The first part of Parini's Day is Morning, that mature hour at which the hero awakes from the glories and fatigues of the past night. His valet appears, and throwing open the shutters asks whether he will have coffee or chocolate in bed, and when he has broken his fast and risen, the business of the day begins. The earliest comer is perhaps the dancing-master, whose elegant presence we must not deny ourselves: He, entering, stops Erect upon the threshold, elevating Both shoulders; then contracting like a tortoise His neck a little, at the same time drops Slightly his chin, and, with the extremest tip Of his plumed hat, lightly touches his lips. In their order come the singing-master and the master of the violin, and, with more impressiveness than the rest, the teacher of French, whose advent hushes all Italian sounds, and who is to instruct the hero to forget his plebeian native tongue. He is to send meanwhile to ask how the lady he serves has passed the night, and attending her response he may read Voltaire in a sumptuous Dutch or French binding, or he may amuse himself with a French romance; or it may happen that the artist whom he has engaged to paint the miniature of his lady (to be placed in the same jeweled case with his own) shall bring his work at this hour for criticism. Then the valets robe him from head to foot in readiness for the hair-dresser and the barber, whose work is completed with the powdering of his hair. At last the labor of the learned comb Is finished, and the elegant artist strews With lightly shaken hand a powdery mist To whiten ere their time thy youthful locks. * * * * * Now take heart, And in the bosom of that whirling cloud Plunge fearlessly. O brave! O mighty! Thus Appeared thine ancestor through smoke and fire Of battle, when his country's trembling gods His sword avenged, and shattered the fierce foe And put to flight. But he, his visage stained, With dust and smoke, and smirched with gore and sweat, His hair torn and tossed wild, came from the strife A terrible vision, even to compatriots His hand had rescued; milder thou by far, And fairer to behold, in white array Shalt issue presently to bless the eyes Of thy fond country, which the mighty arm Of thy forefather and thy heavenly smile Equally keep content and prosperous. When the hero is finally dressed for the visit to his lady, it is in this splendid figure: