Shall foreign standard to thy walls advance,

And Italy, the martyr'd nation's gore,
But Tiber shall become a mourful river.

Will not in vain arise to where belongs
Oh! when the strangers pass the Alps and Po, Omnipotence and mercy evermore;
Crush them, ye rocks! floods, whelm them, and for Like to a harp-string stricken by the wind,

The sound of her lameat shall, rising o'er
Why sleep the idle avalanches so,

The seraph voices, touch the Almighty Mind. To topple on the lonely pilgrim's head ?

Meantime I, humblest of thy sons, and of Why doth Eridanus but overflow

Earth's dust by immortality refined The peasant's harvest from his turbid bed?

To sense and sufiering, though the vain may scoff Were not each barbarous horde a nobler prey ? And tyrants threat, and meeker victims bow Over Cambyses' host the desert spread

Before the storm because its breath is rougt, Her saniy ocean, and the sea-waves' sway

To thee, my country! whom before, as now, Rollid o'cr Pharaoh and his thousands-why, I loved and love, devote the mournful lyre Mountains and waters, do ye not as they ?

And melancholy gift high powers allow And you, ye men! Romans, who dare not die, To read the future ; and if now my fire Sons of the conquerors who overthrew

Is not as once it shone o'er thee, forgire! Those who o'erthrew proud Xerxes, where yet lie I but foretell thy fortunes—then expire; The dead whose tomb oblivion never knew,

Think not that I would look on them and live. Are the Alps weaker than Thermopylæ ?

A spirit forces me to see and speak, Their passes more alluring to the view

And for my guerdon grants not to survive ; Of an invader? is it they, or ye

My heart shall be pour'd over thee and break:
That to each host the mountain-gate unbar,

Yet for a moment, ere I must resume
And leave the march in peace, the passage free? Thy sable web of sorrow, let me take,
Why, Nature's self detains the victor's car, Over the gleams that flash athwart thy gloom,
And makes your land impregnable, if zarth

A softer glimpse; some stars shine ihrough thy migh. Could be so: but alone she will not war,

And many meteors, and above thy tomb Yet aids the warrior worthy of his birth,

Leans sculptured beauty, which death cannot blight; In a soil where the mothers bring forth men!

And from thine ashes boundless spirits rise Not so with those whose souls are little worth ; To give thee honour and the carth delight; For them no fortress can avail,--the den

Thy soil shall still be pregnant with the wise, of the poor reptile which preserves its sting The gay, the learn'd, the generous, and the brave, Is more secure than walls of adamant, when

Native to thee as summer to thy skies, The hearts of those within are quivering.

Conquerors on foreign shores and the far wave," Are ye not brave? Yes, yet the Ausonian soil Discoverers of new worlds, which take their name :'

Hath hearts, and hands, and arms, and hosts to bring For thee alone they have no arm to save, Against oppression ; but how vain the toil,

And all thy recompense is in their fame, While still division sows the seeds of woe

A noble one to them, but not to thee
And weakness, till the stranger reaps the spoil. Shall they be glorious, and thou still the same ?
On' my own beauteous land! so long laid low, Oh! more than these illustrious far shall be

So long the grave of thy own children's hopes, The being—and even yet he may be born-
When there is but required a single blow

The mortal saviour who shall set thee free,
To break the chain, yet-yet the avenger stops, And see thy diadem, so changed and worn

And doubt and discord step 'twixt thine and thee, By fresh barbarians, on thy brow replaced;

And join their strength to that which with thee copes : And the sweet sun replenishing thy morn, What is there wanting then to set thee free,

Thy moral morn, too long with clouds defaced And show thy beauty in its fullest light?

And noxious vapours from Avernus risen, To mako the Alps impassable; and we,

Such as all they must breathe who are debased Her sons, may do this with one seed-Unite! By servitude, and have the mind in prison.

Yet through this centuried eclipse of woe

Some voices shall be heard, and earth shall listen, CANTO III.

