There a lute was engraven, and more than its numbers, The strings that were broken appeal'd to the heart. The bride brought her wreath of the orangeflowers hither, And cast the sweet buds from her tresses of Like her in their earliest beauty to wither, cold. NOTES TO THE VOW OF THE PEACOCK. "For Catherine look'd what she had been, At once the beauty and the queen." "The new king of Cyprus had been attached from early youth to Catarina, niece of Andréa Cornaro, a Venetian noble, resident on his Cypriote estate; and no sooner was he freed from certain political and domestic obstacles, than he tendered grow law which forbade the marriage of any Venetian his hand to that lady. In order to satisfy the rigid The wild winds and waters together bewailing, But vainly the spring's gentle children were of noble birth with a foreigner, the destined royal bride was solemnly adopted by the state, and declared a daughter of St. Mark; she was then married by proxy, in the presence of the doge and signory, conducted by the bucentaur to the galley which awaited her in the port, and escorted by a squadron of ships of war, with becoming pomp, and a portion of 100,000 ducats, to the territories And the tears of the morning amid the long of her husband." After his death the island was grass, And vain, vainer still was the human heart's sighing, governed by his widow. "Fifteen years had now passed, during which the signory had governed Cyprus, under the name That one so beloved, and so lovely, should pass. of Catarina, whose son died not long after his The grave is an altar, whereon the heart proffers Its feverish pleasures, its troubles, its woes; Stern, silent, and cold, the dark sanctuary proffers Its gloomy return of unbroken repose. How much of the sorrow that life may inherit, That early departure to slumber will save; The hope that drags onward the world-weary spirit, birth; and the islanders, who at first chafed beneath the yoke of the republic, and earnestly sought to transfer all their allegiance to Naples, had now become accustomed to their virtual masters. There were contingencies, nevertheless, not likely to escape the sagacity of Venice, by which some other hand, after all her long intrigue, might perhaps gather its fruits. Catarina still retained more than ordinary beauty; and her picture, in widow's weeds (even now glowing with almost original Rests but when its fever is quench'd in the freshness among the treasures of the Palazzo Months pass'd, and at Leoni's side With life's more sunny side to do? From morn I only ask its dew: Upon the weeping cypress tree; the Manfrini,) was one of the earliest great works of the loveliness of the subject, extended his growing "Giorgio Cornaro, a brother of the queen, was solicited to conduct the ungrateful process of her deposition. To his representations,--that by abandoning the care of a turbulent kingdom, and returning to her native land, in which she might pass the remainder of her life tranquilly and securely, amongst those bound to her by natural ties, she would far more consult her own happiness than by remaining exposed in a remote and foreign country to the hazards of its ambiguous friendship, she replied with confidence, that there was little which could allure a woman environed with the splendour of royalty and the observance of a court, to descend to the parsimonious habits and undistinguished level of a republican life; and that it would please her far better if the signory would await her decease before they occupied her possessions. But to arguments explanatory of the will, the power, and the inflexibility of the senate, it was not casy to find an adequate answer; and the natural eloquence, as the historian styles it, of her brother ultimately prevailed. If such,' she observed, as soon as tears permitted speech, 'be your opinion, such also shall be mine; nevertheless, it is more from you than from myself that our country will obtain a kingdom.' Having thus reluctantly consented, after a few days delay she commenced her progress to Famagosta; royal honours attended her every where as she passed, and on the 6th of February she signed the formal act of abdiction in the presence of her council; attended a solemn mass, at which the banner of St. Mark was consecrated; delivered that standard to the charge of the Venetian general; and saw it raised above her own on the towers of the citadel. On the approach of summer she embarked for Venice, where she was received as a crowned head by the doge and signory; and in return for the surrender of her sceptre, she enjoyed a privilege never before or since accorded to any of her country women, a triumphal entry to St. Mark's Piazzetta, on the deck of the Bucentaur. A revenue of 8000 ducats was assigned her for life; and the delights of the 'Paradise' of Asola, in the Trevisan mountains, in which the unqueened queen continued to assemble her little court, have been immortalized by a volume long among the most popular works of early Italian literature; and graced by the poetry, the sentiment, the piety, and the metaphysics of the illustrious historian from whom we have borrowed our narrative of Catarina's dethronement." Page 197. "Divinest Petrarch." "It was on the 4th of June, that the poet, in company with the Archbishop of Patræ, was enjoying a delicious prospect of the sea from his windows, and cheating a summer evening with familiar talk, when the conversation was interrupted by the appearance of a galley in the offing, fanci fully dressed out with green boughs. This unusual decoration, the rapid motion of the oars, the joyful shouts of the mariners, the garlands which they had twined round their caps, the streamers which floated from their masts, all betokened the arrival of some pleasing intelligence. A signal was given from the beacon-tower of the