built a stage on purpose to have them played in his Court, and enabled our poet to build himself a house in Ferrara, with a pleasant garden, where he used to compose his poems, which were highly esteemed by all the princes in Italy, who sent him many presents; but he said, "he' would not sell his liberty for the best cardinal's cap in Rome." It was but a small, though convenient, house. Being asked, why he had not built a more magnificent mansion, since he had given such noble descriptions of sumptuous palaces, beautiful porticos, and cooling fountains, in his "Orlando Furioso?" he replied, "That words were cheaper laid together than stones." Upon the door he caused to be placed the following inscription:

"Parva, sed apta mihi, sed nulli obnoxia, sed non Sordida, parta meo, sed tamen, ære, domus.”

IN ENGLISH.

"This house is small, but fit for me,

And hurtful 'tis to none;

It is not sluttish, as you see,

Yet paid for with mine own."

It is also related of him, that, one day passing

by a potter's shop, he heard him singing a stanza out of his Orlando, with so bad a grace, that, out of patience, he broke with his stick several of his pots. The potter, in a pitiful tone, asked what he meant by wronging a poor man that had never injured him? "You rascal,” he replied, "I have not done thee half the wrong you have done me; for I have broken but two or three pots of thine, not worth so many halfpence; whereas, thou hast broken and mangled a stanza of mine worth a mark of gold."

Ariosto was tall, of a melancholy complexion, and appeared always absorbed in study and meditation. His picture was drawn by Titian in a masterly manner. He was honoured with the laurel from the hands of the Emperor Charles V. He was so fearful of water, that, whenever he went out in a ship, he would see others go out before him; and on land, he would alight from his horse on the slightest danger. He bore his last sickness with great resolution and serenity, and died at Ferrara, 8th of July, 1553, aged 59.

He was interred in the church of the Benedictine Monks, who, contrary to their usual custom, attended his funeral. He had a statue

erected to him, and an inscription, written by himself, was engraved on his tomb.

ROBERT BLOOMFIELD.

THIS exquisite rural poet was born in the year 1766, at a village named Honington, which is situated eight miles from Bury St. Edmund's, and near Euston, the seat of his Grace the Duke of Grafton, in the county of Suffolk. He lost his father, Mr. George Bloomfield, a tailor by trade, when he was scarce a year old. His mother was a schoolmistress, and instructed her own with other children; and from her, our poet had his first rudiments of learning. Though a widow with six children, she contrived to send Robert to a Mr. Rodwell, to be improved in writing; but, she marrying soon after, he did not continue long with him.

His mother had now a second family; and though our poet was not above eleven, he was sent to a Mr. William Austin, a farmer in the neighbourhood, who took him into his house; but his mother was to furnish him with a few things: this was more than she was able to do, which induced her to solicit aid from his two brothers, George and Nathaniel, at London, as

Mr. Austin said, he did not think he would obtain a living by hard labour. George offered to take his brother and teach him to make shoes, and Nathaniel promised to clothe him. On this, the mother was so careful of him, that she took coach herself, and put him into the hands of his brothers. "She charged me," said Mr. George. Bloomfield, in a letter, "as I valued a mother's blessing, to watch over him, to set good examples to him, and never to forget that he had lost his father." His brother, Mr. G. Bloomfield, then lived at No. 7, Pitcher's-court, Bell-alley, Coleman-street.

"In a garret, where we had two turn-up beds, and five of us worked," says his brother, "I received little Robert." Robert became their errand-boy, for which each agreed to teach him.

The boy from the public-house used to come every day for pots, and to learn what was wanted, and he always brought the yesterday's newspaper, which they used to read by turns; but Robert's time being of least value, he became reader, and, by the help of an old Dictionary, which his brother bought for him for fourpence, in a little time he was able to read the speeches of Fox, Burke, &c. From attending the lectures

of a Mr. Fawcet, our poet learned to accent hard words, as he called them; add to this two or three old folios, they were the principal sources of his learning. "I, at this time," says his brother, "read the London Magazine,' about two sheets of which was set apart for a review: this, and the Poet's Corner,' always attracted Robert's attention. One day, he repeated a song which he had composed to an old tune. I was much surprised that a boy of sixteen should make such verses, and persuaded him to try whether the editor of our paper would give it a place in the Poet's Corner.' He tried, and succeeded."

He continued to reside with his brother till 1784, when the question came to be decided, whether those who had not served an apprenticeship should work at the trade of a shoemaker. The master who employed Robert was threatened with a prosecution if he continued so to do. He returned home, and was received by his old patron, Mr. Austin. It was during this short stay of two months, he probably formed his plan for that charming poem, the "Farmer's Boy." He again returned to London, and was bound apprentice to a Mr. John Dudbridge.