Two Ghosts are sitting on their sepulchres.

That is the Duke LORENZO. Mark him well:

He meditates, his head upon his hand.

What scowls beneath his broad and helm-like

bonnet?

Is it a face, or but an eyeless scull?

"Tis hid in shade; yet, like the basilisk,

It fascinates, and is intolerable.

His mien is noble, most majestical!

Then most so, when the distant choir is heard,

At morn or eve--nor fail thou to attend

On that thrice-hallowed day, when all are there;

When all, propitiating with solemn songs,

With light, and frankincense, and holy water,

Visit the Dead. Then wilt thou feel his Power!

But let not Sculpture, Painting, Poesy,

Or They, the Masters of these mighty Spells,

Detain us.

Our first homage is to Virtue.

Where, in what dungeon of the Citadel,

(It must be known-the writing on the wall Cannot be gone-'twas cut in with his dagger, Ere on his knees to God, he slew himself,) Where, in what dungeon, did FILIPPO STROZZI, The last, the greatest of the Men of FLORENCE, Breathe out his soul-lest in his agony,

When on the rack and called upon to answer,

He might accuse the Guiltless.

That debt paid,

But with a sigh, a tear for human frailty,

We may return, and once more give a loose

To the delighted spirit-worshipping,

In her small temple of rich workmanship,*

VENUS herself, who, when she left the skies,

Came hither.

*The Tribune.

XX.

AMONG the awful forms that stand assembled

In the great square of FLORENCE, may be seen That COSMO, not the Father of his Country,

Not he so styled, but he who played the Tyrant.

Clad in rich armour like a Paladin,

But with his helmet off-in kingly state,

Aloft he sits upon his horse of brass;

And they, who read the legend underneath,
Go and pronounce him happy. Yet there is
A chamber at GROSSETO, that, if walls

Could speak, and tell of what is done within,

Would turn your admiration into pity.

Half of what passed, died with him; but the rest,

All he discovered when the fit was on,

All that, by those who listened, could be gleaned

From broken sentences and starts.in sleep,

Is told and by an honest Chronicler.

Two of his sons, GIOVANNI and GARZìa,

(The eldest had not seen his sixteenth summer) Went to the chase; but one of them, GIOVANNI, His best beloved, the glory of his House,

Returned not; and at close of day was found
Bathed in his innocent blood. Too well, alas,

The trembling COSMO guessed the deed, the doer;