Poets shall follow in the path I show,

And make it broader; the same brilliant sky

Which cheers the birds to song shall bid them glow From out the mass of never-dying ill,

And raise their notes as natural and high ; The plague, the prince, the stranger, and the sword, Tuneful shall be their numbers: they shall sing Vials of wrath but emptied to refill

Many of love, and some of liberty; And how again, I cannot all record

But few shall soar upon that eagle's wing, That crowds on my prophetic eye: the earth And look in the sun's face with eagle's gaze And ocean written o'er would not afford

All free and fearless as the feathered king, Space for the annal, yet it shall go forth;

But fly more near the earth : how many a phrase Yes, all, though not by human pen, is


Sublime shall lavish'd be on some small prince There where the farthest suns and stars have birth. In all the prodigality of praise ! Spread uzke a banner at the gate of heaven, And language, eloquently false, evince The bloody scroll of our millennial wrongs

The harlotry of genius, which, like beauty, Waves, and the echo of our groans is driven Too oft forgets its own self-reverence, Athwart the sound of archangelic songs,

And looks on prostitution as a duty.

He who once enters in a tyrant's hall'

As poor a thing as e'er was spawn'd to reign,
As guest is slave, his thoughts become a booty, What will he do to merit such a doom?
And the first day which sees the chain enthral

Perhaps he 'll love,--and is not love in vain
A captive sees his half of manhood gone-10 Torture enough without a living tomb ?
The soul's emasculation saddens all

Yet it will be so-he and his compeer,
His spirit; thus the bard too near the throne

The Bard of Chivalry, will both consume
Quails from his inspiration, bound to please, - In penury and pain too many a year,
How servile is the task to please alone!

And, dying in despondency, bequeath
To smooth the verse to suit the sovereign's ease To the kind world, which scarce will yield a tear,
And royal leisure, nor too much prolong

A heritage enriching all who breathe Aught save his eulogy, and find, and seize,

With the wealth of a genuine poet's soul, Or force or forge fit argument of song!

And to their country a redoubled wreath, Thus trammell’d, thus condemn'd to flattery's trebles, Unmatch'd by time; not Hellas can unroll

He toils through all, still trembling to be wrong: Through her olympiads two such n:imes, though one For fear some noble thoughts, like heavenly rebels, Of hers be mighty ;-and is this the whole

Should rise up in high treason to his brain, Of such men's destiny beneath the sun ?

He sings, as the Athenian spoke, with pebbles Must all the finer thoughts, the thrilling sense, In's mouth, lest truth should stammer through his strain. The electric blood with which their arteries run, But out of the long file of sonnetteers

Their body's self-turn’d soul with the intense
There shall be some who will not sing in vain, Feeling of that which is, and fancy of
And he, their prince, shall rank among my peers,"

That which should be, to such a recompense
And love shall be his torment; but his grief

Conduct ? shall their bright plumage on the rough Shall make an immortality of tears,

Storm be still scatter'd? Yes, and it must be. And Italy shall hail him as the chief

For, form’d of far too penetrable stuff,
Of poet lovers, and his higher song

These birds of paradise but long to flee
Of freedom wreathe him with as green a leaf. Back to their pative mansion, soon they find
But in a further age shall rise along

Earth's mist with their pure pinions not agree, The banks of Po two greater still than he; And die, or are degraded, for the mind

The world which smiled on him shall do them wrong Succumbs to !ɔng infection, and despair,
Till they are ashes and repose with me.

And vulture passions, flying close behind,
The first will make an epoch with his lyre, Await the moment to assail and tear;
And fill the earth with feats of chivalry:

And when at length the winged wanderers stoop, His fancy like a rainbow, and his fire

Then is the prey-birds' triumph, then they share Like that of heaven, immortal, and his thought The spoil, o'erpower'd ai length by one fell swoop. Borne onward with a wing that cannot tire;

Yet some have been untouch'd, who learn’d to bear, Pleasure shall, like a butterfly new caught,

Some whom no power could ever force to droop, Flutter her lovely pinions o'er his theme, Who could resist themselves even, hardest care! And art itself seem into nature wrought

And task most hopeless; but some such have been, By the transparency of his bright dream.

