Of mankind's deep and universal bate;
For thine own creatures loathe and fear thy sight."
We quote the following for the sake of
the idea:—

Religion is

We mention this, that we may at once
escape from the irksome task of verbal
criticism. As far as our own taste is con-
cerned, we could wish that the labour of
the file had not been so entirely withheld.
However, there is genius in every page;
and we would rather possess gold in the
rough than base metal in its highest Below, that hath thrown man drifting betwixt
polish.

We shall now do little more than cull a few of the flowers as they may happen to spring up in our path.

The First Book thus opens:

▾ Or wars and cruel deeds of that fierce chief
Who prey'd on Italy, and who pour'd forth
Libations of her blood to his fell rage,
That made the fuming earth, on which his foot
Had printed deep his sire's infernal seal,
Reeling and drunk, sing, oh aspiring Muse!
Oppression! thou stern nurse of warlike feats,
Alas! in Italy thou'rt not yet dead,

But hover'st still with dank and heavy wing
To blight and mildew this bright realm of light.
With joyous voice I hail those valiant knights
Whose banners then were bless'd by Holy Church;
Which, then interpreting the Lord's commands,
Would not his image were defac'd on earth,
Nor that his form divine were bound in chains.
Hail, Est', great champion of the league! thou, like
The shepherd's boy of Bethlem, who arose
To smite Goliah, foe to God, he then
The crown of Israel received, the high
Recompense for the rebel giant slain,
To God's own people timely succour brought;
Accept the crown of laurel I now strive
To weave, to deck the memory of thy fame:
For with no venal voice I sing in days
When tyranny accurst is lauded loud,
And incense fragrant burns for rule usurp'd,
Which then by thy stout arm was overthrown.
Oh, Italy, propitious smile on me!

Thy gracious smiles will be my highest meed;
Thee to propitiate e'er shall be my care.

Adelaide, upon her death-bed, reveals
to Eccelino the secret of his birth:-
"List, oh, my son, to this thy awful fate,
Fate that will pass thy grave, and blast thy name.
Success will cease to crown thy daring arms;
Our house, our rule, will all extinguish'd be;
Thy memory, a blazing beacon still
Will burn, of horror ever to be spurn'd,

A foil to heroes, and supreme in blood!
When on my nuptial night entranc'd I lay
Warm clasp'd in thy pretended father's arms,
He started from a wild and dreadful dream;
He thought his castle of Romano toss'd
Aloft in air, high borne upon the clouds
Hov'ring a while, then sank into the depth
Of earth unfathomable, ingulph'd, and lost!
And now the fearful secret hear of thine

Own monstrous birth: half fiend thou art, and born
Rebel to Heaven. Behold! thy motley blood
Flows partly from the great apostate's veins,
He who defied the eternal King Supreme,
And still on earth rebellion doth excite!
Thou his own son, his chosen captain art,
His blood imbues thee with his reckless rage,
And all his dev'lish stratagems and wiles,
To compass thy designs, and rule in spite
No. 42.-Vol. VII.

The lofty arch that's thrown from earth to worlds
We cannot reach, but o'er that arch that doth
Th' infinite combine with our darker state

Two awful tides, half angel, half a brute;
Swimming on hope, he strives and gasps for breath
Eternal.

Here is the first spectral appearance of
Adelaide to her son:-

Behold in utter darkness, from the tomb
Portentous rises now a pale blue flame,
Nor light, nor heat emits around, itself
Alone is visible. All yet is still

In deep night mantled, when the son aghast
In speechless horror sees his mother's form
Rise 'mid the flame; slowly it glides along,
Waving its arm, then vanishes in air:
And nought remains, save the blue flame, his steps
That beckons on. The vision he obeys
That points to Padua ; the beacon light
Still gleams before his courser's head; behind
Close follow'd him those knights, whose sealed eyes
Beheld the vision not; yet true to him,
Where'er he march'd, they follow'd in his train.

Eccelino's person, &c., are thus described :

-High on a throne

Of state in his vast hall the tyrant sat,
His barons, and his chivalry around,
(To guard his life on which hang all their hopes!)
Reflected glory on their brilliant chief.

