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which, never allowing a modern au Ricordati di me; che son la Pia ; thor to use a word not etymologically Sienna mi fe, disfecemi Maremma. German, has created a new language,

Salsi colui che inannellata pria the writings of Mæser may be safely

Disposando m'avea con la sua gemma." recommended to students of the Ger.

Purgat. Cant. 5th. man as fair models of style, and as

EDINBURGH REVIEW, No. 58. containing nothing to corrupt the heart, seduce the fancy, or mystify the understanding.

Mais elle etait du monde, ou les plus belles

Ont le pire destin ;

Et Rose elle a vécu ce que vivent les roses,

L'espace d'un Matin. The following little Tale, written

MALHERBE. some time ago, was intended to have been enlarged by the introduction of THERE are bright scenes beneath Italian other characters and incidents, and where glowing suns their purest light dif

skies, afterwards published separately; but

fuse, a poem on the same subject, by a wri

Uncultured flowers in wild profusion rise, ter of considerable celebrity, having And nature lavishes her warniest hues ; recently made its appearance, the But trust thou not her smile, her balmy Author of the “ Maremma” has, in breath, consequence, given up the idea of its Away! her charms are but the pomp of publication in any other mode than Death! the present.

He in the vine-clad bowers, unseen is dwel.

ling, 66 TAE history of Desdemona has a pa. Where the cool shade its freshness round rallel in the following passage of Dante. thee throws, Nello Della Pietra had espoused a lady of His voice, in every perfumed zephyr swel. noble family at Sienna, named Madonna ling, Pia. Her beauty was the admiration of With gentlest whisper lures thee to repose, Tuscany, and excited in the heart of her And the soft sounds that thro' the foliage husband a jealousy, which, exasperated by sigh, false reports and groundless suspicions, at But woo thee still to slumber and to die. length drove him to the desperate resolution of Othello. It is difficult to decide Mysterious danger lurks, a Syren, there, whether the lady was quite innocent, but Not robed in terrors, or announced in 50 Dante represents her. Her husband

gloom, brought her into the Maremma, which, But stealing o'er thee in the scented air, then as now, was a district destructive to

And veiled in flowers, that smile to deck health. He never told his unfortunate

thy tomb : wife the reason of her banishment to so

How may we deem, amidst their bright dangerous a country. He did not deign

array, to utter complaint or accusation. He lived That heaven and earth but flatter to bewith her alone, in cold silence, without answering her questions, or listening to her remonstrances. He patiently waited till Sunshine, and bloom, and verdure ! can it the pestilential air should destroy the health be, of this young lady. In a few months she That these but charm us with destructive died. Some chroniclers, indeed, tell us,

wiles ? that Nello used the dagger to hasten her Where shall we turn, O Nature ! if in thee death. It is certain that he survived her, Danger is masked in beauty-death in plunged in sadness and perpetual silence.

smiles ? Dante had, in this incident, all the mate Oh! still the Circe of that fatal shore, rials of an ample and very poctical narra Where she, the sun's bright daughter, tive. But he bestows on it only four ver dwelt of yore!

He meets in Purgatory three spirits ; one was a captain, who fell fighting on the There, year by year, that secret peril same side with him in the battle of Cam.

spreads, paldino ; the second, a gentleman assassi. Disguised in loveliness, its baleful reign, nated by the treachery of the House of And viewless blights o'er many a landscape Este ; the third was a woman unknown to sheds, the poet, and who, after the others had Gay with the riches of the south, in vain, spoken, turned towards him with these O'er fairy bowers, and palaces of state, words :

Passing unseen, to leave them desolate.

tray ?


the past


And pillared halls, whose airy colonades, But is she blest ?-for sometimes o'er her Were formed to echo music's choral tone,

smile Are silent now, amidst deserted shades, A soft sweet shade of pensiveness is cast, Peopled by sculpture's graceful forms And in her liquid glance there seeins alone;

awhile, And fountains dash, unheard by lone al. To dwell some thought whose soul is with

coves, Neglected temples, and forsaken groves. Yet soon it Aiesa cloud that leaves no

trace And there, where marble nymphs, in beau. On the sky's azure of its dwelling-place.

ty gleaming, Midst the deep shades of plane and cypress Perchance, at times, within her heart may rise,

rise By wave or grot might Fancy linger, Remembrance of some early love or woe, dreaming

Faded, yet scarce forgottell-in her eyes, Of old Arcadia's woodland deities.

