. Midst whom my oron sweet Beatrice bless'd.

The dust she dooms to scatter.
Page 511, line 39.

Page 611, line 103. The reader is requested to adopt the Italian pro- “Ut si quis predictorum ullo tempore in fortiam nunciation of Beatrice, sounding all the syllables. dicti : communis pervenerit, tallis perveniens igne

comburatur, sic quod moriatur." 2.

Second sentence of Florence against Dante,

and the fourteen accused with him.-The Latin My paradise had still been incomplete.

Page 511, line 55.

is worthy of the sentence. “ Che sol per le belle opre

5. Che fanno in Cielo il sole e l'altre stelle

Where yet my boys are, and that fatal she.
Dentro di lui' si crede il Paradiso,

Page 512, line 69.
Cosi se guardi fiso
Pensar ben dèi ch' ogni terren' piacere.

This lady, whose name was Gemma, sprung from Canzone, in which Dante describes the person of Donati. Corso Donati was the principal adversary

one of the most powerful Guelf families, named Beatrice, Strophe third.

of the Ghibellines. She is described as being “Ad. 3.

modum morosa, ut de Xantippe Socratis philosophi I would have had my Florence great and free.

conjuge scriptum esse legimus,” according to Gian

nozzo Manetti. But Lionardo Aretino is scanPage 511, line 87.

dalized with Boccace, in his life of Dante, for “L'Esilio che m'è dato onor mi tegno. saying that literary men should not marry.

«Qui il Boccaccio non ha pazienza, e dice, le mogli esser Cader tra' buoni è pur di lode degno." contrarie agli studj; e non si ricorda che Socrate

Sonnet of Dante, il più nobile filosofo che mai fosse, ebbe moglie e In which he represents Right, Generosity, and figliuoli e uffici della Repubblica nella sua Città ; ? Temperance as banished from among men, and Aristotele che, &c., &c., ebbe due mogli in varj seeking refuge from Love, who inhabits his bosom. I tempi, ed ebbe figliuoli, e ricchezze assai.-E Marco

Tulio Catonese Varroneme Seneca-ebbero

13. moglie," &c., &c. It is odd that honest Lionardo's

His chisel bid the Hebrew. examples, with the exception of Seneca, and for

Page 616, line 91. any thing I know of Aristotle, are not the most felicitous. Tully's Terentia, and Socrates' Xan

The statue of Moses on the monument of tippe, by no means contributed to their husbands, Julius II. happiness, whatever they might do to their philos

SONETTO ophy-Cato gave away his wife-of Varro's we know nothing-and of Seneca's, only that she was dis

Di Giovanni Battista Zappi. posed to die with him, but recovered, and lived several years afterwards. But says Lionardo,

Chi è costui, che in dura pietra scolto, "L'uomo è animald civile, secondo piace a tutti i

Siede gigante; e le più illustre, e conte filosofi." And thence concludes that the greatest

Prove dell' arte avvanza, e ha vive, e pronte proof of the animals civism is "la prima congiun

Le labbia si, che le parole ascolto ? zione, dalla quale multiplicata nasce la Città.”

Quest' è Mosé; ben me 'l diceva il folto

Onor del mento; e 'l doppio raggio in fronte, 6.

Quest' è Mosè, quando scendea del monte, Nine moons shall rise o'er scenes like this and set.

E gran parte del Nume avea nel volto.

Tal era allor, che le sonanti, e vaste
Page 513, line 40.

Acque ei sospese a se d'intorno, e tale
See “Sacco di Roma," generally attributed to Quando il mar chiuse, e ne fè tomba altrui
Guicciardini. There is another written by a Jacopo E voi sue turbe un rio vitello alzate ?
Buonaparte, Gentiluomo Samminiatese che vi si Alzata aveste imago a questa eguale!
trovo presente.

Ch'era men fallo l' adorar costui 7. Conquerors on foreign shores, and the far wave.

14. Page 514, line 15.

Over the damn'd before the Judgment throne. Alexander of Parma, Spinola, Pescara, Eugene

Page 515, line 94. of Savoy, Montecucco.

The Last Judgment, in the Sistine chapel. 8. Discoverers of new worlds, which take their name.

15. Pago 514, line 16. Columbus, Americus Vespusius, Sebastian Cabot.

The stream of his great thoughts shall spring from me

Page 515, line 97. 8.