His fame attracted followers; his deeds
Of arms had ever filled his ranks with names
Of high renown; his stature low and small
Reach'd not the common height, but awful was
As to gigantic mould when all with fear
Beheld that haughty step and warlike mien,
And heard that voice, that like the trump of war
Commands, and saw, o'erpowering ever, flash

His conquering eye, that in the battle, calm
Through clouds of dust, and reeling squadrons shook,
Could clear discern, and then direct that voice
To rally broken hosts, and stem the tide
Of fight.

Towards the close of the First Book,
Rainero, one of the patriotic opponents of
Eccelino, is executed on the scaffold.
The widowed Leonora collects his re-
mains, and bids a last adieu to Padua.

In the Second Book, Azzo of Esté makes his appearance

-To Milan bad he come,
This gentle knight, to prove in tournament
The prowess he had shown in early fight.

-in her boly trance she thought she saw
Esté transfigur'd in the morning star.
Glorious shall rise that morning star, and wake
Italia, slumb'ring in her chains, and it
Shall shine o'er Eccelino's grave; ages
Shall roll o'er ages, and again shall shine
That star, and on th' eternal city shed
Its holy light, such liberty diffuse

As tyrants shall strike blind, or tempt them on
To an inglorious tomb.

Eccelino determines to attack Parma.An evening in Italy, just after sunset, is thus described :—

Glorious and calm the sun had set, and shed
O'er Parma's dome and the rich country round,
In ruby streaks of light, his last farewell;
And as he sank on his Hesperian couch,
Which Tethys had on her dark bosom laid,
The colour'd clouds, with variegated hues,
Offspring of his full radiance, hung awhile
In brightest canopy, and mark'd the spot
On which he sank to rest, on western wave
Pillow'd, beyond the far Iberian shore.

In the light slumbers succeeding such an eve, the coy maid will,

-half awaking, start, and turn,
And dream of some love potion, or of snares
Such as a fortune-telling dame will oft
Advise; gold chains, and philtres magical,
With rings, and all the pretty springes that
Fair maidens set to fix their destiny

In love; that destiny for which they breathe,
They sigh and pant, and live in joy, or die.
When in ripe youth the hymeneal torch
They seek to light, should disappointment come
With iron hand to dash the cup of joy
From their fair lips, hapless is then their lot:
Then shrinks their rounded buoyancy of form,
And droop their joy-inspiring eyes; their breast
No longer swells with smiling hope, and life
Sets joyless in its glowing morn. Alas,
Their destiny's forlorn and incomplete!
And sickly grief will cloud each maiden's face,
As in the mirror her chang'd form she views,
And sees how useless now her shape to lace;
How useless in bright wreaths to braid her hair!
Thus, like the rose, she buds, and blooms, and fades,
And ne'er is culled; vainly her beauties blow.

The acts of Hell triumph-Parma is in flames-massacre and violation ensue.

In slow and measur'd cadence; and as where
Some mighty stream in many branches flows,
So o'er the fields in many columns flow'd
This stream of life; each file a serpent seem'd
To writhe along; the serpent's scaly back
Their armour shone, and upwards flash their arms;
The spiral lightnings mark'd their onward way.
Forwards the Emperor rode, and just beneath
A canopy of aged oaks he stopp'd;
Behind him cluster'd many knights, that like
A constellation shone; the soul they were
Of that great moving mass that swept along.
Now each Teutonic tribe that drank the wave
Of Rhine, far Elbe, or Danube dark, move on:
Nations that war do for its own sake love,
Whose stubborn tempers war excites to joy!
First came the frank and jovial Tyrolese,
Who 'mid his rugged mountains, where he bounds
From rock to rock with step as swift and light
As chamois, woos the nymph of liberty.
Tyrol of Freedom thou the blest retreat;
Nich'd on thy rocks her nest secure is fix'd,
Far from the steps of congregated man!
Thus gaily march the Tyrolese, with bow
And quiver full of shafts, that well they know
To use; in forest green array'd they were,
And in their caps wav'd the wild falcon's plume
With eagles' feathers mix'd; their waists were bound
With shaggy wolf-skin belts; and every chief

A horn had o'er his shoulder slung, that, wound,
Would fill the air with sylvan melody.

In front they march, and scatter on each side;
Like hounds they make their casts, like hounds first

move;

No ambush from their rapid search secure ;
No mountain steep can tire their speed; no glen
So deep but their bold feet dare venture down,
Alike 'mid summer's heat or winter's snow.
Marksmen unerring, swift, and unobserved,
Like hailstorms o'er a land their bands they pour.
With heavy tread that shakes the trembling ground,
Plodding along, with heads hung down, next move
The Germans, to the onslaught slow, and slow
In the retreat; they stand against the brunt
Of war unmov'd; and, if they're beat, their arms
They'd rather pile than fly: with patience they
Submit to all the drudgery of war.