Wakening the half-formed tear that may Wild visions !—there no sylvan powers not flow. convene,

Yet radiant seems her lot as aught on Death reigns the genius of the Elysian

earth, Where still some pining thought comes

darkly o'er our mirth. Ye, too, illustrious hills of Rome! that bear

The world before her smiles its changeful Traces of mightier beings on your brow,

gaze O'er you that subtle spirit of the air

She hath not proved as yet—her path Extends the desert of his empire now ;

seems gay Broods o'er the wrecks of altar, fane, and with flowers and sunshine and the voice dome,

of praise And makes the Cæsars' ruined balls his is still the joyous herald of her way; home.

And beauty's light around her dwells, to

throw, Youth, valour, beauty, oft have felt his

O'er every scene, its own resplendent glow. power, His crowned and chosen victims-o'er their

Such is the young Bianca-graced with all lot Hath fond affection wept-cach blighted That nature, fortune, youth, at once can

give; flower In turn was loved and mourned, and is Pure in their loveliness her looks recall forgot.

Such dreams, as ne'er life's early bloom

survive ; But one who perished, left a tale of woe, Meet for as deep a sigh as pity can be. And when she speaks, each thrilling tone

is fraught

With sweetness, born of high and heaven. A voice of music, from Sienpa's walls,

ly thought. Is floating joyous on the summer air, And there are banquets in her stately halls, And he, to whom are breath'd her voks And graceful revels of the gay and fair,

of faith And brilliant wreaths the altar have ar. Is brave, and noble-Child of high descent, rayed,

He hath stood fearless in the ranks of Where meet her noblest youth, and love

death, liest maid.

'Mid slaughtered heaps, the warrior's mo. To that young bride each grace hath Na. And proudly marshalled his Carroccio's ture given,

way, Which glows on Art's divinest dream,—her Amidst the wildest wreck of war's array.

eye Hath a pure sunbeam of her native hea. And his the chivalrous, commanding mien,

Where high-born grandeur blends with Her cheek a tinge of morning's richest dye ;

courtly grace ; Fair as that daughter of the south, whose form

picture of his wife Mona Lisa, supposed to Still breathes and charms, in Vinci's co

be the most perfect imitation of Nature lours warm. +

ever exhibited in painting. See Vasari in

his Lives of the Painters. See Madame de Stael's fine descrip * See the description of this sort of contion, in her Corinne, of the Villa Borghese, secrated war-chariot in Sismondi's Histoire deserted on account of the Mal'aria. des Republiques Italiennes, &c. Yol I.

* An allusion to Leonardo da Vinci's p. 394.


nument :


is gone.

dream ;

Yet may a lightning glance at times be And sighing winds, that murmur thro' seen,

the wood, Of fiery passions, darting o'er his face, Fringing the beach of that Hesperian flood. And fierce the spirit kindling in his eye,But e'en while yet we gaze, its quick, wild Fair is that house of solitude and fair flashes die.

The green Maremma, far around it spread,

A sun-bright waste of beauty-yet an air And calmly can Pietra smile, concealing Of brooding sadness o'er the scene is shed, As if forgotten, vengeance, hate, remorse ; No human footstep tracks the lone domain, And veil the workings of each darker feel- The desert of luxuriance glows in vain.

ing, Deep in his soul concentrating its force :

And silent are the marble halls that risc But yet, he loves Oh! who hath loved, 'Mid founts, and cypress-walks, and olivenor known

groves ; Affection's power exalt the bosom all its All sleeps in sunshine, 'neath Cerulean own?

skies, The days roll on—and still Bianca's lot

And still around the sea-breeze lightly, Seenis as a path of Eden—Thou mightst Yet every trace of man reveals alone,

roves ; deem That grief, the mighty chastener, had for. That there life once hath Aourished_and

got To wake her soul from life's enchanted There, till around them slowly, softly steal.

ing And, if her brow a moment's sadness wear, The summer air, deceit in every sigh, It sheds but grace more intellectual there. Came fraught with death, its power no sign

revealing, A few short years, and all is changed—her Thy sires, Pietra, dwelt, in days gone by ; fate

And strains of mirth and melody have Seems with some deep mysterious cloud

flowed, o'ercast.

