No More Learning

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? CO R I N N E ; O B I TA L Y . 17
on a mind filled by a regretful memory of those natural
beauties and splendid misfortunes, which invest this country
with an indescribable charm.
The Count uttered the most comic lamentations over
the environs of R ome. " W hat! " said he, " no villas? no
eq uipages? nothing to announce the neighbourhood of a
great city? Good God! how dull! " The same pride
with which the natives of the coast had pointed out the
sea, and the N eapolitans showed their V esuvius, now trans-
ported the postillions, who ex claimed, " L ook ! that is the
cupolaofS t. Peter' s. " -- " O nemighttak eitforthedome
of the I nvalides! " cried d' E rfeuil. This comparison,
rather national than j ust, destroyed the sensation which O s-
wald might have received, in first beholding that magni-
ficent wonder of man' s creation.
They entered R ome, neither on a fair day, nor a lovely
night, but on a dark and misty evening, which dimmed and
confused every obj ect before them. They crossed the
Tiber without observing it; passed through the Porto del
Popolo, which led them at once to the Corso, the largest
street of modern R ome, but that which possesses the least
originality of feature, as being the one which most re-
sembles those of other E uropean towns.
The streets were crowded; puppet-shows and mounte-
bank s formed groups round the base of A ntoninus' pillar. ,
O swald' s attention was caught by these obj ects, and the
name of R ome forgotten. H e felt that deep isolation
which presses on the heart, when we enter a foreign scene,
and look on a multitude to whom our ex istence is unk nown,
and who have not one interest in common with us. These
reflections, so saddening to all men, are doubly so to the
E nglish, who are accustomed to live among themselves,
and find it difficult to blend with the manners of other
lands. I
the R
but lik
n R ome, that vast caravansary, all is foreign, even
omans, who seem to live there, not lik e its possessors,
e pilgrims who repose among its ruins. (2) O ppressed
by labouring thoughts, O swald shut himself in his room,
instead of ex ploring the city; little dreaming that the
country he had entered beneath such a sense of dej ection
would soon become the mine of so many new ideas and
enj oyments.
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? 18 oorinne; or it aly.
BOOKII.
CO B I N N E A TTH E CA PI TO L .
CH A PTE R I .
O swald awok e in R ome. The dazzling sun of I taly met
his first gaze, and his soul was penetrated with sensations
of love and gratitude for that heaven, which seemed to
smile on him in these glorious beams. H e heard the bells
of numerous churches ringing, discharges of cannon from
various distances, as if announcing some high solemnity.
H e enq uired the cause, and was informed that the most
celebrated female in I taly was about that morning to be
crowned at the Capitol, -- Corinne, the poet and improvi.
satrice, one of the loveliest women of R ome. H e ask ed
some q uestions respecting this ceremony, hallowed by the
names of Petrarch and of Tasso: every reply he received
warmly ex cited his curiosity.
, There can be nothing more hostile to the habits and
opinions of an E nglishman than any great publicity given
to the career of a woman. B ut the enthusiasm with which
all imaginative talents inspire the I talians, infects, at least
for the time, even strangers, who forget prej udice itself
among people so lively in the ex pression of their senti-
ments.
The common populace of R ome discuss their statues,
pictures, monuments, and antiq uities, with much taste;
and literary merit, carried to a certain height, becomes with
them a national interest.
O n going forth into the public resorts, O swald found
that the streets through which Corinne was to pass had
been adorned for her reception. The herd, who generally
throng but the path of fortune or of power, were almost in
a tumult of eagerness to look on one whose soul was her
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 19
only distinction. I n the present state of the I talians, the
glory of the fine arts is all their fate allows them; and
they appreciate genius of that order with a vivacity which
might raise up a host of great men, if applause could, suffice
to produce them-- if a hardy life, strong interest, and an
independent station were not the food req uired to nourish
thought.