But now appear high helmed heads and steeds
From far Bohemia's side, that onward bear
The pond'rous cuirassiers; they are of war
The thunderbolts; and, when of victory

The scales hang in suspense, rush in: loud sounds
The ringing shock when they the battle join,
And onward pass o'er wrecks of men and arms.
With haughty eye the Emperor now view'd
His passing host, and to Vincenza bade
The troops march on.

The subjoined, of a widely different

The Fifth Book opens with the encamp-character, almost immediately succeeds:―

ment of the Emperor's forces. Is not the
following a fine and breathing picture!-
The Emperor started from his couch; and now,
Scenting the freshness of the morning air,
His heart within him swell'd with pride when he
Beheld the far-spread tented field, that seem'd
As if the Alpine snow had drifted on

The plains. He heard the neighing steeds, and soon
He saw them led in endless files to drink,
Plunging in capriole and gambol gay.

The tents are struck; the camp is rais'd, and quick
The wains are charg'd; the plain is bristled o'er
With arms; the trumpets sound; the earth rings loud
Beneath the heavy tread of feet, that fall

Oh, will divine! portion of God himself,

For God is will, will free without a cause;
With terror fraught, when sudden it cuts off
Great chieftains, and kings from their mighty thrones
Hurls down; then their anointed bodies lie
In narrow cells, mould'ring to dust, and straight
To God the will returns (the will which is
The soul). Can man deny his soul? What is't
That, when the battle roars, and the hot earth
With human carnage reeks, spite of cold fear,
That chills his blood and shakes his every limb,
To the fight spurs him on? What but his will ?
His will, his soul, that from his frame distinct
Ever exists, nor knows mortality!

If souls exist not, should we honour feel?
And glory, virtue's highest, best reward?

Vincenza is subjected to the same hor-
rible fate as Parma.

The fall of the Turkish empire, and the restoration of the Jews, are indicated :--

-The Moslem's day is past,

And all his crimes shall be quite rooted out;
The scorching hand of Freedom, fiercer far
Than dog-star's ray, his cities soon shall blast,
And overthrow his horsemen proud and fierce.
Egypt, thou land in darkness magic-bound,
Thou shalt be free! and the proud turban roll
In dust, and mosques a bale-fire shall blaze forth,
To guide the steps of slumb'ring Liberty!
Judah shall weep no more! and Zion then,
Like a young blooming bride, again be join'd
To universal love.

Here is the close of the Fifth Book:

Hail, Hope divine! together thou two worlds
Hast join'd, an arch hast thrown o'er the dark gulf
Of Death! for thou declar'st it not eterne.
Reason, still cold and blind, can never soar
Into the heights thou reachest; thou canst pass
All space and time, and in eternity

Dost ever dwell: the soul of man is then

In awful life eternal born, else ne'er

It could eternity conceive or wish:
For hope divine is co-eternal with
The Great Supreme, Eternal Increate.

At the commencement of the Sixth Book, Eccelino beholds a vision, horribly portentous of his fate.-Viola, one of the attendant maidens of Hermione, is seized and carried off by Sir Guyon, but rescued by Florestan, a Knight Templar, who kills Sir Guyon in combat. In the Seventh Book, the warning shade of Leonora leads Hermione to implore the protection of heaven for Azzo. A bloody battle is fought.

'Tis over, spirits of the immortal slain

Ye are fled! spirits that earth's lightning blaz'd,
That flash'd and shed around your glorious light!
Ages that flash endures, and fresh it streams
Within each memory of kindred souls.
On earth such glory dies not; can it then
Extinguish'd be in Heav'n? Great souls are not
Form'd in an instant; and shall thus their blaze
An instant only last, and so be quench'd?
Justice such disproportion'd sacrifice
Forbids; nor would th' heroic soul aspire
To the high stars, unless itself it felt
Kindred with their conscience; the echo thou
Of the Almighty's voice! thou whisper'st us
That earth-won laurels change into a crown
Eternal; on earth the spiral cypress points
Its gloomy cone, to mark where we have found
Our sepulchre, in sculptur'd tomb, that's carv'd
With fretted frieze of marble or of brass.
Say then, is this glory's sole guerdon? No;
For thus the fiery steed might honour'd be,
Whom his hot rider on the lance doth drive.
Departed spirits of the slain! ye're fled :
And though your ghastly forms are left below,
You hover still in th' empyrean sky!

