Teresa Pichler was the daughter of Pichler, the celebrated gem engraver. I have heard her described, by those who knew her in her younger years, as one of the most beautiful creatures in the world. Brought up in the studio of her father, in whom the spirit of ancient art seemed to have revived for modern times, Teresa's mind as well as person had caught a certain impress of antique grace, from the constant presence of beautiful and majestic forms: but her favourite study was music, in which she was a proficient; her voice and her harp made as many conquests as her faultless figure and her bright eyes. After her marriage she did not neglect her favourite art; and she, whose talent had charmed Zingarelli and Guglielmi, was accustomed, in their hours of domestic privacy, to soothe, to enchant, to inspire, her husband. Monti, in one of his poems, has tenderly commemorated her musical powers. He calls on his wife during a period of persecution, poverty and despondency, to touch her harp, and, as she was wont, rouse his sinking spirit, and unlock the source of nobler thoughts. Stendi, dolce amor mio! sposa diletta! A quell' arpa la man; che la soave, Dolce fatica di tue dite aspetta. Svegliami l'armonia, ch' entro le cave Latebre alberga del sonoro legno, E de' forti pensier volgi la chiave! There is a resemblance in the _sentiment_ of these verses, to some stanzas addressed by a living English poet to his wife;--she who, like Monti's Teresa, can strike her harp, till, as a spirit caught in some spell of his own teaching, music itself seems to flutter, imprisoned among the chords,--to come at her will and breathe her thought, rather than obey her touch!-- Once more, among those rich and golden strings, Wander with thy white arm, dear Lady pale! And when at last from thy sweet discord springs The aerial music,--like the dreams that veil Earth's shadows with diviner thoughts and things, O let the passion and the time prevail!-- O bid thy spirit through the mazes run! For music is like love, and must be won! &c.[90] The Italian verses have great power and beauty; but the English lines have the superiority, not in poetry only, but in rhythmical melody. They fall on the ear like a strain from the harp which inspired them--full, and rich, and thrilling sweet,--and not to be forgotten!