O swald walk ed the streets of R ome, awaiting the arrival
of Corinne: he heard her named every instant; every one
related some new trait, proving that she united all the
talents most captivating to the fancy. O ne asserted that
her voice was the most touching in I taly; another, that, in
tragic acting, she had no peer; a third, that she danced
lik e a nymph, and drew with eq ual grace and invention:
all said that no one had ever written or ex temporised verses
so sweet; and that, in daily conversation, she displayed
alternately an ease and an eloq uence which fascinated all
who heard her. They disputed as to which part of I taly
had given her hirth; some earnestly contending that she
must be a R oman, or she could not speak the language with
such purity. H er family name was unk nown. H er first' '
work , which had appeared five years since, bore but that
of Corinne. N o one could tell where she had lived, nor what
she had been, before that period; and she was now nearly
six and twenty. S uch mystery and publicity, united in the
fate of a female of whom every one spok e, yet whose real
name no one k new, appeared to N evil as among the won-
ders of the land he came to see. H e would have j udged
such a woman very severely in E ngland; but he applied
not her social etiq uettes to I taly; and the crowning of Co-
rinne awok e in his breast the same sensation which he
would have felt on reading an adventure of A riosto' s.
A burst of ex q uisite melody preceded the approach of
the triumphal procession. H ow thrilling is each event
that is heralded by music! A great number of R oman
nobles, and not a few foreigners, came first. " B ehol
her retinue of admirers! " said one. " Y es," replied an-
other; " she receives a whole world' s homage, but accords
her preference to none. S he is rich, independent; it j s even
believed, from her noble air, that she is a lady of high
c2
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? 20
corinne,' or italy.
birth, who wishes to remain unk nown. " -- " A divinity
veiled in clouds," concluded a third. O
man who spok e thus: every thing betok
swald look ed on the
ened him a person
of the humblest class; but the natives of the S outh converse
as naturally in poetic phrases as if they imbibed them with
the air, or were inspired by the sun.
A t last four spotless steeds appeared in the midst of the
crowd, drawing an antiq uely shaped car, beside which
walk ed a maiden band in snowy vestments. W herever
Corinne passed, perfumes were thrown upon the air; the
windows, deck ed with flowers and scarlet hangings, were
peopled by gazers, who shouted, " L ong live Corinne!
Glory to beauty and to genius! "
This emotion was general; but, to partak e it, one must
lay aside E nglish reserve and F rench raillery; N evil could
not yield to the spirit of the scene, till he beheld Corinne.
A ttired lik e Domenichino' s S ibyl, an I ndian shawl was
twined among her lustrous black curls, a blue drapery fell
over her robe of virgin white, and her whole costume was
picturesq ue, without sufficiently varying from modern
usage to appear tainted by affectation. H er attitude was
noble and modest: it might, indeed, be perceived that she
was content to be admired; yet a timid air blended with
her j oy, and seemed to ask pardon for her triumph. The
ex pression of her features, her eyes, her smile, created
a solicitude in her favour, and made L ord N evil her
friend even before any more ardent sentiment subdued
him. H er arms were transcendently beautiful; her figure
tall, and, as we freq uently see among the Grecian statues,
rather robust -- energetically characteristic of youth and
happiness. There was something inspired in her air;
yet the very manner in which she bowed her thank s for
the applause she received, betrayed a natural disposition
sweetly contrasting the pomp of her ex traordinary situ-
ation. S he gave you at the same instant the idea of a
priestess of A pollo advancing towards his temple, and of
a woman bor n to fulfil the usual duties of life with per-
fect simplicity; in truth, her every gesture elicited not
more wondering conj ecture, than it conciliated sympathy
and affection. The nearer she approached the Capitol, so
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 21
fruitful in classic associations, the more these admiring
tributes increased: the raptures of the R omans, the clear.
ness of their sk y, and, above all, Corinne herself, took
electric effect on O swald. H e had often, in his own land,
seen statesmen drawn in triumph by the people; but this
was the first time that he had ever witnessed the tender of
such honours to a woman, illustrious only in mind. H er
car of victory cost no fellow mortal' s tear; nor terror nor
regret could check his admiration for those fairest gifts of
nature -- creative fancy, sensibility, and reason. These new
ideas so intensely occupied him, that he noticed none of the
long-famed spots over which Corinne proceeded. A t the
foot of the steps leading to the Capitol the car stopped, and
all her friends rushed to offer their hands: she took that of
Prince Castel F orte, the nobleman most esteemed in R ome
for his talents and character. E very one approved her choice.