From the Eighth Book we transcribe
the following description of Fear :—
Pale Fear, now plucking each man by the hair,
Dragg'd him along at will, with tott'ring steps,
Wild staring eyes, and pale and quivering mien;
The giant monster, Fear, who shapeless is,
Though, in men's eyes, he every form assumes ;
Oft-times his shadow only meets the eye,
And then, 'tis thought, his real form is there;
He stalks, by night, about our bed; at noon,
He flits before our eyes, and our hearts throb ;
We wildly gaze around, and then he's gone.
Unknown, immeasurable, is his form;
His lofty head doth reach the sky; his feet
Are in the bowels of the earth deep sunk.
Such is gaunt Fear, who faster breedeth lies
Than tongue can tell; for he the vision true
O'the soul distorts; all things he doth distort;
Beneath a veil, such as the twilight throws

Around, oft-times delighteth he to dance

'Mongst sprites and witches on the midnight heath;
He rolls the stream of battle back; he sits

In th' angry storm, on each wild wave that lifts
The ship; and seizes with his icy grasp

Each heart, when 'gainst the rock she strikes and sinks.

Mantua is invested. Florestan, the
lover of Viola, is slain. There is much
beauty in the following passage:—
Can friendship e'er supply the place of love?
One moment of love's warm ecstatic bliss,
That melts two souls in one, and makes their will
Unconquerable, and both joins in one,
Transcends an age of friendship: for love dwells
In other spheres, nor grovels on the earth,
But to the stars transports our mutual souls,
And scoffs at death, and poverty, and chains.
Oh, when 'tis lost, where shall we find it more?
Thy full-blown rose of bliss its leaves hath shed;
Weep on, then, Viola, thou gentle nymph,
Wither'd they fall, fragrant for thee no more.
Drink thou the nightly dew that's fresh, to cool
The fev'rish anguish of thy troubled breast,
Thy grief may wane as soon; and if thou still
And gaze upon the waning moon, and hope
Canst not forget, pray that thou mayst become
Fickle as she, nor waste thy morning bloom
In hopeless grief; soon must thy beauty fade
And wane; too soon thy faded form will sink
In the cold grave: let then this grief be brief,
And fast out-pour'd, thus sooner may its source
Be dried whence it in gushing torrents flows.
What sight more lovely e'er to see than this,
A damsel weeping o'er a warrior's grave,
Grassy and unadorn'd, save by her form,
That form so fair, to him united still!
In tenderest mem'ry's sweets she seem'd to live,
And deepest grief here tied the wedding knot:
Beyond the grave we can united be
By bands more pure, more tender than in life:
For each long moment sees the fancied form
Of those we've lost, and lov'd, and still we love.

Eccelino narrowly escapes destruction. Fortune, as connected with Fate, is apostrophised:

Oh, Fate! thine bandmaid Fortune ever is,
Though she but seldom stays; so swift she flies,
She might the rainbow seem, her brilliant hues
Might form the arch above; we see her not,
But still discern the circle she describes
In air, as she flies round the world, scatt'ring
Purses of gold, and gems, and crowns of bays,

And kingly crowns, and royal sceptres too,
And Vict'ry's laurel wreaths, and wedding rings
For which each maiden pants; and when we catch
A glimpse of her, we turn our back on death,
And madly rush into the furious fray.

Thou, wild Enchantress of each phrenzied brain,
Thee, Fortune! all men worship, but none strive
Thy love to win, but daring souls, who blind
Will run, and try to follow thee, for thou

Art seen most brilliant, when the storm blows hard:
When nations rise and break their chains, when mad
Bellona, sweeping in her gory car,

With loosen'd rein, whirls on her headlong steeds,
And warriors reel and roll in death, armies

Are scatter'd, kingdoms are o'erthrown, one man
Doth rise, an unknown pigmy, that, but touch'd
By thy bright wand, a giant straight becomes,
Who doth o'erstride the earth. He reigns awhile
Like Casar, and like Cæsar falls! Who can
Rely on thee, capricious dame, that art
Brilliant in ever-varying colours clad?