And if my name amongst the number were,
The second, of a tenderer, sadder mood, That destiny austere, and yet serene,
Shall pour his soul out o'er Jerusalem;

Were prouder than more dazzling fame unblest; He, too, shall sing of arms, and Christian blood The Alp's snow summit nearer heaven is seen

Shed where Christ bled for man; and his high harp Than the volcano's fierce eruptive crest,
Shall, by the willow over Jordan's flood,

Whose splendour from the black abyss is flung, Resive a song of Sion, and the sharp

While the scorch'd mountain, from whose burning Conflict, and final triumph of the brave

breast And pious, and the strife of hell to warp

A temporary torturing flame is wrung, Their hearts from their great purpose, until wave Shines for a night of terror, then repels

The red-cross banners where the first red cross Its fire back to the hell from whence it sprung,

Was crimson'd from his veins who died to save, The hell which in its entrails ever dwells.
Shall be his sacred argument ; the loss
Of years, of favour, freedom, even of famo

Contested for a time, while the smooth gloss
Of courts would slide o'er his forgotten name,
And call captivity a kindness, meant

Masy are poets who have never penn'd
To shield him from insanity or shame.

Their inspiration, and perchance the best : Such shall be his meet guerdon! who was sent They felt, and loved, and died, but would not lend

To be Christ's laureate--they reward him well! Their thoughts to meaner beings; they compress'i

Florence dooms me but death or banishment, The god within them, and rejoin'd the stars Ferrara him a pittance and a cell,

Unlaurell'd upon earth, but far more blest Harder to bear and less deserved, for I

Than those who arc degraded by the jars Had stung the factions which I strove to quell; of passion, and their frailties link'd to fame, But this meek man, who with a lover's eye

Conquerors of high renown, but full of scars. Will look on earth and heaven, and who will deign Many are poets, but without the name; To embalm with his celestial flattery

For what is poesy but to create

From overfeeling good or ill; and aim

Wafting its native incense through the skies. At an external life beyond our fate,

Sovereigns shall pause amid their sport of war, And be the new Prometheus of new men,

Wean'd for an hour from bloud, to turn and gaze Bestowing fire from heaven, and then, too late, On canvas or on stone; and they who mar Finding the pleasure given repaid with pain, All beauty upon earth, compellid to praise, And vultures to the heart of the bestower,

Shall feel the power of that which they destroy; Who, having lavish'd his high gift in vain,

And art's mistaken gratitude shall raise
Lies chain'd to his lone rock by the sea-shore ! To tyrants who but take her for a loy
So be it; we can bear.-But thus all they,

Emblems and monuments, and prostitute
Whose intellect is an o'ermastering power,

Her charms to pontitis proud,16 who but employ Which still recoils from its encumbering clay, The man of genius as the meanest brute Or lightens it to spirit, whatsoe'er

To bear a burthen, and to serve a need,
The forin which their creations may essay,

To sell his labours, and his soul to boot:
Are bards; the kindled marble's bust may wear Who toils for nations may be poor indeed,
poesy upon its speaking brow

But free; who sweats for monarchs is no more
Than aught iess than the Homeric page may bear; Than the gilt chamberlain, who, clothed and feed,
One noble stroke with a whole life may glow, Stands sleck and slavish bowing at his door.
Or deify the canvas till it shine

Oh, Power that rulest and inspirest! how With beauty so surpassing all below,

Is it that they on earth, whose earthly power That they who kneel to idols so divine

Is likest thine in heaven in outward show, Break no commandment, for high heaven is there Least like to thee in attributes divine, Transfused, transfigurated: and the line

Tread on the universal necks that bow, of poesy which peoples but the air

And then assure us that their rights are thine ? With thought and beings of our thought reflected, And how is it that they, the sons of fame, Can do no more: then let the artist share

Whose inspiration seems to them to shine The palm, he shares the peril, and dejected From high, they whom the nations oftest name, Faits o'er the labour unapproved-Alas!


pass their days in penury or pain, Despair and genius are too oft connected.

