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logue with the kindred soul of St. Augustin, he pours forth the fulness of his heart with all the sincerity of nature and of genius. No two clerical characters seem to have been endowed by nature with more exquisite sensibilities than the African bishop and the priest of Provence. In the midst of his triumph his thoughts wandered away to the fardistant object of his affection; and his mind was at Vaucluse while the giddy throng of his admirers showered garlands and burnt incense around his person. He fondly pictured to himself the secret pride which the ladye of his love would perhaps feel in hearing of his fame; and the laurel was doubly dear to him, because it recalled her cherished name. The utter hopelessness of his passion seemed to shed an undefinable hallowedness over the sensations of his heart; and it must have been in one of those moments of tender melancholy that he penned the following graceful, but mysterious narrative of a supposed or real apparition. Sonetto.

Una candida cerva sopra l' erba

Verde m' apparve con duo corna d'oro
Fra due riviere all' ombra d' un alloro,
Levando 'l sole alla stagion acerba.

Era sua vista sì dolce superba,

Ch' i' lasciai per seguirla ogni lavoro;
Come l'avaro che 'n cercar tesoro,
Con diletto l' affanno disacerba.

"NESSUN MI TOCCHI," al bel collo d' intorno
Scritto aveva di diamanti, e di topazj;
"LIBERA FARMI AL MIO CESARE PARVE.'

Ed era 'l sol già volto al mezzo giorno

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Gli occhi miei stanchi di mirar, non sasi
Quand' io caddi nell' acqua, ed ella sparve.

The Vision of Petrarca.

A form I saw with secret awe-nor ken I what it warns ;
Pure as the snow, a gentle doe it seemed with silver horns.
Erect she stood, close by a wood between two running streams;
And brightly shone the morning sun upon that land of dreams!
The pictured hind fancy designed glowing with love and hope;
Graceful she stept, but distant kept, like the timid antelope;
Playful, yet coy—with secret joy her image filled my soul;
And o'er the sense soft influence of sweet oblivion stole.

Gold I beheld and emerald on the collar that she wore ;
Words too-but theirs were characters of legendary lore:
“Cæsar's decree hath made me free; and thro' his solemn charge,
Untouched by men o'er hill and glen E wander here at large."

The sun had now with radiant brow climbed his meridian throne,
Yet still mine eye untiringly gazed on that lovely one.
A voice was heard-quick disappeared my dream.

broken.

The spell was

Then came distress-to the consciousness of life I had awoken!

Still, the soul of Petrarca was at times accessible to sterner impressions. The call of patriotism never failed to find a responsive echo in the breast of Italy's most distinguished son; and when, at the death of Benedict XII., which occurred at this juncture, there arose a favourable chance of serving his country, by restoring the papal residence to the widowed city of Rome, he eagerly offered himself as one of the deputies to proceed to Avignon for the accomplishment of this wished-for consummation. Whether a secret anxiety to revisit the scene of his early affections, and to enjoy once more the presence of his mistress, may have mixed itself up with the aspirations of patriotism, it would not be easy to decide; but he entered into the project with all the warmth of a devoted lover of Italy. His glorious dithyramb to that delightful, but conquered and divided land, so often quoted, translated, and admired, is sufficient evidence of his sentiments: but he has taken care to put the matter beyond doubt in his vigorous pamphlet, "De Libertate capessendâ Exhortatio ad Nicolaum Laurentium." This "Nicholas" was no other than the famous tribune Cola Rienzi, who, mainly excited by the prose as well as the poetry of Petrarca, raised the standard of independence against the petty tyrants of the Eternal City in 1345, and for a brief space rescued it from thraldom. Poetry is the nurse of freedom. From Tyrtæus to Béranger, the Muse has befriended through every age the cause of liberty. The pulse of patriotism never beats with bolder throb than when the sound of martial song swells in the full chorus of manly voices; and it was in a great measure the rude energy of the "Marseillaise" that won for the ragged and shoeless_grenadiers of the Convention the victories of Valmy and Jemmappe. In our own country, Dibdin's

navai odes, full of inspiriting thought and sublime imagery, have not a little contributed to our maintaining in perilous times the disputed empire of the ocean against Napoleon. Never was a pension granted with more propriety than the tribute to genius voted in this case at the recommendation of George III.; and I suppose a similar reward has attended the authors of the "Mariners of England," and "The Battle of Copenhagen." As we have come insensibly to the topic of maritime minstrelsy, I imagine that a specimen of the stuff sung by the Venetian sailors, at the time when that Queen of the Adriatic reigned over the waters, may not be uninteresting. The subject is the naval victory which, at the close of the sixteenth century, broke the colossal power of the Sublime Porte; for which occurrence, by the by, Europe was mainly indebted to the exertions of Pope Pius V. and the prowess of one Miguel Cervantes, who had a limb shattered in the mélée.

Barzelletta da cantar per la Vittoria di Lepanto.

Cantiam tutti allegramente,
Orsù, putti! attentamente
Cantiam tutti la rovina
Ch' alla gente Saracina
Dato ha Dio sì fortemente.

Cantiam tutti allegramente,
Che con straccio al fier dragone
Squarciò il fronte si crudele,
Che maì più drizzerà vele,
Che nel mar sia sì possente.

