The Duke of Calabria, father of the unfortunate Joanna, Queen of Naples, was buried in the church of St. Claire, founded by his father in 1310. The sculpture of his monument is beautifully emblematical of his known protection of defenceless innocence: from a Conch shell at his feet, a lamb slakes its thirst, regardless of the fierce wolf drinking at the same fountain. ❦ [Sidenote: Love and Reason.] ’Twas in the summer time so sweet, When hearts and flowers were both in season, When, who of all the world should meet, One early dawn, but Love and Reason! Love told his dream of yesternight, Whilst Reason talk’d about the weather: The morning, sooth, was clear and bright, So on they took their way together. The boy in many a gambol flew; Whilst Reason like a Juno stalk’d, And from her portly figure threw A lengthen’d shadow as they walk’d. No wonder Love, as on they pass’d, Should find the sunny morning chill; For still the shadow Reason cast Follow’d the boy, and cool’d him still. In vain he strove his wings to warm, Or find a pathway not so dim; For still the maid’s gigantic form Would pass between the sun and him. “This must not be,” said little Love, “The sun was made for more than you.” So, turning down a myrtle grove, He bade the portly nymph “Adieu.” Now gaily roves the laughing boy O’er many a mead, through many a bower, In every breeze inhaling joy, And drinking bliss from every flower. From all the gardens, all the bowers, He cull’d the many sweets they shaded; He eat the fruits, and smelt the flowers, Till taste was gone, and odour faded. Now the sun, in pomp of noon, Rose high above the parched plains; Alas! the boy grew languid soon, And fever thrill’d through all his veins. The dew forsook his baby brow, No more with vivid bloom he smil’d; Ah! where was tranquil _Reason_ now, To cast her shadow o’er the child? Beneath a green and aged palm, His foot at length for shelter turning; He saw the maid reclining calm, With brow as cool as his was burning. “Oh take me to your bosom cold!” In murmurs at her feet he said, And Reason oped her garment’s fold, And flung it round his feverish head. He felt her bosom’s icy touch, And soon it lull’d his pulse to rest; But ah! the chill was quite too much, And Love expir’d on Reason’s breast. ❦ [Sidenote: Clocks.] The first Clock seen in Europe was a present from Haroun Alraschid to Charlemagne; and in the fourteenth century, _Dondi_ of Padua was raised to the peerage for making one of an improved construction. The title, “Marquis Dondi del Orologio,” descended to the eighteenth century, and probably still exists. ❦ [Sidenote: Tea and Coffee.]