Or step to grandeur through the paths of shame, Within the ages which before me pass,

And wear a deeper brand and gaudier chain ? Art shall resume and equal even the sway

Or if their destiny be borne aloof Which with Apelles and old Phidias

From lowliness, or tempted thence in vain, She held in Hellas' unforgotten day.

In their own souls sustain a harder proof, Ye shall be taught by ruin to revive

The inner war of passions deep and fierce? The Grecian forms at least from their decay, Florence! when thy harsh sentence razed my roof, And Roman souls at last again shall live

loved thee, but the vengeance of my verse, In Roman works wrought by Italian hands,

The hate of injuries, which every year And temples loftier than the old temples, give Makes greater and accumulates my curse, New wonders to the world; and while still stands Shall live, outliving all thou holdest dear,

The austere Pantheon, into heaven shall soar Thy pride, thy wealth, thy freedom, and eren that,

A dome, 12 its image, while the base expands The most infernal of all evils here, Tato a fane surpassing all before,

The sway of petty tyrants in a state; Such as all flesh shall flock to kneel in: ne'er For such sway is not limited to kings, Such sight hath been unfolded by a door

And demagogues yield to them but in date As this, to which all nations shall repair,

As swept off sooner ; in all deadly things And lay their sins at this huge gate of heaven. Which make men hate themselves and one anothea And the bold architect unto whose care

In discord, cowardice, cruelty, all that springs The daring charge 10 raise it shall be given,

From Death, the Sin-born's incest with his mother, Whom all arts shall acknowledge as their lord, In rank oppression in its rudest shape, Whether into the marble chaos driven

The faction chief is but the sultan's brother, His chisel bid the Hebrew,"3 at whose word And the worst despot's fur less human ape : Israel left Egypt, stop the waves in stone,

Florence! when this lone spirit which so long Or hues of hell be by his pencil pour’d

Yearn'd as the captive toiling at escape, Over the damn'd before the Judgment throne, 14 To fly back to thee in despite of wrong, Such as I saw them, such as all shall see,

An exile, saddest of all prisoners, Or fanes be built of grandeur yet unknown,

Who has the whole world for a dungeon strong, The stream of his great thoughts shall spring from me,'s Seas, mountains, and the horizon's verge for bars,

'The Ghibelline, who traversed the three realms Which shut him from the sole snall spot of earth Which form the empire of eternity.

Where, whatsoe'er his fate-he still were hers, Amidst the clash of swords and clang of helms, His country's, and might die where he had birthwhich I anticipate, no less

Florence! when this lone spirit shall return Shall be the age of beauty, and while whelms To kindred spirits, thou wilt feel my worth, calamity the nations with distress,

And seek to honour with an empty urn The genius of my country shall arise,

The ashes thou shalt ne'er obtain. Alas! A cedar towering o'er the wilderness,

“What have I done to thee, iny people ?"): Siern wiely in all its branches to all eyes,

Are all thy dealinys, but in this they pass Fragrant as fair, and recognised afir,

The limits of man's common malice, for

The age



All that a citizen could be I was;

Aristotle, are not the most felicitous. Tully's Terentia, Raised by thy will, all thine in peace or war, and Socrates' Xantippe, by no means contributed to

And for this thou hast warr'd with me.—'T is done: their husbands' happiness, whatever they might do to I may not overleap the eternal bar

their philosophy-Cato gave away his wife—of Varro's Built up between us, and will die alone,

we know nothing--and of Seneca's, only that she was Beholding, with the dark eye of a seer,

disposed to die with him, but recovered, and lived sev The evil days to gifted souls foreshown,

eral years afterwards. But, says Lionardo, “ L'uomo Foretelling them to those who will not hear, è animale civile, secondo piace a tutti i filosofi.” And As in the old time, till the hour be come

thence concludes that the greatest proof of the animals When truth shall strike their eyes through many a tear, civism is “ la prima congiunzione, dalla quale multipliAn I make them own the prophet in his tomb. cata nasce la Città."

Note 6. Page 459, line 119.

Nine moons shall rise o'er scenes like this and set. NOTES.

