He who had steered so long, standing aloft, His eyes on the white breakers, and his hands On what at once served him for oar and rudder, It was to offer at thy fount, Valclusa, Entering the arched Cave, to wander where Petrarch had wandered, in a trance to sit Where in his peasant-dress he loved to sit, Musing, reciting on some rock moss-grown, Or the fantastic root of some old fig-tree, That drinks the living waters as they stream Over their emerald-bed; and could I now Neglect to visit Arqua; where, at last, When he had done and settled with the world, When all the illusions of his Youth were fled, Indulged perhaps too long, cherished too fondly, He came for the conclusion? Half-way up He built his house, whence as by stealth he caug Among the hills, a glimpse of busy life, That soothed, not stirred. But knock, and enter This was his chamber. 'Tis as when he left it; As if he now were busy in his garden. And this his closet. Here he sate and read. This was his chair; and in it, unobserved, He passed away as in a quiet slumber.→ Peace to this region! Peace to those who dwell here! They know his value- every coming step, That gathers round the children from their play, Would tell them if they knew not. But could aught, Ungentle or ungenerous, spring up Where he is sleeping; where, and in an age Of savage warfare and blind bigotry, He cultured all that could refine, exalt; mm Leading to better things? XVI. GINEVRA. If ever you should come to Modena, (Where among other relics you may see Tassoni's bucket but 'tis not the true one) Stop at a Palace near the Reggio-gate, Dwelt in of old by one of the Donati. Its noble gardens, terrace above terrace, Will long detain you- but, before you go, |