S he ascended to the Capitol, whose imposing maj esty seemed
graciously to welcome the light footsteps of woman. The
instruments sounded with fresh vigour, the cannon shook
the air, and the all-conq uering S ibyl entered the palace
prepared for her reception.
I n the centre of the hall stood the senator who was to
crown Corinne, surrounded by his brothers in office; on
one side, all the cardinals and most distinguished ladies of
R ome; on the other, the members of the A cademy;
the opposite ex tremity was filled by some portion of the
multitude who had followed Corinne. The chair destined
while
for her was placed a step lower than that of the senator. E re
seating herself in presence of that august assembly, she
complied with the custom of bending one k nee to the earth:
the gentle dignity of this action filled O swald' s eyes with
tears, to his own surprise; but, in the midst of all this
success, it seemed as if the look s of Corinne implored the
protection of a friend, with which no woman, however
superior, can dispense; and he thought how delicious it
were to be the stay of her, whose sensitiveness alone could
render such a prop necessary. A s soon as Corinne was
seated, the R oman poets recited the odes and sonnets com-
posed for this occasion: all praised her to the highest; but
in styles that described her no more than they would have
c3
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? 22CO R I N N E ,' O B I TA L Y .
done any other woman of genius. The same mythological
images and allusions must have been addressed to such beings
from the days of S appho to our own. A lready N evil dis-
lik ed this k ind of incense for her: he fancied that he could
that moment have drawn a truer, a more finished portrait;
such, indeed, as could have belonged to no one but Co-
tinne.
CH A PTE R I I .
Prince Castel F orte now took up the discourse, in a
manner which riveted the attention of his audience. H e
was a man of fifty, with a measured address and com-
manding carriage. The assurance which N evil had re-
ceived, that he was but the friend of Corinne, enabled him
to listen with unq ualified delight to what, without such
safeguard, he could not, even thus early, have heard, save
with a confused sense of j ealousy.
The Prince read some pages of unpretending prose, sin-
gularly fitted, notwithstanding to display the spirit of
Corinne. H e pointed out the particular merit of her
work s as partly derived from her profound study of fo-
reign literature, teaching her to unite the graphic descrip-
tions of the S outh, with that observant k nowledge of the
human heart which appears the inheritance of those whose
countries offer fewer obj ects of ex ternal beauty. H e lauded
her graceful gaiety, that, free from ironical satire, seemed
to spring but from the freshness of her fancy. H e strove
to speak of her tenderness; but it was easily to be seen
that personal regret mingled with this theme. H e touched
on the difficulty for a woman so endowed to meet, in real
life, with any obj ect resembling the ideal image clad in
the hues of her own heart; then contented himself by de-
picting the impassioned feelings which k indled her poetry,
-- her art of seizing on the most touching charms of nature,
the deepest emotions of the soul. H e complimented the
originality of her ex pressions, which, arising from her own
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 23
peculiar turn of thought, constituted an involuntary spell,
untarnished by the slightest cloud of mannerism. H e
spok e of her eloq uence as a resistless power, which must
transport most those who possessed the best sense and
the truest susceptibility. " Corinne," said he, ' ' is doubt-
less more celebrated than any other of our countrywomen;
and yet it is only her friends who can describe her. The
q ualities of the soul, if real, always req uire to be guessed;
fame, as well as obscurity, might prevent their detection,
if some congenial sympathy came not to our aid. " H e
dilated on her talent as an improvisatrice, as distinct from
every thing which had been k nown by that name in I taly.
