One name remains to be rescued from the decent obscurity of the 'Delitiæ Poetarum Italorum.' Marcantonio Flaminio was born at Seravalle in 1498. He came, while yet a young man, to the Court of Leo armed with Latin poetry for his credentials. No better claim on patronage from Pope or cardinal could be preferred in that age of twanging lyres. At Rome Flaminio lived in the service of Alessandro Farnese, whose hospitality he afterwards repaid with verses honourable alike to poet and patron by their freedom from vulgar flattery. The atmosphere of a Court, however, was uncongenial to Flaminio. Fond of country life, addicted to serious studies, sober in his tastes, and cheerful in his spirits, pious, and unaffectedly unambitious, he avoided the stream of the great world and lived retired. Community of interests brought him into close connection with the Cardinals Pole and Contarini, from whom he caught so much of the Reformation spirit as a philosophical Italian could assimilate; but it was not in his modest and quiet nature to raise the cry of revolt against authority.[491] The most distinguished wits and scholars of the age were among his intimate friends. Both his poems and his correspondence reflect an agreeable light upon the literary society of the late Renaissance. The Latin verses, with which we are at present occupied, breathe genuine piety, healthful simplicity, and moral purity, in strong contrast with the neopaganism of the Roman circle. These qualities suit the robust style, clear, terse, and nervous, he knew how to use. It is pleasant to close the series of Italian Latinists with one who combined the best art of his century with the temper of a republican and the spirit of a Christian. [Footnote 491: This epigram on Savonarola shows Flaminio's sympathy with the preachers of pure doctrine:-- Dum fera flamma tuos, Hieronyme, pascitur artus, Relligio, sacras dilaniata comas, Flevit, et o, dixit, crudeles parcite flammæ, Parcite, sunt isto viscera nostra rogo.] The most prominent quality of Flaminio as a poet is love of the country. Three little compositions describing his own farm are animated with the enthusiasm of genuine affection.[492] We feel that no mere reminiscence of Catullus makes him write-- Jam vos revisam, jam juvabit arbores Manu paternâ consitas Videre, jam libebit in cubiculo Molles inire somnulos.[493] [Footnote 492: 'Ad Agellum suum.'--_Poemata Selecta_, pp. 155, 156, 177.] [Footnote 493: 'Now shall I see you once again; now shall I have the joy of gazing on the trees my father planted, and falling into gentle slumber in his little room.'] Nor is it an idle prayer he addresses to the Muses in these lines:-- At vos, o Heliconiæ puellæ, Queis fontes et amoena rura cordi, Si carâ mihi luce cariores Estis, jam miserescite obsecrantis, Meque, urbis strepitu tumultuosæ Ereptum, in placido locate agello.[494]