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& conjecture that superior beings are blest with a Beneath his plantain's ancient shade, renew nobler exercise of this faculty.

The simple transports that with freedom flew;

Catch the cool breeze that musky evening blows, SWEET MEMORY, wafted by thy gentle gale,

And quaff the palm's rich nectar as it glows; Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail,

The oral tale of elder time rehearse, To view the fairy-haunts of long-lost hours,

And chant the rude, traditionary verse Blest with far greener shades, far fresher flowers.

With those, the loved companions of his youth,

When life was luxury, and friendship truth.
Ages and climes remote to Thee impart
What charms in Genius, and refines in Art;

Ah! why should Virtue fear the frowns of Fate?

Hers what no wealth can buy, no power create! Thee, in whose hand the keys of Science dwell,

A little world of clear and cloudless day,
The pensive portress of her holy cell;
Whose constant vigils chase the chilling damp

Nor wreck'd by storms, nor moulder'd by decay; Oblivion steals upon her vestal-lamp.

A world, with Memory's ceaseless sunshine blest,

The home of Happiness, an honest breast. The friends of Reason, and the guides of Youth, Whose language breathed the eloquence of Truth; When Sleep has lock’d the senses in her chain.

But most we mark the wonders of her reign, Whose life, beyond preceptive wisdom, taught

When sober Judgment has his throne resign'd The great in conduct, and the pure in thought; These still exist, (22) by Thee to Fame consign'd,

She smiles away the chaos of the mind;

And, as warm Fancy's bright Elysium glows, Still speak and act, the models of mankind.

From Her each image springs, each color flows. From Thee sweet Hope her airy coloring draws; She is the sacred guest! the immortal friend! And Fancy's flights are subject to thy laws.

Oft seen o'er sleeping Innocence to bend, From Thee that bosom-spring of rapture flows, In that dead hour of night to Silence given, Which only Virtue, tranquil Virtue, knows.

Whispering seraphic visions of her heaven. When Joy's bright sun has shed his evening-ray, When the blithe son of Savoy, journeying round And Hope's delusive meteors cease to play; With humble wares and pipe of merry sound, When clouds on clouds the smiling prospect close,

From his green vale and shelter'd cabin hies, Still through the gloom thy star serenely glows: And scales the Alps to visit foreign skies ; Like yon fair orb, she gilds the brow of night

Though far below the forked lightnings play,
With the mild magic of reflected light.

And at his feet the thunder dies away,
The beauteous maid, who bids the world adieu, Oft, in the saddle rudely rock'd to sleep,
Oft of that world will snatch a fond review; While his mule browses on the dizzy sleep,
On at the shrine neglect her beads, to trace

With Memory's aid, he sits at home, and sees
Some social scene, some dear, familiar face: His children sport beneath their native trees,
And ere, with iron tongue, the vesper-bell

And bends to hear their cherub-voices call,
Bursts through the cypress-walk, the convent-cell, O'er the loud fury of the torrent's fall.
Oft will her warm and wayward heart revive,

But can her smile with gloomy Madness dwell? To love and joy still tremblingly alive ;

Say, can she chase the horrors of his cell? The whisper'd vow, the chaste caress prolong,

Each fiery flight on Frenzy's wing restrain, Weave the light dance and swell the choral song; And mould the coinage of the sever'd brain? With rapt ear drink the enchanting serenade,

Pass but that grate, which scarce a gleam supplies, A'd, as it melts along the moonlight-glade,

There in the dust the wreck of Genius lies! To each soft note return as soft a sigh,

He, whose arresting hand divinely wrought And bless the youth that bids her slumbers fly.

Each bold conception in the sphere of thought; But not till Time has calm'd the ruffled breast,

And round, in colors of the rainbow, threw Are these fond dreams of happiness confest.

Forms ever fair, creations ever new! Not till the rushing winds forget to rave,

But, as he fondly snatch'd the wreath of Fame, Is Heaven's sweet smile reflected on the wave.

The spectre Poverty unnerved his frame. From Guinea's coast pursue the lessening sail, Cold was her grasp, a withering scowl she wore . And catch the sounds that sadden every gale. And Hope's soft energies were felt no more. Tell, if thou canst, the sum of sorrows there; Yet still how sweet the soothings of his art! (23) Mark the fix'd gaze, the wild and frenzied glare, From the rude wall what bright ideas start! The racks of thonght, and freezings of despair! Even now he claims the amaranthine wreath, But pause not then-beyond the western wave, With scenes ihat glow, with images that breathe! Go, view the captive barter'd as a slave!