" I t is not only attributable," he continued, " to the fer-
tility of her mind, but to her deep enthusiasm for all ge-
nerous sentiments: she cannot pronounce a word that
recalls them, but that inex haustible source of thought
overflows at her lips in strains ever pure and harmonious;
her poetry is intellectual music, such as alone can embody
the fleeting and delicate reveries of the heart. " H e ex -
tolled the conversation of Corinne, as one who had tasted
all its delights. " There," he said, " is united all that is
natural, fanciful, j ust, sublime, powerful, and sweet, to
vary the mental banq uet every instant; it is what Petrarch
termed --
' I I parlar cbe nell' anima si sente,' --
a language that is felt to the heart' s core, and must possess
much of the vaunted O riental magic which has been given
. by the ancients to Cleopatra. The scenes I have visited
with her, the lays we have heard together, the pictures she
has shown me, the book s she has taught me to enj oy, com-
pose my universe. I n all these is some spark of her life;
and were I forced to dwell afar from her, I would, at
least, surround myself with them, though certain to seek
in vain for her radiant traces amongst them, when once
she had departed. "
" Y es ! " he cried, as his glance accidentally fell upon
O swald; " look on Corinne, if you may pass your days
with her--
if that twofold ex istence can be long secured to
you; but behold her not, if you must be condemned to
o4
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? 24 corinne; or italy.
leave her. V ainly would you seek , however long you might
survive, the creative spirit which multiplied in partak ing
all your thoughts and feelings: you would never find it
more! "
O swald shuddered at these words; his eyes were
fix ed on Corinne, who listened with an agitation self-love
cannot produce; it belongs only to humility and to grati-
tude. Castel F orte resumed the address, which a mo-
mentary weak ness had suspended. H e spok e of Corinne
as a painter and a musician; of her declamation and her
dancing. " I n all these ex ertions," he said, "
herself-- confined to no one mode, nor rule -- but ex
in various languages, the enchantments of A rt and I
she is still
pressing,
magin-
ation. I cannot flatter myself on having faithfully repre-
sented one of whom it is impossible to form an idea till
she herself is k nown; but her presence is left to R ome, as
among the chief blessings beneath its brilliant sk y. Corinne
is the link that binds her friends to each other. S he is
the motive, the interest of our lives; we rely on her worth,
pride in her genius, and say to the sons of other lands,
' L ook on the personation of our own fair I taly. S he is
what we might be, if freed from the ignorance, envy, dis-
cord, and sloth, to which fate has reduced us. ' W e love
to contemplate her, as a rare production of our climate,
and our fine arts; a relic of the past, a prophetess of the
future; and when strangers, pitiless of the faults born of
our misfortunes, insult the country whence have arisen the
planets that illumed all E urope, still we but say to them,
' L ook upon Corinne. ' Y es; we will follow in her track ,
and be such men as she is a woman; if, indeed, men can,
lik e women, mak e worlds in their own hearts; if our moral
temperaments, necessarily dependent on social obligations
and ex terior circumstances, could, lik e hers, owe all their
light to the glorious torch of poesy! "
The instant the Prince ceased to speak , was followed by
an unanimous outbreak of admiration, even from the
leaders of the S tate, although the discourse had ended by
an indirect censure on the present situation of I taly; so
true it is, that there men practise a degree of liberality
which, though it ex tends not to any improvement of their
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? CO R I N N E J O B I TA L Y . 25
institutions, readily pardons superior minds, for a mild
dissent from ex isting prej udices. Castel F orte was a man
of high repute in R ome. H e spok e with a sagacity re-
mark able among a people usually wiser in actions than in
words. H e had not, in the affairs of life, that ability which
often distinguishes an I talian; but he shrank not from
the fatigue of think ing, as his happy countrymen are wont
to do; trusting to arrive at all truths by intuition, even as
their soil bears fruit, unaided, save by the favour of heaven.
CH A PTE R I I I .
Corinne rose, as the Prince finished his oration. S he
thank ed him by an inclination of the head, which diffi-
dently betrayed her sense of having been praised in a strain
after her own heart.
