1

Like an inspir'd young Sibyl, glowing
With her own bright imaginings!

And thou, most worthy to be tied
In music to her, as in love,
Breathing that language by her side,
All other language far above,
Eloquent Song whose tones and words
In ev'ry heart find answering chords!

How happy once the hours we past,
Singing or list'ning all day long,
Till Time itself seem'd chang'd, at last,
To music, and we liv'd in song!
Turning the leaves of HAYDN o'er,

As quick, beneath her master hand,
They open'd all their brilliant store,

Like chambers, touch'd by fairy wand;
Or o'er the page of MOZART bending,
Now by his airy warblings cheer'd,
Now in his mournful Requiem blending
Voices, through which the heart was heard.

And still, to lead our ev'ning choir,
Was He invok'd, thy lov'd-one's Sire 2-
He, who, if aught of grace there be

In the wild notes I write or sing,
First smooth'd their links of harmony,

And lent them charms they did not bring;-
He, of the gentlest, simplest heart,
With whom, employ'd in his sweet art,
(That art, which gives this world of ours

A notion how they speak in heav'n,)
I've pass'd more bright and charmed hours
Than all earth's wisdom could have giv'n.
Oh happy days, oh early friends,

How Life, since then, hath lost its flow'rs!
But yet-though Time some foliage rends,
The stem, the Friendship, still is ours;
And long may it endure, as green,
And fresh as it hath always been!

How I have wander'd from my theme!
But where is he, that could return
To such cold subjects from a dream,
Through which these best of feelings burn?—
Not all the works of Science, Art,

Or Genius in this world are worth
One genuine sigh, that from the heart
Friendship or Love draws freshly forth,

1 Such as those of Domenichino in the Palazzo Borghese at the Capitol, &c.

2 Sir John Stevenson.

The "Conjuration de Nicolas Gabrini, dit de Rienzi," by the Jet Du Cerceau, is chiefly taken from the much more authentic work of Fortifiocca on the same subject. Rienzi was the son of a laundress.

It is not easy to discover what church is meant by Du Cercenu here:-"Il fit crier dans les rues de Rome, à son de trompe, que chacun eût à se trouver, sans armes, la nuit du lendemain, dixBeuvième, dans l'église du château de Saint-Ange, au son de la tioche, afin de pourvoir au Bon E'tat."

"Les gentilshommes conjurés portaient devant lui trois éten

And see, once more, the Forum shine with swords,
In the Republic's sacred name unsheath'd-
That glimpse, that vision of a brighter day,

For his dear ROME, must to a Roman be,
Short as it was, worth ages pass'd away
In the dull lapse of hopeless slavery.

'Twas on a night of May, beneath that moon,
Which had, through many an age, seen Time untune
The strings of this Great Empire, till it fell
From his rude hands, a broken, silent shell-
The sound of the church clock, near ADRIAN'S
Tomb,

Summon'd the warriors, who had risen for ROME,
To meet unarm'd, with none to watch them
there,
But God's own eye, and pass the night in pray 'r.
Holy beginning of a holy cause,
When heroes, girt for Freedom's combat, pause
Before high Heav'n, and, humble in their might,
Call down its blessing on that coming fight.
At dawn, in arms, went forth the patriot band;
And, as the breeze, fresh from the TIBER, fann'd
Their gilded gonfalons, all eyes could see

The palm-tree there, the sword, the keys of
Heav'n'-

Types of the Justice, peace, and liberty,

That were to bless them, when their chains were riv'n.

On to the Capitol the pageant mov'd,

While many a Shade of other times, that still Around that grave of grandeur sighing rov'd,

Hung o'er their footsteps up the Sacred Hill, And heard its mournful echoes, as the last High-minded heirs of the Republic pass'd. "Twas then that thou, their Tribune, (name, which brought

Dreams of lost glory to each patriot's thought,)

darts. Nicolas Guallato, surnommé le bon diseur, portait le premier, qui était de couleur rouge, et plus grand que les autres. On y voyait des caractères d'or avec une femme assise sur deux lions, tenant d'une main le globe du monde, et de l'autre une Palme pour représenter la ville de Rome. C'était le Gonfalon de la Liberté. Le second, à fonds blanc, avec un St. Paul tenant de la droite une Epée nue et de la gauche la couronne de Justice, était porté par Etienne Magnacuccia, notaire apostolique. Dans le troisième, St. Pierre avait en main les clefs de la Concorde et de la Paix. Tout cela insinuait le dessein de Rienzi, qui était de rétablir la liberté, la justice, et la paix."-DU CERCEAU, liv. ii.

6 Rienzi.

Q Q

Didst, with a spirit Rome in vain shall seek To wake up in her sons again, thus speak:"ROMANS, look round you -on this sacred place "There once stood shrines, and gods, and godlike men.

