The vague enchantments, visions rare, The quiet walk-the blaze of noon— And then-Farewell-ah! since for ever, 'Twere better I had seen thee never. S once SECTION VII CONTINUATION OF JOURNAL IMPLON.-In the midst of clouds, and rain, and cold, on the top of the Alps; a good fire my only consolation. Here I am, out of the region of sunshine and pleasure, transported more to all the morale and all the physique of a cold climate, and the dull duties of common existence. Heavens ! what a contrast! I passed a winged fortnight at Milan. To go over it day by day, I cannot-to pass it by in silence, impossible. Arrived at Milan, Monday night, the 15th, about nine o'clock. The Princess of Wales knew I was to arrive, and sent for me to the Opera, whither she was gone, without any English attendants whatever. I was too much concerned for her not to obey her summons, and therefore drove to the Gran Teatro Della Scala. I arrived as the performance ended, and had only time to make my bow as the Marquis de Ghisilieri was handing Her Royal Highness into her carriage. With her unvarying kindness to me, she had the complaisance to return into the theatre, that I might have a coup d'œil of it in all its glory. It was the finest building of the kind I ever saw; and being lit up for the Archduke of Austria, it had an imposing effect. Still, the illumination was partial; for though the lustres on the outside of the boxes were lit upon that occasion, the back parts of them were in shade. I was sorry to observe that the Princess had no lady in attendance upon her; but the Marquis Ghisilieri, who is a man of high rank and charming manners, was all respect and attention to her. Some persons made a bad joke, and said his being at the head of the police, was an additional circumstance in favour of his being an attaché to Her Royal Highness's court. Everybody has heard of, and so many have seen, the cathedral at Milan, that it may seem unnecessary to dwell upon it; yet one word I must write, not by way of regular or historical description, but merely to please myself, by living over again, as it were, my first visit to that beautiful shrine. The dignity of its structure, and the rich, yet quiet, beauty of its white marble walls and gothic pinnacles, are more in accordance with my feelings of a place of worship than the painted roofs and inlaid altars of the churches of Genoa. I walked repeatedly round the beautiful screen which circles the high altar. A thousand brilliant rays of coloured light darted through the painted windows, and danced over the pavement, giving animation to the statues, which appeared, to a fanciful view, as if just starting into life. I sat down on a bench to contemplate the scene, and tried to define the sentiments to which it gave birth in vain. So I suffered myself to look and to enjoy to shut out the past and the future —and was satisfied-to be. I gazed delightfully on one of those fortunate accidents of light which fell on two of the statues. The illusion was magical; it produced that once-to-be-seen effect which, like some happy circumstance in life, illumines certain spots of existence with colours too vivid and too etherial to last. The same thing never returns. I proceeded to ascend the highest pinnacle of the cathedral, and was well repaid for the trouble; for although these mappe monde views are not the most beautiful, it is gratifying to embrace a vast expanse of country at one view. There is a latent sense of imaginary power in standing on an elevation, which is undoubtedly gratifying. Amid the most elaborate and beautifully-executed tracery of gothic ornament, spire, and foliage, and scroll innumerable, covered by statues, and glistering white in the unclouded atmosphere, I looked over the rich plain of Lombardy, far as the eye can reach. It is bounded only towards the north by the vast chain of Alps, whose romantic outline forms a barrier which might well seem impregnable, and yet has not protected the beautiful Italy, which it vainly encircles. As the eye wandered over the most luxuriant plain, the scene of so many wars, so many disputes, who could forbear wishing that the nature of mankind were less selfish, and that instead of monopolizing the possessions of others, each nation and people would rejoice in the prosperity of each other? But the world must be regenerated before this can take place. I quitted the cathedral of Milan with regret. I have seen it since often, but it has never been the same cathedral to me. Extract of a Letter from Milan. The Archduke is here receiving the oaths of homage, and all Milan is in a state of festivity and confusion; balls, masquerades, &c. &c. The Princess is received in great state, and applauded wherever she appears. The first night of my arrival, Her Royal Highness went to the theatre; the second, to a great court ball, which was certainly the most magnificent fête I ever beheld. The vastness and solid splendour of the apartments reminded me of the entertainments described in the Arabian Nights. The Grand Duke met the Princess at the door of the saloon, and walked round the endless suite of rooms with Her Royal Highness, followed by their respective attendants. Some gentlemen, as well as ladies, are appointed to form part of her cortège wherever she goes; and there is a proper court etiquette observed towards her, which must be gratifying to her, or ought to be. Yesterday afternoon there were games in the amphitheatre built by Bonaparte. The immensity and beauty of the building are very striking. It can contain, it is said, thirtyfive thousand persons, and in its arena are performed various games, after the manner of the ancients-chariot races, foot races, &c. In two hours' time it can be filled five feet deep with water, for Naumachian games; but on this occasion, chariots, men, and horses were the amusements of the hour. The spectators sat in the amphitheatre, with umbrellas only to shade them from the sun; but the Grand Duke and the Princess sat on two state chairs, under a magnificent pavilion, supported by pillars of the Corinthian order, (stolen, by-the-by, from some church,) and the Maréchal Bellegarde, and all the Austrian court, attending upon the royalties. The Duchess of Visconti and some other lady waited upon the Princess of Wales. Every person in this vast assemblage was dressed in the most splendid array. Flowers, feathers, diamonds, glittered and waved around. Twenty-five thousand persons and upwards were said to be present. Certainly every part of the vast building was filled with spectators, and yet you might have heard a pin fall. The graceful outline of the oval structure, as wide, but not nearly so high, as the amphitheatres of the ancients-the Alps rising in yet more glorious amphitheatre than any formed by mortal hand, in the background-completed this extraordinary and indescribable fête. Letter from KEPPEL CRAVEN. I cannot let [-]'s letter depart without adding a few words to you; not to apologize for not answering your two last, which I received some time ago, but to give you some account of your friends in this part of the world, who are not few in number; as, besides our two selves, there are E. F. Knutson, Lady Westmoreland, Irvine, &c., and I dare say many others. I wish you were of the party, as, in point of English, we are much better provided for than during the winter; and in every other respect this place is to me perfection, and I don't know how I shall ever tear myself from it. I expect, however, so to do, by a summons from my mother, unless she comes to Italy, which her last letter indicated a wish to do: but I have been somewhat uneasy about her, as she was at Marseilles, which, in conse |