Suddenly blasted.* 'Twas a theme he loved, Its strength the pride of some heroic age, Present or future. He is now at rest; And praise and blame fall on his ear alike, Shot and was lost, in its eccentric course See the tale as told by Boccaccio and Dryden. They wait for the traveller's carriage at the foot of every hill. On slight foundations: and, if in thy life They in thy train—ah, little did they think, Thy years of joy and sorrow. Thou art gone; And he who would assail thee in thy grave, Oh, let him pause! For who among us all, Uplifting, pressing, and to lips like thine, Could say he had not erred as much, and more? FLORENCE. OF all the fairest Cities of the Earth Of purest ray; and what a light broke forth,* Each has the mastery. In this chapel wrought + One of the Few, Nature's Interpreters, The Few, whom Genius gives as Lights to shine, * 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. + A chapel of the Holy Virgin in the church of the Carmelites. It is adorned with the paintings of Masaccio, and all 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; On that ancient seat, The seat of stone that runs along the wall,* 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." See Bocchi in his "Bellezza di Firenze." * Il sasso di Dante. It exists, I believe, no longer, the wall having been taken down; but enough of him remains elsewhere.-Boccaccio delivered his lectures on the Divina Com South of the Church, east of the belfry-tower, At home, abroad; still and as oft inclined To eat, drink, sleep; still clad as others were, And at noon-day, where men were wont to meet, Relinquished to a demon, and by him media in the church of S. Stefano; and whoever happens to enter it, when the light is favourable, may still, methinks, catch a glimpse of him and his hearers. + Inferno, 33. A more dreadful vehicle for satire cannot well be conceived.—Dante, according to Boccaccio, was passing by a door in Verona, at which some women were sitting, when one of them was overheard to say in a low voice to the rest, Do you see that man? He it is, who visits Hell, whenever he pleases; and who returns to give an account of those he finds there. I can believe it, replied another. Don't you observe his brown skin and his frizzled beard? |