These marble domes, by wealth and genius graced, With sculptured forms, bright hues, and Parian stone, Were once rude cabins midst a lonely waste, Wild shores of solitude, and isles unknown. Pure from each vice, ’twas here a venturous train Fearless in fragile barks explored the sea; Not theirs a wish to conquer or to reign, They sought these island precincts--to be free. Ne’er in their souls ambition’s flame arose, No dream of avarice broke their calm repose; Fraud, more than death, abhorr’d each artless breast: Oh! now, since fortune gilds their brightening day, Let not those virtues languish and decay, O’erwhelm’d by luxury, and by wealth opprest! IL MARCHESE CORNELIO BENTIVOGLIO. “L’anima bella, che dal vero Eliso.” The sainted spirit which, from bliss on high, Descends like dayspring to my favour’d sight, Shines in such noontide radiance of the sky, Scarce do I know that form, intensely bright! But with the sweetness of her well-known smile, That smile of peace! she bids my doubts depart, And takes my hand, and softly speaks the while, And heaven’s full glory pictures to my heart. Beams of that heaven in _her_ my eyes behold, And now, e’en now, in thought my wings unfold, To soar with her, and mingle with the blest! But ah! so swift her buoyant pinion flies, That I, in vain aspiring to the skies, Fall to my native sphere, by earthly bonds deprest. QUEVEDO. ROME BURIED IN HER OWN RUINS. “Buscas en Roma á Roma, o peregrino!” Amidst these scenes, O pilgrim! seek’st thou Rome? Vain is thy search--the pomp of Rome is fled; Her silent Aventine is glory’s tomb; Her walls, her shrines, but relics of the dead. That hill, where Cæsars dwelt in other days, Forsaken mourns, where once it tower’d sublime; Each mouldering medal now far less displays The triumphs won by Latium than by Time. Tiber alone survives--the passing wave That bathed her towers now murmurs by her grave, Wailing with plaintive sound her fallen fanes. Rome! of thine ancient grandeur all is past, That seem’d for years eternal framed to last: Nought but the wave--a fugitive, remains. EL CONDE JUAN DE TARSIS. “Tu, que la dulce vida en tiernas anos.”