interspersed by traits of genius peculiar to Boccaccio, natural touches of genuine feeling, and charming descriptions. Florio, during his erratic travels in search of Biancafiore, arrives at Naples: the author introduces him into the company of his lady and himself, under the names of Fiammetta and Caleone. Having once engaged in writing, Boccaccio became very diligent: his next work was a poem, entitled the "Teseide," or the "Thesiad." The subject is familiar to the English reader, as the "Knight's Tale" in Chaucer, modernised by Dryden, under the title of "Palamon and Arcite." Boccaccio was, if not the inventor of the _ottava rima_, or octave stanza (some Sicilian and French poets are supposed to have preceded him in the use of it), yet the first to render it familiar to the Italians. It has been duly appreciated by them, and used, as peculiarly adapted to narrative poetry. The ease with which the Italian language lends itself to rhythm and to rhyme, enabled Boccaccio to dress his thoughts in the guise of poetry; but he was, essentially, not a poet. It were too long to enter here into the distinction between the power of the imagination which creates fable and character, and even produces ideal imagery, and the peculiar attributes of poetry, which consists in a greater force and concentration of language, and an ear for the framing poetic numbers. The sublimity, yet delicacy, of Dante, the grace and harmony of Petrarch, are quite unapproached by Boccaccio: nor, indeed, can he compete with even the second and third rate of Italian poets. His style is diffuse and incult, and altogether wanting in the higher graces of poetic diction. Still, there is nature, pathos, and beauty in the narration. The story of the "Thesiad," if unborrowed,--and there is no previous trace of it,--is worthy of the author of the "Decameron:" it is full of passion and variety. He had the merit, also, of discarding the machinery of dreams and visions, then so much in vogue among his countrymen, which took from their compositions all reality and truth of feeling--giving us empty personifications, instead of fellow-creatures, formed of flesh and blood. [Sidenote: 1342. Ætat. 29.]