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eze in bibliothecis dicantur illi, quorum immortales Hence every artist requires a broad and high wine in iisdem locis ibi loquuntur: quinimo etiam light. Hence also, in a banquet-scene, the most que non sunt, finguntur, pariuntque desideria non picturesque of all poets has thrown his light from Esi vultus, sicut in Homero evenit. Quo majus the ceiling. - Æn. i, 726. toegadem arbitror) nullum est felicitatis specimen, And hence the “starry lamps” of Milton, that quam semper omnes scire cupere, qualis fuerit ali
- from the arched roof 3.-Plix. Nat. Hist.
Pendent by subtle magic,Cicero speaks with pleasure of a little seat under
- yielded light Apstotle in the library of Atticus. “Literis sustentor
As from a sky. et recreor; maloque in illa tua sedecula, quam habes
Note 13, page 22, col. 1. ab imagine Aristotelis, sedere quam in istorum sella
Beyond the triumphs of a Loriot's art. eruli!"-Ep. ed All iv, 10. Nor should we forget that Dryden drew inspira
At the petits soupers of Choisy were first intro
duced those admirable pieces of mechanism, after. bon from the “majestic face” of Shakspeare ; and
wards carried to perfection by Loriot, the Confidente xat a portrait of Newton was the only ornament of the closet of Buffon.-Ep. to Kneller. Voyage à
and the Servante; a table and a side-board, which
descended and rose again covered with viands and Hondart In the chamber of a man of genius we
wines. And thus the most luxurious Court in Eu
rope, after all its boasted refinements, was glad to Write all down: Such and such pictures ;-there the window
return at last, by this singular contrivance, to the -the arras, figures,
quiet and privacy of humble life.- Vie privée de Why, such and such.
Louis XV, tom. ii, p. 43.
Between I. 10, and ). 11, col. 1, were these lines,
since omitted : Whicb gathers round the Wise of every Tongue. Quis tantis non gaudeat et glorietur hospitibus,
Hail, sweet Society ! in crowds unknown,
Though the vain world would claim thee for its own. exclaims Petrarch.—Spectare, etsi nihil aliud, certè
Still where thy small and cheerful converse flowe, jutat-Homerus apud me mutus, imd verd ego apud Be mine to enter, ere the circle close. Llun sordus sum. Gaudeo tamen vel aspectû solo, When in retreat Fox lays his thunder by, a sepe illum amplexus ac suspirens dico: O magne
And Wit and Taste their mingled charms supply;
When Siddons, born to melt and freeze the heart, vy, etc.- Epist. Var. lib. 20.
Performs at home her more endearing part;
When he, who best interprets to mankind
The winged messengers from mind to mind,
Leans on his spade, and, playful as profound,
His genius sheds its evening-sunshine round,
Be mine to listen ; pleased yet not elate, € 33.
Ever too modest or too proud to rate
Myself by my companions, self-compell'd
To earn the station that in life I hold.
They were written in 1796. esta Nor is this an exclusive privilege of the
Note 14, page 22, col. 1. DOEL The Medici Palace at Florence exhibits a So through the vales of Loire the bee-hives glide. long and imposing catalogue. “Semper hi parietes An allusion to the floating bee-house, or barge columnæque eruditis vocibus resonuerunt."
laden with bee-hives, which is seen in some parts Another is also preserved at Chanteloup, the seat of France and Piedmont. of the Duke of Choiseul.
Note 15, page 22, col. 1.
Caught through St. James's groves at blush of day.
After this line in the MS. At a Roman supper, statues were sometimes em
Groves that Belinda's star illumines still, poged to hold the lamps.
And ancient Courts and faded splendors fill -Aurea sunt juvecum simulacra per «deis,
Note 16, page 22, col. 1.
Lucr. ii, 24.
And, with the swallow, wings the year away! A fashion as old as Homer!-Odyss. vii, 100. It was the boast of Lucullus that he changed his
On the proper degree and distribution of light, we climate with the birds of passage.—Plut. in Vit may consult a great master of effect. Il lume grande, Lucull. ed alto, e non troppo potente, sarà quello, che ren- How often must he have felt the truth here in derà le particole de' corpi molto grate.-Tratt. della culcated, that the master of many houses has no Pittura di LIONARDO DI VINCI, c. xli.
'Twas Autumn; through Provence had ceased
Up rose St. Pierre, when morning shone;
And, as she pass'd her father's door,
Oh! she was good as she was fair ;
Soon as the sun the glittering pane
Aloft in Notre Dame to wave;
And who but she could soothe the boy,
Nor spinning by the fountain-side,
Now he sigh'd heavily; and now, (Some story of the days of old,
His hand withdrawing from his brow, Barbe Bleue or Chaperon Rouge half-told
He shut the volume with a frown, To him who would not be denied ;)
To walk his troubled spirit down : Not now, to while an hour away,
-When (faithful as that dog of yore' Gone to the falls in Valombre,
Who wagg'd his tail and could no more) Where 't is night at noon of day;
Manchon, who long had snuft'd the ground, Nor Fandering up and down the wood,
And sought and sought, but never found, To all but her a solitude,
Leapt up and to the casement flew, Where once a wild deer, wild no more,
And look'd and bark'd and vanish'd through. Her chaplet on his antlers wore,
“'T is Jacqueline! "T is Jacqueline !" And at her bidding stood.
