persons belong to this epoch and diversify Solerti's pages. Towards the close of Tasso's life-if so remarkable an incident may be taken a little out of its turnthe brigand Sciarra offered him an escort (declined on moral grounds) when journeying through the disturbed country between Naples and Rome. Finding his courtesy refused, yet determined apparently to figure advantageously in the Poet's history, Sciarra withdrew his forces to a distance so that Tasso might pass without alarm. Returning to an earlier period, lovers of Aldine editions will be interested to hear that the head of this famous publishing house paid our author a visit when in prison at Ferrara, where he found him half-clad and ill fed; probably also complaining, as he does in letters about this time (Sept. 1582), of his unwashed condition, his matted hair and beard, and the annoyance caused by cats, whose wild eyes at night, in pursuit of their prey, looked like evil spirits glaring through the darkness. A little later (July 1586), we meet with the young prince of Mantua, who plays so poor a part in legends of the Admirable Crichton, but who here appears in the character of a deliverer and obtains from Alphonso the provisional release of his victim. Apparently the state of Tasso's health, unless he were to be left to diean alternative the Duke may have shrunk from— necessitated this relief. It is, however, clear that, while living under Mantuan protection, the poet was in danger of being sent back into confinement; and, some twelve months later, hearing that Alphonso was to visit the young prince, who had now succeeded to the Dukedom, Tasso shortly fled from Sassuolo, the little watering place where he was staying, intending to seek safety in Rome. A day later he arrived at Bologna, where he was entertained with apparent hospitality by a brother poet and man of letters, Costantini, who, in odious contrast to the halfpenitent Sciarra, now plays the part of an intentional but ineffective Judas. We will, however, leave Tasso for a moment, as he stands wrapt in his long cloak that swept the ground' and takes a courteous farewell at the door of his false friend (who immediately sent information to the Duke), briefly to describe the curious relic of mediæval piety, or superstition, which was the first important halting-place on this perilous journey, and which to the believing eyes of the hunted man must have appeared like the House Beautiful' to Christian. About fifteen miles south of Ancona, situated on a hill near the coast and with sunny views over the eastern spurs of the Apennines, stands the Sanctuary of Loreto, a shrine that still enjoys much reputation, more than half a million votaries being said to resort to it annually in search of bodily health or mental repose. The object of their veneration is a small brick building, which, according to the legend, was miraculously transplanted from Nazareth (as the relics of the Three Wise Men' were carried to Milan before finally resting at Cologne), and is believed to be the same that once sheltered the Holy Family. In 336 A.D. the aged Empress Helena, mother of Constantine, made a pilgrimage to the house, where it originally stood, and caused a basilica to be erected over it; but, owing to Saracenic incursions, the basilica fell into decay, and in 1291 the cottage is said to have been removed by the hands of angels during the night to the coast of Dalmatia, where it remained three years. For some unknown reason it was again removed and deposited near Recanati, where it now stands, on ground then belonging to a widow, named Laureta, whence its name. Pilgrimages soon began to be organised in honour of this manifestation of Divine power; houses were built for the accommodation of believers, who flocked thither in large numbers; and since that time an ever-increasing tide of suffering humanity has flowed and ebbed round the stately structure, built outside the cottage, and known as the Chiesa della Santa Casa. Among those who have thus testified their reverence for the humble dwelling, all ranks in life are represented; and a complete list would be found to include some of the greatest names in European history. And all bring gifts or peace-offerings of some kind; doubtless whatever they consider most acceptable, or of highest value, whether of gold or precious stones, of which there is great store, or pictures, or statuary, or other forms of art in silver or bronze; or candles, that quickly burn away; or wreaths of flowers, or promises of amendment; or, occasionally, hymns of praise in honour of the patroness of the shrine. Towards the close of the 16th century the rather straggling collection of houses