(So says the Bard, and who can read and doubt?) Dwelt in and governed. Sit thee down awhile; Then, by the gates so marvellously wrought, That they might serve to be the gates of Heaven,* Loved as his own; † and in his visits there Slipped and fell in, he flew and rescued him, That broke the marble—a mishap ascribed 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 the toil Of going up and down another's stairs.‡ Nor then forget that Chamber of the Dead,§ * A saying of Michael Angelo. They are the work of Lorenzo Ghiberti. + Mio bel san Giovanni.'-Inferno, 19. + Paradiso, 17. § The Chapel de' Depositi; in which are the tombs of the Medici, by Michael Angelo. Where the gigantic shapes of Night and Day, Yet still are breathing, and shed round at noon A light, a darkness, mingling each with each; What from beneath his helm-like bonnet scowls? 'Tis lost in shade; yet, like the basilisk, His mien is noble, most majestical! Then most so, when the distant choir is heard On that thrice-hallowed day, when all are there; † * He died early; living only to become the father of Catherine de Medicis. Had an Evil Spirit assumed the human shape to propagate mischief, he could not have done better. The statue is larger than the life, but not so large as to shock belief. It is the most real and unreal thing that ever came from the chisel. The day of All Souls: Il dì de' Morti. Visit the Dead. Then wilt thou feel his Power! Or They, the Masters of these mighty Spells, Breathe out his soul, lest in the torturing hour That debt paid, But with a sigh, a tear for human frailty, We may return, and once more give a loose * "Exoriare aliquis nostris ex ossibus ultor!” Perhaps there is nothing in language more affecting than his last testament. It is addressed To God, the Deliverer,' and was found steeped in his blood. FILIPPO STROZZI. The Tribune. AMONG those awful forms, in elder time Where men most meet in FLORENCE, may be seen His who first played the Tyrant. Clad in mail, Aloft he sits upon his horse of brass; * And they, that read the legend underneath, Go and pronounce him happy. Yet, methinks, Half of what passed, died with him; but the rest, All that, by those who listened, could be gleaned Two of his sons, GIOVANNI and GARZIA, In secret to that Chamber—at an hour When all slept sound, save she who bore them both,† * DE THOU. + ELEONORA DI TOLEDO. Of the Children that survived her, one fell by a brother, one by a husband, and a third murdered his wife. But that family was soon to become extinct. It is |