And whence these scenes, these images, declare : Crush'd till his high, heroic spirit bleeds,

Whence but from Her who triumphs o'er despair ? And from his nerveless frame indignantly recedes. Awake, arise! with grateful fervor fraught,

Yet here, even here, with pleasures long resign'd, Go, spring the mine of elevating thought. Lo! MEMORY bursts the twilight of the mind. He, who, through Nature's various walk, surveys Her dear delusions soothe his sinking soul, The good and fair her faultless line portrays; When the rude scourge assumes its base control; Whose mind, profaned by no unhallow'd guest, And o'er Futurity's blank page diffuse

Culls from the crowd the purest and the best; The full reflection of her vivid hues.

May range, at will, bright Fancy's golden clima; 'Tis but to die, and then, to weep no more,

Or, musing, mount where Science sits sublime Then will he wake on Congo's distant shore; Or wake the Spirit of departed Timor

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Who acts thus wisely, niark the moral Muse, And, with a brother's warmth, a brother's smile,
A blooming Eden in his life reviews !

The stranger greets each native of his isle ;
So rich the culture, though so small the space, So scenes of life, when present and contest,
Its scanty limits he forgets to trace.

Stamp but their bolder features on the breast;
But the fond fool, when evening shades the sky, Yet not an image, when remotely view'd,
Turns but to start, and gazes but to sigh! (24) However trivial, and however rude,
The weary waste, that lengthen'd as he ran, But wins the heart, and wakes the social sigh,
Fades to a blank, and dwindles to a span!

With every claim of close affinity!
Ah! who can tell the triumphs of the mind, But these pure joys the world can never know;
By truth illumined, and by taste refined ?

In geniler climes their silver currents flow.
When age has quench'd the eye, and closed the ear, oft at the silent, shadowy close of day,
Still nerved for action in her native sphere, When the hush'd grove has sung his parting lay;
Oft will she rise-with searching glance pursue When pensive Twilight, in her dusky car,
Some long-loved image vanish'd from her view; Comes slowly on to meet the evening-star;
Dart through the deep recesses of the past,

Above, below, ač rial murmurs swell,
O'er dusky forms in chains of slumber cast; From hanging wood, brown heath, and bushy dell!
With giant-grasp fling back the folds of night, A thousand nameless mus, that shun the light,
And snatch the faithless fugitive to light.

Stealing soft music on the ear of night.
So through the grove the impatient mother flies, So oft the finer movements of the soul,
Each sunless glade, each secret pathway tries; That shun the sphere of Pleasure's gay control,
Till the thin leaves the truant boy disclose,

In the still shades of calm Seclusion rise,
Long on the wood-moss stretch'd in sweet repose. And breathe their sweet, seraptac harmonies!
Nor yet to pleasing objects are confined

Once, and domestic annals tell the time, The silent feasts of the reflecting mind;

(Preserved in Cumbria's rude, romantic clime) Danger and death a dread delight inspire,

When Nature smiled, and o'er the landscape threw And the bald veteran glows with wonted fire,

Her richest fragrance, and her brightest hue, When, richly bronzed by many a summer-sun,

A blithe and blooming Forester explored
He counts his scars, and tells what deeds were done. Those loftier scenes Salvator's soul adored ;

Go, with old Thames, view Chelsea's glorious pile; The rocky pass half-hung with shaggy wood,
And ask the shatter'd hero, whence his smile ?

And the cleft oak Mung boldly o'er the flood;
Go, view the splendid domes of Greenwich-go,

Nor shunn'd the track, unknown to human tread, And own what raptures from Reflection flow.

That downward to the night of caverns led;
Hail, noblest structures imaged in the wave!

Some ancient cataract's deserted bed.
A nation's grateful tribute to the brave!
Hail, blest retreats from war and shipwreck, hail!

High on exulting wing the heath-cock rose (27)

And blew his shrill blast o'er perennial snows;
That oft arrest the wondering stranger's sail.
Jong have ye heard the narratives of age,

Ere the rapt youth, recoiling from the roar,
The battle's havoc, and the tempest's rage;

Gazed on the tumbling tide of dread Lodoar; Jong have ye known Reflection's genial ray

And through the rifted cliffs, that scaled the sky, (vild the calm close of Valor's various day.

Derwent's clear mirror (28) charm'd his dazzled eye. Time's soinbrous touches soon correct the piece,

Each osier isle, inverted on the wave, Mellow each tint, and bid each discord cease :

Through morn's grey mist its melting colors gave; A softer tone of light pervades the whole,

And o'er the cygnet's haunt, the mantling grove And steals a pensive languor o'er the soul.

