Within that chest had she concealed herself, Fluttering with joy, the happiest of the happy; When a spring-lock, that lay in ambush there, Fastened her down for ever! BOLOGNA. WAS night; the noise and bustle of the day Were o'er. The mountebank no longer wrought Miraculous cures he and his stage were gone; And he who, when the crisis of his tale Came, and all stood breathless with hope and fear, And soon a Courier, posting as from far, 1 See the Cries of Bologna, as drawn by Annibal Carracci. He w of very humble origin; and, to correct his brother's vanity, once seL: him a portrait of their father, the tailor, threading his needle. ch beyond arch, a shelter or a shade s the sky changes. To the gate they came; Much had passed Since last we parted; and those five short years Much had they told! His clustering locks were turned Grey; nor did ought recall the Youth that swam From Sestos to Abydos. Yet his voice, Still it was sweet; still from his eye the thought Of Venice, had so ably, zealously, Served, and, at parting, thrown his oar away The gondolier's, in a Patrician House Arguing unlimited trust.—Not last nor least, Guarding his chamber-door, and now along The spectre-knight, the hell-hounds and their prey, He is now at rest; Of all things low or little; nothing there 1 The principal gondolier, il fante di poppa, was almost always in the confidence of his master, and employed on occasions that require judgment and address. 2 Adrianum mare."-CIC. 3 See the Prophecy of Dante 4 See the tale as told by Boccaccio and Dryden. 5 They wait for the traveller's carriage at the foot of every hill. Hid or servile. If imagined wrongs sued thee, urging thee sometimes to do gs long regretted, oft, as many know, e more than I, thy gratitude would build =light foundations: and, if in thy life happy, in thy death thou surely wert, wish accomplished; dying in the land ere thy young mind had caught ethereal fire, ug in Greece, and in a cause so glorious! hey in thy train—ah, little did they think, round we went, that they so soon should sit arning beside thee, while a Nation mourned, anging her festal for her funeral song; at they so soon should hear the minute-gun, morning gleamed on what remained of thee, l o'er the sea, the mountains, numbering y years of joy and sorrow. Thou art gone; ad he who would assail thee in thy grave, , let him pause! For who among us all, ied as thou wert—even from thine earliest years, hen wandering, yet unspoilt, a highland-boyied as thou wert, and with thy soul of flame; easure, while yet the down was on thy cheek, plifting, pressing, and to lips like thine, er charmed cup-ah, who among us all ould say he had not erred as much, and more? FLORENCE. 3F all the fairest Cities of the Earth None is so fair as Florence. 'Tis a gem Of purest ray; and what a light broke forth,1 When it emerged from darkness! Search within, Without; all is enchantment! 'Tis the Past Contending with the Present; and in turn Each has the mastery. In this chapel wrought? One of the Few, Nature's Interpreters, The Few, whom Genius gives as Lights to shine, Wouldst thou behold his monument? Look round! 1 Among other instances of her ascendancy at the close of the thirteenth century, it is related that Florence saw twelve of her citizens assembled at the Court of Boniface the Eighth, as Embassadors from different parts of Europe and Asia. Their names are mentioned in Toscana Illustrata. 2 A chapel of the Holy Virgin in the church of the Carmelites. It is adorned with the paintings of Masaccio, and all the great artists of Florence studied there; Lionardo da Vinci, Fra Bartolomeo, Andrea del Sarto, Michael Angelo, Raphael, &c. He had no stone, no inscription, says Vasari, for he was thought little of in his life-time. "Se alcun cercasse il marmo, o il nome mio, La chiesa è il marmo, una cappella è il nome." Nor less melancholy was the fate of Andrea del Sarto, though his merit was not undiscovered. "There is a little man in Florence," said Michael Angelo to Raphael, "who, if he were employed on such great works as you are, would bring the sweat to your brow." Bocchi in his "Bellezza di Firenze." See |