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When once again he changes, once again
Clothing himself in grandeur all his own ;
When, like a ghost, shadowless, colorless,
He melts away into the heaven of heavens ;
Himself alone revealed, all lesser things
As though they were not and had never been !

6) The Castle of Joux, in Franche-Comté.
(6) See the Odyssey, lib. xix. v. 597, and lib. xxiii. v. 19

© The retreat of Amadeus, the first Duke of Savoy. Voltaire thus addresses it from his windows :

“Ripaille, je te vois. O bizarre Amédée,” &c. The seven towers are now no longer a landmark to the voyager.

(8) Ludlow.

(9) Ile has given us a very natural account of his feelings at the conclusion of his long labor there : “It was on the night of the 27th of June, 1787, between the hours of eleven and twelve, that I wrote the last lines of the last page in a summer-house in my garden. After laying down my pen, I took several turns in a berceau or covered walk of acacias, which commands the lake and the mountains. The sky was serene, the moon was shining on the waters, and I will not dissemble my joy. But, when I reflected that I had taken an everlasting leave of an old and agreeable companion,” &c.

There must always be something melancholy in the moment of separation, as all have more or less experienced ; none more, perhaps, than Cowper : “And now,” says he, “I have only to regret that my pleasant work is ended. To the illustrious Greek I owe the smooth and easy flight of many thousand hours. He has been my companion at home and abroad, in the study, in the garden and in the field ; and no measure of success, let my labors succeed as they may, will ever compensate to me the loss of the innocent luxury that I have enjoyed, as a translator of Homer.”

(10) The burial-place of Necker.

() The Lake of the Four Cantons.

(12) In the course of the year they entertain from thirty to thirty-five thousand travel!ers. - Le Père Biselt, Prieur.

(13) Alluding to Barri, a dog of great renown in his day. He is here admirably represented by a pencil that has done honor to many of his kind, but to none who deserved it more. His skin is stuffed and preserved in the Museum of Berne.

(14) The Grande Chartreuse. It was indebted for its foundation to a miracle ; as every guest may learn there from a little book that lies on the table in his cell, the cell allotted to him by the fathers.

“In this year the Canon died, and, as all believed, in the odor of sanctity ; for who in his life had been so holy, in his death so happy? But how false are the judgments of men! For when the hour of his funeral had arrived, when the mourners had entered the church, the bearers set down the bier, and every voice was lifted up in the Miserere, suddenly, and as none knew how, the lights were extinguished, the anthem stopt ! A darke ness succeeded, a silence as of the grave; and these words came in sorrowful accents from the lips of the dead : 'I am summoned before a just God ! . . . A just God judgeth me

. I am condemned by a just God!""

• In the church,” says the legend, “there stood a young man with his hands clasped in prayer, who, from that time, resolved to withdraw into the desert. It was he whom we now invoke as St. Bruno."

(15) Ils ont la même longueur que l'église de Saint-Pierre de Rome, et ils renferment quatre cents cellules.

(16) Vallombrosa, formerly called Acqua Bella. (17) The words of Ariosto.

una badla Ricca -e cortesa a chiunque vi venia.

(18) Ariosto and Milton Milton was there at the fall of the leaf.

(19) Not that I felt the confidence of Erasmus, when, on his way from Paris to Turin, he encountered the dangers of Mont Cenis in 1507 ; when, regardless of torrent and preci. pice, he versified as he went ; composing a poem on horseback,* and writing it down at intervals as he sat in the saddle,t - an example, I imagine, followed by few.

Much, indeed, of Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, as the author assured me, was conceived and executed in like manner on his journey through Greece ; but the work was performed in less unfavorable circumstances; for, if his fits of inspiration were stronger, he travelled on surer ground.

(20) “Many able men have served under me ; but none like him. He loved glory for itself.”

(21) The Schreckhorn.

(22) The Jung-frau.

(23) The author of Lalla Rookh, a poet of such singular felicity as to give a lustre to all he touches, has written a song on this subject, called the Crystal-hunters.

(24) M. Ebel mentions an escape almost as miraculous. “L'an 1790, Christian Boren, propriétaire de l'auberge du Grindelwald, eut le malheur de se jeter dans une fente du glacier, en le traversant avec un troupeau de moutons qu'il ramenoit des pâturages de Bäniseck. Heureusement qu'il tomba dans le voisinage du grand torrent qui coule dans l'intérieur, il en suivit le lit par dessous les voûtes de glace, et arriva au pied du glacier. Cet homme est actuellement encore en vie.” — Manuel du Voyageur.

