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* It was a vow I made in my distress.

With ashes, and the sides, where roughest, hung We were so blest, none were so blest as we, Loosely with locks of hair-I look'd and saw Till Sickness came. First, as death-struck, I fell; What, seen in such an hour by Sancho Panza, Then my beloved sister; and ere-long,

Had given his honest countenance a breadth, Worn with continual watchings, night and day, His cheeks a flush of pleasure and surprise, Our mini-like mother. Worse and worse she grew; Unknown before, had chain'd him to the spot, And in my anguish, my despair, I vow'd,

And thou, Sir Knight, hadst traversed hill and dale 'That if she lived, if Heaven restored her to us, Squire-less. I would forth with, and in a Pilgrim's weeds,

Below and winding far away, Visit that holy shrine. My vow was heard ; A narrow glade unfolded, such as Spring (127) And therefore am I come.”—“Thou hast done well; Broiders with flowers, and, when the moon is high, Au may those weeds, so reverenced of old, The hare delights to race in, scattering round Guard thee in danger !"

The silvery dews. Cedar and cypress threw “They are nothing worth. Singly their length of shadow, chequering But they are worn in humble confidence; The greensward, and, what grew in frequent tufis, Nor would I for the richest robe resign them, An underwood of myrtle, that by fits Wronghi, as they were, by those I love so well, Sent up a gale of fragrance. Through the midst, laurelta and my sister; theirs the task,

Reflecting, as it ran, purple and gold,
But none to them, a pleasure, a delight,

A rainbow's splendor (somewhere in the cast
To ply their utmost skill, and send me forth Rain-drops were falling fast) a rivulet
As best became this service. Their last words, Sported as loth to go; and on the bank
• Fare thee well, Carlo. We shall count the hours! Stood in the eyes of one, if not of both,
Will not go from me."-

Worth all the rest and more) a sumpter-mule (128) “Health and strength be thine Well-laden, while two menials as in haste la thy long travel! May no sun-beam strike; Drew from his ample panniers, ranging round No vapor cling and wither! Mayest thou be, Viands and fruits on many a shining salver, Sleeping or waking, sacred and secure !

And plunging in the cool translucent wave
And, when again thou comest, thy labor done, Flasks of delicious wine.
Joy be among ye! In that happy hour

Anon a horn
All will pour forth to bid thee welcome, Carlo; Blew, through the champaign bidding to the feast,
And there is one, or I am much deceived, Its jocund note to other ears address'd,
One thou hast named, who will not be the last."- Not ours; and, slowly coming by a path,
*Oh, she is true as Truth itself can be !

That, ere it issued from an ilex-grove, But ah, thou knowest her not. Would that thou Was seen far inward, though along the glade couldst!

Distinguish'd only by a fresher verdure, My steps I quicken when I think of her;

Peasants approach'd, one leading in a leash For, though they take me further from her door, Beagles yet panting, one with various game, I shall return the sooner.”

In rich confusion slung, before, behind,

Leveret and quail and pheasant. All announced II.

The chase as over; and ere-long appear'd

Their horses full of fire, champing the curb,

For the white foam was dry upon the flank, PLEASURE, that comes unlook'd-for, is thrice wel. Two in close converse, each in each delighting, come;

Their plumage waving as instinct with life; And, if it stir the heart, if aught be there, A Lady young and graceful, and a Youth, That may hereafter in a thoughtful hour

Yet younger, bearing on a falconer’s glove, Wake but a sigh, 't is treasured up among

As in the golden, the romantic time, The things most precious; and the day it came,

His falcon hooded. Like some spirit of air, Ls noted as a white day in our lives.