"What see you now? what solitary trace

Is left of all, that made ROME's glory then? "The shrines are sunk, the Sacred Mount bereft "Ev'n of its name- - and nothing now remains "But the deep mem'ry of that glory, left

"To whet our pangs and aggravate our chains! "But shall this be?-our sun and sky the same,'Treading the very soil our fathers trode, "What with'ring curse hath fall'n on soul and

66

frame,

The fine Canzone of Petrarch, beginning "Spirto gentil," is supposed, by Voltaire and others, to have been addressed to Rienzi; but there is much more evidence of its having been written, as Ginguené asserts, to the young Stephen Colonna, on his being created a Senator of Rome. That Petrarch, however, was filled with high and patriotic hopes by the first measures of this extraordinary man, appears from one of his letters, quoted by Du Cerceau, where he says," Pour tout dire, en un mot,j'atteste, non comme lecteur,

EXTRACT XIV.

Rome.

Fragment of a Dream.-The great Painters supposed to be Mogiciant. -The Beginnings of the Art.- Gildings on the Gloris und Draperies. Improvements under Giotto, &c. The first Deal of the true Style in Masaccio.-Studied by all the great Artis who followed him. - Leonardo da Vinci, with whom commVMC A the Golden Age of Painting. — His Knowledge of Mathematics and of Music. His female Heads all like each other. - Triung:lar Faces. Portraits of Mona Lisa, &c,- Picture of Vanity uni Modesty. His chef-d'œuvre, the Last Supper. Faded and almost faced.

FILL'D with the wonders I had seen,

In Rome's stupendous shrines and halls,
I felt the veil of sleep, serene,
Come o'er the mem'ry of each scene,
As twilight o'er the landscape falls.
Nor was it slumber, sound and deep,
But such as suits a poet's rest—
That sort of thin, transparent sleep,

Through which his day-dreams shine the best. Methought upon a plain I stood,

Where certain wondrous men, 'twas said, With strange, mirac'lous pow'r endu’'d, Were coming, each in turn, to shed His arts' illusions o'er the sight, And call up miracles of light. The sky above this lonely place, Was of that cold, uncertain bue, The canvas wears, ere, warm'd apace, Its bright creation dawns to view.

But soon a glimmer from the east Proclaim'd the first enchantments nigh;' And as the feeble light increas'd,

Strange figures mov'd across the sky,

mais comme témoin oculaire, qu'il nous a ramené la justice. A paix, la bonne foi, la sécurité, et tous les autres vestiges de l' d'or."

2 This image is borrowed from Hobbes, whose words are, as as I can recollect: "For what is the Papacy, but the Ghost old Roman Empire, sitting crowned on the grave thereof?" 3 The paintings of those artists who were introduced into Ven and Florence from Greece.

With golden glories deck'd, and streaks

Of gold among their garments' dyes;'
And life's resemblance ting'd their cheeks,
But nought of life was in their eyes;—
Like the fresh-painted Dead one meets,
Borne slow along Rome's mournful streets.
But soon these figures pass'd away;
And forms succeeded to their place,
With less of gold, in their array,

But shining with more natural grace,
And all could see the charming wands
Had pass'd into more gifted hands.2

Among these visions there was one,
Surpassing fair, on which the sun,
That instant ris'n, a beam let fall,

Which through the dusky twilight trembled,
And reach'd at length, the spot where all
Those great magicians stood assembled.
And as they turn'd their heads, to view
The shining lustre, I could trace
The bright varieties it threw

On each uplifted studying face;1 While many a voice with loud acclaim, Call'd forth, "Massacio as the name Of him, the' Enchanter, who had rais'd This miracle, on which all gaz'd.

'Twas daylight now- the sun had ris'n,
From out the dungeon of old Night,-
Like the Apostle, from his prison

Led by the Angel's hand of light;
And as the fetters, when that ray
Of glory reach'd them, dropp'd away,
So fled the clouds at touch of day!
Just then, a bearded sage came forth,

6

Who oft in thoughtful dream would stand, To trace upon the dusky earth

Strange learned figures with his wand;' And oft he took the silver lute

His little page behind him bore,

And wak'd such music as, when mute,
Left in the soul a thirst for more!

Meanwhile, his potent spells went on,

And forms and faces, that from out

I Margaritone of Orezzo, who was a pupil and imitator of the Greeks, is said to have invented this art of gilding the ornaments of ptures, a practice which, though it gave way to a purer taste at the bezinning of the 16th century, was still occasionally used by many of the great masters: as by Raphael in the ornaments of the Forbarina, and by Rubens not unfrequently in glories and flames. 2 Cimabue, Giotto, &c.

3 The works of Masaccio. For the character of this powerful and original genius, see Sir Joshua Reynolds's twelfth discourse. His celebrated frescoes are in the church of St. Pietro del Carmine, at Florence.