(25) Lichen geographicus.

(26) Almost every mountain of any rank or condition has such a bridge. The most celebrated in this country is on the Swiss side of St. Gothard.

(27) When may not our minds be said to stream into each other ? for how much by the light of the countenance comes from the child to the mother before he has the gift of speech ; and how much afterwards in like manner comes to console us and to cheer us in our journey through life ; for when even to the last cannot we give, cannot we receive what no words can convey ?

And is not this the universal language, the language of all nations from the begin. ning of time, which comes with the breath of life, nor goes till life itself is departing?

(88) A tradition. Gesler said to him, when it was over, “ You had a second arrow ir

Carmen equestre, vel potius Alpestre." - Erasmus,
+ "Notans in charta super sellam." - Idem.

your belt. What was it for?” -“To kill you," he replied, " if I had killed my son." There is a monument in the market-place of Altorf to consecrate the spot.

(29) The Eagle and Child is a favorite sign in many parts of Europe.

(30) “ J'aime beaucoup ce tournoiement, pourvu que je sois en sdreté.” – J. J. Rous. seau, Les Confessions, l. iv.

(31) “ Ou il y a environ dix ans, que l'Abbé de St. Maurice, Mons. Cocatrix, a été précipité avec sa voiture, ses chevaux, sa cuisinière, et son cocher.” - Descript du Valais.

(32) Originally thus :

I love to sail along the LARIAN Lake
Under the shore — though not, where'er he dwelt,
To visit Pliny, — not, where'er he dwelt,
Whate'er his humor ; for from cliff to cliff,
From glade to glade, adorning as he went,
He moved at pleasure, many a marble porch,

Dorian, Corinthian, rising at his call. (33) “Hujus in littore plures villæ meæ.” – Epist. ix. 7.

(34) Epist. i. 3, ix. 7.

(35) n lago di Garda. His peninsula he calls “the eye of peninsulas ;” and it is beautiful. But, whatever it was, who could pass it by? Napoleon, in the career of victory, turned aside to see it.

of his villa there is now no more remaining than of his old pinnace, which had weathered so many storms, and which he consecrated at last as an ex-voto.

(36) Commonly called Paul Veronese.

(37) The lake of Catullus ; and now called Il lago di Garda. Its waves, in the north, lash the mountains of the Tyrol ; and it was there, at the little village of Limone, that Hofer embarked, when in the hands of the enemy and on his way to Mantua, where, in the court-yard of the citadel, he was shot as a traitor. Less fortunate than Tell, yet not less illustrious, he was watched by many a mournful eye as he came down the lake ; and his name will live long in the heroic songs of his country.

He lies buried at Innspruck, in the church of the Holy Cross ; and the statue on his tomb represents him in his habit as he lived and as he died.

(38) Petrarch, Epist. Rer. Sen. I. v. ep. 3.

(39) Mastino de la Scala, the Lord of Verona. Cortusio, the ambassador and historian, saw him so surrounded.

This house had been always open to the unfortunate. In the days of Can Grande all were welcome ; poets, philosophers, artists, warriors. Each had his apartment, each a Beparate table; and at the hour of dinner musicians and jesters went from room to room. Dante, as we learn from himself, found an asylum there.

Lo primo tuo rifugio, e'l primo ostello
Sara la cortesia del gran Lombardo,

Che'n su la scala porta il santo uccello." Their tombs in the public street carry us back into the times of barbarous virtue ; nor less so do those of the Carrara Princes of Padua, though less singular and striking in

themselves. Francis Carrara, the elder, used often to visit Petrarch in his small house at Arqua, and followed him on foot to his grave.

(40) See the Heraclide of Euripides, v. 203, &c.

(41) Originally thus :

My omelet, and a trout, that, as the sun
Shot his last ray through Zanga's leafy grove,
Leaped at a golden iy, had happily

Fled from all eyes ; Zanga is the name of a beautiful villa near Bergamo, in which Tasso finished his tragedy of Torrismondo. It still belongs to his family.

(42) Hist. de Gil Blas, 1. i. c. 2.
After the concluding line in the MS.