which had then sprung up obtained the privileges of a town; and in 1587 the façade of the Church was being rebuilt under Pope Sixtus V, whose pontificate, among matters of graver import, will be remembered for the thorough cleansing of the lower quarters of the eternal City from the gangs of spadassins who had gathered there. The little township had just received its new dignity, when, in the autumn of that year, Tasso, who certainly had little beside his poetical compositions to offer-for at the time he was completely penniless-came to this spot, having followed the coast route by Fano, in fulfilment of a vow previously made, to return thanks for help and protection which he believed he had received. About two years earlier, towards the close of his long imprisonment, his health having entirely given way, he lay one night in a kind of trance, between sleeping and waking, or between life and death as it seemed to him, 'Art and nature unable any longer to assist,' when, as he thought, the Virgin, with the Holy Infant in her arms and the sacred writings in her hand, appeared at the foot of his bed and encouraged him to hope for better things. The vision was so distinct that he had no doubt of its divine origin, and always afterwards attributed his escape from immediate death (' che non perdona mai,' however) to the renewed strength thus strangely imparted. This was in December 1585, and, as we have seen, in the following July, the Duke of Ferrara consented to his provisional release. At Loreto, he slept in the house of Giulio Amici (for, although without money, the author of the 'Gerusalemme,' in all his wanderings, was rarely at a loss for a hospitable reception); and, in the words of his latest and occasionally eloquent biographer, thus was Torquato able to accomplish his vow at this celebrated shrine; and his spirit, stricken with dread in the tumult of this world, seems to have found the peace which it sought in Her who has always brought consolation in sorrow to those who believe.' The next day he continued his rapid flight, crossing the mountains by way of Macerata and Baccana; and the reality of the danger from which he fled is shown by the powerful influence exerted to have him sent back into Lombardy, after his arrival in Rome (Nov. 5). Here he was received in the house of Scipione Gonzaga, titular Patriarch of Jerusalem, and shortly to be made a Cardinal. The principal agent in these endeavours was his supposed friend, Antonio Costantini, who had followed him from Bologna, and now, with great baseness, employed every imaginable artifice and deception to entice the poet outside the city boundaries; intending to have him put into a litter, bound if necessary, and so conveyed away. In fact, but for the protection of the Pope, who seems to have entertained a thoroughly British conception of the right of asylum, this plan would have been carried out within sight of St Peter's.* It was while he was defending himself from these Covert attacks with an acuteness and determination which showed no trace of the mental infirmity so often alleged, that Tasso finished the 'Canzone,' an English version of which, in similar metre, now follows. The poem was enclosed in a letter dated from Rome about a fortnight after his safe arrival, which, from a passage it contains, he seems to have considered little short of miraculous. It was addressed to his kind entertainer at Loreto, Giulio Amici, in very flattering but appropriate terms. Given the occasion for an act of courtesy and good feeling, Tasso is never less than himself. TO THE MOST BLESSED VIRGIN IN LORETO. CANZONE. 'Amidst what tempests, what enduring wrath, Who, with mild ray, Still show'st the way See Solerti, p. 572; also appendix containing letters from Costantini to his employer. I yet must keep, when tempests hide the Pole I sink o'erwhelmed-a dark o'erburdened soul. The Sun that knows no West-and leads me here, This house, so poor, Which all adore, In reverence I behold, and seek not now To raise high towers of pride in Heaven's despite; The fountain see, whence grace and honour flow. Of fruitless knowledge, and unblessed desire, Bade thee heap hill on hill, Then most abased when seeming most to rise, (Ossa on Pelion lift the heart no higher!) And find, in thy distress, Through humbleness, a pathway to the skies. Here angel hands exalt the lowly dwelling ; They bore it through the clouds and o'er the sea, A miracle in wonder far excelling Fables of mountain upon mountain piled; These walls have been First earthly forms to serve our Lord and Guide; Like pebbles where I stand, On grains of sand, thy humble home beside. O happy hills whence came the quarried rock |