Or fairy-vision, such as feign’d of old,

The Lady, while her courser paw'd the ground, The sun was wheeling westward, and the cliffs Alighted ; and her beauty, as she trod And Dodding woods, that everlastingly

The enamell’d bank, bruising nor herb nor flower, (Such the dominion of thy mighty voice, (125) That place illumined. Thy voice, Velino, utter'd in the mist)

Ah, who should she be, Hear thee and answer thee, were left at length And with her brother, as when last we met, For others still as noon; and on we stray'd (When the first lark had sung ere half was said, Froin wild to wilder, nothing hospitable

And as she stood, bidding adieu, her voice, Seen up or down, no bush or green or dry, (126) So sweet it was, recall’d me like a spell) That ancient symbol at the cottage-door,

Who but Angelica ? Offering refreshment-when Luigi cried,

That day we gave
"Well, of a thousand tracts we chose the best!" To Pleasure, and, unconscious of their flight,
And, turning round an oak, oracular once,

Another and another; hers a home
Now lightning-struck, a cave, a thoroughfare Dropt from the sky amid the wild and rude,
For all that carne, each entrance a broad arch, Loretto-like. The rising moon we hail'd,
Whence many a deer, rustling his velvet coat, Duly, devoutly, from a vestibule
Had issued, many a gipsy and her brood

Of many an arch, o'erwrought and lavishly l'eerd forth, then housed again—the floor yet grey With many a wildering dream of sylphs and powers,

When Raphael and his school from Florence came, Their doors seal'd up and silent as the night,
Filling the land with splendor (129)—nor less oft The dwellings of the illustrious dead-to turn
Watch'd her, declining, from a silent dell, Toward Tiber, and, beyond the City-gate,
Not silent once, what time in rivalry

Pour out my unpremeditated verse,
Tasso, Guarini, waved their wizard-wands,

Where on his mule I might have met so oft Peopling the groves from Arcady, and lo,

Horace himself (132)—or climb the Palatine, Fair forms appear’d, murmuring melodious verse,(130) Dreaming of old Evander and his guest, -Then, in their day, a sylvan theatre,

Dreaming and lost on that proud erinence, Mossy the seats, the stage a verdurous floor, Longwhile the seat of Rome, hereafter found The scenery rock and shrub-wood, Nature's own; Less than enough (so monstrous was the brood Nature the Architect.

Engender'd there, so Titan-like) to lodge

One in his madness ;' and, the summit gain'd, III.

Inscribe my name on some broad aloe-leaf,

That shoots and spreads within those very walls ROME.

Where Virgil read aloud his tale divine, I am in Rome! Oft as the morning-ray

Where his voice falter’d, (133) and a mother wept Visits these eyes, waking at once I cry,

Tears of delight! Whence this excess of joy? What has befallen me?

But what a narrow space And from within a thrilling voice replies,

Just underneath! In many a heap the ground Thou art in Rome! A thousand busy thoughts Heaves, as though Ruin in a frantic mood Rush on my mind, a thousand images ;

Had done his utmost. Here and there appears, And I spring up as girt to run a race!

As left to show his handy-work not ours,

An idle column, a half-buried arch, Thou art in Rome! the City that so long A wall of some great temple. Reign'd absolute, the mistress of the world ;

It was once, The mighty vision that the prophets saw,

And long, the centre of their Universe, (134) And trembled ; that from nothing, from the least, The Forum-whence a mandate, eagle-wing d, The lowliest village (what but here and there

Went to the ends of the earth. Let us descend A reed-roof'd cabin by a river-side ?)

Slowly. At every step much may be lost. Grew into everything; and, year by year,

The very dust we tread, stirs as with life; Patiently, fearlessly working her way

And not the lightest breath that sends not up O'er brook and field, o'er continent and sea,

Something of human grandeur. Not like the merchant with his merchandise,

We are come, Or traveller with staff and scrip exploring,

Are now where once the mightiest spirits met But hand to hand and foot to foot, through hosts, In terrible conflict; this, while Rome was free, Through nations numberless in battle-array, The noblest theatre on this side Heaven! Each behind each, each, when the other fell,

Here the first Brutus stood, when o'er the corse Up and in arms, at length subdued them all.

Of her so chaste all mourn'd, and from his cloud

Burst like a God. Here, holding up the knife Thou art in Rome! the City, where the Gauls,

That ran with blood, the blood of his own child, Entering at sun-rise through her open gates,

Virginius callid down vengeance.—But whence spoke And, through her streets silent and desolate,

They who harangued the people; turning now Marching to slay, thought they saw Gods, not men ; To the twelve tables, (135) now with lified hands The City that, by temperance, fortitude,

To the Capitoline Jove, whose fulgent shape And love of glory, tower'd above the clouds,

In the unclouded azure shone far off, Then fell—but, falling, kept the highest seat,

And to the shepherd on the Alban mount (136) And in her loneliness, her pomp of woe,

Seem'd like a star new-risen? Where were ranged Where now she dwells, withdrawn into the wild, Still o'er the mind maintains, from age to age,

In rough array as on their element,

The beaks of those old galleys, destined still ?
Her empire undiminish'd.