I t was the custom for a poet crowned
at the Capitol to ex temporise or recite in verse, ere re-
ceiving the destined bays. Corinne sent for her chosen
instrument, the lyre, more antiq ue in form and simpler
in sound than the harp: while tuning it, she was op-
pressed by so violent a tremor, that her voice trembled as
she ask ed what theme she was to attempt. " The glory
andwelfareofI taly! " criedallnearher. " A h,yes! " she
ex claimed, already sustained by her own talents; " the
glory and welfare of I taly! " Then, animated by her love
of country, she breathed forth thoughts to which prose or
another language can do but imperfect j
ustice.
A TTH E
orld!
CH A N TO F
Cradle of L etters!
CO R I N N E
Mistress of the W
CA PI
TO L . *
S oil of the S un! I talia! I salute thee!
H ow oft the human race have worn thy yok e,
The vassals of thine arms, thine arts, thy sk y!
O lympus for A usonia once was left,
A ndbyaGod. O fsuchalandareborn
Dreams of the golden time, for there man look s
Too happy to suppose him criminal.
* F or the translation of this O de, the proprietor of the S
indebted to the pen of Miss L . E . L andon.
tandard N
ovels is
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? 26
B
corinne; or itaiy.
y genius R ome subdued the world, then reign'
d
s;
A q ueen by liberty. The R oman mind
S
A
et its own stamp upon the universe;
nd, when barbarian hordes whelm' d I taly,
Then dark ness was entire upon the earth.
I talia reappear' d, and with her rose
Treasures divine, brought by the wandering Greek
To her were then reveal' d the laws of H eaven.
H er daring children made discovery
O f a new hemisphere: Q ueen still she held
Thought' s sceptre; but that laurell' d sceptre made
Ungrateful subj ects.
4 I
W
E
H
F
F
magination gave her back the world
hich she had lost. Painters and poets shaped
arth and O lympus, and a heaven and hell.
er animating fire, by Genius k ept,
ar better guarded than the Pagan God' s,
ound not in E urope a Prometheus
To bear it from her.
A nd wherefore am I at the Capitol?
W hy should my lowly brow receive the crown
W hich Petrarch wore? which yet suspended hangs
W here Tasso' s funeral cypress mournful waves:
W hy? oh, my countrymen! but that you love
Glory so well, that you repay its search
A lmost lik e its success.
N ow, if you love that glory which too oft
Chooses its victims from its vanq
Those which itself has crown' d;
O f days which saw the perish'
uishers,
think , and be proud
d A rts reborn.
Y our Dante! H omer of the Christian age,
The sacred poet of F aith' s mysteries, --
. -' H ero of thought, -- whose gloomy genius plunged
I n S
W as lik
I talia!
tyx , and pierced to hell; and whose deep soul
e the abyss it fathom' d.
as she was in days of power
R evived in Dante: such a spirit stirr' d
I n old republics: bard and warrior too,
H e lit the fire of action ' mid the dead,
Till e' en his shadows had more vigorous life
Than real ex istence; still were they pursued
B y earthly memories: passions without aim
Gnaw' d at their heart, still fever' d by the past;
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? corinne; O R I TA 1Y . 27
Y et less irrevocable seem' d that past,
Than their eternal future.
Methink s that Dante, banish' d his own soil,
B ore to imagined worlds his actual grief,
E ver his shades enq uire the things of life,
A s ask ' d the poet of his native land;
A nd from his ex ile did he paint a hell.
I n his eyes F lorence set her stamp on all;
The ancient dead seem' d Tuscans lik e himself:
N ot that his power was bounded, but his strength;
A nd his great mind forced all the universe
W ithin the circle of its thought.
A mystic chain of circles and of spheres
L ed him from H ell to Purgatory; thence
F rom Purgatory unto Paradise:
F aithful historian of his glorious dream,'
H e fills with light the regions most obscure;
The world created in his triple song
I s brilliant, and complete, and animate,
L ik e a new planet seen within the sk y.
