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Sacrament there, will not soon forget the blaze of the side of the rock, and hanging over that torrent, the altar, or the dark circle of worshippers kneeling are litle ruins which they show you for Horace's in silence before it.
house, a curious situation to observe the
Præceps Anio, et Tiburni lucus, et uda
Mobilibus pomaria rivis. Gray's Letters
Note 159, page 68, col. 2. christ. See the interpretations of Mede, Newton,
Like one awaking in a distant time. Clarke, etc.; not to mention those of Dante and The place here described is near Mola di Gaëta, Petrarch.
in the kingdom of Naples.
Note 160, page 68, col. 2.
When they that robb'd, were men of better faith.
Alluding to Alfonso Piccolomini. · Stupiva cias There was said to be in the choir, among others cuno che, mentre un bandito osservava rigorosamente of the Sisterhood, a daughter of Cimarosa.
la sua parola, il Papa non avesse ribrezzo di mancare Note 151, page 66, col. 2.
alla propria.”—Galluzzi. ii, 364.
He was hanged at Florence, March 16, 1591. 'Twas in her utmost need; nor, while she lives. Her back was at that time turned to the people ;
Note 161, page 68, col. 2. but in his countenance might be read all that was
When along the shore. passing. The Cardinal, who officiated, was a vener- Tasso was returning from Naples to Rome, and able old man, evidently unused to the ceremony and had arrived at Mola di Gaëta, when he received this much affected by it.
tribute of respect. The captain of the troop was Note 152, page 66, col. 2.
Marco di Sciarra. See Manso. Vita del Tasso. Ariosto
had a similar adventure with Filippo Pachione. See The black pall, the requiem.
BARUFFALDI. Among other ceremonies, a pall was thrown over her, and a requiem sung.
Note 162, page 69, col. 1.
As by a spell they start up in array.
"Cette race de bandits a ses racines dans la popuUnsheathes his wings.
lation même du pays. La police ne sait ou les trouver.” He is of the beetle-tribe.
Lettres de CHATEAUVIEUI.
Note 163, page 69, col. 2.
Three days they lay in ambush at my gate.
This story was written in the year 1820, and is
founded on the many narratives which at that time Note 155, page 67, col. 1.
were circulating in Rome and Naples. Singing the nursery-song he learnt so soon. There is a song to the lucciola in every dialect of
Note 164, page 71, col. 2.
And in the track of him who went to die.
The Elder Pliny. See the letters in which his
nephew relates to Tacitus the circumstances of his The Roman is in a higher strain :
death. Bella regina, etc.
Note 165, page 74, col. 1.
The fishing-town, Amalfi.
perity; but the poverty of one thousand fishermen is Le lucciole ne' prati ampj ridotte,
yet dignified by the remains of an arsenal, a catho E, come gemme, le comparto al crine;
dral, and the palaces of royal merchants.”—GIBBON.
Note 166, page 74, col. 2.
A Hospital, that, night and day, received
The pilgrims of the west.
It was dedicated to Saint John.
Note 167, page 74, col. 2. gevity in the ilex. “There is one,” says he, “in the
relics of ancient Greece. Vatican older than the City itself. An Etruscan in
Among other things the Pandects of Justinian were scription in letters of brass attests that even in those found there in 1137. By the Pisans they were taken days the tree was held sacred :" and it is remarkable from Amalfi, by the Florentines from Písa; and they that there
is at this time on the Vatican mount an are now preserved with religious care in the Lauren iler of great antiquity. It is in a grove just above the tian Library. palace-garden.
Note 168, page 78, col. 2.
Grain from the golden vales of Sicily.
There is at this day in Syracuse * I did not tell you that just below the first fall, on La Strada degli Amalfitani.
a street called
Note 169, page 74, col. 2.
third novel of Franco Sacchetty we read, that a Not thus did they return, stranger, suddenly entering Gioito's study, threw The tyrant slain.
down a shield and departed, saying, “Paint me my It was in the year 839. See Muratori. Art. Chronici arms in that shield;" and that Giotto, looking after Amalphitani Fragmenta.
him, exclaimed, “Who is he? What is he? He says,
Paint me my arms, as if he was one of the Bardi !
What arms does he bear ?"