Escorted by Sudak, a black dwarf, whose life Azzo had saved, Hermione, through much peril, joins her hero.

In the Ninth Book, Azzo consults the Sibyl of Volterra. He is seduced by her charms; but returns and makes his peace with Hermione.-At the close of the succeeding Book, Hermione sacrifices her love of Azzo to his military fame, and becomes a nun.

How sweet to wander through the flow'ry paths
Of fresh accomplish'd hope; sweet to stray o'er
Gay fields at eye, and see the sun go down
On all our care, that ends with his decline;
Then rise refresh'd, no other care to fear,.
Than what his daily course contains; the soul
In sweet repose: yet sweeter far, when love
Wraps round the trembling, doubtful heart, to crave
Forgiveness, seal'd by the impetuous gust
Of full-blown love.

Invoked by her son, the ghost of Adelaide again appears, in the early part of

the Eleventh Book.

Her awful form was wrapt
In Hell's most awful flames, on which no eye,
Save Eccelino's, e'er could gaze and live.
Her faded form was veiled by circling flames,
Which soften'd her proud looks, yet mark'd the state
She once had fill'd; nor was her open front
Emblazon'd; she superior seem'd to shades
Of mortal woman, but yet not so high
As fallen angel; yet she look'd as if
Some pity she from her dread paramour
Had found, the partner of her bed, from which
A satellite of Hell had sprung, who dar'd,
Proud in his might, provoke the Church to war.
Such seem'd the shade of Adelaide; of her,
Th' adultress with th' infernal king; of her
Who dealt in magic lore; the power of speech
She had not; but before his eyes a skull,
Encircled by a bloody wreath, she held,
Announcing thus his death and fame. Sudden
She disappear'd; earth shook, high turrets rock'd
And fell, and Eccelino stood aghast.

Padua is gained by the army of the League. Eccelino, having abandoned the siege of Mantua, marches towards

Verona, on his progress towards which,
he is apprised of the fall of Padua. He is
greeted by ambiguous omens-marches
and countermarches-murders an abbess
in her convent, and commits other horrible
ravages.

Oh, Muse, draw now a veil o'er that black night!
Such nights belong not to Romano's days
Alone, as Spain can tell, when o'er the walls
Of Zaragoza storm'd, the torrent pour'd

That whelm'd the peaceful fields, and soak'd them all
With village blood; when holy nuns were thrown
To feed like fuel the devouring flames,

That o'er her land their devastation spread!

Leaving Vincenza in safety, Eccelino moves onward to Verona, where another massacre is perpetrated.

Th' exterminating fiend, with gloating eyes,
Solac'd his sight on fields of blood, on which
The grass ne'er more will grow, nor flow'ry herbs;
Indignant nature her congenial warmth
Denies; the showers of Heav'n can never wash
The stains away; all life, in memory

Of slaughter'd life, has vanish'd from the spot.

Geraldo pledges himself to the assassination of Azzo, but is deprived of sight by Sudak, the black dwarf.

Throughout the Twelfth Book, the interest rises powerfully on the reader-all, to the very close, is life, spirit, and action. Indeed, one great merit of the poem is that, howsoever imaginative its noble author may have shewn himself in other respects, its military details all bear the deep and vivid impress of truth.

Azzo, in his slumbers, is soothed with delightful dreams. Sports, similar to those his camp. Fortune, in the interim, seems of the Olympic games, are introduced in to smile upon Eccelino. After many skirmishes and individual combats, the Leaguers' camp is stormed and plundered. Friola was the latest prey of the tyrant. Aroused by the spirit of liberty, mail-clad knights and warriors pour in for the reinforcement of Azzo. The fire and energy of the succeeding passage are worthy of the subject:

Manhood and age and youth all mov'd;
Ten thousand arms were rais'd, but one heart glow'd;
One cry was heard, "Mount, mount for Italy!"
What fervour glow'd, when burghers threw their caps-
In air with loud acclaim, and peasants ran
In crowds to join, and rent the air with cries
Of holy warfare on the foe; and maids
And gentle dames, clasping their hands, implor'd
The virgin's aid, and priests their solemn voice
Attun'd to prayer; more fervent, deep, contrite,
For God his mercy to pour down, and heal
The wounds of this long, bloody, dreadful strife.
Man lives a double life in such a time;
Man revels in most glorious life, when he,