A ll upon earth doth change to poetry
B eneath his voice: the obj ects, the ideas,
The laws, and all the strange phenomena,
S eem lik e a new O lympus with new Gods,--
F ancy' s mythology, -- which disappears
L ik e Pagan creeds at sight of paradise,
That sea of light, radiant with shining stars,
A nd love, and virtue.
The magic words of our most noble bard
A re lik e the prism of the universe; --
H er marvels there reflect themselves, divide,
A nd re-create her wonders; sounds paint hues,
A nd colours melt in harmony. The rhyme --
S ounding or strange, and rapid or prolong'
That charm of genius, triumph of high art;
Poetry' s divination, which reveals
A ll nature' s secrets, such as influence
The heart of man.
d --
F rom this great work did Dante hope the end
O fhislongex ile; andhecall' donF ame
To be his mediator: but he died
Too soon to reap the laurels of his land.
Thus wastes the transitory life of man
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? 28 corinne; or italy.
I n adverse fortunes; and it glory wins,
I f some chance tide, more happy, floats to shore.
The grave is in the port; and destiny,
I n thousand shapes, heralds the close of life
B y a return of happiness.
Thus the ill-fated Tasso, whom your praise,
O R omans! ' mid his wrongs, could yet console,-
The beautiful, the chivalric, the brave,
Dreaming the deeds, feeling the love he sung,--
W ith awe and gratitude approach' d your walls,
A s did his heroes to J erusalem.
They named the day to crown him; but its eve
Death bade him to his feast, the terrible!
The H eaven is j ealous of the E arth; and calls
I ts favourites from the stormy waves of time.
' Twas in an age more happy and more free
Than Tasso' s, that, lik e Dante, Petrarch sang:
B rave poet of I talian liberty.
E lsewhere they k now him only by his love:
H ere memories more severe aye consecrate
H is sacred name;
E ' en more than L
H is vigils gave antiq
his country could inspire
aura.
uity new life;
I magination was no obstacle
To his deep studies: that creative power
Conq uer' d the future, and reveal' d the past.
H e proved how k nowledge lends invention aid;
A nd more original his genius seem' d,
W hen, lik e the powers eternal, it could be
Present in every time.
O ur laughing climate and our air serene
I nspired our A riosto: after war,
O ur many long and cruel wars, he came
L ik e to a rainbow; varied and as bright
A s that glad messenger of summer hours,
H is light, sweet gaiety is lik e nature' s smile,
A nd not the irony of man.
R aftaele, Galileo, A ngelo,
Pergolese; you! intrepid voyagers,
Greedy of other lands, though N ature never
Could yield ye one more lovely than your own;
Come ye, and to our poets j oin your fame:
A rtists, and sages, and philosophers,
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? CO B I N N B ; O R I TA L Y .
29
Y e are, lik e them, the children of a sun
W hich k indles valour, concentrates the mind,
Developes fancy, each one in its turn;
W hich lulls content, and seems to promise all,
O r mak e us all forget.
K now ye the land where orange-trees are blooming;
W here all heaven' s rays are fertile, and with love .
H ave you inhaled these perfumes, lux ury!
I n air already so fragrant and so soft?
N ow answer, strangers; N ature, in your home, -
I s she as generous or as beautiful?
N ot only with vine-leaves and ears of corn
I s N ature dress' d, but ' neath the feet of man,
A s at a sovereign' s feet, she scatters flowers
A nd sweet and useless plants, which, born to please,
Disdain to serve.
H ere pleasures delicate, by nature nurst,--
F elt by a people who deserve to feel: --
The simplest food suffices for their wants.
W hat though her fountains flow with purple wine
F rom the abundant soil, they drink them not!
They love their sk y, their arts, their monuments;
Their land, the ancient, and yet bright with spring;
B rilliant society; refined delight:
Coarse pleasures, fitting to a savage race,
S uit not with them.
H ere the sensation blends with the idea;
L ife ever draws from the same fountain-head;
The soul, lik e air, ex pands o' er earth and heaven.