Its emerald arch with wild luxuriance wove. Hast thou through Eden's wild-wood vales pur

Light as the brecze that brush'd the orient dew, sued (25)

From rock to rock the young Adventurer flew; Each mountain scene, majestically rude ;

And day's last sunshine slept along the shore, To note the sweet simplicity of life,

When lo, a path the smile of welcome wore. Far from the din of Folly's idle strife;

Imbowering shrubs with verdure veild the sky, Nor there awhile, with lifted eye, revered

And on the musk-rose shed a deeper dye; That modest stone which pious Pembroke rear'd; Save when a bright and momentary gleam Which still records, beyond the pencil's power,

Glanced from the white foam of some shelter'd stream The silent sorrows of a parting hour;

O’er the still lake the bell of evening toll'd,
Still to the musing pilgrim points the place, And on the moor the shepherd penn’d his fold;
Her sainted spirit most delights to trace?

And on the green hill's side the meteor play'd,
Thus, with the manly glow of honest pride, When, hark! a voice sung sweetly through the shade
O'er his dead son the gallant Ormond sighd. (26) It ceased—yet still in Florio's fancy sung,
Thus, through the gloom of Shenstone's fairy-grove, Sull on each note his captive spirit hung;
Maria's urn still breathes the voice of love. Till o'er the mead a cool, sequester'd grot

As the stern grandeur of a Gothic tower From its rich roof a sparry lustre shol.
Awes is less deeply in its morning-hour,

A crystal water cross'd the pebbled floor,
Than when the shades of Time serenely fall And on the front these simple lines it bore :
On every broken arch and ivied wall;
The tender unages we love to trace,

Hence away, nor dare intrude!
Steal fmm each year a melancholy grace!

Ir this secret, shadowy cell And as the sparks of social love expand,

Musing Memory loves to dwell, As the heart opens in a foreign land ;

With her sister Solitude.

Far from the busy world she flies,

Their shifting sail dropt gently from the cove,
To taste that peace the world denies. Down by St. Herbert's consecrated grove ; (29)
Entranced she sits; from youth to age, Whence erst the chanted hymn, the taper'd rite
Reviewing Life's eventful page;

Amused the fisher's solitary night:
And noting, ere they fade away,

And still the mitred window, richly wreathed,
The little lines of yesterday.

A sacred calm through the brown foliage breathed.

The wild deer, starting through the silent glado, Florio had gain'd a rude and rocky seat,

With fearful gaze their various course survey'd. When lo, the Genius of this still retreat!

High hung in air the hoary goat reclined, Fair was her form—but who can hope to trace His streaming beard the sport of every wind; The pensive sostness of her angel-lace?

And, while the coot her jet-wing loved to lave, Can Virgil's verse, can Raphael's touch, impart Rock'd on the bosom of the sleepless wave; Those finer features of the feeling heart,

The eagle rush'd from Skiddaw's purple crest, Those tend'rer tints that shun the careless eye, A cloud still brooding o'er her giant-nest. And in the world's contagious climate die ?

And now the moon had dimm'd with dewy ray She left the cave, nor mark'd the stranger there; The few fine flushes of departing day. Her pastoral beauty, and her artless air

O'er the wide water's deep serene she hung, Had breathed a soft enchantment o'er his soul ! And her broad lights on every mountain flung ; In every nerve he felt her blest control !

When lo! a sudden blast the vessel blew,(30) What pure and white-wing'd agents of the sky, And to the surge consign'd the little crew. Who rule the springs of sacred sympathy,

All, all escaped—but ere the lover bore Inform congenial spirits when they meet?

His faint and faded Julia to the shore, Sweet is their office, as their natures sweet! Her sense had fied !Exhausted by the storm,

Florio, with fearful joy, pursued the maid, A fatal trance hung o'er her pallid form ; Till through a vista's moonlight-chequer'd shade, Her closing eye a trembling lustre fired; Where the bat circled, and the rooks reposed, "T was life's last spark-it flutter'd and expired! (Their wars suspended, and their councils closed) The father strew'd his white hairs in the wind, An antique mansion burst in awful stale,