To brave the brunt of war—at last to know
There, as though

A calm far worse, a silence as in denth?
Grandeur attracted Grandeur, are beheld

All spiritless ; from that disastrous hour All things that strike, ennoble from the depths

When he, the bravest, gentlest of them all." Of Egypt, from the classic fields of Greece,

Scorning the chains he could not hope to break, Her groves, her temples—all things that inspire

Fell on his sword ! Wonder, delight! Who would not say the Forms

Along the Sacred Way Most perfect, most divine, had by consent

Hither the Triumph came, and, winding round Flock'd thither to abide eternally,

With acclamation, and the martial clang Within those silent chambers where they dwell,

Of instruments, and cars laden with spoil,
In happy intercourse?

Stopt at the sacred stair that then appear'd,
And I am there!

Then through the darkness broke, ample, star-bright, Ah, little thought I, when in school I sate,

As though it led to heaven. 'T was night; but now A school-boy on his bench, at early dawn

A thousand torches, tuming night to day, (137)
Glowing with Roman story, I should live

Blazed, and the victor, springing from his seat,
To tread the Appian, (131) once an avenue
Of monuments most glorious, palaces,

1 Nero. 2 The Rostra. 3 Marcus Junius Brutus.

Went up, and, kneeling as in fervent prayer, Replied a soldier of the Pontiff's guard.
Enter'd the Capitol. But what are they,

"And innocent as beautiful!" exclaim'd Who at the foot withdraw, a mournful train A Matron sitting in her stall, hung round In fetters? And who, yet incredulous,

With garlands, holy pictures, and what not? Now gazing wildly round, now on his sons, Her Alban grapes and Tusculan figs display'd On those so young, well-pleased with all they see,(138) In rich profusion. From her heart she spoke; Stnggers along, the last ?- They are the fallen, And I accosted her to hear her story. Those who were spared to grace the chariot-wheels; “ The stab," she cried, “ was given in jealousy; And there they parted, where the road divides, But never fled a purer spirit to heaven, The victor and the vanquish'd—there withdrew; As thou wilt say, or much my mind misleads, He to the festal-board, and they to die.

When thou hast seen her face. Last night at dusk

When on her way from vespers—None were near, Well might the great, the mighty of the world, None save her serving-boy, who knelt and wept, They who were wont to fare deliciously,

But what could tears avail him, when she fellAnd war but for a kingdom more or less,

Last night at dusk, the clock then striking nine, Shrink back, nor from their thrones endure to look, Just by the fountain—that before the church, To think that way! Well might they in their state The church she always used, St. Isidore's Hamble themselves, and kneel and supplicate Alas, I knew her from her earliest youth, To be delivered from a dream like this!

That excellent lady. Ever would she say,

Good even, as she pass'd, and with a voice Here Cincinnatus pass’d, his plow the while Gentle as theirs in heaven!"-But now by fits Left in the furrow, and how many more,

A dull and dismal noise assail'd the ear, Whose laurels fide not, who still walk the earth, A wail, a chant, louder and louder yet; Consuls, Dictators, still in Curule pomp

And now a strange fantastic troop appear'd! Sit and decide; and, as of old in Rome,

Thronging, they came-as from the shades below; Name but their names, set every heart on fire! All of a ghostly white! “Oh say,” I cried,

“ Do not the living here bury the dead ? Here, in his bonds, he whom the phalanx saved not, Do Spirits come and fetch them? What are these, The last on Philip's throne; and the Numidian," That seem not of this world, and mock the Day; So soon to say, stript of his cumbrous robe, Each with a burning taper in his hand ?”— Stript to the skin, and in his nakedness

It is an ancient Brotherhood thou seest. Thrust under-ground,“ How cold this bath of yours!" Such their apparel. Through the long, long line, And thy proud queen, Palmyra, through the sands: Look where thou wilt, no likeness of a man; Punued, o'erlaken on her dromedary;