H ere Genius feels at ease; its reveries
A re here so gentle f its unrest is soothed:
F or one lost aim a thousand dreams are given.
A nd nature cherishes, if man oppress;
A gentle hand consoles, and binds the wound:
E ' en for the griefs that haunt the strick en heart,
I s comfort here: by admiration fill' d,
F or God, all goodness; taught to penetrate
The secret of his love; not by brief days --
Mysterious heralds of eternity --
B ut in the fertile and maj estic breast
O f the immortal universe!
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? S O CO R I N N E ; O B . I TA L Y .
Corinne was interrupted for some moments by impetuous
applause. O swald alone j oined not in the noisy transport
around him. H e had. bowed his head on his hand, when
Corinne said--
" E ' en for the sorrows of the strick en heart
I s comfort here:"
he had not raised it since. Corinne observed him; and,
from his features, the colour of his hair, his dress, his
height-- indeed, from his whole appearance -- recognised
him as E nglish. S he was struck by the mourning which
he wore, and his melancholy countenance. H is gaze, then
fix ed upon herself, seemed gently to reproach her: she
entered into his thoughts, and felt a wish to sympathise
with him, by speak ing of happiness with less reliance, and
consecrating some few verses to Death in the midst of a
festival. W ith this intention she again took up her lyre;
a few prolonged and touching tones silenced the assem-
blage, while thus she continued: --
Y et there are griefs which our consoling sk y
May not efface: but where will grief convey
N oble and soft impressions to the soul,
A s it does here?
E lsewhere the living cannot find them space
F or all their hurrying paths, and ardent hopes;
A nd deserts, ruins, vacant palaces,
L eave a vast vacancy to shadows; -- R ome,
I s she not now the country of the tomb?
The Coliseum, and the obelisk s --
The wonders brought from E gypt and from Greece -- ?
F rom the ex tremity of time, here met,
F romR omulustoL eo,-- allarehere,
Greatness attracting greatness, that one place
Might garner all that man could screen from time;
A ll consecrate to funeral monuments.
O ur idle life is scarcely here perceived;
The silence of the living to the dead
I s homage: they endure, but we decay.
The dead alone are honour' d, and alone
R ecorded still; -- our destinies obscure
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 31
Contrast the glories of our ancestors;
O ur present life leaves but the past entire,
A nd deep the q uiet around memory:
O ur trophies are the work of those no more:
Genius itself rank s ' mid th' illustrious dead.
I t is R ome' s secret charm to reconcile
I magination with our long last sleep.
W e are resign' d ourselves, and suffer less
F or those we love. The people of the S outh
Paint closing life in hues less terrible
Than do the gloomy nations of the N orth:
The sun, lik e glory, even warms the grave.
The chill, the solitude of sepulchres 1
' N eath our fair sk y, beside our funeral urns
S o numerous, less haunt the frighted soul.
W e deem they wait for us, yon shadowy crowd:
A nd from our silent city' s loneliness ^ ^
Down to the subterranean one below
I t is a gentle passage.
The edge of grief is blunted thus, and turn' d,
N ot by a harden' d heart, a wither' d soul,
B ut by a yet more perfect harmony, --
A n air more fragrant, -- blending with our life.
W e yield ourselves to N ature with less fear --
N ature, whose great Creator said of old, --
" The lilies of the vale, lo! they toil not,
A nd neither do they spin:
Y et the great S olomon, in all his glory,
W as not array' d lik e one of these. "
O swald was so enchanted by these stanzas, that he tes-
tified his transport with a vehemence uneq ualled by the
R omans themselves: in sooth, it was to him, rather than to
her countrymen, that the second improvisation of Corinne
had been addressed. The generality of I talians read poetry
with a k ind of monotonous chant, that destroys all effect. (3)
I n vain the words vary, the impression is ever the same;
because the accent is unchanged: but Corinne recited with
a mobility of tone which increased the charm of its sus-
tained harmony. I t was lik e listening to different airs,
all played on the same celestial organ.
