_jeunesse dorée_ of Milan is or ought to be made thoroughly ashamed of the vapidity of its existence, but every phrase is urbane, and all the ridicule dainty and ironical. The subject is hardly susceptible of high poetry, but Parini has adorned it as only a poet could. The composition of the remaining three parts occupied him for many years, and the last two are not quite complete. His minor pieces reveal the same remarkable power as the _Giorno_ of elevating trifling circumstances into the region of poetry. One sonnet especially is worthy of the Greek Anthology in finish and charm of invention: _Benignant Sleep, that on soft pinion sped Dost wing through darkling night thy noiseless way, And fleeting multitudes of dreams display To weariness reposed on quiet bed: Go where my Phillis doth her gentle head And blooming cheek on peaceful pillow lay, And while the body sleeps, the soul affray With dismal shape from thy enchantment bred. So like unto mine own that form be made, Pallor so dim disfiguring its face, That she may waken by compassion swayed. If this thou wilt accomplish of thy grace, A double wreath of poppies I will braid, And silently upon thine altar place._ Parini, “a poor sickly priest,” led an uneventful life in Milan until the overthrow of Austrian rule by the French invasion, when he came forward prominently in public affairs, and earned credit by his good sense and moderation. He died in 1799, aged seventy. He was a high-minded man of austere morality.