Note 178, page 77, col. 1. famous through the world. The Tarini Amalfitani
Doria, Pisani. were a coin familiar to all nations; and their mari- Paganino Doria, Nicolo Pisani; those great seamen, time code regulated everywhere the commerce of the who balanced for so many years the fortunes of Genoa sea. Many churches in the East were by them built and Venice. and endowed: by them was first founded in Palestine that most renowned military Order of St. John of
Note 179, page 77, col. 1. Jerusalem; and who does not know that the Mari
Ruffling with many an oar the crystalline sea. ner's Compass was invented by a citizen of Amalfi? The Feluca is a large boat for rowing and sailing,
much used in the Mediterranean.
Note 180, page 77, col. 1.
How oft where now we rode. The violets of Pæstum were as proverbial as the roses. Martial mentions them with the honey of Every reader of Spanish poetry is acquainted with Hybla.
that affecting romance of Gongora,
Amarrado al duro banco, etc.
Lord Holland has translated it in his Life of Lope
Note 181, page 77, col. 2. see Petrarch, Epist. Rer.; SENILIUM, XV, i; and BAYLE,
Here be lived. Dict. in Alcyonius.
The Piazza Doria, or, as it is now called, the Piazza Note 173, page 75, col. 2.
di San Matteo, insignificant as it may be thought, is —and Posidonia rose.
to me the most interesting place in Genoa. It was
there that Doria assembled the people, when he gave Originally a Greek City under that name, and afterwards a Roman City, under the name of Pustum. side of it is the church he lies buried in, on the other
them their liberty (Sigonii Vita Doriæ); and on one See Mitford's Hist. of Greece, chap. x, sec. 2. It was surprised and destroyed by the Saracens at the be a house, originally of very small dimensions, with
this inscription: S. C. Andreæ de Auria Patriæ Liberginning of the tenth century.
atori Munus Publicum. Note 174, page 76, col. 1.
The streets of old Genoa, like those of Venice, "What hangs behind that curtain ?"
were constructed only for foot-passengers. This story, if a story it can be called, is fictitious;
Note 182, page 77, col. 2. and I have done little more than give it as I received
Held many a pleasant, many a grave discourse. it. It has already appeared in prose; but with many alterations and additional circumstances.
See his Life by Sigonio. The abbey of Monte Cassino is the most ancient
Note 183, page 77, col. 2. and venerable house of the Benedictine Order. It is
A house of trade. situated within fifteen leagues of Naples, on the inland road to Rome; and no house is more hospitable. When I saw it in 1822, a basket-maker lived on
the ground-floor, and over him a seller of chocolate. Note 175, page 76, col. 1. For life is surely there, and visible change.
Note 184, page 78, col. 1. There are many miraculous pictures in Italy; but Before the ocean-wave thy wealth reflected. none, I believe, were ever before described as malig- Alluding to the Palace which he built afterwards, nant in their influence.
and in which he twice entertained the Emperor
Charles the Fifth. It is the most magnificent edifice Note 176, page 76, col. 2.
on the bay of Genoa. Within a crazed and tatter'd vehicle. Then degraded, and belonging to a Vetturino.
Note 185, page 78, col. 1.
The ambitious man, that in a perilous hour
Fell from the plank.
Fiesco. See Robertson’s History of the Empero. A Florentine family of great antiquity. In the sixty- Charles the Fifth.
ODE TO SUPERSTITION
While the lone shepherd, near the shipless main," I. 1.
Sees o'er her hills advance the long-drawn funeral
train. HENCE, to the realms of Night, dire demon, hence!
Thou spakest, and lo! a new creation glow'd. And sink its noblest powers to impotence.
Each unhewn mass of living stone Wake the lion's loudest roar,
Was clad in horrors not its own, Clot his shaggy mane with gore,
And at its base the trembling nations bow'd. With flashing fury bid his eye-balls shine ;
Giant Error, darkly grand, Meek is his savage, sullen soul, to thine!
Grasp'd the globe with iron hand. Thy touch, thy deadening touch has steel'd the
Circled with seats of bliss, the Lord of Light breast,
Saw prostrate worlds adore his golden height. Whence, through her April-shower, soft Pity smiled;
The statue, waking with immortal powers, Has closed the heart each godlike virtue bless'd,
Springs from its parent earth, and shakes the To all the silent pleadings of his child."
The indignant pyramid sublimely towers, At thy command he plants the dagger deep,
And braves the efforts of a host of years. At thy command exults, though Nature bids him weep!
Sweet Music breathes her soul into the wind; I. 2.
And bright-eyed Painting stamps the image of the When, with a frown that froze the peopled earth,»
mind. Thou dartedst thy huge head from high,
II. 2. Night waved her banners o'er the sky,
Round their rude ark old Egypt's sorcerers rise! And, brooding, gave her shapeless shadows birth,
A timbrellid anthem swells the gale, Rocking on the billowy air,
And bids the God of Thunders hail;' Ha! what withering phantoms glare !
