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Feeling of that which is, and fancy of
of poesy, which peoples but the air That which should be, to such a recompense With thought and beings of our thought reflected, Conduct? shall their bright plumage on the rough Can do no more: then let the artist share
Storm be still scattered? Yes, and it must be ; The palm, he shares the peril, and dejected,
Faints o'er the labor unapproved-Alas !
Despair and Genius are too oft connected.
Earth's mist with their pure pinions not agree, Art shall resume and equal even the sway,
Which with Apelles and old Phidias,
Ye shall be taught by Ruin to revive Await the moment to assail and tear;
The Grecian forms at least from their decay, And when at length the winged wanderers stoop, And Roman souls at last again shall live
Then is the prey-vird's triumph, then they share In Roman works wrought by Italian hands, The spoil, o'erpower'd at length by one fell swoop. And temples, loftier than the old temples, give
Yet some have been untouch'd who learn'd to bear, New wonders to the world; and while still stands Some whom no power could ever force to droop, The austere Pantheon, into heaven shall soar Who could resist themselves even, hardest care! A dome, 12 its image, while the base expands
And task most hopeless; but some such have been, Into a fame surpassing all before,
Such as all flesh shall flock to kreel in: ne'er That destiny austere, and yet serene,
Such sight hath been unfolded by a door
The Alp's snow summit nearer heaven is seen, And lay their sins at this gate of heaven.
And the bold Architect unto whose care
While the scorch'd mountain, from whose burning Whom all arts shall acknowledge as their lord,
His chisel bid the Hebrew, 13 at whose word
Or hues of Hell be by his pencil pour'd
Such as I saw them, such as all shall see,
Or fanes be built of grandeur yet unknown,
The stream of his great thoughts shall spring from CANTO IV.
The Ghibelline, who traversed the three realms MANY are poets who have never penn'd
Which form the empire of eternity.
The god within them, and rejoin'd the stars Calamity the nations with distress,
A Cedar towering o'er the Wilderness,
Wafting its native incense through the skies. For what is poesy but to create
Sovereigns shall pause amidst their sport of war, From overfeeling good or ill; and aim
Wean'd for an hour from blood, to turn and gaze At an external life beyond our fate,
On canvas or on stone; and they who mar
And vultures to the heart of the bestower, To tyrants, who but take her for a toy,
Emblems and monuments, and prostitute
So be it: we can bear.—But thus all they The man of genius as the meanest brute
To bear a burden, and to serve a need,
To sell his labors and his soul to boot. Or lightens it to spirit, whatsoe'er
Who toils for nations may be poor indeed, The form which their creations may essay,
But free; who sweats for monarch is no more Are bards; the kindled marble's bust may wear
Than the gilt chamberlain, who, clothed and More poesy upon its speaking brow,
Is it that they on earth, whose earthly power With beauty so surpassing all below,
Is likest thine in heaven in outward show, That they who kneel to idols so divine
Least like to thee in attributes divine, Break no commandment, for high heaven is there Tread on the universal necks that bow, Transfused, transfigurated: and the line And then assure us that their right are thine ?
And how is it that they, the sons of fame, Florence! when this lone spirit, which so long Whose inspiration seems to them to shine
Yearn'd, as the captive toiling at escape, From high, they whom the nations oftest name, To fly back to thee in despite of wrong, Must pass their days in penury or pain,
An exile, saddest of all prisoners, Or step to grandeur through the paths of shame, Who has the whole world for a dangeon strong, And wear a deeper brand and gaudier chain? Seas, mountains, and the horizon's verge for bars, Or if their destiny be born aloof
Which shut him from the sole small spot of earth From lowliness, or tempted thence in vain,
Where-whatsoe'er his fate
he still were hers, In their own souls sustain a harder proof, His country's, and might die where he had birth
The inner war of passions deep and fierce ? Florence! when this lone spirit shall return
Florence! when thy harsh sentence razed my roof, To kindred spirits, thou wilt feel my worth, I loved thee; but the vengeance of my verse, And seek to honor with an empty urn The hate of injuries which every year
The ashes thou shalt ne'er obtain--Alas!
