A golden clasp, clasping a shred of gold.

All else had perished-save a wedding-ring,

And a small seal, her mother's legacy,

Engraven with a name, the name of both,

"GINEVRA."

There then had she found a grave!

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!

XIX.

Of all the fairest Cities of the Earth

None are so fair as FLORENCE. 'Tis a gem

Of purest ray, a treasure for a casket!

And what a glorious lustre did it shed,

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

MASSACCIO; and he slumbers underneath.

Wouldst thou behold his monument? Look round!

And know that where we stand, stood oft and long,

Oft till the day was gone, RAPHAEL himself,

He and his haughty Rival-patiently,

Humbly, to learn of those who came before,

To steal a spark from their authentick fire,
Theirs, who first broke the gloom, Sons of the Morning.

There, on the seat that runs along the wall,

South of the Church, east of the belfry-tower,
Thou canst not miss it—in the sultry time
Would DANTE sit conversing, and with those
Who little thought that in his hand he held

The balance, and assigned at his good pleasure

To each his place in the invisible world,

To some an upper, some a lower region;

Reserving in his secret mind a niche

For thee, Saltrello, who with quirks of law

Hadst plagued him sore, and carefully requiting

Such as ere-long condemned his mortal part

To fire. Sit down awhile-then by the gates

Wondrously wrought, so beautiful, so glorious,

That they might serve to be the gates of Heaven, Enter the Baptistery. That place he loved; Calling it his! And in his visits there

Well might he take delight! For, when a child, Playing, with venturous feet, near and yet nearer One of the fonts, fell in, he flew and saved him,

Flew with an energy, a violence,

That broke the marble-a mishap ascribed

To evil motives; his, alas, to lead

A life of trouble, and ere-long to leave

All things most dear to him, ere-long to know How salt another's bread is, and how toilsome The going up and down another's stairs.

Nor then forget that Chamber of the Dead,

Where the gigantic forms of Night and Day, Turned into stone, rest everlastingly;

Yet still are breathing, and shed round at noon

A two-fold influence-only to be felt

A light, a darkness, mingling each with each;

Both and yet neither. There, from age to age,