The living mask'd, the dead alone uncover'd. Whase temples, palaces, a wondrous dream But mark”-And, lying on her funeral-couch, That passes not away, for many a league

Like one asleep, her eye-lids closed, her hands Illumine yet the desert. Some invoked

Folded together on her modest breast, Denth, and escaped ; the Egyptian, when her asp As 't were her nightly posture, through the crowd Care from his covert under the green leaf;4 She came at last—and richly, gaily clad, And Hannibal himself; and she who said,

As for a birth-day feast! But breathes she not? Taking the fatal cup between her hands," (139) A glow is on her cheek—and her lips move! Tell him I would it had come yesterday;

And now a smile is there—how heavenly sweet! For then it had not been his nuptial gift."

" Oh no!" replied the Dame, wiping her tears,

But with an accent less of grief than anger, Now all is changed; and here, as in the wild, No, she will never, never wake again!" The day is silent, dreary as the night ; None stirring, save the herdsman and his herd, Death, when we meet the spectre in our walks, Savage alike; or they that would explore,

As we did yesterday, and shall to-morrow, Discuss and learnedly; or they that come, Soon grows familiar-like most other things, (And there are many who have cross'd the earth) Seen, not observed; but in a foreign clime, That they may give the hours to meditation, Changing his shape to something new and strange, And wander, often saying to themselves,

(And through the world he changes as in sport, - This was the Roman Forum !"

Affect he greatness or humility)

Knocks at the heart. His form and fashion here

To me, I do confess, reflect a gloom,

A sadness round ; yet one I would not lose ;

Being in unison with all things else ** WETENCE this delay ?” "Along the crowded street In this, this land of shadows, where we live A Funeral comes, and with unusual pomp." More in past time than present, where the ground, So I withdrew a little, and stood still,

League beyond league, like one great cemetery, While it went by. “She died as she deserved," Is cover'd o'er with mouldering monuments; Sud an Abate, gathering up his cloak,

And, let the living wander where they will, And with a shrug retreating as the tide

They cannot leave the footsteps of the dead. Flow'd more and more.—"But she was beautiful!"

Oft, where the burial-rite follows so fast 1 Perseun. ! Jugurtha. 3 Zenobia.

The agony, oft coming, nor from far, 4 Cleopatra. 5 Sophonisba.

Must a fond father meet his darling child,

(Him who at parting climb'd his knees and clung) at their excesses ; remembering that nations are natClay-cold and wan, and to the bearers cry, urally patient and long-suffering, and seldom rise in “Stand, I conjure ye!"

rebellion till they are so degraded by a bad governSeen thus destitute, ment as to be almost incapable of a good one. What are the greatest ? They must speak beyond “Hate them, perhaps," you may say, “we should A thousand homilies. When Raphael went, not; but despise them we must, if enslaved, like the His heavenly face the mirror of his mind,

people of Rome, in mind as well as body; if their reHis mind a temple for all lovely things

ligion be a gross and barbarous superstition."-I reTo flock to and inhabit—when He went,

spect knowledge; but I do not despise ignorance. Wrapt in his sable cloak, the cloak he wore, They think only as their fathers thought, worship as To sleep beneath the venerable Dome,'

they worshipped. They do no more; and, if our had By those attended, who in life had loved,

not burst their bondage, braving imprisonment and Had worshipp’d, following in his steps to Fame, death, might not we at this very moment have been ('T was on an April-day, when Nature smiles) exhibiting, in our streets and our churches, the same All Rome was there. But, ere the march began, processions, ceremonials, and mortifications ? Ere to receive their charge the bearers came, Nor should we require from those who are in an Who had not sought him? And when all beheld earlier stage of society, what belongs to a later! Him, where he lay, how changed from yesterday, They are only where we once were; and why hoki Him in that hour cut off, and at his head

them in derision? It is their business to cultivate ibe His last great work; (140) when, entering in, they inferior arts before they think of the more refined; look'd

and in many of the last what are we as a nation, Now on the dead, then on that master-piece, when compared to others that have passed away! Now on his face, lifeless and colorless,

Unfortunately, it is too much the practice of governThen on those forms divine that lived and breathed, ments to nurse and keep alive in the governed their And would live on for ages-all were moved ; national prejudices. It withdraws their attention from And sighs burst forth, and loudest lamentations. what is passing at home, and makes them better wolk

in the hands of Ambition. Hence next-door neigh. V.

