flowers, is a curious anomaly in the history of the human mind.

The philosophers living in the time of Philostratus (who records the fact) were accustomed to retire to the shades of Mount Athos,

"Where Meditation

Might think down hours to moments."

The Greek scholars, driven from the enchanting shores of the Bosphorus by the Turks, lamented the loss of the fine country they were compelled to quit next to the loss of their libraries, and the Apennines could alone compensate them for the region they had left. In this love of Nature they were equalled by the friends and companions of PETRARCH. TO describe the satisfaction that elegant man enjoyed in his hermitage at Vaucluse were impossible. sessing a mental health superior to the contagion of all bad examples, he was never truly happy when away from it, he was never weary of celebrating its beauties, never fatigued with describing them to his friends.

Pos

To Vaucluse, as he informs us in a letter to the Bishop of Cavoillon, he went when a child; there he returned when he was a youth; there in manhood he passed some of the choicest years of his life; and, had he been capable of reflection at so awful and so sudden a period, he would have lamented that he was not permitted there to close his mortal existence. Vaucluse (Vallis Clausa) is a small valley, bounded by an amphitheatre of rocks, bold and romantic. The River Sorgia divides the valley. To the south is the Mediterranean; while at the feet of the rocks is an immense cavern, in which is a remarkable fountain. That Laura died unmarried is now, I should suppose, completely verified. She died in 1348, and was buried at Avignon. Her grave was opened by Francis I. of France, in which was found a box containing a medal, and a few verses written by Petrarch. On the medal was impressed

*

the figure of a woman; on the reverse the letters M. L. M. J., signifying Madona Laura morta jace. The enthusiastic monarch returned everything into the tomb, and wrote an epitaph in honour of her memory. The great discoverer COLUMBUS was peculiarly distinguished by his love of natural scenes. Upon the death of her husband, Ferdinand, marquis of Pescaria, VITTORIA COLONNA retired to the Island of Ischia, finely situated near the Bay of Naples, and gave herself up to the sorrow which the death of a man so deservedly dear to her could not fail to occasion. Her beauty and her merits attracted many wealthy and noble suiters, but she refused them all. Captivated with the beauty of the island, she listened to the inspirations of the muse, became the admiration of Italy, and was celebrated by all the literati of her time. In her bower, or walking on the seashore,

* "From his continual remarks on the beauty of the scenery," says his elegant biographer," and from the pleasure he evidently derived from rural sounds and objects, he appears to have been extremely open to those delicious influences exercised over some spirits by the graces and wonders of Nature. He gives utterance to these feelings with characteristic enthusiasm, and at the same time with the artlessness and simplicity of a child."*

To show that this observation is correct, let us adduce one remarkable instance: "The beauty of Puerto Santo, and the clearness of the water, through which the sand at the bottom may be seen; the multitude of palm-trees of various forms, the highest and most beautiful that I have met with, and an infinity of other great and green trees; the birds in rich plumage, and the verdure of the fields, render this country, most serene princes, of such marvellous beauty, that it surpasses all others in charms and graces as the day doth the night in lustre. For which reason I often say to my people that, much as I endeavour to give a complete account of it to your majesties, my tongue cannot express the whole truth, nor my pen describe it; and I have been so overwhelmed at the sight of so much beauty, that I have not known how to relate it."

* Vid. Irving's Life of Columbus, p. 271. I cannot refrain from saying that I think Irving's Life of Columbus the most beautiful biographical work of the present age.

she meditated most of those poems which have entitled her to such honourable mention among the most celebrated of the Petrarchian school.