Cantiam tutti allegramente,
Cantiam, putti! pur ognora,
Ch' il ladron di Caracossa
Fatt' ha l' Aqua-salsa rossa
Del suo sangue di serpente.

Cantiam, putti! allegramente,
Di tre sei d' otto e di venti
Galeotte e altri legni

Fù il fracasso-o Turchi! degni
Del gran fuoco eternamente!

Cantiam pur allegramente,
Come poi più delle venti
Ne fur prese cento ed ottanta,
E dei morti poi sessanta
Mila e più di quella gente:

Cantiam tutti allegramente;
Ma ben duolmi a dir ch' i nostri
Fur da sette mila ed otto
Ivì morti (se 'l ver noto),
Combattendo audacemente.

Cantiam tutti allegramente,
Dopo questi, altri guerrieri
Vendicar coll' arme in mano
Quelli e il nom Christiano,
Per virtù d' Iddio clemente.

Cantiam tutti allegramente;
Per cotal vittoria e tanta,
Doveremmo ogni an far festa,
Per che al mondo altra che questa
Non fù maì d' alcuno in mento.

A A

Popular Ballad on the Battle of Lepanto.

Let us sing how the boast of the Saracen host

In the gulf of Lepanto was scattered,

When each knight of St. John's from his cannon of bronze
With grape-shot their argosies battered.

Oh! we taught the Turks then that of Europe the men
Could defy every infidel menace-

And that still o'er the main float the galleys of Spain,
And the red-lion standard of Venice!

Quick we made the foe skulk, as we blazed at each hulk,
While they left us a splinter to fire at ;

And the rest of them fled o'er the waters, blood red
With the gore of the Ottoman pirate;

And our navy gave chase to the infidel race,

Nor allowed them a moment to rally;

And we forced them at length to acknowledge our strength

In the trench, in the field, in the galley!

Then our men gave a shout, and the ocean throughout
Heard of Christendom's triumph with rapture.

Galeottes eighty-nine of the enemy's line

To our swift-sailing ships fell a capture:
And I firmly maintain that the number of slain.

-

To at least sixty thousand amounted ;-
To be sure 'twas sad work-if the life of a Turk
For a moment were worth being counted.

We may well feel elate; though I'm sorry to state,
That albeit by the myriad we've slain 'em,
Still, the sons of the Cross have to weep for the loss
Of six thousand who fell by the Paynim.

Full atonement was due for each man that they slew,
And a hecatomb paid for each hero:

But could all that we'd kill give a son to Castile,

Or to Malta a brave cavalhéro ?

St. Mark for the slain intercedes not in vain

There's a mass at each altar in Venice;

And the saints we implore for the banner they bore

Are Our Lady, St. George, and St. Denis.

For the brave while we grieve, in our hearts they shall live—
In our mouths shall their praise be incessant;

And again and again we will boast of the men

Who have humbled the pride of the Crescent.

The Venetians have been ever remarkable for poetic taste; and the very humblest classes of society amongst

them exhibit a fondness for the great masters of their native language, and a familiarity with the glorious effusions of the national genius, quite unknown in the corresponding rank of tradesmen and artisans in England. Goldoni, who wrote in their own dialect, knew the sort of critics he had to deal with and it is a fact that the most formidable judges of dramatic excellence at the theatres of Venice were the gondoliers. Addison, or rather Isaac Bickerstaff, tells us a droll story about a certain trunkmaker, who stationed himself in the gallery of Drury Lane, and with a whack of his oaken cudgel ratified the success or confirmed the downfal of each new tragic performance. I think the author of the Spectator" must have had the original hint of that anecdote during his stay at Venice, where such a verdict from such a quarter was a matter of habitual occurrence. There is great delicacy of feeling and polish of expression in the following ingenious popular barcarolle of Venetian origin:Barcarolle.

66

Oh pescator dell' onda,

Fidelin,

Vieni pescar in quà

Colla bella sua barca.

Colla bella se ne va,
Fidelin, lin, là

Che cosa vuol ch' io peschi?
Fidelin,

L'anel che m' è casca,
Colla bella sua barca.
Colla bella se ne va, &c.
Ti darò cento scudi,
Fidelin,

Sta borsa ricama,
Colla bella sua barca.
Colla bella se ne va, &c.
Non voglio cento scudi,
Fidelin,

Nè borsa ricama,
Colla bella sua barca.
Colla bella se ne va, &c.

Io vo un basin d'amore,
Fidelin,

Che quel mi paghera,
Colla bella sua bocca.
Colla bella se ne va, &c.

"Prithee, young fisherman, come

over

Hither thy light bark bring; Row to this bank, and try recover My treasure-'tis a ring!"

The fisher-boy of Como's lake

His bonny boat soon brought her, And promised for her beauty's sake To search beneath the water.

"I'll give thee," said the ladye fair,
"One hundred sequins bright,
If to my villa thou wilt bear,
Fisher, that ring to-night."

"A hundred sequins I'll refuse
When I shall come at eve:
But there is something, if you
choose,

Lady, that you can give!"

The ring was found beneath the
flood;

Nor need my lay record
What was that lady's gratitude,
What was that youth's reward.

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