Thy pride, thy wealth, thy freedom, and even that, The limits of man's common malice, for
All that a citizen could be I was;
Raised by thy will, all thine in peace or war, For such sway is not limited to kings,
And for this thou hast warr’d with me.—'Tis done: And demagogues yield to them but in date, I may not overleap the eternal bar As swept off sooner; in all deadly things (other, Built up between us, and will die alone,
Which make men hate themselves, and one an- Beholding with the dark eye of a seer
In discord, cowardice, cruelty, all that springs The evil days to gifted souls foreshown, From Death the Sin-born's incest with his mother, Foretelling them to those who will not hear. In rank oppression in its rudest shape,
As in the old time, till the hour be come (a tear, The faction Chief is but the Sultan's brother, When truth shall strike their eyes through many And the worst despot's far less human ape: And make them own the Prophet in his tomb.
NOTES TO THE PROPHECY OF DANTE.
4. Midst whom my oron sweet Beatrice bless'd.
The dust she dooms to scatter.
Page 611, line 103. The reader is requested to adopt the Italian pro- “Ut si quis predictorum ullo tempore in fortiam nunciation of Beatrice, sounding all the syllables. dicti : communis pervenerit, tallis perveniens igne
comburatur, sic quod moriatur." 2.
Second sentence of Florence against Dante,
and the fourteen accused with him.-The Latin My paradise had still been incomplete.
Page 511, line 55.
is worthy of the sentence. “ Che sol per le belle opre
5. Che fanno in Cielo il sole e l'altre stelle
Where yet my boys are, and that fatal she.
Page 512, line 69.
This lady, whose name was Gemma, sprung from Canzone, in which Dante describes the person of Donati. Corso Donati was the principal adversary
one of the most powerful Guelf families, named Beatrice, Strophe third.
of the Ghibellines. She is described as being “Ad. 3.
modum morosa, ut de Xantippe Socratis philosophi I would have had my Florence great and free.
conjuge scriptum esse legimus,” according to Gian
nozzo Manetti. But Lionardo Aretino is scanPage 511, line 87.
dalized with Boccace, in his life of Dante, for “L'Esilio che m'è dato onor mi tegno. saying that literary men should not marry.
«Qui il Boccaccio non ha pazienza, e dice, le mogli esser Cader tra' buoni è pur di lode degno." contrarie agli studj; e non si ricorda che Socrate
Sonnet of Dante, il più nobile filosofo che mai fosse, ebbe moglie e In which he represents Right, Generosity, and figliuoli e uffici della Repubblica nella sua Città ; ? Temperance as banished from among men, and Aristotele che, &c., &c., ebbe due mogli in varj seeking refuge from Love, who inhabits his bosom. I tempi, ed ebbe figliuoli, e ricchezze assai.-E Marco
Tulio Catonese Varroneme Seneca-ebbero
13. moglie," &c., &c. It is odd that honest Lionardo's
His chisel bid the Hebrew. examples, with the exception of Seneca, and for
Page 616, line 91. any thing I know of Aristotle, are not the most felicitous. Tully's Terentia, and Socrates' Xan
The statue of Moses on the monument of tippe, by no means contributed to their husbands, Julius II. happiness, whatever they might do to their philos
SONETTO ophy-Cato gave away his wife-of Varro's we know nothing-and of Seneca's, only that she was dis
Di Giovanni Battista Zappi. posed to die with him, but recovered, and lived several years afterwards. But says Lionardo,
Chi è costui, che in dura pietra scolto, "L'uomo è animald civile, secondo piace a tutti i
Siede gigante; e le più illustre, e conte filosofi." And thence concludes that the greatest
Prove dell' arte avvanza, e ha vive, e pronte proof of the animals civism is "la prima congiun
Le labbia si, che le parole ascolto ? zione, dalla quale multiplicata nasce la Città.”
Quest' è Mosé; ben me 'l diceva il folto
Onor del mento; e 'l doppio raggio in fronte, 6.
