The offer of an engagement by the League had been carried to Federigo, by six envoys commissioned from its leading powers, and was readily accepted. His preparations being completed, he set forth from his capital on St. George's day, while tearful eyes and ominous sighs attested his subjects' anxiety at the departure of their paternal sovereign, bent by failing health and advancing years. Besides his wonted suite, there followed him for many miles a train of men distinguished in letters and arts, philosophers, theologians, jurists, astronomers, and architects. By his side rode his nephew and confidential friend Ottaviano della Carda, to whom, as if anticipating his approaching end, he warmly and affectionately recommended his son Guidobaldo and all his friends. At the foot of the Apennines this sorrowing convoy quitted him to return home, whilst he crossed the mountains to Borgo San Sepolchro, where he was received by Lorenzo de' Medici. In the Val d'Arno he met his old and sage friend Antonio Bellanti, with a troop of white-plumed lances, exiled from his native Siena by adverse factions, and offered him a safe retreat in his state until times should change; an invitation which he declined, and so incurred a bloody death. At Florence the people gladly welcomed the conqueror of Volterra, and the magistracy received him at the door of the Palazzo Vecchio. The war now impending was alike iniquitous in its motives, and disastrous in its attendant circumstances. Its seat was in the lower plains of Lombardy, where they merge into a wide delta, formed by the arterial channels of the rivers Po and Adige, and veined by the minor drainage of the Polesine and Ferrarese territories. Most of "That level region, where no echo dwells,"