All the great artists studied, and many of them borrowed from Masaccio. Several figures in the Cartoons of Raphael are taken, with but little alteration, from his frescoes.

And a light shined in the prison

off from his hands."- Acts.

and his chains fell

A depth of shadow mildly shone,
Were in the soft air seen about.
Though thick as midnight stars they beam'd,
Yet all like living sisters seem'd,

So close, in every point, resembling
Each other's beauties-from the eyes
Lucid as if through crystal trembling,
Yet soft as if suffus'd with sighs,
To the long, fawn-like mouth, and chin,
Lovely tapering, less and less,

Till, by this very charm's excess,
Like virtue on the verge of sin,

It touch'd the bounds of ugliness.
Here look'd as when they liv'd the shades
Of some of Arno's dark-ey'd maids-
Such maids as should alone live on,

In dreams thus, when their charms are gone :
Some Mona Lisa, on whose eyes

A painter for whole years might gaze,' Nor find in all his pallet's dyes,

One that could even approach their blaze!

Here float two spirit shapes, 10 the one,
With her white fingers to the sun
Outspread, as if to ask his ray
Whether it e'er had chanc'd to play
On lilies half so fair as they!
This self-pleas'd nymph, was Vanity-
And by her side another smil'd,

In form as beautiful as she,
But with that air, subdu'd and mild,
That still reserve of purity,
Which is to beauty like the haze,
Of ev'ning to some sunny view,
Soft'ning such charms as it displays,
And veiling others in that hue,
Which fancy only can see through!
This phantom nymph, who could she be,
But the bright Spirit, Modesty?

Long did the learn'd enchanter stay

To weave his spells, and still there pass'd, As in the lantern's shifting play, Group after group in close array, Each fairer, grander, than the last.

6 Leonardo da Vinci.

7 His treatise on Mechanics, Optics, &c., preserved in the Ambrosian library at Milan.

8 On dit que Léonard parut pour la première fois à la cour de Milan, dans un espèce de concours ouvert entre les meilleurs joueurs de lyre d'Italie. Il se présenta avec une lyre de sa façon, construit en argent. Histoire de la Peinture en Italie.

9 He is said to have been four years employed upon the portrait of this fair Florentine, without being able, after all, to come up to his idea of her beauty.

10 Vanity and Modesty in the collection of Cardinal Fesch, at Rome. The composition of the four hands here is rather awkward, but the picture, altogether, is very delightful. There is a repetition of the subject in the possession of Lucien Bonaparte.

But the great triumph of his pow'r

Was yet to come :- - gradual and slow, (As all that is ordain'd to tow'r

Among the works of man must grow,) The sacred vision stole to view,

In that half light, half shadow shown,
Which gives to ev'n the gayest hue,
A sober'd, melancholy tone.
It was a vision of that last,
Sorrowful night which Jesus pass'd
With his disciples, when he said

Mournfully to them-"I shall be "Betray'd by one, who here hath fed

"This night at the same board with me." And though the Saviour, in the dream Spoke not these words, we saw them beam Legibly in his eyes (so well

The great magician work'd his spell),
And read in every thoughtful line
Imprinted on that brow divine,

The meek, the tender nature, griev'd,
Not anger'd, to be thus deceiv'd-
Celestial love requited ill

For all its care, yet loving still-
Deep, deep regret that there should fall
From man's deceit so foul a blight
Upon that parting hour—and all

His Spirit must have felt that night,
Who, soon to die for human-kind,

Thought only, 'mid his mortal pain, How many a soul was left behind

For whom he died that death in vain!

EXTRACT XV.

Rome. Mary Magdalen. Her Story. Numerous Pictures of her.Correggio. Guido. Raphael, &c. - Canora's tiro exquinte Statues. The Somariva Magdalen. - Chantrey's Admiration of Canova's Works.

No wonder, MARY, that thy story

Touches all hearts- -for there we see The soul's corruption, and its glory, Its death and life combin'd in thee.

From the first moment, when we find
Thy spirit haunted by a swarm
Of dark desires,-like demons shrin'd
Unholily in that fair form,

Till when, by touch of Heav'n set free,
Thou cam'st, with those bright locks of gold
(So oft the gaze of BETHANY),

And, cov'ring in their precious fold Thy Saviour's feet, didst shed such tears As paid, each drop, the sins of years! Thence on, through all thy course of love

To Him, thy Heavenly Master, - Him, Whose bitter death-cup from above

Had yet this cordial round the brim,
That woman's faith and love stood fast
And fearless by Him to the last :-
Till, oh, blest boon for truth like thine!
Thou wert, of all, the chosen one,
Before whose eyes that Face Divine,

When risen from the dead, first shone;
That thou might'st see how, like a cloud,
Had pass'd away its mortal shroud,
And make that bright revealment known
To hearts, less trusting than thy own.
All is affecting, cheering, grand;

The kindliest record ever giv❜n,
Ev'n under God's own kindly hand,

Of what Repentance wins from Heav'n!

