Mr. Symonds's interpretation of the sonnet also is erroneous--in so far, at least, as that the meaning assigned by him never entered into the head of the author. It is certainly fully susceptible of such an exposition. But Tansillo, no philosopher, but a cavalier, the active part of whose life was mainly spent in naval expeditions against the Turks, no more thought with Mr. Symonds of "the pioneers of modern philosophy," than he thought with Bruno of "arising and freeing himself from the body and sensual cognition." On the contrary, the sonnet is a love-sonnet, and depicts with extraordinary grandeur the elation of spirit, combined with a sense of peril, consequent upon the poet having conceived a passion for a lady greatly his superior in rank. The proof of this is to be found in the fact that the sonnet is one of a series, unequivocally celebrating an earthly passion; and especially in the sonnet immediately preceding it in Dolce's collection, manifestly written at the same time and referring to the same circumstance, in which the poet ascribes his Icarian flight, not to the influence of Philosophy, but of Love: Love fits me forth with wings, which so dilate, Sped skyward at the call of daring thought, I high and higher soar, with purpose fraught Soon to lay smiting hand on Heaven's gate. Yet altitude so vast might well abate My confidence, if Love not succour brought, Pledging my fame not jeopardised in aught, And promising renown as ruin great. If he whom like audacity inspired, Falling gave name immortal to the flood, As sunny flame his waxen pinion fired; Then of thee too it shall be understood, No meaner prize than Heaven thy soul required, And firmer than thy life thy courage stood. The meaning of the two sonnets is fully recognised by Muratori, who prints them together in his treatise, "Della perfetta poesia," and adds: "_volea dire costui che s'era imbarcato in un'amor troppo alto, e s'andava facendo coraggio_." This is surely one of the most remarkable instances possible to adduce of the infinite significance of true poetry, and its capacity for inspiring ideas and suggesting interpretations of which the poet never dreamed, but which are nevertheless fairly deducible from his expressions.