Her little brother laughing cried.
She comes along the mountain-side ;
Now turning by the traveller's seat,And, curtain'd close by leaf and flower,
Now resting in the hermit's cave, The doves had cooed themselves to rest
Now kneeling, where the path ways meet, In Jacqueline's deserted bower;
To the cross on the stranger's grave. The doves—that still would at her casement peck, And, by the soldier's cloak, I know And in her walks had ever flutter'd round (There, there along the ridge they go) With purple feet and shining neck,
D'Arcy, so gentle and so brave! True as the echo to the sound.
Look up-why will you not ?" he cries That casement, underneath the trees,
His rosy hands before his eyes ; Half open to the western breeze,
For on that incense-breathing eve Look'd down, enchanting Garonnelle,
The sun shone out, as loth to leave. Thy wild and mulberry-shaded dell,
“See to the rugged rock she clings ! Round which the Alps of Piedmont rose,
She calls, she faints, and D'Arcy springs The blush of sunset on their snows :
D'Arcy so dear to us, to all; While, blithe as lark on summer-morn,
Who, for you told me on your knee, When green and yellow waves the corn,
When in the fight he saw you fall, When harebells blow in every grove,
Saved you for Jacqueline and me!" And thrushes sing “I love! I love !""
And true it was! And true the tale! Within (s0 soon the early rain
When did she sue and not prevail ? Scatters, and 't is fair again;
Five years before-it was the night Though many a drop may yet be seen
That on the village-green they parted, To tell us where a cloud has been)
The lilied banners streaming bright Within lay Frederic, o'er and o'er
O'er maids and mothers broken-hearted: Building castles on the floor,
The drum-it drown'd the last adieu. And feigning, as they grew in size,
When D'Arcy from the crowd she drew. New troubles and new dangers;
"One charge I have, and one alone, With dimpled cheeks and laughing eyes,
Nor that refuse to take, As he and Fear were strangers.
My father-if not for his own, St. Pierre sat by, nor saw nor smiled.
Oh for his daughter's sake!” His eyes were on his loved Montaigne;
Inly he vow'd—“'t was all he could !" But every leaf was turn'd in vain
And went and seal'd it with his blood. Then in that hour remorse he felt,
Nor can ye wonder. When a child, And his heart told him he had dealt
And in her playfulness she smiled, Unkindly with his child.
Up many a ladder-path? he guided A father may awhile refuse ;
Where meteor-like the chamois glided, But who can for another choose ?
Through many a misty grove. When her young blushes had reveal'd
They loved—but under Friendship's name The secret from herself conceal'd,
And Reason, Virtue fann'd the flame; Why promise what her tears denied,
Till in their houses Discord came, That she should be De Courcy's bride?
And 't was a crime to love. -Wouldst thou, presumptuous as thou art, Then what was Jacqueline to do? O'er Nature play the tyrant's part,
Her father's angry hours she knew, And with the hand compel the heart ?
And when to soothe, and when persuade; Ob rather, rather hope to bind
But now her path De Courcy cross'd, The ocean-wave, the mountain-wind;
Led by his falcon through the gladeOr fix thy foot upon the ground
He turn'd, beheld, admired the maid ; To stop the planet rolling round.
And all her little arts were lost! The light was on his face; and there
De Courcy, lord of Argentiere! You might have seen the passions driven
Thy poverty, thy pride, St. Pierre, Resentment, Pity, Hope, Despair
Thy thirst for vengeance sought the snare. Like clouds across the face of Heaven.
1 Argus. i Cantando “lo amo! Io amo!"'-Tasso.
2 Called in the language of the country pas de l'Echelle.
The day was named, the guests invited ;
That morn ('t was in Ste Julienne's cell, As at Ste Julienne's sacred well Their dream of love began), That morn, ere many a star was set, Their hands had on the altar met Before the holy man. -And now the village gleams at last; The woods, the golden meadows pass'd, Where, when Toulouse, thy splendor shone The Troubadour would journey on Transported-or, from grove to grove, Framing some roundelay of love, Wander till the day was gone. “ All will be well, my Jacqueline ! Oh tremble not-but trust in me. The good are better made by ill, As odors crush'd are sweeter still; And gloomy as thy past has been, Bright shall thy future be!" So saying, through the fragrant shade Gently along he led the maid, While Manchon round and round her play'd : And, as that silent glen they leave, Where by the spring the pitchers stand, Where glow-worms light their lamps at eve, And fairies dance-in fairy-land, (When Lubin calls, and Blanche steals round, Her finger on her lip, to see; And many an acorn-cup is found Under the greenwood tree) From every cot above, below, They gather as they goSabot, and coif, and collerette, The housewife's prayer, the grandam's blessing! Girls that adjust their locks of jet, And look and look and linger yet, The lovely bride caressing; Babes that had learnt to lisp her name, And heroes he had led to fame.
