Reverting to the early life of the Poet--he studied at Ferrara, but losing his tutor, who was called from thence, and appointed preceptor to the son of Isabella of Naples, Ariosto was left without the present means of gaining instruction in Greek. To this period Mr. Stebbing thus alludes:-- "To the regret he experienced at losing his master, was added that of hearing soon after of his decease; but scarcely had he recovered from the distress he felt at this circumstance, when the death of his father put an end for some time to all his literary thoughts and pursuits. He has pathetically described his situation at this period in his sixth Satire, which contains several allusions both to the present and previous circumstances of his life. "'My father dies; thenceforth with care oppressed New thoughts and feelings fill my harass'd breast; Homer gives way to lawyers and their deeds, And all a brother's love within me pleads; Fit suitors found, two sisters soon are wed, And to the altar without portions led. With all the wants and wishes of their age My little brothers next my thoughts engage, And in their father's place I strive untired To do whate'er that father's love inspired. Thus watching how their several wills incline In courts, in study, or in arms to shine; No toil I shun their fair pursuits to aid, Still of the snares that strew their path afraid. Nor this alone--though press we quick to land, The bark's not safe till anchor'd on the strand.'" Passing over the commencement of the Orlando Furioso, which soon followed the above melancholy event--"To be the freer from interruptions, and at the same time render his moderate income equal to his support, he left Ferrara, and took up his residence on an estate belonging to his kinsman Malaguzzo, between Reggio and Rubiera. He has described this retreat, and the pleasant manner in which he spent his time during his short residence there, in his fifth Satire; but it is disputed whether the account alludes to this or an earlier period of his life: "'Time was when by sweet solitude inclines The storied page I fill'd with, ready mind; Those gentle scenes of Reggio's fair domain, Our own dear nest, where peace and nature reign; The lovely villa and the neighbouring Rhone, Whose banks the Naiads haunt serene and lone; The lucid pool whence small fresh streams distil That glad the garden round and turn the mill; Still memory loves upon these scenes to dwell, Still sees the vines with fruit delicious swell, Luxurious meadows blooming spread around, Low winding vales and hills with turrets crown'd.'