XXXII. And the soft quiet hamlet where he dwelt For they can lure no further; and the ray XXXIII. Developing the mountains, leaves, and flowers, If from society we learn to live, 'Tis solitude should teach us how to die; It hath no flatterers; vanity can give No hollow aid; alone-man with his God must strive XXXIV. Or, it may be, with demons, who impair (17) The strength of better thoughts, and seek their prey Of moody texture from their earliest day, XXXV. Ferrara! in thy wide and grass-grown streets, Of petty power impell'd, of those who wore The wreath which Dante's brow alone had worn before. XXXVI. And Tasso is their glory and their shame. The insulted mind he sought to quench, and blend Where he had plunged it. Glory without end Scatter'd the clouds away-and on that name attend XXXVII. The tears and praises of all time; while thine Of worthless dust, which from thy boasted line Thou formest in his fortunes bids us think Of thy poor malice, naming thee with scorn- From thee! if in another station born, Scarce fit to be the slave of him thou mad'st to mourn : XXXVIII. Thou! form'd to eat, and be despised, and die, Even as the beasts that perish, save that thou Hadst a more splendid trough and wider sty: He! with a glory round his furrow'd brow, Which emanated then, and dazzles now In face of all his foes, the Cruscan quire, And Boileau, whose rash envy could allow (18) No strain which shamed his country's creaking lyre, That whetstone of the teeth-monotony in wire! XXXIX. Peace to Torquato's injured shade! 'twas his Each year brings forth its millions; but how long And not the whole combined and countless throng Compose a mind like thine? though all in one Condensed their scatter'd rays, they would not form a sun. XL. Great as thou art, yet parallel'd by those, The southern Scott, the minstrel who call'd forth And, like the Ariosto of the North, Sang ladye-love and war, romance and knightly worth. XLI. The lightning rent from Ariosto's bust (19) For the true laurel-wreath which Glory weaves (20) Know, that the lightning sanctifies below (21) Whate'er it strikes ;-yon head is doubly sacred now. |