POLITIAN celebrated the admirable scenes of Fiesole; and Tasso, whose celestial tinsel will delight an age when the bust of Boileau will only adorn a college, was born at Sorrento, the retreat of his father, situated amid the finest scenery in all Italy. Born in such a spot, he never lost that relish of Nature, which in many of the more unfortunate occurrences of his life was his chief and only consolation. At the villa of Zanga, in the neighbourhood of Bergamo, he revised his tragedy of Torrismondo; and while living in the court of the Duke of Ferrara, he was never happier than when he was invited by his princely patron to his retirement at Belriguardo, surrounded by gardens, and watered by the Po. He sleeps now beneath the orange-tree of St. Onuphrius. To love Tasso was to love honour, virtue, and genius. Even the monks of St. Onuphrius were sensible of his merit: they erected a monument, therefore, over his ashes. Melancholy, supremely melancholy are our reflections when we recall to mind that Tasso was neglected by fortune, and that he therefore permitted his imagination to exalt her standard over the ruins of reason. Boileau presumed to apply the epithet clinquant to this exquisite poet, without understanding a single word of Italian! Time, however, in its well-tempered crucible, has assayed this tinsel, and pronounced it gold.

ARIOSTO, who declared that he would not sell his liberty for the best cardinal's hat in Rome, and who confessed to his friends around his deathbed that he left the world without reluctance, since he felt assured that he should have the felicity of meeting many in the next world whom he had dearly loved in this-the richly-gifted Ariosto was equally an admirer of fine landscape. Many parts of his Orlando Furioso, therefore, are taken up in describing the

wild and romantic scenery in which several of the principal actions he celebrates were performed.

LEO X., also, was exceedingly partial to country diversions and rural scenery. His villa at Malliana at length became so delightful to him, that he seldom quitted it for Rome unless upon the most urgent occasions. His return was at all times greeted by the peasantry of his neighbourhood in the most enthusiastic manner. They met him in bodies upon the road; they presented him with flowers and fruits; and were happy beyond the common measure of felicity when the condescending pontiff accepted any of their rustic gifts. In return, he conferred upon them more substantial benefits; the old and the young partook alike of his bounty; upon the damsels he bestowed portions on the day of their marriage; and entered into conversation with his neighbours with the most fascinating condescension; esteeming, like Titus Vespasian, nothing more becoming a great and magnanimous prince than the sending every one from his presence contented, cheerful, and happy.

CERVANTES insists that solitude, agreeable prospects, and serene weather contribute so much to the fecundity of genius, that they enable the most barren mind to send forth productions worthy of captivating mankind.

It was amid the charms of Italian scenes that CLAUDE LORRAINE first elevated his genius to the contemplation of Nature. There he caught that poetic relish for beauty which enabled him to represent on canvass Nature in her most lovely and most captivating attire. And though the biographer of METASTASIO has neglected to notice it, it is not to be questioned but that the magnificent neighbourhood of Naples contributed in no small degree to overcome the resolution of that elegant man, when he bade, as he thought, an eternal adieu to poetry. He had wasted his fortune at Rome in unprofitable dis

sipation, and had put himself under the care of the celebrated advocate Paglietti, with the firm resolution of resuming a profession he had long neglected. For some time he exercised the greatest tyranny over his own inclinations, till, by the entreaties of the Countess of Althan, he was persuaded to write an epithalamium on the marriage of the Marquis Pignatelli. To this succeeded the drama of Endymion, the Gardens of the Hesperides, and Angelica ; till, captivated by this irresistible recall, and animated by the scenes which embellish the Bay of Naples, he again neglected the law, and gave himself up to his favourite amusement.

DANTE, a poet whose Inferno, Purgatory, and Paradise, Schlegel supposes (though we think very erroneously) not only to equal, but to excel the Æneid in strength, truth, depth, and comprehension-Dante, after many years' exile from Florence, received permission to return upon condition that he would confess himself guilty of the charge for which he had been banished, pay a sum of money, and ask pardon of the republic. His answer to this offer exhibits one of the finest specimens of heroic feeling on record: "Is such an invitation," said he," glorious to Dante, after suffering an exile of almost fifteen years? Is it thus, then, that they would recompense innocence which all the world knows, and the labour and fatigue of unremitting study? Far from the man who is familiar with philosophy, be the senseless baseness of a heart of earth, that could act like a little sciolist, and imitate the infamy of some others by offering himself up, as it were, in chains. No! This is not the way that shall lead me back to my country. But I shall return with hasty steps if a way can be opened to me that shall not derogate from the fame and honour of Dante. But if by no such way Florence can be entered, then Florence I shall never enter. What! shall I not everywhere enjoy the sight of the sun and stars? And