Some shrink from charge of state through modest

shame;

But thine are eager for the yoke, and cry, (Or ere invited,) "I the burthen claim." Now then be glad-as thou hast reason why— Thou wealthy! thou at peace! thou grave and sage! And, sooth to say, the facts all open lie. Athens and Sparta, who, in the olden age

Gave laws, and were so skill'd in civil lore, Threw but a glimmering light on wisdom's page, Compared with thee, who makest such subtle store Of laws, the thread that's in October spun Will scarce hold out the half November o'er. How oft, within the circuit of the sun,

Laws, coinage, customs, hast thou alter'd quite, And all thy ranks dismember'd, one by one! That, if thou wilt but think, and view aright, Thou'lt see thyself like one who, rack'd with pain, Tosses on bed of down the live-long night, And, ever turning, seeks repose in vain.

CONRAD MALASPINA.

PURGATORIO, C. VIII. 1-18. VER. 109 TO THE END.

'Twas now the hour that wakes desire anew,

Melting the heart, in men at sea, the day

They to sweet friends have bidden long adieuThat thrills with love the pilgrim on his way,

(Late parted,) if some distant chime he hear

Seeming to mourn the sun's expiring ray;
When I began to close my vacant ear

On speech; and saw a spirit above the rest,
As if it audience claim'd, itself uprear.

Both palms it join'd, and raised, and tow'rds the east Earnestly gazed, as if to God above,

All else despised, that gesture were address'd. "Te lucis ante," with such ardent love,

And such sweet cadence, from its lips then fell,
That my whole self out of myself it drove.
The others after, with like dulcet swell,

And eyes still watching the supernal wheels,
Pursued to the close that solemn canticle.

The shade, which, beckon'd by Gallura's sign, Obedient came, through that debate stood nigh, Nor turn'd his eyes from gazing full on mine. "So may the lamp that lights thy road on high Find in thy will of oil such ample share As needs to reach the azure-vaulted sky," (It thus began,)" if thou to me declare

What news of Valdimagra thou may'st know, Or bordering lands—to me, once mighty there— Currado Malaspina call'd-who owe

My lineage to an elder of that name,

Once loved with flames that now more brightly glow."

"The land," I said, "which for your own you

claim

I ne'er beheld; but where doth he abide,
All Europe thro', who hath not heard its fame?

-Your kindred's fame-for rumour, far and wide, Extols that land-its chiefs and fair estate.

To yield them honour due, demands no guide. I swear so may I reach heaven's distant gate— The praise thy race for liberal hearts hath owed, And valiant hands, doth not one jot abate. But use and nature join'd have grace' bestow'd, While baser reptiles trace their crooked line, To walk strait on, and spurn the evil road." Then he " Now go! the sun may not recline

Seven times his head upon the couch where lays Its feet outspread the Ram's celestial sign, Ere that fair judgment which thy tongue conveys Shall in thy brain be driven with stronger nail Than by the force of rumour's distant praise— If so the course of justice do not fail."

PROVENZANO SALVANI.

PURGATORIO, C. XI. VER. 90 TO THE END.

"O EMPTY pride of human power and skill!
How soon the verdure on thy summit dies
If no dark following years sustain it still!
Cimabue thought the painter's honour'd prize
Alone to bear; yet Giotto's brighter fame
Now veils his glory from admiring eyes.
In letters thus, a younger Guido's name
Out-cries the elder's; and perchance is born
One who from both the envied meed shall claim.

The praise of the world is but a vapour, borne
Now this, now that way, by each wind that blows,
And changes still its name at every turn.
Ere thousand years are pass'd—(a space, that shows
To endless time like twinkling of an eye

To slowest orbs that heaven's vast circuit knows)
How will thy fame be more, if, scathed and dry
With age, thou cast thy slough, than if, before
Thy childish bawbles are renounced, thou die?
E'en he-advanced so small a space before
Thy steps-through all Hetruria erst renown'd—
Scarce in Sienna now is heard of more;
Her ruler once, what time she did confound
The rage of Florence, when her pride was new,
And lofty, as she now is abject found.
Your worldly fame is like the grass in hue,

That comes and goes; by the same power decay'd As first from teeming earth its freshness drew." Then I-" Thy words of truth have quite allay'd

The tumours of my breast, and quell'd my pride. But who is he of whom thou hast mention made?" 'Tis Provenzan Salvani," he replied;

Here placed, because with tyrant sway the state
Of Sienna he alone presumed to guide.

Thus hath he gone, and goes, nor e'er can wait,

Since death; and such the quittance he must pay, Who ventured, while alive, too dear a rate.” Then I again" Since spirits, that delay

Repentance until life's extremest hour,
Linger below, denied to mount this way,

(If prayer assist not with its saving power,)
As long a term as they on earth did bide-
How could his soul ascend this mountain tower?"
"When at the height of glory," he replied,
"In Sienna's market-place he boldly stood,
Respect of dignity all cast aside;

And there, to free his friend from servitude
In dark Sicilian prison forced to endure,
Held it no shame to assume the suppliant mood.
No more-I know my words seem now obscure;
But soon thy neighbours by their arts shall make
Their meaning plain. This good work wrought
his cure;

And from the abyss he is rescued for its sake.”

THE PRAISES OF ANCIENT FLORENCE.
PARADISO, C. XV. VER. 97 TO THE END.

FLORENCE, inclosed within that ancient round,
That calls her still to morn and even prayer,
Sober and chaste, in pristine peace was found.
Her dames nor carkanet nor crown did wear,

Nor 'broider'd shoon; nor did the fair one's zone Attract the gazer, than herself more fair. Not yet a daughter's birth made fathers groan With thinking of the marriage and the dower, Earlier in years, and more in measure grown. No houses then, in faction's vengeful hour, Were desert made; no soft Assyrian wight