hors are held up to us from our childhood as natural NATIONAL PREJUDICES.

enemies; and we are urged on like curs to worry each "ANOTHER Assassination! This venerable City," I other.' exclaimed, " what is it, but as it began, a nest of In like manner we should learn to be just to indi. robbers and murderers? We must away at sun-rise, viduals. Who can say, “ In such circumstances i Luigi.” But before sun-rise I had reflected a little, should have done otherwise ?" Who, did he but reand in the soberest prose. My indignation was gone; flect by what slow gradations, often by how many and, when Luigi undrew my curtain, crying, “ Up, strange concurrences, we are led astray; with how Signor, up! The horses are at the door.”—“ Luigi," I much reluctance, how much agony, how many efforts replied, “ if thou lovest me, draw the curtain." to escape, how many self-accusations, how many sighs,

It would lessen very much the severity with which how many tears—Who, did he but reflect for a momen judge of each other, if they would but trace ef. ment, would have the heart to cast a stone ? For. fects to their causes, and observe the progress of tunately, these things are known to Him, from whom things in the moral as accurately as in the physical no secrets are hidden; and let us rest in the assuworld. When we condemn millions in the mass as rance that his judgments are not as ours are. vindictive and sanguinary, we should remember that,

VI. wherever Justice is ill-administered, the injured will redress themselves. Robbery provokes to robbery ; THE CAMPAGNA OF ROME. murder to assassination. Resentments become heredi

Have none appear'd as tillers of the ground, (141) tary; and what began in disorder, ends as if all Hell None since they went—as though it still were theirs, had broke loose.

And they might come and claim their own again? Laws create a habit of self-restraint, not only by the was the last plow a Roman's ? influence of fear, but by regulating in its exercise the

From this Seat, (142) passion of revenge. If they overawe the bad by the Sacred for ages, whence, as Virgil sings, prospect of a punishment certain and well-defined, The Queen of Heaven, alighting from the sky, they console ihe injured by the infliction of that Look'd down and saw the armies in array,? punishment; and, as the infliction is a public act, it excites and entails no enmity. The laws are offended; Can it be believed that there are many among us, who, from a de and the community, for its own sake, pursues and sire to be thought superior to commonplace sentiments and vulgar overtakes the offender; often without the concur- feelings, affect an indifference to their cause! “If the Greeks," rence of the sufferer, sometimes against his wishes. they say, "had the probity of other nations—but they are fulee Now those who were not born, like ourselves, 10 Man is the creature of circumstances. Free, he has the quair

to a proverb!” And is not falsehood the characteristic of slaven? such advantages, we should surely rather pity than ties of a freeman; enslaved, those of a slave. hate; and, when at length they venture to turn

1 Candor, generosity, how rare are they in the world ; and against their rulers,' we should lament, not wonder how much is to be deplored the want of them! When a minis

ter in our parliament consents at last to a measure, which, for

many reasons perhaps existing no longer, he had before refused 1 The Pantheon.

to adopt, there should be no exultation as over the fallen, no 2 A dialogue, which is said to have passed many years ago taunt, no joer. How often may the resistance be continued jest at Lyons (Mem. de Grammont, I. 23.) and which may still be an enemy should triumph, and the result of conviction be re heard in almost every hôtellerie at day-break.

ceived as a symptoin of fear! 3 As the descendants of an illustrious people have lately done. 2 Æncid, xu, 134.


Let us contemplate; and, where dreams from Jove And reaping-hook, among their household-things Descended on the sleeper, where perhaps

Duly transmitted ? In the hands of men Some inspirations may be lingering still,

Made captive; while the master and his guests, Some glimmerings of the future or the past, Reclining, quaff in gold, and roses swim, Await their influence; silently revolving

Summer and winter, through the circling year,
The changes from that hour, when He from Troy On their Falernian-in the hands of men
Went up the Tiber; when refulgent shields, Dragg'a into slavery, with how many more
No strangers to the iron-hail of war,