Callid on his child-nor linger'd long behind: A rich vine clustering round the Gothic gate. And Florio lived to see the willow wave, Nor paused he there. The master of the scene With many an evening-whisper, o'er their grave. Saw his light step imprint the dewy green; Yes, Florio lived-and, still of each possessid, And, slow advancing, hail'd him as his guest, The father cherish’d, and the maid caress'd! Won by the honest warmth his looks express'd. For ever would the fond enthusiast rove, He wore the rustic manners of a 'Squire;

With Julia's spirit, through the shadowy grove ; Age had not quench'd one spark of manly fire; Gaze with delight on every scene she plann'd, But giant Gout had bound him in her chain, Kiss every flow'ret planted by her hand. And his heart panted for the chase in vain. Ah! still he traced her steps along the glade,

Yet here Remembrance, sweetly-soothing Power! When hazy hues and glimmering lights betray'd Wing'd with delight Confinement's lingering hour. Half-viewless forms; still listen'd as the breeze The fox's brish still emulous to wear,

Heaved its deep sobs among the aged trees; He scour'd the county in his elbow-chair;

And at each pause her melting accents caught, And, with view-halloo, roused the dreaming hound, In sweet delirium of romantic thought! That rung, by starts, his deep-toned music round. Dear was the grot that shunn'd the blaze of day ;

Long by the paddock's humble pale confined, She gave its spars to shoot a trembling ray. His aged hunters coursed the viewless wind : The spring, that bubbled from its inmost cell, And each, with glowing energy portray'd,

Murmur'd of Julia's virtues as it fell; The far-famed triumphs of the field display'd; And o'er the dripping moss, the fretted stone, L'surp'd the canvas of the crowded hall,

In Florio's ear breathed language not its own, And chased a line of heroes from the wall.

Her charm around the enchantress MEMORY threw There slept the horn each jocund echo knew, A charm that soothes the mind, and sweetens too! And many a sniile and many a story drew!

But is Her magic only felt below? High o'er the hearth his forest-trophies hung, Say, through what brighter realms she bids it flow. And their fantastic branches wildly flung.

To what pure beings, in a nobler sphere,(31) How would he dwell on the vast antlers there! She yields delight but faintly imaged here : These dash'd the wave, those fann'd the mountain-air, All that till now their rapt researches knew; All, as they frown'd, unwritten records bore Not call'd in slow succession to review, Of gallant feats and festivals of yore.

But, as a landscape meets the eye of day, But why the tale prolong ?-His only child, At once presented to their glad survey! His darling Julia on the stranger smild.

Each scene of bliss reveal'd, since chaos fled, Her little arts a fretful sire to please,

And dawning light its dazzling glories spread; Her gentle gaiety, and native ease

Each chain of wonders that sublimely glow'd, Had won his soul; and rapturous Fancy shed Since first Creation's choral anthem fow'd; Her golden lights, and tints of rosy red.

Each ready flight, at Mercy's call divine, But ah! sew days had pass'd, ere the bright vision fled! To distant worlds that undiscover'd shine ;

When evening tinged the lake's ethereal blue, Full on her tablet flings its living rays, And her deep shades irregularly threw;

And all, combined, with blest effulgence blaze.

There thy bright train, immortal Friendship, soar;

Note 2, page 3, col. 1. No more to part, to mingle tears no more!

Awake but one, and lo, what myriads rise ! And, as the softening hand of Time endears

When a traveller, who was surveying the ruins of The joys and sorrows of our infant-years,

Rome, expressed a desire to possess some relic of its So there the soul, released from human strife,

ancient grandeur, Poussin, who attended him, stooped Smiles at the little cares and ills of life;

down, and gathering up a handful of earth shining Its lights and shades, its sunshine and its showers;

with small grains of porphyry, “ Take this home," As at a dream that charm'd her vacant hours !

said he, “ for your cabinet; and say boldly, Questa è Oft may the spirits of the dead descend

Roma Antica."
To watch the silent slumbers of a friend ;
To hover round his evening-walk unseen,

Note 3, page 3, col. 1.
And hold sweet converse on the dusky green;

The church-yard yews round which his fathers sleep. To hail the spot where first their friendship grew, Every man, like Gulliver in Lilliput, is fastened to And heaven and nature open'd to their view!

some spot of earth, by the thousand small threads Oft, when he trims his cheerful hearth, and sees which habit and association are continually stealing A smiling circle emulous to please ;

over him. Of these, perhaps, one of the strongest is There may these gentle guests delight to dwell, here alluded to. And bless the scene they loved in life so well! When the Canadian Indians were once solicited

