But fly more near the earth; how many a phrase
Sublime shall lavish'd be on some small prince
In all the prodigality of praise!

And language, eloquently false, evince
The harlotry of genius, which, like beauty,
Too oft forgets its own self-reverence,
And looks on prostitution as a duty.

He who once enters in a tyrant's hall 3
As guest is slave, his thoughts become a booty,
And the first day which sees the chain enthral
A captive, sees his half of manhood gone1-
The soul's emasculation saddens all

His spirit; thus the Bard too near the throne
Quails from his inspiration, bound to please,—
How servile is the task to please alone!
To smooth the verse to suit his sovereign's case
And royal leisure, nor too much prolong
Aught save his eulogy, and find, and seize,

Or force, or forge fit argument of song!

Thus trammell'd, thus condemn'd to Flattery's trebles, He toils through all, still trembling to be wrong: For fear some noble thoughts, like heavenly rebels, Should rise up in high treason to his brain,

He sings, as the Athenian spoke, with pebbles

In's mouth, lest truth should stammer through his strain. But out of the long file of sonneteers

There shall be some who will not sing in vain,
And he, their prince, shall rank among my peers,5
And love shall be his torment; but his grief
Shall make an immortality of tears,

And Italy shall hail him as the Chief
Of Poet-lovers, and his higher song

Of Free lom wreathe him with as green a leaf.
But in a farther age shall rise along

The banks of Po two greater still than he;

The world which smiled on him shall do them wrong

Till they are ashes, and repose with me.

The first will make an epoch with his lyre,
And fill the earth with feats of chivalry:

His fancy like a rainbow, and his fire,

Like that of Heaven, immortal, and his thought
Borne onward with a wing that cannot tire;

Pleasure shall, like a butterfly new caught,
Flutter her lovely pinions o'er his theme,
And Art itself seem into Nature wrought
By the transparency of his bright dream.-
The second, of a tenderer, sadder mood,
Shall pour his soul out o'er Jerusalem;
He, too, shall sing of arms, and Christian blood
Shed where Christ bled for man; and his high harp
Shall, by the willow over Jordan's flood,
Revive a song of Sion, and the sharp

Conflict, and final triumph of the brave
And pious, and the strife of hell to warp

Their hearts from their great purpose, until wave
The red-cross banners where the first red Cross
Was crimson'd from his veins who died to save,
Shall be his sacred argument; the loss

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

To shield him from insanity or shame, Such shall be his meet guerdon! who was sent To be Christ's Laureate-they reward him well! Florence dooms me but death or banishment, Ferrara him a pittance and a cell,

Harder to bear and less deserved, for I

Had stung the factions which I strove to quell; But this meek man, who with a lover's eye

Will look on earth and heaven, and who will deign
To embalm with his celestial flattery,

As poor a thing as e'er was spawn'd to reign,
What will he do to merit such a doom?
Perhaps he'll love,—and is not love in vain
Torture enough without a living tomb?
Yet it will be so he and his compeer,
The Bard of Chivalry, will both consume
In penury and pain too many a year,

And, dying in despondency, bequeath

To the kind world, which scarce will yield a tear A heritage enriching all who breathe

With the wealth of a genuine poet's soul,
And to their country a redoubled wreath,

Unmatch'd by time; not Hellas can unroll

Through her olympiads two such names, though one Of hers be mighty;—and is this the whole Of such men's destiny beneath the sun?6

Must all the finer thoughts, the thrilling sense,
The electric blood with which their arteries run,
Their body's self turned soul with the intense
Feeling of that which is, and fancy of

That which should be, to such a recompense
Conduct shall their bright plumage on the rough
Storm be still scatter'd? Yes, and it must be;
For, form'd of far too penetrable stuff,
These birds of Paradise but long to flee

Back to their native mansion, soon they find
Earth's mist with their pure pinions not agree,
And die or are degraded; for the mind

Succumbs to long infection, and despair,
And vulture passions flying close behind,
Await the moment to assail and tear;

And when at length the winged wanderers stoop,
Then is the prey-birds' triumph, then they share
The spoil, o'erpower'd at length by one fell swoop.
Yet some have been untouch'd who learn'd to bear,
Some whom no power could ever force to droop,
Who could resist themselves even, hardest care!
And task most hopeless; but some such have been,
And if my name amongst the number were,
That destiny austere, and yet serene,

Were prouder than more dazzling fame unbless'd;
The Alp's snow summit nearer heaven is seen
Than the volcano's fierce eruptive crest,

Whose splendour from the black abyss is flung,

While the scorch'd mountain, from whose burning breast

A temporary torturing flame is wrung,

Shines for a night of terror, then repels

Its fire back to the hell from whence it sprung, The hell which in its entrails ever dwells.

NOTES TO CANTO THE THIRD.

1.-Page 92, line 16.

Conquerors on foreign shores, and the far wave,

ALEXANDER of Parma, Spinola, Pescara, Eugene of Savoy, Monte

cucco.

2.-Page 92, line 17.

Discoverers of new worlds, which take their name;

Columbus, Americus Vespusius, Sebastian Cabot.

3.-Page 93, line 8.

He who once enters in a tyrant's hall

A verse from the Greek tragedians, with which Pompey took leave of Cornelia on entering the boat in which he was slain.

4.-Page 93, line 11.

A captive, sees his half of manhood gone-

The verse and sentiment are taken from Homer.

Petrarch.

5.-Page 93, line 28.

And he, their prince, shall rank among my peers,

6.-Page 95, line 4.

Of such men's destiny beneath the sun?

["Reader! how must you have admired those exquisitely beautiful and affecting portraitures of Ariosto and Tasso which conclude the third canto of the 'Prophecy of Dante!' We there see them characterised in number, style, and sentiment, so wonderfully Dantesque, that they seem to have been inspired by the very genius of the inarrivabile Dante himself."-GLENBERVIE.]

CANTO THE FOURTH.

MANY are poets who have never penn'd
Their inspiration, and perchance the best:
They felt, and loved, and died, but would not lend
Their thoughts to meaner beings; they compress'd
The god within them, and rejoin'd the stars
Unlaurell'd upon earth, but far more bless'd
Than those who are degraded by the jars

Of passion, and their frailties link'd to fame,
Conquerors of high renown, but full of scars.
Many are poets but without the name,
For what is poesy but to create

From overfeeling good or ill; and aim
At an external life beyond our fate,

And be the new Prometheus of new men,
Bestowing fire from heaven, and then, too late,
Finding the pleasure given repaid with pain,
And vultures to the heart of the bestower,
Who, having lavish'd his high gift in vain,
Lies chain'd to his lone rock by the sea-shore?
So be it: we can bear.-But thus all they
Whose intellect is an o'ermastering power
Which still recoils from its encumbering clay
Or lightens it to spirit, whatsoe'er

The form which their creations may essay,
Are bards; the kindled marble's bust may wear
More poesy upon its speaking brow

Than aught less than the Homeric page may bear;

One noble stroke with a whole life may glow,
Or deify the canvass till it shine

With beauty so surpassing all below,

VOL. II.

H