Feeling of that which is, and fancy of Back to their native mansion, soon they find Succumbs to long infection, and despair, And when at length the winged wanderers stoop, Were prouder than more dazzling fame unblest; Whose splendor from the black abyss is flung, [breast Its fire back to the hell from whence it sprung, The hell which in its entrails ever dwells. CANTO IV. MANY are poets who have never penn'd Of passion, and their frailties link'd to fame, And be the new Prometheus of new men, The form which their creations may essay, With beauty so surpassing all below, Break no commandment, for high heaven is there |Of poesy, which peoples but the air With thought and beings of our thought reflected, Faints o'er the labor unapproved-Alas! Art shall resume and equal even the sway, Ye shall be taught by Ruin to revive In Roman works wrought by Italian hands, Such as all flesh shall flock to kneel in: ne'er The Ghibelline, who traversed the three realms Amidst the clash of swords, and clang of helms, Shall be the Age of Beauty, and while whelms The genius of my country shall arise, Fragrant as fair, and recognized afar, To tyrants, who but take her for a toy, Emblems and monuments, and prostitute To bear a burden, and to serve a need, Who toils for nations may be poor indeed, But free; who sweats for monarch is no more Stands sleek and slavish, bowing at his door. And how is it that they, the sons of fame, Whose inspiration seems to them to shine From high, they whom the nations oftest name, Must pass their days in penury or pain, Or step to grandeur through the paths of shame, And wear a deeper brand and gaudier chain? Or if their destiny be born aloof From lowliness, or tempted thence in vain, In their own souls sustain a harder proof, The inner war of passions deep and fierce? Florence! when thy harsh sentence razed my roof, I loved thee; but the vengeance of my verse, The hate of injuries which every year Makes greater, and accumulates my curse, Shall live, outliving all thou holdest dear, Thy pride, thy wealth, thy freedom, and even that, The most infernal of all evils here, The sway of petty tyrants in a state; For such sway is not limited to kings, [other, Which make men hate themselves, and one anIn discord, cowardice, cruelty, all that springs From Death the Sin-born's incest with his mother, In rank oppression in its rudest shape, The faction Chief is but the Sultan's brother, And the worst despot's far less human ape: Florence! when this lone spirit, which so long Yearn'd, as the captive toiling at escape, To fly back to thee in despite of wrong, An exile, saddest of all prisoners, Who has the whole world for a dungeon strong, Seas, mountains, and the horizon's verge for bars, Which shut him from the sole small spot of earth Where-whatsoe'er his fate-he still were hers, His country's, and might die where he had birthFlorence! when this lone spirit shall return To kindred spirits, thou wilt feel my worth, And seek to honor with an empty urn The ashes thou shalt ne'er obtain-Alas! Beholding with the dark eye of a seer As in the old time, till the hour be come [a tear, When truth shall strike their eyes through many And make them own the Prophet in his tomb. Che fanno in Cielo il sole e l' altre stelle Dentro di lui' si crede il Paradiso, 4. The dust she dooms to scatter. Page 511, line 103. "Ut si quis predictorum ullo tempore in fortiam dicti: communis pervenerit, tallis perveniens igne comburatur, sic quod moriatur." Second sentence of Florence against Dante, and the fourteen accused with him.-The Latin is worthy of the sentence. 5. Where yet my boys are, and that fatal she. This lady, whose name was Gemma, sprung from one of the most powerful Guelf families, named of Donati. Corso Donati was the principal adversary of the Ghibellines. She is described as being "Admodum morosa, ut de Xantippe Socratis philosophi conjuge scriptum esse legimus," according to Giannozzo Manetti. But Lionardo Aretino is scandalized with Boccace, in his life of Dante, for saying that literary men should not marry. "Qui il Boccaccio non ha pazienza, e dice, le mogli esser contrarie agli studj; e non si ricorda che Socrate il più nobile filosofo che mai fosse, ebbe moglie e figliuoli e uffici della Repubblica nella sua Città; e Aristotele che, &c., &c., ebbe due mogli in varj tempi, ed ebbe figliuoli, e ricchezze assai.-E Marco Cader tra' buoni è pur di lode degno." Sonnet of Dante, In which he represents Right, Generosity, and Temperance as banished from among men, and seeking refuge from Love, who inhabits his bosom. Tullio e Catone-e Varrone-e Seneca-ebbero | moglie," &c., &c. It is odd that honest Lionardo's examples, with the exception of Seneca, and for any thing I know of Aristotle, are not the most felicitous. Tully's Terentia, and Socrates' Xantippe, by no means contributed to their husbands' happiness, whatever they might do to their philosophy-Cato gave away his wife-of Varro's we know nothing-and of Seneca's, only that she was disposed to die with him, but recovered, and lived several years afterwards. But says Lionardo, "L'uomo è animald civile, secondo piace a tutti i filosofi." And thence concludes that the greatest proof of the animal's civism is "la prima congiunzione, dalla quale multiplicata nasce`la Città.” The statue of Moses on the monument of Julius II. SONETTO Di Giovanni Battista Zappi. Chi è costui, che in dura pietra scolto, Acque ei sospese a se d' intorno, e tale 14. Over the damn'd before the Judgment throne. Page 515, line 94. The Last Judgment, in the Sistine chapel. 15. The stream of his great thoughts shall spring from me Page 515, line 97. I have read somewhere (if I do not err, for I cannot recollect where) that Dante was so great a favorite of Michael Angelo's, that he had designed the whole of the Divina Commedia; but that the volume containing these studies was lost by sea. 16. Her charms to pontiff's proud, who but employ, &c. Page 515, line 117. See the treatment of Michael Angelo by Julius II., and his neglect by Leo X. 17. "What have I done to thee, my people?" Page 516, line 41. "E scrisse più volte non solamente a particoları cittydini del reggimento, ma ancora al popolo, e intra l'altre una Epistola assai lunga che comincia: -Popule mi, quid feci tibi?" Vita di Dante, scritta da Lionardo Aretino. And o'er her scenes of lost delight Inhabitants more fair. The cedars wave on Lebanon, But Judah's statelier maids are gone. 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, There cannot be pain in the blow! More blest each palm that shades those plains And of this, oh, my Father! be sure Than Israel's scatter'd race; For, taking root, it there remains In solitary grace: It cannot quit its place of birth, It will not live in other earth. But we must wander witheringly, Our temple hath not left a stone, And Mockery sits on Salem's throne. That the blood of thy child is as pure And the last thought that soothes me below Though the virgins of Salem lament, When this blood of thy giving hath gush'd, |