With lowings loud the captive God replies. As blows the blast with many a sudden swell,
Clouds of incense woo thy smile, At each dead pause, what shrill-toned voices yell!
Scaly monarch of the Nile ! The sheeted spectre, rising from the tomb,
But ah! what myriads claim the bended knee!' Points to the murderer's stab, and shudders by;
Go, count the busy drops that swell the sea. In every grove is felt a heavier gloom,
Proud land! what eye can trace thy mystic lore, That veils its genius from the vulgar eye:
Lock'd up in characters as dark as night ? The spirit of the water rides the storm,
What eye those long, long labyrinths dare explore,' And, through the mist, reveals the terrors of his form. To which the parted soul oft wings her flight;
Again to visit her cold cell of clay,
Charm'd with perennial sweets, and smiling at decay!
II. 3. The fur-clad savage, ere he guides his deer
On yon hoar summit, mildly bright By glistering star-light through the snow,
With purple ether's liquid light, Breathes softly in her wondering ear
High o'er the world, the white-robed Magi gaze Each potent spell thou badest him w.
On dazzling bursts of heavenly fire; By thee inspired, on India's sands,
Start at each blue, portentous blaze, Full in the sun the Bramin stands;
Each Aame that fits with adverse spire. And, while the panting tigress hies
But say, what sounds my ear invade To quench her fever in the stream,
From Delphi's venerable shade? His spirit laughs in agonies,
The temple rocks, the laurel waves! Smit by the scorchings of the noontide beam. “The God! the God !” the Sibyl cries.' Mark who mounts the sacred pyre,
Her figure swells, she foams, she raves ! Blooming in her bridal vest :
Her figure swells to more that mortal size!
Streams of rapture roll along,
Silver notes ascend the skies :
Wake, Echo, wake and catch the song,
Oh catch it, ere it dies !
1 An allusion to the Second-sight. And, wrapt in clouds, in tempests tost,
2 See that fine description of the sudden animation of the Weave the airy web of Fate;
Palladium, in the second book of the Æneid.
4 The Crocodile.
5 According to an ancient proverb, it was less difficult is 1 Written in early youth.
Egypt to find a god than a man. 9 The sacrifice of Iphigenia.
6 The Hieroglyphics.
7 The Catacombe 3 Lucretius, I. 63.
8 "The Persians," says Herodotus, "have no temples, altas 4 The funeral rite of the Hindoos.
or statues. They sacrifice on the tops of the highest mountains." 5 The Futes of the Northern Mythology. See Mallet's An- I. 131. tiquities.
9 Æn. VI. 46, etc.
The Sibyl speaks, the dream is o'er,
Her touch unlocks the day-spring from above, The holy harpings charm no more.
And lo! it visits man with beams of light and love, In vain she checks the God's control;
His madding spirit fills her frame, And moulds the features of her soul,
VERSES Breathing a prophetic fame. The cavern frowns; its hundred mouths unclose! WRITTEN TO BE SPOKEN BY MRS. SIDDONS.' And in the thunder's voice, the fate of empire flows!
Yes, 't is the pulse of life! my fears were vain; III. 1.
I wake, I breathe, and am myself again. Mona, thy Druid-rites awake the dead!
Still in this nether world ; no seraph yet! Rites thy brown oaks would never dare
Nor walks my spirit, when the sun is set, Even whisper to the idle air ;
With troubled step to haunt the fatal board, Rites that have chain'd old Ocean on his bed.
Where I died last—by poison or the sword; Shiver'd by thy piercing glance
Blanching each honest cheek with deeds of night, Pointless falls the hero's lance.
Done here so oft by dim and doubtful light. Thy magic bids the imperial eagle fly,'
-To drop all metaphor, that liutle bell And blasts the laureate wreath of victory.
Callid back reality, and broke the spell. Hark, the bard's soul inspires the vocal string! No heroine claims your tears with tragic tone; At every pause dread Silence hovers o'er:
A very woman-scarce restrains her own! While murky Night sails round on raven-wing,
Can she, with fiction, charm the cheated mind, Deepening the tempest's howl, the torrent's roar;
When to be grateful is the part assign'd? Chased by the Morn from Snowdon's awful brow,
Ah no! she scorns the trappings of her Art; Where late she sate and scowl'd on the black wave
No theme but truth, no prompter but the heart! below.