Quest' è Mosè, quando scendea del monte, Nine moons shall rise o'er scenes like this and set.
E gran parte del Nume avea nel volto.
Tal era allor, che le sonanti, e vaste
Acque ei sospese a se d'intorno, e tale
Ch'era men fallo l' adorar costui 7. Conquerors on foreign shores, and the far wave.
14. Page 514, line 15.
Over the damn'd before the Judgment throne. Alexander of Parma, Spinola, Pescara, Eugene
Page 515, line 94. of Savoy, Montecucco.
The Last Judgment, in the Sistine chapel. 8. Discoverers of new worlds, which take their name.
15. Pago 514, line 16. Columbus, Americus Vespusius, Sebastian Cabot.
The stream of his great thoughts shall spring from me
Page 515, line 97. 8.
I have read somewhere (if I do not err, for I can. He who once enters in a tyrant's hall, &c.
not recollect where) that Dante was so great a
favorite of Michael Angelo's, that he had designed Page 514, line 49.
the whole of the Divina Commedia ; but that the A verse from the Greek tragedians, with which volume containing these studies was lost by sea. Pompey took leave of Cornelia on entering the boat in which he was slain.
Her charms to pontiff's proud, who but employ, &c. And the first day which sees the chain enthral, &c.
Page 515, line 117. Page 614, line 62. See the treatment of Michael Angelo by Julius The verse and sentiment are taken from Homer. II., and his neglect by Leo X. 11.
17. And he, their prince, shall rank among my peers.
“ What have I done to thee, my people?" Page 514, line 69.
Page 516, line 41. Petrarch.
“E scrisse più volte non solamente a particoları 12.
cittydini del reggimento, ma ancora al popolo, e A dome, its image.
intra l'altre una Epistola assai lunga che comincia :
Page 515, line 81. — Popule mi, quid feci tibi ?'" The cupola of St. Peters
Vita di Dante, scritta da Lionardo Aretino.
It told the triumphs of our King,
It wafted glory to our God; Tas subsequent poems were written at the request It made our gladden'd valleys ring, of my friend, the Hon. D. Kinnaird, for a selection of The cedars bow, the mountains nod; Hebrew Melodies, and have been published, with the Its sound aspired to Heaven and there abode! music, arranged by Mr. Braham and Mr. Nathan. Since then, though heard on earth no more,
Devotion, and her daughter, Love,
To sounds that seem as from above,
In dreams that day's broad light can not remova
of cloudless climes and starry skies ; And all that's best of dark and bright
IF THAT HIGH WORLD.
If that high world, which lies beyond
Dur own, surviving Love endears;
If there the cherish'd heart be fond,
The eye the same, except in tears
How welcome those untrodden spheres !
How sweet this very hour to die!
To soar from earth and find all fears
Lost in thy light-Eternity!
It must be so: 'tis not for self
That we so tremble on the brink;
And striving to o'erleap the gulf,
Yet cling to Being's severing link.
Oh! in that future let us think
To hold each heart the heart that shares,
And soul in soul grow deathless theirs !
THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL
THE WILD GAZELLE.
Tai harp the monarch minstrel swept,
The King of men, the loved of Heaven, Which music hallow'd while she wept
O'er tones her heart of hearts had given,
Redoubled be her tears, its chords are riven! It soften'd men of iron mould,
It gave them virtues not their own;
That felt not, fired not to the tone,
The wild gazelle on Judah's hills
Exulting yet may bound,
That gush on holy ground;
A step as fleet, an eye more bright,
Hath Judah witness'd there;
And o'er her scenes of lost delight
And the voice of my mourning is o'er,
And the mountains behold me no more:
If the hand that I love lay me low,
That the blood of thy child is as pure
As the blessing I beg ere it flow,
And the last thought that soothes me below
Though the virgins of Salem lament,
Be the judge and the hero unbent!
I have won the great battle for thee,
And my Father and Country are free!
When this blood of thy giving hath gush'd,
When the voice that thou lovest is hush'd,
Let my memory still be thy pride,