See “ Sacco di Roma," generally attributed to Guic

ciardini. There is another written by a Jacopo BuonaNote 1. Page 457, line 11.

parte, Gentiluomo Samminiatese che vi si trovò pre'Midst whom my own bright Beatrice bless'd.

sente. The reader is requested to adopt the Italian pronun

Note 7. Page 460, line 93. ciation of Beatrice, sounding all the syllables.

Conquerors on foreign shores and the far wave.
Note 2. Page 458, line 9.

Alexander of Parma, Spinola, Pescara, Eugene of
My paradise had still been incomplete.

Savoy, Montecucco.
"Che sol per le belle opre
Che fanno in Cielo il sole e l'altre stelle

Note 8. Page 460, line 94.
Dentre di lui si crede il Paradiso,

Discoverers of new worlds, which take their name.
Cosi se guardi fiso
Pensar ben dei ch'ogni terren' piacerc."

Columbus, Americus Vespusius, Sebastian Cabol. Canzone, in which Dante describes the person of Bea

Note 9. Page 461, line 1. trice, strophe third.

He who once enters in a tyrant's hall, etc.

A verse from the Greek tragedians, with which Pom Note 3. Page 458, line 41.

pey took leave of Cornelia on entering the boat in I would have had my Florence great and free.

which he was slain. "L'esilio che m'è dato onor mi tegno.

Note 10. Page 461, line 4. * Cader tra' buoni è pur di lode degno."

And the first day which sees the chain enthral, etc.

Sonnel of Dante, in which he represents Right, Generosity, and Tem

The verse and sentiment are taken from Homer. perance, as banished from among mon, and seeking

Note 11. Page 461, line 21. refuge from Love, who inhabils bis bosur

And he their prince shall rank among my peers.

Note 4. Page 458, line 57.

Note 12. Page 462, line 40.
The dust she dooms to scalter.

A dome, its image. “ Ut si quis prædictorum ulio tempore in fortiam

The cupola of St. Peter's. dicui communis pervenerit, talis perveniens igne comburatur, sic quod moriatur.

Note 13. Page 462, line 50. Second sentence of Florence against Dante and the

Ilis chisel hid the Hebrew, fourteen accused with him. The Latin is worthy of

The statue of Moses on the monument oi Julius II. tne sentence.


Di Giovanni Battista Zappi.
Note 5. Page 459, line 22.

Chi è eostui, che in dura pietra scoltı),
Where yot my boys are, and that fatal she.

Siede gizante; e le piu illustri, e conte
This lady, whose name was Gemma, sprung from one

Prove dell'arte avanza, e ha vive, e pronte of the most powerful Guelf families, named Donati.

Le labbia si, che le parole ascolto ?

Quost, è Mose: ben me 'l dicera il folto Corso Donati was the principal adversary of the Ghibel

Onor del mento, e 'l doppio ragnio in fronte, lines. She is described as being “ Aamodum morosii, Quest' e Mose, quando scendea del monte, ut ve Xantippe Socratis philosophi conjuge scriptum E gran parte del Nume avea nel volo,

Tal era allor che le sonanti, e vaste esse legimus,” according to Giannozzo Manetti. But

Acque ei sospese a se d'intorno, e tale Lionardo Aretino is scandalized with Boccace, in his

Quando il nur chiuse, e ne fe tomba altru We of Dante, for saying that literary men should not E voi sue turbe un rio vitello alzate ?

Alzata aveste imago a queste rsuale ! marry. “Qui il Boccaccio non ha pazienza, e dice, le

Ch'era men fallo i' adorar costui. mogli esser contrarie agli studj; e non si ricorda che Surrate il più nobile filosofo che mai fosse, ebbe moglie

Note 14. Page 462. line 53.

Over the damn'd before the Judgment throne. <figliuoli e ufficj della Repubblica nella sua Ciiti; e Aristotele che, etc., etc. ebbe due mog! in varj tempi,

The Last Judgment, in the Sistine chapel. ex ebbe figliuoli, e ricchezze assai.--E Marco Tullo

Note 15. Porn 462, line 56. e Catone-- Varrone-e Seneca-etbero mogło," etc., The stream of his great thoughts hall spring from me. tic.