But, Ladies, say, must I alone unmask ?
Is here no other actress ? let me ask.
Know every Woman studies stage-effect. And mow through infancy and age;
She moulds her manners to the part she fills, Then kiss the sacred dust and melt in lears
As Instinct teaches, or as Humor wills; Veiling from the eye of day,
And, as the grave or gay her talent calls, Penance dreams her life away ;
Acts in the drama till the curtain falls. In cloister'd solitude she sits and sighs,
First, how her little breast with triumph swells While from each shrine still, small responses rise.
When the red coral rings its golden bells ! Hear, with what heart-felt beat, the midnight-bell
To play in pantomime is then the rage, Swings its slow summons through the hollow pile!
Along the carpet's many-color'd stage ; The weak, wan votarist leaves her twilight-cell,
Or lisp her merry thoughts with loud endeavor, To walk, with taper dim, the winding aisle ;
Now here, now there in noise and mischief ever! With choral chantings vainly to aspire,
A school-girl next, she curls her hair in papers, Beyond this nether sphere, on Rapture's wing of fire. And mimics father's gout, and mother's vapors ; III. 3.
Discards her doll, bribes Betty for romances ; Lord of each pang the nerves can feel,
Playful at church, and serious when she dances; Hence with the rack and reeking wheel.
Tramples alike on customs and on toes, Faith lifts the soul above this little ball!
And whispers all she hears to all she knows; While gleams of glory open round,
Terror of caps, and wigs, and sober notions ! And circling choirs of angels call,
A romp! that longest of perpetual motions ! Canst thou, with all thy terrors crown'd,
-Till tamed and tortured into foreign graces, Hope to obscure that latent spark,
She sports her lovely face at public places; Destined to shine when suns are dark ?
And with blue, laughing eyes, behind her fan, Thy triumphs cense! through every land,
First acts her part with that great actor, MAN. Hark! Truth proclaims, thy triumphs cease!
Too soon a flirt, approach her and she flies! Her heavenly form, with glowing hand,
Frowns when pursued, and, when entreated, sighs! Benignly points to piety and peace.
Plays with unhappy men as cats with mice; Flush'd with youth her looks impart
Till fading beauty hints the late advice. Each fine feeling as it flows;
Her prudence dictates what her pride disdain'd, Her voice the echo of a heart
And now she sues to slaves herself had chain'd! Pure as the mountain-snows :
Then comes that good old character, a Wife, Celestial transports round her play,
With all the dear distracting cares of life ; And softly, sweetly die away.
A thousand cards a day at doors to leave, She smiles! and where is now the cloud
And, in return, a thousand cards receive; That blacken'd o'er thy baleful reign?
Rouge high, play deep, to lead the ton aspire, Grim darkness furls his leaden shroud,
With nightly blaze set Portland-place on fire ; Shrinking from her glance in vain.
Snatch half a glimpse at Concert, Opera, Ball,
A meteor, traced by none, though seen by all; I see Tacitus, l. ziv, c. 29. 2 This remarkable event happened at the siege and sack of Jerusalem, in the last year of the eleventh century. Matth. 1 After a Tragedy, performed for her benefit, at the Theatre Pari, p. 34.
Royal in Drury-lane, April 27, 1795.
FROM EURIPIDES. THERE is a streamlet issuing from a rock. The village-girls, singing wild madrigals, Dip their white vestments in its waters clear, And hang them to the sun. There first I saw her. Her dark and eloquent eyes, mild, full of fire, 'Twas heaven to look upon; and her sweet voice, As lunable as harp of many strings, At once spoke joy and sadness to my soul!
And, when her shatter'd nerves forbid to roam,
Last, the grey Dowager, in ancient flounces,
Thus Woman makes her entrance and her exit; Not least an actress, when she least suspects it. Yet Nature oft peeps out and mars the plot, Each lesson lost, each poor pretence forgot ; Full oft, with energy that scorns control, At once lights up the features of the soul; Unlocks each thought chain'd down by coward Art, And to full day the latent passions start! -And she, whose first, best wish is your applause, Herself exemplifies the truth she draws. Born on the stage—through every shifting scene, Obscure or bright, tempestuous or serene, Sull has your smile her trembling spirit fired! And can she act, with thoughts like these inspired ? Thus from her mind all artifice she flings, All skill, all practice, now unmeaning things! To you, uncheck’d, each genuine feeling flows; For all that life endears—to you she owes.
Oh, if you knew the pensive pleasure
But lo, at last he comes with crowded sail!