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 animale 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." CANTO THE SECOND. THE Spirit of the fervent days of Old, When words were things that came to pass, and thought What the great Seers of Israel wore within, Of conflict none will hear, or hearing heed Thou'rt mine-my bones shall be within thy breast, With our old Roman sway in the wide West; Shall find alike such sounds for every theme And make thee Europe's nightingale of song; So that all present speech to thine shall seem The note of meaner birds, and every tongue Confess its barbarism when compared with thine. This shalt thou owe to him thou didst so wrong, Woe! woe! the veil of coming centuries The storms yet sleep, the clouds still keep their station, The unborn earthquake yet is in the womb, The bloody chaos yet expects creation, But all things are disposing for thy doom; The elements await but for the word, "Let there be darkness!" and thou grow'st a tomb! Yes! thou, so beautiful, shalt feel the sword, Thou, Italy! so fair that Paradise, Revived in thee, blooms forth to man restored: Ah! must the sons of Adam lose it twice? Thou, Italy whose ever golden fields, Plough'd by the sunbeams solely, would suffice And form'd the Eternal City's ornaments Where earthly first, then heavenly glory made In feeble colours, when the eye-from the Alp Nearer and nearer yet, and dearer still The more approach'd, and dearest were they free, Thou-thou must wither to each tyrant's will: The Goth hath been,-the German, Frank, and Hun Are yet to come,—and on the imperial hill Ruin, already proud of the deeds done By the old barbarians, there awaits the new, Throned on the Palatine, while lost and won Of Tiber, thick with dead; the helpless priest, Nine moons shall rise o'er scenes like this and ɛet ;1 Had but the royal Rebel lived, perchance 1 Thou hadst been spared, but his involved thy fate. But Tiber shall become a mournful river. Oh! when the strangers pass the Alps and Po, Crush them, ye rocks! floods whelm them, and for ever! Why sleep the idle avalanches so, To topple on the lonely pilgrim's head? Why doth Eridanus but overflow The peasant's harvest from his turbid bed? Were not each barbarous horde a nobler prey? Over Cambyses' host the desert spread Her sandy ocean, and the sea-waves' sway Those who overthrew proud Xerxes, where yet lie Are the Alps weaker than Thermopylæ ? Their passes more alluring to the view That to each host the mountain-gate unbar, In a soil where the mothers bring forth men : Of the poor reptile which preserves its sting Is more secure than walls of adamant, when The hearts of those within are quivering. Are ye not brave? Yes, yet the Ausonian soil While still Division sows the seeds of woe And Doubt and Discord step 'twixt thine and thee, What is there wanting then to set thee free, And show thy beauty in its fullest light? Her sons, may do this with one deed -Unite. NOTE TO CANTO THE SECOND. ---- 1.--Page 89, line 17. Nine moons shall rise o'er scenes like this and set; SEE"Sacco di Roma," generally attributed to Guicciardini. There is another written by a Jacopo Buonaparte. |