It is oud that honest Lionarlo's examples, with I have read somewhere (if .do not err, for I cannra the exception of Seneca, and, for any thing I know, of recollect where) that Dante was so great a favourite of Michel Angiolo's, that he had designed the whole of

Note 17. Page 462, line 130. the Divina Commedia; but that the volume containing

“What have I done to thee, my people ?" these studies was lost by sea.

“E scrisse più volte non solamente a particolari cil Note 16. Page 462, line 76.

tadini del reggimento, ma ancora al popolo, e intra ! Her charms to pontiffs proud, who but employ, etc.

altre una epistola assai lunga che comincia:— Popule See the treatment of Michel Angiolo by Julius 11., mi, quid feci tibi ?and his neglect by Leo X.

Vita di Dante scritta da Lionardo Aretino.

The Island;




|The gushing fruits that nature gave untilld; The wood without a path but where they willid;

The field o'er which promiscuous plenty pour'd The foundation of the following story will be found Her horn; the equal land without a lord; partly in the account of the Mutiny of the Bounty, in The wish—which ages have not yet subdued the South Sea, in 1789, and partly in Mariner's “ Ac- In man—to have no master save his mood; count of the Tonga Islands."

The earth, whose mine was on its face, unsold,
The glowing sun and produce all its gold;
The freedom which can call each grot a home;

The general garden, where all steps may roam,

Where Nature owns a nation as her child,
Exulting in the enjoyment of the wild;

Their shells, their fruits, the only wealth they know;

Their unexploring navy,

the canoe; The morning watch was come: the vessel lay

Their sport, the dashing breakers and the chase; Her course, and gently made her liquid way;

Their strangest sight, an European face:The cloven billow flash'd from off her prow

Such was the country which these strangers yearn'd In furrows form'd by that majestic plough;

To see again—a sight they dearly earn'd.
The waters with their world were all before;
Behind, the South Sea's many an islet shore.

The quiet night, now dappling, 'gan to wane, Awake, bold Bligh! the foe is at the gate !
Dividing darkness from the dawning main;

Awake! awake!-Alas! it is too late!
The dolphins, not unconscious of the day,

Fiercely beside thy cot the mutineer Swam high, as eager of the coming ray;

Stands, and proclaims the reign of rage and fear. The stars from broader beams began to creep, Thy limbs are bound, the bayonet at thy breast, And lift their shining eyelids from the deep;

The hands, which trembled at thy voice, arrest : The sail resumed its lately-shadow'd white,

Dragg’d o'er the deck, no more at thy command And the wind flutter'd with a freshening flight; The obedient helm shall veer, the sail expand; The purpling ocean owns the coming sun

That savage spirit, which would lull by wrath But, ere he break, a deed is to be done.

Its desperate escape from duty's path,

Glares round thee, in the scarce-believing eyes II.

Of those who fear the chief they sacrifice; The gallant chief within his cabin slept,

For ne'er can man his conscience all assuage,
Secure in those by whom the watch was kept:

Unless he drain the wine of passion-rage.
His dreams were of Old England's welcome shore,
Of toils rewarded, und of dangers o'a ,

His name was added to the glorious roll

In vain, not silenced by the eye of death,
or those who search the storm-surrounded pole. Thou call'st the loyal with thy menaced breath :-
The worst was o'er, and the rest seem'd sure, They come not; they are few, and, overawed,
And why should not his slumber be secure ? Must acquiesce while sterner hearts applaud.
Alas: his deck was trod by unwilling feet,

In vain thou dost demand the cause; a curse
And wilder hands would hold the vessel's shect; Is all the answer, with the threat of worse.
Young hearts, which languish'd for some sunny isle, Full in thine eyes is waved the glittering blade,
Where summer years and summer women smile; Close to thy throat the pointed bayonet laid,
Men without country, who, too long estranged, The levell'd muskets circle round thy breast
Had found no native home, or found it changed, In hands as steel'd to do the deadly rest.
Ard, half-uncivilized, prcferr’d the cave

Thou darest them to their worst, exclaiming, “ Fire! Of xuine soft savage to the uncertain wave; But they who pitied not could yet admire;

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