That evening, tended on with verse and song,
I closed my eyes in heaven, but not to sleep ;
A Columbine, my nearest neighbor there,
In her great bounty, at the midnight hour

Bestowing on the world two Harlequins. Chapelle and Bachaumont fared no better at Salon, “a cause d'une comédienne, qui d'avisa d'accoucher de deux petits comédiens." (43) Originally thus :

And shall I sup where JULIET at the masque
First saw and loved, and now, by him who came

That night a stranger, sleeps from age to age ? An old palace of the Cappelletti, with its uncouth balcony and irregular windows, is still standing in a lane near the market-place; and what Englishman can behold it with indifference? When we enter Verona we forget ourselves, and are almost inclined to say, with Dante,

“ Vieni a veder Montecchi, e Cappelletii.” (44) It has been observed that in Italy the memory sees more than the eye. Scarcely a stone is turned up that has not some historical association, ancient or modern ; that may not be said to have gold under it. (45) Fallen as she is, she is still, as in the days of Tassoni,

“La gran donna del Po."

(46) From the sonnet of Filicaja, “Italia ! Italia !” &c.

(47) All our travellers, from Addison downward, have diligently explored the monuments of her former existence ; while those of her latter have, comparatively speaking, escaped observation. If I cannot supply the deficiency, I will not follow their example ; and happy shall I be if by an intermixture of verse and prose I have furnished my countrymen on their travels with a pocket companion.

Though the obscure has its worshippers, as well, indeed, it may, forever changing its aspect, and now and then, if we may believe it, wearing the likeness of the sublime ; 1 have always endeavored, with what success I cannot say, to express my thoughts and my feelings as naturally and as clearly in verse as in prose, sparing no labor, and remember mg the old adage, “ Le Temps n'epargne pas ce qu'on fait sans lui."

It was the boast of Boileau — and how much are we indebted to him! – that he had taught Racine to write with difficulty, - to do as others have done who have left what will live forever.

“ Weigh well every word, nor publish till many years are gone by,” is an injunction which has descended from age to age, the injunction of one* who could publish only in manuscript, and in manuscript hope to survive ; though now (such the energy of his genius, such the excellence of his precept and his practice) in every country, every language, and in numbers almost numberless, our constant companion wherever we go.t

What would he have said now, when many a volume, on its release from the closet, wings it way in an instant over the Old World and the New, flying from city to city during the changes of the moon ; and when the words which are uttered in our senate at midnight are delivered to thousands at sunrise, and before sunset are travelling to the ends of the earth ?

(48) There is a French proverb that must sometimes occur to an observer in the present age : Beaucoup de mal, peu de bruit ; Beaucoup de bruit, peu de mal.

To Lord John Russell are we indebted for that admirable definition of a proverb, “The wisdom of many and the wit of one.”

(49) A mirror in the sixteenth century is said to have revealed a secret that led to less tragical consequences.

John Galeazzo Visconte, Duke of Milan, becoming enamored in his youth of a daughter of the house of Correggio, his gayety, his cheerfulness left him, as all observed, though none knew why ; till some ladies of the court, who had lived with him in great familiarity, and who had sought and sought, but never found, began to rally him on the subject, saying, “ Forgive us our presumption, sir, but, as you are in love, - for in love you must be,

- may we know who she is, that we may render honor to whom honor is due; for it will be our delight no less than our duty to serve her ?"

The duke was in dismay, and endeavored to iy, if it were possible, from so unequal a combat. But in flight there is no security when such an enemy is in the field ; and, being 8000 convinced that the more he resisted the more he would be assailed, he resolved at once to capitulate ; and, commanding for the purpose a splendid entertainment, such as he was accustomed to give, he invited them, one and all ; not forgetting the lovely Correggia, who was as urgent as the rest, though she flattered herself that she knew the secret as well as he did.

When the banquet was over and the table-cloth removed, and every guest, as she sate, served with water for her fair hands and with a tooth-pick from the odoriferous mastic-tree, a cabinet of rich workmanship was placed on the table. “And now," said he, with a gayety usual to lovers, “and now, my dear ladies, as I can deny you nothing, come, one by one, and behold her ; for here she is !” As he spoke, he unfolded the doors of the cabinet ; and each in her turn beheld the portrait of a beautiful girl.

The last to look and to see was Correggia, for so he had contrived it ; but no contrivance was wanted ; for, shrinking and agitated, she had hung back behind them all, till to her ear came the intelligence that the portrait was unknown, and with the intelligence came the conviction that her fond heart had deceived her.

But what were her feelings when she looked and saw ; for at the touch of a spring the portrait had vanished, and in a mirror she saw herself ! - Ricordi di Sabba Castiglione, 1559.

For this story, as indeed for many others, I am indebted to my friend, Sir Charles Lock Eastlake, President of the Royal Academy ; and I am happy in this opportunity of acknowledging my obligations to him.

• Horace.

Nineteen centuries have passed away, and what scholar has not now his pocket Horace ?

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