deserted the greatness which he had created, the brave logician, who "syllogised unpalatable truths" in the Quartier Latin of Paris.[66] [Footnote 63: Charles of Anjou, his Guelf conqueror, is placed above him, in the valley of the kings (_Purg._ 7), "Colui dal maschio naso"--notwithstanding the charges afterwards made against him (_Purg._ 20).] [Footnote 64: See the magnificent picture, _Inf._ 18.] [Footnote 65: _Ibid._ 8.] [Footnote 66: Cunizza, Piccarda, Cacciaguida, Roméo. (_Parad._ 9, 3, 15, 6, 10.) ----La luce eterna di Sigieri Che leggendo nel vico degli Strami Sillogizzò invidiosi veri---- in company with S. Thomas Aquinas, in the sphere of the Sun. Ozanam gives a few particulars of this forgotten professor of the "Rue du Fouarre," pp. 320-23.] There is small resemblance in all this--this arbitrary and imperious tone, this range of ideas, feelings, and images, this unshackled freedom, this harsh reality--to the dreamy gentleness of the _Vita Nuova_, or even the staid argumentation of the more mature _Convito_. The _Vita Nuova_ is all self-concentration--a brooding, not unpleased, over the varying tides of feeling, which are little influenced by the world without; where every fancy, every sensation, every superstition of the lover is detailed with the most whimsical subtlety. The _Commedia_, too, has its tenderness--and that more deep, more natural, more true, than the poet had before adapted to the traditionary formulæ of the "Courts of Love,"--the eyes of Beatrice are as bright, and the "conquering light of her smile;"[67] they still culminate, but they are not alone, in the poet's heaven. And the professed subject of the _Commedia_ is still Dante's own story and life; he still makes himself the central point. And steeled as he is by that high and hard experience of which his poem is the projection and type--"Ben tetragono ai colpi di ventura"--a stern and brief-spoken man, set on objects, and occupied with a theme, lofty and vast as can occupy man's thoughts, he still lets escape ever and anon some passing avowal of delicate sensitiveness,[68] lingers for a moment on some indulged self-consciousness, some recollection of his once quick and changeful mood--"io che son trasmutabil per tutte guise"[69]--or half playfully alludes to the whispered name of a lady,[70] whose pleasant courtesy has beguiled a few days of exile. But he is no longer spell-bound and entangled in fancies of his own weaving--absorbed in the unprofitable contemplation of his own internal sensations. The man is indeed the same, still a Florentine, still metaphysical, still a lover. He returns to the haunts and images of youth, to take among them his poet's crown; but "with other voice and other garb,"[71] a penitent and a prophet--with larger thoughts, wider sympathies, freer utterance; sterner and fiercer, yet nobler and more genuine in his tenderness--as one whom trial has made serious, and keen, and