Oh thou! with whom my heart was wont to share to emigrate, “ What!" they replied, “shall we say to From Reason's dawn each pleasure and each care; the bones of our fathers, Arise, and go with us into With whom, alas! I fondly hoped to know

a foreign land ?" The humble walks of happiness below;

Note 4, page 3, col. 1.
If thy blest nature now unites above

So, when he breathed his firm yet fond adieu.
An angel's pity with a brother's love,
Still o'er my life preserve thy mild control,

See Cook's first voyage, book i, chap. 16.
Correct my views, and elevale my soul;

Another very affecting instance of local attachment Grant me thy peace and purity of mind,

is related of his iellow-countryman Potaveri, who Devout yet cheerful, active yet resign'd;

came to Europe with M. de Bougainville.—See les Grant me, like thee, whose heart knew no disguise, Jardins, chant ii. Whose blameless wishes never aim'd to rise,

Note 5, page 3, col. 2. To meet the changes Time and Chance present,

So Scotia's Queen, etc. With modest dignity and calm content.

Elle se leve sur son lit, et se met à contempler When thy last breath, ere Nature sunk to rest,

la France encore, et tant qu'elle peut.-BRANTÔME. Thy meek submission to thy God express'd; When thy last look, ere thought and feeling fed,

Note 6, page 3, col. 2. A mingled gleam of hope and triumph shed;

Thus kindred objects kindred thoughts inspire. What to thy soul its glad assurance gave,

To an accidental association may be ascribed some Its hope in death, its triumph o'er the grave? of the noblest efforts of human genius. The HistoThe sweet Remembrance of unblemish'd youth, rian of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire The still inspiring voice of Innocence and Truth! first conceived his design among the ruins of the

Hail, MEMORY, hail! in thy exhaustless mine Capitol; and to the tones of a Welsh harp are we From age to age unnumber'd treasures shine! indebted for the Bard of Gray. Thought and her shadowy brood thy call obey, And Place and Time are subject to thy sway!

Note 7, page 3, col. 2.

Hence home-felt pleasure, etc
Thy pleasures most we feel when most alone;
The only pleasures we can call our own.

Who can sufficiently admire the affectionate at Lighter than air, Hope's summer-visions die,

tachment of Plutarch, who thus concludes his enuIf but a fleeting cloud obscure the sky;

meration of the advantages of a great city to men of If but a beam of sober Reason play,

letters? “As to myself, I live in a litle town; and I Lo, Fancy's fairy frost-work melts away!

choose to live there, lest it should become still less.' But can the wiles of Art, the grasp of Power,

Vit. Dem. Snatch the rich relics of a well-spent hour?

Note 8, page 3, col. 2.
These, when the trembling spirit wings her flight,

For this young Foscari, etc,
Pour round her path a stream of living light;
And gild those pure and perfect realms of

He was suspected of murder, and at Venice sus.

rest, Where Virtue triumphs, and her sons are blest!

picion is good evidence. Neither the interest of the Doge, his father, nor the intrepidity of conscious in. nocence, which he exhibited in the dungeon and on

the rack, could procure his acquittal. He was banNOTES.

ished to the island of Candia for life.

But here his resolution failed him. At such a dis.

tance from home he could not live; and, as it was a Note 1, page 2, col. 2.

criminal offence to solicit the intercession of a foreign Up springs, at every step, to claim a tear.

prince, in a fit of despair he addressed a letter to the I came to the place of my birth and cried, “ The Duke of Milan, and intrusted it to a wretch whose friends of my youth, where are they?”—And an echo perfidy, he knew, would occasion his being remanded answered “ Where are they?"-From an Arabic MS. a prisoner to Venice.

Note 9, page 3, col. 2.

chateau at Richelieu, he sacrificed its symmetry to And hence the charm historic scenes impart: preserve the room in which he was born.—Mém. de Whatever withdraws us from the power of our

Mlle de Montpensier, i, 27. eerses; whatever makes the past, the distant, or the

An attachment of this nature is generally the charfuture, predominate over the present, advances us in acteristic of a benevolent mind; and a long acquaintthe dignity of thinking beings. Far from me and far from ance with the world cannot always extinguish it. my friends be such frigid philosophy as may conduct

" To a friend,” says John, Duke of Buckingham us indifferent and unmoved over any ground which I will expose my weakness : I am oftener missing has been dignified by wisdom, bravery, or virtue. a pretty gallery in the old house I pulled down, than That man is little to be envied, whose patriotism pleased with a saloon which I built in its stead, would not gain force upon the plain of Marathon, or though a thousand times better in all respects." —See whose piety would not grow warmer among the ruins

his Letter to the D. of Sh. of lona.-JOHNSON.

