Quest' è Mosè, quando scendea dal monte, ["And who is he that, shaped in sculptured stone, Unparallel'd, while language seems to start But had they raised this awe-commanding form, Then had they with less guilt their work adored."-ROGERS.] Note 16. Page 431. Over the damn'd before the Judgment throne. The Last Judgment in the Sistine chapel Note 17. Page 431. The stream of his great thoughts shall spring from me.. I have read somewhere (if I do not err, for I cannot recollect where) that Dante was so great a favourite of Michael Angelo's, that he had designed the whole of the Divina Commedia ; but that the volume containing these studies was lost by sea.-["Michael Angelo's copy of Dante, was a large folio, with Landino's commentary; and upon the broad margin of the leaves he designed, with a pen and ink, all the interesting subjects. This book was possessed by Antonio Montauti, a sculptor and architect of Florence, who, being appointed architect to St. Peter's, removed to Rome, and shipped his effects at Leghorn for Civita Vecchia, among which was this edition of Dante: in the voyage the vessel foundered at sea, and it was unfortunately lost in the wreck."-DUPPA.] Note 18. Page 432. Her charms to pontiffs proud, who but employ, &c. See the treatment of Michael Angelo by Julius II., and his neglect by Leo X. An exile, saddest of all prisoners. In his "Convito," Dante speaks of his banishment, and the poverty and distress which attended it, in very affecting terms.-E. Note 20. Page 433. The ashes thou shalt ne'er obtai Dante died at Ravenna in 1321, in the palace of his patron, Guido Novello da Polenta, who testified his sorrow and respect by the sumptuousness of his obsequies, and by giving orders to erect a monument, which he did not live to complete. His countrymen showed, too late, that they knew the value of what they had lost. At the beginning of the next century, they entreated that the mortal remains of their illustrious citizen might be restored to them, and deposited among the tombs of their fathers. But the people of Ravenna were unwilling to part with the sad and honourable memorial of their own hospitality. No better success attended the subsequent negotiations of the Florentines for the same purpose, though renewed under the auspices of Leo X., and conducted through the powerful mediation of Michael Angelo.-E. Note 21. Page 433. "What have I done to thee, my people?" "E scrisse più volte non solamente a particolari cittadini del reggimento, ma ancora al popolo, e intra l'altre una epistola assai lunga che comincia :-" Popule mi, quid feci tibi ?"-Vita di Dante scritta da Lionardo Aretino. WALTZ; AN APOSTROPHIC HYMN. Qualis in Eurote ripis, aut per juga Cynthi VIRGIL Such on Eurota's banks, or Cynthia's height, TO THE PUBLISHER. SIR, I AM a country gentleman of a midland county. I might have been a parliament-man for a certain borough, having had the offer of as many votes as General T. at the general election in 1812. But I was all for domestic happiness; as, fifteen years ago, on a visit to London, I married a middle-aged maid of honour. We lived happily at Hornem-Hall till last season, when my wife and I were invited by the Countess of Waltzaway (a distant relation of my spouse) to pass the winter in town. Thinking no harm, and our girls being come to a marriageable (or, as they call it,marketable) age, and having besides a chancery suit inveterately entailed upon the family estate, we came up in our old chariot, of which, by the bye, my wife grew so much ashamed in less than a week, that I was obliged to buy a second-hand barouche, of which I might mount the box, Mrs. H. says, if I could drive, but never see the inside-that place being reserved for the honourable Augustus Tiptoe, her partner-general and opera-knight. Hearing great praises of Mrs. H.'s dancing (she was famous for birth-night minuets in the latter end of the last century), I unbooted, and went to a ball at the Countess's, expecting to see a country-dance, or, at most, cotillions, reels, and all the old paces to the newest tunes. But, judge of my surprise, on arriving, to see poor dear Mrs. Hornem with her arms half round the loins of a huge hussarlooking gentleman I never set eyes on before; and his, to say truth, rather more than half round her waist, turning round, and round, and round, to a d -d see-saw up and down sort of tune, that reminded me of the "black joke," only more affettuoso," till it made me quite giddy with wondering they were not so. By and by they stopped a bit, and I thought they would sit or fall down :-but, no; with Mrs. H.'s hand on his shoulder, “quam familiariter" 2 (as Terence said when I was at school), they walked about a minute, and then at it again, like two cock-chafers spitted on the same bodkin. I asked what all this meant, when, with a loud laugh, a child no older than our Wilhelmina (a name I never heard but in the Vicar of Wakefield, though her mother would call her after the princess of Swappenbach), said, "Lord! Mr. Hornem, 66 can't you see they are valtzing ?" or waltzing (I forget which); and then up she got, and her mother and sister, and away they went, and round-abouted it till supper-time. Now that I know what it is, I like it of all things, and so does Mrs. H. (though I have broken my shins, and four times overturned Mrs. Hornem's maid in practising the preliminary steps in a morning). Indeed, so much do I like it, that having a turn for rhyme, tastily displayed in some election ballads, and songs in honour of all the victories (but till lately I have had little practice in that way), I sat down, and with the aid of William Fitzgerald, Esq., and a few hints from Dr. Busby 4 (whose recitations I attend, and am monstrous fond of Master Busby's manner of delivering his father's late successful Drury Lane Address), I composed the following hymn, wherewithal to make my sentiments known to the public, whom, nevertheless, I heartily despise, as well as the critics. I am, Sir, yours, etc., etc., 3 HORACE HORNEM. State of the poll (last day), 5. My Latin is all forgotten, if a man can be said to have forgotten what he never remembered; but I bought my title-page motto of a Catholic priest for a threeshilling bank token, after much haggling for the even sixpence. I grudged the money to a papist, being all for the memory of Perceval and "No popery ;" and quite regretting the downfal of the pope, because we can't burn him any more. 3 See vol. ii. p. 275.-E. 4 See "Rejected Addresses."-E. · |