Where stands, all voiceless now, the still -Have jealous doubts transformed to

abode. wrath and hate, The love whose glow Expression's power And thither doth her Lord, remorseless, surpassed ?

bear Lol on Pietra's brow a sullen gloom

Bianca with her child-his altered eye Is gathering day by day, prophetic of her And brow a stern and fearful calmness

doom. Oh! can he meet that eye, of light serene,

While his dark spirit seals their doom

to die; Whence the pure spirit looks in radiance forth,

And the deep bodings of his victim's And view that bright intelligence of mien,

heart, Formed to express but thoughts of loftiest Tell her, from fruitless hope at once to worth,

part. Yet deem that vice within that heart can reign ?

It is the summer's glorious prime-and -How shall he e'er confide in aught on blending earth again?

Its blue transparence with the skies, the

deep, In silence oft, with strange, vindictive gaze, Each tint of Heaven upon its breast deTransient, yet filled with meaning stern scending, and wild,

Scarce murmurs as it heaves, in glassy Her features, calm in beauty, he surveys,

sleep, Then turns away, and fixes on her child And on its wave reflects, more softly So dark a glance, as thrills a mother's bright, mind

That lovely shore of solitude and light. With some vague fear, scarce owned, and undefined.

Fragrance in each warm southera gale is

breathing, There stands a lonely dwelling, by the Decked with young flowers the rich Ma.

remma glows, of the blue deep which bathes Italia's Neglected vines the trees are wildly wreathshore,

ing, Far from all sounds, but rippling seas, And the fresh myrtle in exuberance blows, that lave

And far around, a deep and sunny bloom Grey rocks, with foliage richly shadowed Mantles the scene, as garlands robe the o'er;






Yes! 'tis thy tomb, Bianca ! fairest flower! But ask not-hope not-one relenting The voice that calls thee speaks in every thought gale,

From him who doomed thee thus to waste Which, o'er thee breathing with insidious

away, power,

Whose heart, with sullen, speechless venBids the young roses of thy cheek turn

geance fraught, pale,

Broods in dark triumph o'er thy siow deAnd, fatal in its softness, day by day,

cay, Steals from that eye some trembling spark And coldly, sternly, silently can trace away.

The gradual withering of each youthful

grace. But sink not yet for there are darker, Daughter of Beauty ! in thy spring-morn And yet the day of vain remorse shall fading,

come, Sufferings more keen for thee reserved than When thou, bright victim ! on his dreams those

slialt rise Of lingering Death, which thus thine eye As an accusing angel--and thy tomb, are shading!

A martyr's shrine, be hallowed in his eyes! Nerve then thy heart to meet that bitter Then shall thiné innocence his bosom lot,

wring, 'Tis Agony—but soon to be forgot !

More than thy fancied guilt with jealous

pangs could sting. What deeper pangs maternal hearts can

wring, Than hourly to behold the spoiler's breath Lift thy meek eyes to Heaven—for all on Shedding, as mildews on the bloom of earth, spring,

Young sufferer! fades before thee Thou O'er Infancy's fair cheek the blight of art loneDeath ?

Hope, Fortune, Love, smiled brightly on To gaze and shrink, as gathering shades thy birth, o'ercast

Thine hour of death is all Affliction's own! The pale smooth brow, yet watch it, to the It is our task to suffer—and our fate last !

To learn that mighty lesson, soon or late. Such pangs were thine, young mother ! - The season's glory fades—the vintage-lay

Thou didst bend O'er thy fair boy, and raise his drooping But mortal loveliness hath passed away,

Through joyous Italy resounds no more; head,

Fairer than aught in summer's glowing And faint and hopeless, far from every

store. friend,

Beauty and youth are gone-behold them Keep thy sad midnight-vigils near his bed,

such And watch his patient, supplicating eye, As Death hath made them with his blightFixed upon thee on thee ! --who couldst

ing touch! no aid supply! There was no voice to cheer thy lonely The summer's breath came o'er them--and

they died ! Through those dark hours to thee the Softly it came, to give luxuriance birth, wind's low sigh,

Called forth young Nature in her festal And the faint murmur of the ocean's flow, But bore to them their summons from the

pride, Came like some spirit whispering—" He

earth! must die !” And thou didst vainly clasp him to the Again shall blow that mild, delicious breast

breeze, His young and sunny smile so oft with And wake to life and light all flowers but

these. Hope had blest. 'Tis past—that fearful trial,he is gone- No sculptured urn, nor verse thy virtues But thou, sad mourner ! hast not long to telling, weep,