This is the language of the heart; and will re

mind the reader of that good-humored remark in one Note 10, page 3, col. 2.

of Pope's letters — “I should hardly care to have an And watch and weep in Eloisa's cell.

old post pulled up, that I remembered ever since I The Paraclete, founded by Abelard, in Champagne. was a child.”

Nor did the Poet feel the charm more forcibly than Note 11, page 3, col. 2.

his Editor. See Hurd's Life of Warburton, 51, 99. "T was ever thug. As now at Virgil's tomb.

The Author of Telemachus has illustrated this Vows and pilgrimages are not peculiar to the re- subject, with equal fancy and feeling, in the story of ligious enthusiast. Silius Italicus performed annual Alibée, Persan. ceremonies on the mountain of Posilipo; and it was

Note 16, page 4, col. 1. there that Boccaccio, quasi da un divino estro inspi

Why great Navarre, etc. rato, resolved to dedicate his life to the Muses. That amiable and accomplished monarch, Henry

the Fourth of France, made an excursion from his Note 12, page 3, col. 2.

camp, during the long siege of Laon, to dine at a So Tully paused amid the wrecks of Time.

house in the forest of Folambray ; where he had When Cicero was quæstor in Sicily, he discovered often been regaled, when a boy, with fruit, milk, and the tomb of Archimedes by its mathematical inscrip- new cheese ; and in revisiting which he promised tion–Tusc. Quæst. v.

himself great pleasure.- Mém. de Sully. Note 13, page 3, col. 2.

Note 17, page 4, col. 1.

When Diocletian's self-corrected mind. Say why the pensive widow loves to weep. The influence of the associating principle is finely there amused himself with building, planting, and

Diocletian retired into his native province, and exemplified in the faithful Penelope, when she sheds gardening. His answer to Maximian is deservedly tears over the bow of Ulysses.-04. xxi, 55.

celebrated. He was solicited by that restless old man Note 14, page 3, col. 2.

to reassume the reins of government, and the ImpeIf chance he hears the song so sweetly wild.

rial purple. He rejected the temptation with a smile The celebrated Ranz des Vaches; "cet air si chéri of pity, calmly observing, “thai if he could show des Suisses qu'il fut défendu sous peine de mort de Maximian the cabbages which he had planted with le jouer dans leurs troupes, parce qu'il faisoit fondre his own hands at Salona, he should no longer be en larmes

, déserter ou mourir ceux qui l'entendoient, urged to relinquish the enjoyment of happiness for tant il excitoit en cux l'ardent désir de revoir leur the pursuit of power.”—Gibbon. patrie."-RoussEAU.

Note 18, page 4, col. 1. The maladie de pays is as old as the human heart.

Say, when contentious Charles renounced a throne. JUVENAL's little cup-bearer

When the emperor Charles V. had executed his Suspirat longo non visam tempore matrem,

memorable resolution, and had set out for the mon Et casulam, et notos tristis desiderat hædos. astery of St. Justus, he stopped a few days at Ghent, And the Argive, in the heat of battle,

says his historian, to indulge that tender and plear Dulces moriens reminiscitur Argos.

ant melancholy, which arises in the mind of every

man in the decline of life, on visiting the place of Note 15, page 4, col. 2.

his nativity, and viewing the scenes and objects fa Say why Vespasian loved his Sabine farm.

miliar to him in his early youth.—ROBERTSON. This emperor, according to Suetonius, constantly

Note 19, page 4, col. 1. passed the summer in a small villa near Reate, where Then did his horse the homeward track descry. he was born, and to which he would never add any The memory of the horse forms the groundwork embellishment, ne quid scilicet oculorum consuetudini of a pleasing little romance of the twelfth century deperire.-Suet. in Vit. Vesp. cap. ii.

entitled, “Lai du Palefroy vair."-See Fabliaux du A similar instance occurs in the life of the venera- XII. siècle. ble Pertinax, as related by J. Capitolinus. Posteaquam Ariosto likewise introduces it in a passage full of in Liguriam venit, multis agris coemptis, tabernam truth and nature. When Bayardo meets Angelica in paternam, manente formå priore, infinitis ædificiis cir- the forest, cumdedit.-Hist. August. 54.

Va mansueto alla Donzella, And it is said of Cardinal Richelieu, that, when he

Che in Albracca il servia già di sua mano. built his magnificent palace on the site of the old family

Orlando Furioso, canto i. 75 3

B 2

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