All, all—the whilean awful distance keeping;
Then Jacqueline the silence broke.
He shook his aged locks of snow;
Nor let the least be sent away. All hearts shall sing Adieu to sorrow!' St. Pierre has found his child to-day; And old and young shall dance to-morrow.” Had Louis' then before the gate dismounted, Lost in the chase at set of sun; Like Henry, when he heard recounted? The generous deeds himself had done, (That night the miller's maid Colette Sung, while he supp'd, her chansonnette Then-when St. Pierre address'd his village-train, Then had the monarch with a sigh confess'd A joy by him unsought and unpossess'd, -Without it what are all the rest? To love and to be loved again.
But what felt D'Arcy, when at length Her father's gate was open flung? Ah, then he found a giant's strength; For round him, as for life, she clung! And when, her fit of weeping o'er, Onward they moved a little space, And saw an old man sitting at the door, Saw his wan cheek, and sunken eye That seem'd to gaze on vacancy, Then, at the sight of that beloved face, At once to fall npon his neck she flow; But-not encouraged-back she drew, And trembling stood in dread suspenso, Her tears her only eloquence!
The Voyage of Columbus.
Chi se' tu, che vieni?-
Yet here, in consecrated dust,
Here would I sleep, if sleep I must. THE following Poem (or to speak more properly,
From Genoa when Columnbus came, what remains of it') has here and there a lyrical
(At once her glory and her shame) turn of thought and expression. It is sudden in its
”T was here he caught the holy fame. transitions, and full of historical allusions; leaving
"T was here the generous vow he made; much to be imagined by the reader.
His banners on the altar laid.-The subject is a voyage the most memorable in the
One hallow'd morn, methought, I felt annals of mankind. Columbus was a person of ex
As if a soul within me dwelt! traordinary virtue and piety, acting under the sense of
But who arose and gave to me a diyine impulse; and his achievement the discovery
The sacred trust I keep for thee, of a New World, the inhabitants of which were shut
And in his cell at even-tide out from the light of Revelation, and given up, as
Knelt before the cross and diedthey believed, to the dominion of malignant spirits.
Inquire not now. His name no more Many of the incidents will now be thought extray
Glimmers on the chancel-foor, agant ; yet they were once perhaps received with
Near the lights that ever shine something more than indulgence. It was an age of
Before St. Mary's blessed shrine. miracles; and who can say that among the venerable
To me one little hour devote, legends in the library of the Escurial, or the more
And lay thy staff and scrip beside thee;
Read in the temper that he wrote, authentic records which fill the great chamber in the Archivo of Simancas, and which relate entirely to the
And may his gentle spirit guide thee! deep tragedy of America, there are no volumes that
My leaves forsake me, one by one; mention the marvellous things here described ? In
The book-worm through and through has gone, deed the story, as already told throughout Europe,
Oh haste-unclasp me, and unfold; admits of no heightening. Such was the religious
The tale within was never told ! enthusiasm of the early writers, that the Author had only to transfuse it into his verse ; and he appears to have done little more; though some of the circum
PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. stances which he alludes to as well known, have long ceased to be so. By using the language of that day, he has called up Columbus " in his habit as he
There is a spirit in the old Spanish Chroniclers lived," and the authorities, such as exist, are care
of the sixteenth century that may be compared to the fully given by the Translator.
freshness of water at the fountain-head. Their simplicity, their sensibility to the strange and the won
derful, their very weaknesses, give an infinite value, INSCRIBED ON THE ORIGINAL MANUSCRIPT.
by giving a life and a character to every thing they UNCLASP me, Stranger; and unfold,
touch ; and their religion, which bursts out everyWith trembling care, my leaves of gold where, addresses itself to the imagination in the Rich in Gothic portraiture
highest degree. If they err, their errors are not their If yet, alas, a leaf endure,
own. They think and feel after the fashion of the In RABIDA's monastic fane,
time; and their narratives are so many moving I cannot ask, and ask in vain.
pictures of the actions, manners, and thoughts of The language of Castile I speak;
their contemporaries. 'Mid many an Arab, many a Greek,
What they had to communicate, might well make Old in the days of Charlemain;
them eloquent; but, inasmuch as relates to ColumWhen minstrel-music wander'd round,
bus, the inspiration went no farther. No National And Science, waking, bless'd the sound. Poem appeared on the subject; no Camoëns did No earthly thought has here a place,
honor to his Genius and his Virtues. Yet the mateThe cowl let down on every face;
rials, that have descended to us, are surely not un
poetical; and a desire to avail myself of them, to 1 The Original, in the Castilian language, according to the convey in some instances as far as I could, in others inscription that follows, was found among other MSS. in an old as far as I dared, their warmth of coloring and religious house near Palos, situated on an island formed by the wildness of imagery, led me to conceive the idea of river Tinto, and dedicated to our Lady of Rábida. Tho writer describes himself as having sailed with Columbus; but his
is a Poem written not long after his death, when the style and manner are evidently of an after-time.
great consequences of the Discovery were beginning