O lost and loveliest one ! adorns thy grave, The hour of Nature's chartered peace comes But o'er that humble cypress-shaded dwel. on,

ling And thou shalt share thine infant's holy The dew-drops glisten, and the wild-flowers

sleep A few short sufferings yet-and Death Emblems more meet, in transient light and shall be

bloom, As a bright messenger from Heaven to Por thee, who thus didst pass in brightness thee.

to the tomb !





Whitefield's preaching, though he delivered the same doctrines as Wes

ley, and with greater vehemence of (Concluded from Page 298.) manner. But as soon as Wesley be

gan, after his return from Bristol, the DIFFerence of opinion had occa- symptoms re-appeared with their usual sioned disputation and dissension de violence. At Wapping, the second mong the brethren of Fetter-Lane day after his arrival, while " weary during Wesley's absence at Bristol. in body and weak in spirit,” he preachOne Shaw, a layman, insisted that a ed from a text which turned up by priesthood was an unnecesary and un- chance. scriptural institution. Such a teacher found ready believers ; and the prot heard began to call upon God with strong

“ Many," says Wesley, “ of those that priety of lay-preaching was contended cries and tears ; some sunk down, and there for by one party in the Society, and remained no strength in them ; others exopposed by another. But in spite of ceedingly trembled and quaked; some the opposition headed by Charles were torn with a kind of convulsive moWesley, a Mr Bowers began to preach, tion in every part of their bodies, and that and some other innovators declared, so violently, that often four or five persons that they would no longer be mem- could not hold one of them. I have seen bers of the Church of England. many hysterical and epileptic fits, but none Whitefield, who had taken part with of them were like these, in many respects. Charles Wesley in these disputes, I immediately prayed that God would not having been refused admission to the suffer those who were weak to be offended ; pulpit of Islington by the churchwar- they might help it if they would, no one

but one woman was greatly, being sure den till he produced a licence, interpret- should persuade her to the contrary; and ed the prohibition as a manifestation she was got three or four yards when she of the divine favour to preach in the dropt down in as violent an agony as the church-yard. Soon after this innova rest. Twenty-six of those who had been tion, which, he says, his Master by his thus affected, (most of whom during the providence compelled him to do, he prayers which were made for them, were in went out to Moorfields, where, in con

a moment filled with peace and joy,) prosequence of public notice, a great mul- mised to call upon me the next day, but titude had assernbled to hear him. only eighteen came, by talking closely with This place, “ from the situation of whom I found reason to believe that some the ground, and the laxity of the po- seemed to be patiently waiting for it.”

of them had gone home justified ; the rest lice, had now become a royalty of the rabble, a place for wrestlers and box Mr Southey mentions a great numers, nountebanks, and merry-An- ber of instances of a similar kind, undrews; where fairs were held during der the head of what he calls " Exthe holidays, and where at all times travagancies of the Methodists;” but the idle, the dissolute, and reprobate we shall not enter into any farther resorted; they who were the pests of detail on that subject in this place, as society, and they who were training up we believe our readers will be perfectto succeed them in the ways of profli- ly satisfied with specimens which have gacy and wretchedness."

been already adduced. Preaching here was, as Whitefield Wesley and the Moravians had not observed, attacking Satan in one of clearly understood each other when his strong holds. He stood upon a they coalesced. They attributed his wall, and addressed a great crowd proofs of the work of grace to the efwithout interruption. His favourite fect of animal spirits and imagination, ground upon week days was Kenning- and his soul was sick of their sublime ton Common, and both there and at divinity. “ Their practice,” said he, Moorfields, he had sometimes four- " is agreeable to their principles score carriages, and from thirty to lazy and proud themselves, bitter and forty thousand persons on foot gather- censorious toward others, they tram. ed to hear him. At these preachings ple upon the ordinances of Christ :'I he always collected for the Orphan see no middle point wherein we can house, and received more halfpence moet.” “ Vain janglings pursued from his poor auditors than a man him every where;" and he resolved could carry away. No fits ur convul- to effect an entire separation. For sions had as yet been produced under direction in this, as in other weighty

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