Spared but to die, a public spectacle,
Stream'd far and wide, and dashing oars were heard In combat with each other, and required
Among those woods where Silvia’s stag was lying, To fall with grace, with dignity to sink,
His antlers gay with flowers; among those woods While life is gushing, and the plaudits ring
Whero, by the Moon, that saw and yet withdrew not, Faint and yet fainter on their failing ear,
Two were so soon to wander and be slain, (143) As models for the sculptor.
Two lovely in their lives, nor in their death

But their days,

Their hours are number'd. Hark, a yell, a shriek, Then, and hence to be discern'd, A barbarous dissonance, loud and yet louder, How many realms, pastoral and warlike, lay (144) That echoes from the mountains to the sea! Along this plain, each with its schemes of power, And mark, beneath us, like a bursting cloud, Its little rivalships! What various turns

The batile moving onward! Had they slain Of fortune there; what moving accidents

All, that the Earth should from her womb bring forth From ambuscade and open violence!

New nations to destroy them? From the depth Mingling, the sounds came up; and hence how oft forests, from what none had dared explore, We might have caught among the trees below, Regions of thrilling ice, as though in ice Glittering with helm and shield, the men of Tibur;' Engender'd, multiplied, they pour along, Or in Greek vesture, Greek their origin,

Shaggy and huge! Host after host, they come; Some embassy, ascending to Præneste;2

The Goth, the Vandal; and again the Goth! How oft descried, without thy gates, Aricia,

Once more we look, and all is still as night, Entering the solemn grove for sacrifice,

All desolate! Groves, temples, palaces, Senate and People Each a busy hive,

Swept from the sight, and nothing visible,
Glowing with life!

Amid the sulphurous vapors that exhale
But all ere-long are lost

As from a land accurst, save here and there
In one. We look, and where the river rolls

An empty tomb, a fragment like the limb South ward its shining labyrinth, in her strength

of some dismember'd giant. In the midst A City, girt with battlements and towers,

A City stands, her domes and turrets crown'd
On seven small hills is rising. Round about,
At rural work, the Citizens are seen,

With many a cross; but they, that issue forth,

Wander like strangers who had built among None unemploy'd ; the noblest of them all

The mighty ruins, silent, spiritless; Binding their sheaves or on their threshing-Noors,

And on the road, where once we might have met As though they had not conquer'd. Everywhere

Casar and Cato, and men more than kings, Some trace of valor or heroic virtue!

We meet, none else, the pilgrim and the beggar.
Here is the sacred field of the Horatii, (145)
There are the Quintian meadows. (146) Here the hilla

How holy, where a generous people, twice,
Twice going forth, in terrible anger sate

Arm'd; and, their wrongs redress'd, at once gave way,

THOSE ancient men, what were they, who achieved Helmet and shield, and sword and spear thrown down, A sway beyond the greatest conquerors; And every hand uplified, every heart

Setting their feet upon the necks of kings, Pour'd out in thanks to Heaven.

And, through the world, subduing, chaining down Once again

The free immortal spirit? Were they not
We look; and, Jo, the sea is white with sails Mighty magicians ? Theirs a wondrous spell,
Innomerable, wafting to the shore

Where true and false were with infernal art
Treasures antold ; the vale, the promontories, Close-interwoven; where together met
A dream of glory; temples, palaces,

Plessings and curses, threats and promises ;
Call'd up as by enchantment; aqueducts

And with the terrors of Futurity
Among the groves and glades rolling along Mingled whate'er enchants and fascinates,
Rivers, on many an arch high over-head;

Music and painting, sculpture, rhetoric (147)
And in the centre, like a burning-sun,

And architectural pomp, such as none else ; The Imperial City! They have now subdlued And dazzling light, and darkness visible! (148) All nations. But where they who led them forth; What in his day the Syracusan sought, Who, when at length released by victory,

Another world to plant his engines on, (Buckler and spear hung up-but not to rust)

They had ; and, having it, like gods, not men, lleld poverty no evil, no reproach,

Moved this world at their pleasure. Ere they Laring on little with a cheerful mind,

came, (149) The Decii, the Fabricii? Where the spade Their shadows, stretching far and wide, were known;

And Two, that look'd beyond the visible sphere, 1 Tivoli. ? Palestrina. 3 La Riccia. 4 Mona Sacer. /Gave notice of their coming--he who saw

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