But Truth inspired the Bards of old
When of an iron age they told,
Which to unequal laws gave birth,
And drove Astræa from the earth.

A gentle Boy (perchance with blood
As noble as the best endued,
But seemingly a Thing despised;
Even by the sun and air unprized;
For not a tinge or flowery streak
Appeared upon his tender cheek)
Heart-deaf to those rebounding notes,
Apart, beside his silent goats,
Sate watching in a forest shed,
Pale, ragged, with bare feet and head;
Mute as the snow upon the hill,
And, as the saint he prays to, still.
Ah, what avails heroic deed?
What liberty? if no defence
Be won for feeble Innocence.

60

70

80

90

Father of all! though wilful Manhood read
His punishment in soul-distress,
Grant to the morn of life its natural blessed-
ness!

XXV

THE LAST SUPPER

BY LEONARDO DA VINCI, IN THE REFECTORY OF THE CONVENT OF MARIA DELLA GRAZIA - MILAN

1820. 1822

THO' searching damps and many an envious flaw

Have marred this Work; the calm ethereal

grace,

The love deep-seated in the Saviour's face,
The mercy, goodness, have not failed to awe
The Elements; as they do melt and thaw
The heart of the Beholder - and erase
(At least for one rapt moment) every trace
Of disobedience to the primal law.

The annunciation of the dreadful truth Made to the Twelve, survives: lip, forehead, cheek,

And hand reposing on the board in ruth Of what it utters, while the unguilty seek Unquestionable meanings- still bespeak A labour worthy of eternal youth!

Awe-stricken she beholds the array
That guards the Temple night and day;
Angels she sees — that might from heaven
have flown,

And Virgin-saints, who not in vain
Have striven by purity to gain
The beatific crown -

Sees long-drawn files, concentric rings
Each narrowing above each; - the wings, 50
The uplifted palms, the silent marble lips,
The starry zone of sovereign height -
All steeped in this portentous light!
All suffering dim eclipse!

Thus after Man had fallen (if aught
These perishable spheres have wrought
May with that issue he compared)
Throngs of celestial visages,
Darkening like water in the breeze,
A holy sadness shared.

Lo! while I speak, the labouring Sun
His glad deliverance has begun:
The cypress waves her sombre plume
More cheerily; and town and tower,
The vineyard and the olive-bower,
Their lustre re-assume!

60

How blest the Maid whose heart - yet free
From Love's uneasy sovereignty.
Beats with a fancy running high,
Her simple cares to magnify;
Whom Labour, never urged to toil,
Hath cherished on a healthful soil;

Who knows not pomp, who heeds not pelf;
Whose heaviest sin it is to look

Askance upon her pretty Self
Reflected in some crystal brook;
Whom grief hath spared-who sheds no

tear

But in sweet pity; and can hear Another's praise from envy clear.

II

ΤΟ

20

Such (but O lavish Nature! why
That dark unfathomable eye,
Where lurks a Spirit that replies
To stillest mood of softest skies,
Yet hints at peace to be o'erthrown,
Another's first, and then her own?)
Such, haply, yon ITALIAN Maid,
Our Lady's laggard Votaress,
Halting beneath the chestnut shade
To accomplish there her loveliness:
Nice aid maternal fingers lend;
A Sister serves with slacker hand;
Then, glittering like a star, she joins the
festal band.

III

How blest (if truth may entertain Coy fancy with a bolder strain)

The HELVETIAN Girl

who daily braves,

In her light skiff, the tossing waves, And quits the bosom of the deep

30

The lamented Youth whose untimely death gave occasion to these elegiac verses, was Frederick William Goddard, from Boston in North America. He was in his twentieth year, and had resided for some time with a clergyman in the neighbourhood of Geneva for the completion of his education. Accompanied by a fellowpupil, a native of Scotland, he had just set out on a Swiss tour when it was his misfortune to fall in with a Friend of mine who was hastening to join our party. The travellers, after spending a day together on the road from Berne and at Soleure, took leave of each other at night, the young men having intended to proceed directly to Zurich. But early in the morning my friend found his new acquaintances, who were informed of the object of his journey, and the friends he was in pursuit of, equipped to accompany him. We met at Lucerne the succeeding evening, and Mr. G. and his fellow-student became in consequence our travelling companions for a couple of days. We ascended the Righi together; and, after contemplating the sunrise from that noble mountain, we separated at an hour and on a spot well suited to the parting of those who were to meet no more. Our party descended through the valley of our Lady of the Snow, and our late companions, to Art. We had hoped to meet in a few weeks at Geneva; but