I have read somewhere (if I do not err, for I can. He who once enters in a tyrant's hall, &c.

not recollect where) that Dante was so great a

favorite of Michael Angelo's, that he had designed Page 514, line 49.

the whole of the Divina Commedia ; but that the A verse from the Greek tragedians, with which volume containing these studies was lost by sea. Pompey took leave of Cornelia on entering the boat in which he was slain.

16. 10.

Her charms to pontiff's proud, who but employ, &c. And the first day which sees the chain enthral, &c.

Page 515, line 117. Page 614, line 62. See the treatment of Michael Angelo by Julius The verse and sentiment are taken from Homer. II., and his neglect by Leo X. 11.

17. And he, their prince, shall rank among my peers.

What have I done to thee, my people?" Page 514, line 69.

Page 516, line 41. Petrarch.

“E scrisse più volte non solamente a particoları 12.

cittydini del reggimento, ma ancora al popolo, e A dome, its image.

intra l'altre una Epistola assai lunga che comincia :

Page 515, line 81. — Popule mi, quid feci tibi ?'" The cupola of St. Peters

Vita di Dante, scritta da Lionardo Aretino.

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It told the triumphs of our King,

It wafted glory to our God; Tas subsequent poems were written at the request It made our gladden'd valleys ring, of my friend, the Hon. D. Kinnaird, for a selection of The cedars bow, the mountains nod; Hebrew Melodies, and have been published, with the Its sound aspired to Heaven and there abode! music, arranged by Mr. Braham and Mr. Nathan. Since then, though heard on earth no more,

Devotion, and her daughter, Love,
Still bid the bursting spirit soar

To sounds that seem as from above,

In dreams that day's broad light can not remova
She walks iň beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies ;
And all that's best of dark and


-Meet in her aspect and her eyes :
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

IF that high world, which lies beyond

qur own, surviving Love endears;

If there the cherish'd heart be fond,
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace

The eye the same, except in tears
Which waves in every raven tress,

How welcome those untrodden spheres !
Or softly lightens o'er her face ;

How sweet this very hour to die!
Where thoughts serenely sweet express

To soar from earth and find all fears
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

Lost in thy light-Eternity!
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,

It must be so: 'tis not for self
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

That we so tremble on the brink;
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

And striving to o'erleap the gulf,
But tell of days in goodness spent,

Yet cling to Being's severing link.
A mind at peace with all below,

Oh! in that future let us think
A heart whose love is innocent:

To hold each heart the heart that shares,
With them the immortal waters drink,

And soul in soul grow deathless theirs !




The harp the monarch minstrel swept,

The King of men, the loved of Heaven, Which music hallow'd while she wept

O'er tones her heart of hearts had given,

Redoubled be her tears, its chords are riven! It soften'd men of iron mould,

It gave them virtues not their own;
No ear so dull, no soul so cold,

That felt not, fired not to the tone,
Till David's lyre grew mightier than his throne!!

The wild gazelle on Judah's hills

Exulting yet may bound,
And drink from all the living rills

That gush on holy ground;
Its airy step and glorious eye
May glance in tameless transport by:-

A step as fleet, an eye more bright,

Hath Judah witness'd there;

And o'er her scenes of lost delight

And the voice of my mourning is o'er,
Inhabitants more fair.

And the mountains behold me no more:
The cedars wave on Lebanon,

If the hand that I love lay me low,
But Judah's statelier maids are gone. There cannot be pain in the blow!
More blest each palm that shades those plains And of this, oh, my Father! be sure
Than Israel's scatter'd race;

That the blood of thy child is as pure
For, taking root, it there remains

As the blessing I beg ere it flow,
In solitary grace:

And the last thought that soothes me below
It cannot quit its place of birth,
It will not live in other earth.

Though the virgins of Salem lament,

Be the judge and the hero unbent!
But we must wander witheringly,

I have won the great battle for thee,
In other lands to die ;

And my Father and Country are free!
And where our fathers' ashes be,
Our own may never lie:

When this blood of thy giving hath gush'd, Our temple hath not left a stone,

When the voice that thou lovest is hush'd,
And Mockery sits on Salem's throne.

Let my memory still be thy pride,
And forget not I smiled as I died !

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