Which shall not fail, though poor men cleave with pride

To the paternal floor; or turn aside, In the thronged city, from the walks of gain,

As being all unworthy to detain

A Soul by contemplation sanctified.
There are who cannot languish in this strife,
Spaniards of every rank, by whom the good
Of such high course was felt and under-
stood;

Who to their Country's cause have bound a life

Frewhile, by solemn consecration, given To labour and to prayer, to nature, and to heaven.

From intricate cabals of treacherous friends. I, who on shipboard lived from earliest youth,

Could represent the countenance horrible

No- he was One whose memory ought to spread

Where'er Permessus bears an honoured

name,

Availed not to my Vessel's overthrow.
What noble pomp and frequent have not I
On regal decks beheld! yet in the end
I learned that one poor moment can suffice
To equalise the lofty and the low.
We sail the sea of life- - a Calm One finds,
And One a Tempest - and, the voyage o'er,
Death is the quiet haven of us all.

If more of my condition ye would know,
Savona was my birth-place, and I sprang
Of noble parents; seventy years and three
Lived I then yielded to a slow disease.

V

1810. 1837

TRUE is it that Ambrosio Salinero
With an untoward fate was long involved
In odious litigation; and full long,
Fate harder still! had he to endure assaults
Of racking malady. And true it is
That not the less a frank courageous heart
And buoyant spirit triumphed over pain;
And he was strong to follow in the steps
Of the fair Muses. Not a covert path
Leads to the dear Parnassian forest's shade,
That might from him be hidden; not a
track

Mounts to pellucid Hippocrene, but he
Had traced its windings. — This Savona

flow.

And, should the out-pourings of her eyes

suffice not

For her heart's grief, she will entreat Sebeto

Not to withhold his bounteous aid, Sebeto Who saw thee, on his margin, yield to

death,

In the chaste arms of thy beloved Love! What profit riches? what does youth avail ! Dust are our hopes; - I, weeping bitterly,

Penned these sad lines, nor can forbear to pray

That every gentle Spirit hither led
May read them, not without some bitter

tears.

VIII

1810. 1815

NOT without heavy grief of heart did He On whom the duty fell (for at that time The father sojourned in a distant land) Deposit in the hollow of this tomb

A brother's Child, most tenderly beloved! FRANCESCO was the name the Youth had

borne,

POZZOBONNELLI his illustrious house;
And, when beneath this stone the Corse
was laid,

The eyes of all Savona streamed with tears.
Alas! the twentieth April of his life
Had scarcely flowered: and at this early
time,

By genuine virtue he inspired a hope
That greatly cheered his country: to his
kin

He promised comfort; and the flattering thoughts

His friends had in their fondness entertained,

He suffered not to languish or decay.
Now is there not good reason to break
forth

Into a passionate lament? - O Soul !
Short while a Pilgrim in our nether world,
Do thou enjoy the calm empyreal air;
And round this earthly tomb let roses rise,
An everlasting spring! in memory
Of that delightful fragrance which was

once

From thy mild manners quietly exhaled.

IX

1810. 1815

PAUSE, courteous Spirit! - Balbi suppli

cates

That Thou, with no reluctant voice, for him

Here laid in mortal darkness, wouldst prefer

A prayer to the Redeemer of the world. This to the dead by sacred right belongs; All else is nothing. - Did occasion suit To tell his worth, the marble of this tomb Would ill suffice: for Plato's lore sublime,

And all the wisdom of the Stagyrite,
Enriched and beautified his studious mind:
With Archimedes also he conversed
As with a chosen friend; nor did he leave
Those laureat wreaths ungathered which
the Nymphs

Twine near their loved Permessus.
Finally,

Himself above each lower thought uplifting,

His ears he closed to listen to the songs
Which Sion's Kings did consecrate of old;
And his Permessus found on Lebanon.
A blessed Man! who of protracted days
Made not, as thousands do, a vulgar sleep;
But truly did He live his life. Urbino,
Take pride in him!-O Passenger, fare-
well!

LOVING she is, and tractable, though wild;
And Innocence hath privilege in her
To dignify arch looks and laughing eyes;
And feats of cunning; and the pretty round
Of trespasses, affected to provoke
Mock-chastisement and partnership in play.
And, as a faggot sparkles on the hearth,
Not less if unattended and alone
Than when both young and old sit gathered
round

And take delight in its activity;
Even so this happy Creature of herself
Is all-sufficient, solitude to her

Is blithe society, who fills the air
With gladness and involuntary songs.
Light are her sallies as the tripping fawn's