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Softly responsive; and, attuned to all Those vernal charms of sight and sound, appeared

Smooth space of turf which from the guardian

224

fort Sloped seaward, turf whose tender April green, In coolest climes too fugitive, might even here Plead with the sovereign Sun for longer stay Than his unmitigated beams allow,

Nor plead in vain, if beauty could preserve, From mortal change, aught that is born on earth

Or doth on time depend.

230

While on the brink

Of that high Convent-crested cliff I stood,
Modest Savona! over all did brood

A pure poetic Spirit-as the breeze,

Mild as the verdure, fresh-the sunshine,

bright

235

Thy gentle Chiabrera !—not a stone,
Mural or level with the trodden floor,
In Church or Chapel, if my curious quest
Missed not the truth, retains a single name
Of young or old, warrior, or saint, or sage, 240
To whose dear memories his sepulchral verse
Paid simple tribute, such as might have flowed
From the clear spring of a plain English heart,
Say rather, one in native fellowship

With all who want not skill to couple grief 245
With praise, as genuine admiration prompts.
The grief, the praise, are severed from their
dust,

Yet in his page the records of that worth
Survive, uninjured;-glory then to words,
Honour to word-preserving Arts, and hail
Ye kindred local influences that still,
If Hope's familiar whispers merit faith,

250

255

Await my steps when they the breezy height
Shall range of philosophic Tusculum;
Or Sabine vales explored inspire a wish
To meet the shade of Horace by the side
Of his Blandusian fount; or I invoke
His presence to point out the spot where once
He sate, and eulogised with earnest pen
Peace, leisure, freedom, moderate desires; 260
And all the immunities of rural life

Extolled, behind Vacuna's crumbling fane.
Or let me loiter, soothed with what is given,
Nor asking more, on that delicious Bay,
Parthenope's Domain-Virgilian haunt,
Illustrated with never-dying verse,
And, by the Poet's laurel-shaded tomb,
Age after age to Pilgrims from all lands
Endeared.

265

And who-if not a man as cold 269 In heart as dull in brain-while pacing ground Chosen by Rome's legendary Bards, high minds Out of her early struggles well inspired

To localize heroic acts-could look

Upon the spots with undelighted eye,

279

Though even to their last syllable the Lays 275
And very names of those who gave them birth
Have perished?-Verily, to her utmost depth,
Imagination feels what Reason fears not
To recognize, the lasting virtue lodged
In those bold fictions that, by deeds assigned
To the Valerian, Fabian, Curian Race,
And others like in fame, created Powers
With attributes from History derived,
By Poesy irradiate, and yet graced,
Through marvellous felicity of skill,

285

With something more propitious to high aims Than either, pent within her separate sphere, Can oft with justice claim.

And not disdaining

Union with those primeval energies

289

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To virtue consecrate, stoop ye from your height
Christian Traditions! at my Spirit's call
Descend, and, on the brow of ancient Rome
As she survives in ruin, manifest
Your glories mingled with the brightest hues
Of her memorial halo, fading, fading,
But never to be extinct while Earth endures.
O come, if undishonoured by the prayer,
From all her Sanctuaries!-Open for my feet
Ye Catacombs, give to mine eyes a glimpse 299
Of the Devout, as, 'mid your glooms convened
For safety, they of yore enclasped the Cross
On knees that ceased from trembling, or intoned
Their orisons with voices half-suppressed,
But sometimes heard, or fancied to be heard,
Even at this hour.

And thou Mamertine prison, 305 Into that vault receive me from whose depth Issues, revealed in no presumptuous vision, Albeit lifting human to divine,

A Saint, the Church's Rock, the mystic Keys Grasped in his hand; and lo! with upright sword

Prefiguring his own impendent doom,
The Apostle of the Gentiles; both prepared
To suffer pains with heathen scorn and hate
Inflicted;-blessed Men, for so to Heaven
They follow their dear Lord!

310

Time flows-nor winds, 315 Nor stagnates, nor precipitates his course, But many a benefit borne upon his breast For human-kind sinks out of sight, is gone, No one knows how; nor seldom is put forth An angry arm that snatches good away, Never perhaps to reappear. The Stream

320

Has to our generation brought and brings
Innumerable gains; yet we, who now
Walk in the light of day, pertain full surely
To a chilled age, most pitiably shut out
From that which is and actuates, by forms,
Abstractions, and by lifeless fact to fact
Minutely linked with diligence uninspired,
Unrectified, unguided, unsustained,

325

By godlike insight. To this fate is doomed 330
Science, wide-spread and spreading still as be
Her conquests, in the world of sense made
known.

So with the internal mind it fares; and so
With morals, trusting, in contempt or fear
Of vital principle's controlling law,

335

To her purblind guide Expediency; and so
Suffers religious faith. Elate with view
Of what is won, we overlook or scorn
The best that should keep pace with it, and
must,

Else more and more the general mind will

droop,

Even as if bent on perishing.

There lives No faculty within us which the Soul

Can

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spare, and humblest earthly Weal demands, For dignity not placed beyond her reach, Zealous co-operation of all means

345

350

Given or acquired, to raise us from the mire,
And liberate our hearts from low pursuits.
By gross Utilities enslaved we need
More of ennobling impulse from the past,
If to the future aught of good must come
Sounder and therefore holier than the ends
Which, in the giddiness of self-applause,
We covet as supreme. O grant the crown
That Wisdom wears, or take his treacherous
staff

From Knowledge!-If the Muse, whom I have

served

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360

This day, be mistress of a single pearl
Fit to be placed in that pure diadem;
Then, not in vain, under these chestnut boughs
Reclined, shall I have yielded up my soul
To transports from the secondary founts
Flowing of time and place, and paid to both
Due homage; nor shall fruitlessly have striven,
By love of beauty moved, to enshrine in verse
Accordant meditations, which in times
Vexed and disordered, as our own, may shed
Influence, at least among a scattered few, 366
To soberness of mind and peace of heart
Friendly; as here to my repose hath been
This flowering broom's dear neighbourhood,
the light

And murmur issuing from yon pendent flood,
And all the varied landscape. Let us now 371
Rise, and to-morrow greet magnificent Rome.1

II.

THE PINE OF MONTE MARIO AT ROME.

5

I SAW far off the dark top of a Pine
Look like a cloud- -a slender stem the tie
That bound it to its native earth--poised high
'Mid evening hues, along the horizon line,
Striving in peace each other to outshine.
But when I learned the Tree was living there,
Saved from the sordid axe by Beaumont's care,
Oh, what a gush of tenderness was mine!
The rescued Pine-tree, with its sky so bright
And cloud-like beauty, rich in thoughts of
home,
1 See Note.

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