A language so stately and sonorous, breathed by so
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? 3. 2 corinne; or italy.
gentle and affecting a voice, awak ened a very novel sens-
ation in the mind of O swald. The natural beauties of the
E nglish tongue are all melancholy; tinted by clouds, and
tuned by lashing waves: but I talian, among sounds, may
be compared to scarlet, among colours; its words ring lik e
clarions of victory, and glow with all the bliss a delicious
clime can shower on human hearts. W hen, therefore,
I talian is spok en by a faltering tongue, its splendour melts,
its concentrated force causes an agitation resistless as un-
foreseen. The intents of N ature seem defeated, her boun-
ties useless or repulsed; and the ex pression of sorrow in the
midst of enj oyment, surprises, touches us more deeply,
than would despair itself, if sung in those northern lan-
guages, which it seems to have inspired.
CH A PTE R I V .
The senator took the crown of bays and myrtle he was
to place on the brow of Corinne. S he removed the shawl
which had bound the ebon curls that now fell about her
shoulders, and advanced with an air of pleased thank ful-
ness, which she strove not to dissemble. A gain she k
nelt;
but not in trepidation, as at first. S he had j ust spok en,
had filled her soul with godlik e images; enthusiasm had
surmounted timidity; she was no longer the shrink ing maid,
but the inspired vestal who ex ultingly devoted herself to
the worship of Genius.
W hen the chaplet was set upon her head, the musicians
sent forth one of those triumphant airs which so power-
fully ex alt the soul. The clash of cymbals, and the
flourish of trumpets, overwhelmed Corinne afresh; her
eyes filled, she sunk on a seat, and covered her face. O s-
wald rushed from the crowd, and made a few steps towards
her, but an uncontrollable embarrassment k ept him silent.
Corinne, tak ing care that he should not detect her, look ed
on him for some time; and when Prince Castel F orte took
her hand to lead her from the Capitol she yielded in abs-
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? CO R I N N E ; O B I TA L Y . S 3
traction, freq uently turning, on various pretex ts, to gaze
again on O swald. H e followed her; and as she descended
the steps, one of these gestures displaced her crown, which
O swald hastily raised, and presenting it, said in I talian a
few words, implying that humble mortals lay at the feet
of their deities the crowns they dare not place upon their
brows. (4) W hat was his astonishment when Corinne
thank ed him in E nglish, with that insular accent, which
can scarce ever be acq uired on the Continent: he remained
motionless, till, feeling himself almost faint, he leaned
against one of the basaltic lions that stand at the foot of
the staircase. Corinne gazed on him again, forcibly struck
by his emotion; but they led her to her car, and the whole
crowd had disappeared, long ere O swald recovered his pre-
sence of mind. Till now, he had been enchanted as with
a most attractive foreigner; but that E nglish intonation
had brought back all the recollections of his country, and,
as it were, naturalised in his heart the charms of Corinne.
W as she E nglish? H ad she not passed many years of her
life in E ngland? H e could not guess; but it was impossible
that study alone could have taught her to speak thus. S he
must have lived in the same country with himself.
W ho could tell, but that their families might have been
related? perhaps he had even seen her in his childhood.
There is often in the heart some innate image of the beings
we are to love that lends to our first sight of them almost an
air of recognition. O swald had believed the I talians,
though impassioned, too vacillating for deep or constant
affection. A lready had the words of Corinne given him a
totally distinct view of their character. W hat then must
he feel should he thus at once revive the remembrance of
his home, and receive a new-born life, for future enj oy-
ment, without being weaned from the past? I n the midst
of these reveries he found himself on the bridge of S t.
A ngelo, which leads to the castle of that name, or rather to
A drian' s tomb, which has been converted into a fortress.
The silence of the scene, the pale waves of the Tiber, the
moon-beams that lit up the statues, till they appeared lik e
pallid phantoms, steadfastly watching the current of time,
by which they could be influenced no more; all these ob-
D
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