No wonder, MARY, that thy face,

In all its touching light of tears, Should meet us in each holy place,

Where Man before his God appears, Hopeless-were he not taught to see All hope in Him, who pardon'd thee! No wonder that the painter's skill

Should oft have triumph'd in the pow'r Of keeping thee all lovely still

Ev'n in thy sorrow's bitt'rest hour; That soft CORREGGIO should diffuse His melting shadows round thy form; That GUIDO's pale, unearthly hues

Should, in portraying thee, grow warm;

have profited by some of his observations on this celebrated sårterm 2 Leonardo appears to have used a mixture of oil and varnish fr this picture, which alone, without the various other causes of its ruin, would have prevented any long duration of its beauties. It us now almost entirely effaced.

That all from the ideal, grand,
Inimitable Roman hand,

Down to the small, enamelling touch

Of smooth CARLINO-should delight
In pict'ring her, who "lov'd so much,"
And was, in spite of sin, so bright!

But, MARY, 'mong these bold essays
Of Genius and of Art to raise

A semblance of those weeping eyes—
A vision, worthy of the sphere

Thy faith has earn'd thee in the skies,
And in the hearts of all men here,-
None e'er hath match'd, in grief or grace,
CANOVA's day-dream of thy face,

In those bright sculptur'd forms, more bright
With true expression's breathing light,
Than ever yet, beneath the stroke

Of chisel, into life awoke.

The one', portraying what thou wert
In thy first grief, while yet the flow'r
Of those young beauties was unhurt

By sorrow's slow, consuming pow'r; And mingling earth's seductive grace With heav'n's subliming thoughts so well, We doubt, while gazing, in which place

Such beauty was most form'd to dwell!
The other, as thou look'dst, when years
Of fasting, penitence, and tears
Had worn thy frame; - and ne'er did Art
With half such speaking pow'r express
The ruin which a breaking heart

Spreads, by degrees, o'er loveliness.
Those wasting arms, that keep the trace,
Ev'n still, of all their youthful grace,
That loosen'd hair, of which thy brow
Was once so proud,— neglected now!-
Those features, ev'n in fading worth

The freshest bloom to others giv'n,
And those sunk eyes, now lost to earth,
But, to the last, still full of heav'n!

Wonderful artist! praise, like mine -
Though springing from a soul, that feels
Deep worship of those works divine,
Where Genius all his light reveals
How weak 'tis to the words that came
From him, thy peer in art and fame,2
Whom I have known, by day, by night,
Hang o'er thy marble with delight;
And, while his ling'ring hand would steal
O'er every grace the taper's rays, "
Give thee, with all the gen'rous zeal
Such master-spirits only feel

That best of fame, a rival's praise!

I This statue is one of the last works of Canova, and was not yet in marble when I left Rome. The other, which seems to prove, in entradiction to very high authority, that expression, of the intensest kind, is fully within the sphere of sculpture, was executed

EXTRACT XVI.

Les Charmettes.

A Visit to the House where Rousseau lived with Madame de Warrens. -Their Ménage. Its Grossness. - Claude Anet. Reverence with which the Spot is now visited. Absurdity of this blind Devotion to Fame. Feelings excited by the Beauty and Seclusion of the Scene. - Disturbed by its Associations with Rousseau's History.-Impostures of Men of Genius. - Their power of mimicking all the best Feelings, Love, Independence, &c.

STRANGE power of Genius, that can throw
Round all that's vicious, weak, and low,
Such magic lights, such rainbow dyes

As dazzle ev'n the steadiest eyes

I may be cold;-may want that glow
Of high romance, which bards should know;
That holy homage, which is felt

In treading where the great have dwelt;
This rev'rence, whatsoe'er it be,

I fear, I feel, I have it not:-
For here, at this still hour, to me

The charms of this delightful spot;
Its calm seclusion from the throng,
From all the heart would fain forget,
This narrow valley, and the song

Of its small murm'ring rivulet;
The flitting, to and fro, of birds,
Tranquil and tame as they were once
In Eden, ere the startling words

Of Man disturb'd their orisons;
Those little, shadowy paths, that wind
Up the hill-side, with fruit-trees lin'd,
And lighted only by the breaks
The gay wind in the foliage makes,
Or vistas, here and there that ope

Through weeping willows, like the snatches Of far-off scenes of light, which Hope

Ev'n through the shade of sadness catches! All this, which could I once but lose The memory of those vulgar ties,

many years ago, and is in the possession of the Count Somariva, at Paris. 2 Chantrey. 3 Canova always shows his fine statue, the Venere Vincitrice, by the light of a small candle.