CHAP. XIII. In beholding this contrast, one feels a sentiment similar to that which desolates the soul, when we mourn over the tomb of a beauty whom we once admired. We array her in our fancy in all her former loveliness; and we wonder, like Petrarch, that the auburn ringlets, that the lightnings of the angel smile which was wont to form a paradise on earth, that these should now be nothing but a little dull and mouldering dust.
The crisping locks of pure, refulgent gold,
And all the lightning of the angel smile,
Which chang'd to paradise this earth a while,
Are now but dust, insensible, and cold. *
The influence of very hot weather is, as I have remarked, very powerful on a mind predisposed to derangement; and probably it was partly owing to this, that Tasso burst forth into a paroxysm on the seventeen h of June. For several weeks, the violence of the fit seems to have continued; and, as he believed that his life was no longer safe at Ferrara, he resolved to provide for his security by flight. This took Tasso flies from place about the twentieth of July, 1577. As he dreaded pursuit, he selected the most lonely and unfrequented paths; avoided the highways and cities; and as he was destitute of
*Le crespe chiome d'or puro lucente,
E'l lampeggiar del' angelico riso,
Che solean far' in terra un Paradiso,
Poca polvere son, che nulla sente.
Petrarca, Son. 24. II. Parte.