port, and the whole population of the city flocked to the water's edge, breathless with curiosity, to ascertain the news. As the bark came nearer shore, some flags of the enemy were seen hanging from her stern; and all doubt was then removed that she was the messenger of victory. What, however, was the general surprise and joy, when it was announced that the rebels were not only worsted, but conquered, that Candia was subdued, and that the war was at an end! The doge, with his court and prelates, and the whole attendant crowd of citizens, immediately repaired to St. Mark's and offered up a solemn service of thanksgiving. The festivals which succeeded lasted for many days; and they were closed by a tournament and a magnificent equestrian parade, for which Petrarch is unable to find an adequate Latin name. In this last spectacle, a troop of four-and-twenty noble Venetian youths, headed by a Ferrarese, splendidly arrayed, and mounted on horses gorgeously caparisoned, started singly, but in quick succession, from a barrier in the Piazza di San Marco, and, coursing round to a goal, uninterruptedly renewed the same circle, brandishing lances from which silken ribands fluttered to the wind. The doge, with his brilliant train, sat in his marble gallery over St. Mark's porch, by the wellknown horses, whence the evening sun was shaded by richly embroidered canopies. On his right hand sat Petrarch himself, whose love of pleasure was satisfied by two days' attendance on the protracted festivity. The splendour of the scene was heightened by the presence of several English barons, some of them of the royal blood, who at that time were in Venice, so far as we can understand Petrarch's obscure statement, engaged in some maritime negotiation; though one of the chroniclers assures us that they had no other object than a laudable desire of seeing the world. In the court below not a grain of sand could have fallen to the pavement, so dense was the throng. A wooden scaffolding, raised for the occasion, on the right of the piazza, contained a bright store of beauty; the forty noblest dames of Venice, glittering with costly jewels. In the horse-course, honour was the sole prize; but, for the tournament, in which danger was to be encountered, more substantial rewards were proposed. For the most successful champion, a crown of solid gold, chased with precious stones; for the second, a silver belt, of choice workmanship. First gave the full heart's homage: then came Had look'd on Sappho, yet had wept with her. A shout that rose to heaven; and the hills, Her eye is on a Youth, and other days And young warm feelings have rush'd on her Which lives but in itself: her life had pass'd soul Amid the great creations of the mind: With all their former influence,-thoughts that Love was to her a vision-it was now slept Cold, calm as death, have waken'd to new lifeWhole years' existence have pass'd in that glance.. She had once loved in very early days: Those songs-but she look'd up to him with all Heighten'd into devotion . . . . But a soul There is a dark rock looks on the blue sea; "Twas there love's last song echo'd-there She sleeps, Whose lyre was crown'd with laurel, and whose name Will be remember'd long as Love or Song Are sacred-the devoted Sappho ! BACCHUS AND ARIADNE. LEONARDI. "Tis finish'd now: look on my picture, Love! Her dark hair gather'd round her like a shroud, Yet far more lovely than the sparkling nymphs Dancing around that chariot. Yet how sweet, Though dimm'd with tears, those deep blue eyes, Half turn'd and half averted timidly ALVINE. O, that sweet ring of graceful figures! From the youth's lightning glance. O tell me one Flings her white arms on high, and gayly strikes LEONARDI. No-O no, I could not paint Love as a careless boy,- How like a spirit of that starry hour, Our memory is so rich in. I have much Scarce seems to touch his pard-drawn car, but floats Buoyant upon the air;-and who is she On whom his ardent gaze is turn'd? So pale, now One of those legends that I love so well: LEONARDI. "Tis one of those bright fictions The name of Greece only another word Winds that move but in perfume and in music, A tyrant. Hidden in the dark recess Or served the Minotaur for food. At length Scarce seen upon the waters, less and less, And radiant shapes and laughing nymphs danced by, And he, the Theban God, look'd on the maid, ALVINE. She loved again! O cold inconstancy! As the young dove, and changeless as the faith Graven by memory; but thy pale cheek, LEANDER AND HERO Ir is a tale that many songs have told, And old, if tale of love can e'er be old; Yet dear to me this lingering o'er the fate LEONARDI. Next time, Alvine, my pencil shall Of two so young, so true, so passionate! but give Existence to the memory of love's truth. And thou, the idol of my harp, the soul Of poetry, to me my hope, my whole ALVINE. Do you recall a tale you told me once, Happiness of existence, there will be Of the forsaken Nymph that Paris left She never had forgotten him: her heart, Dying, but yet so happy in forgiveness; UNKNOWN FEMALE HEAD. I KNOW not of thy history, thou sad Yet beautiful faced Girl :-the chestnut braid Bound darkly round thy forehead, the blue veins Wandering in azure light, the ivory chin Dimpled so archly, have no characters Some gentlest tones that I have caught from thee Of faith even unto death unchangeable! She stood beside the altar, like the queen, A perfume round, for she that morn had been To gather roses, that were clustering now Amid the shadowy curls upon her brow. One of the loveliest daughters of that land, Divinest Greece! that taught the painter's hand To give eternity to loveliness; One of those darkeyed maids, to whom belong The glory and the beauty of each song Thy poets breathed, for it was theirs to bless Of bright divinities. Amid the crowd |