‘My dear Sarah,—I wrote you a long letter to Paris, which, I hope, you
received. It was from Milan, where I arrived on the 6th, and stayed till the
10th, during excessive rain. There I fell in with three we saw at
Paris—Ellis,
Sneyd, and Lord
Clare. I dined with them at their hotel, and they with me at
mine. There, too, I hired a Courier—a man young and intelligent, and, I
think, gentle, though a Roman. He has a high character from Scarlett’s brother, whose service he lived
in eleven months. He is now laid up with a lame knee, but is getting better. I
left Milan and found beautiful weather all the way to this place, sleeping in
our old rooms at Desenzano; but all the inns are so brushed up and painted
| 316 | ROGERS AND HIS CONTEMPORARIES |
| THE FIRST PART OF 'ITALY' | 317 |
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‘Only less bright, less glorious than himself.
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‘Pray find fault through the whole work.
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‘I.
‘the mirror of all beauty.
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[Note.—There is no describing in words, but the following lines were written on the spot, and may serve, perhaps, to recall to some of my readers what they have seen in this enchanting country—
I love to watch in silence till the sun Sets; and Mont Blanc, arrayed in crimson and gold, |
| 318 | ROGERS AND HIS CONTEMPORARIES |
Flings his broad shadow half across the Lake; That shadow, though it comes through pathless tracts Of Ether, and o’er Alp and desert drear, Only less glorious than Mont Blanc himself. But while we gaze, ‘tis gone! And now he shines Like burnished silver; all below, the Night’s— Such moments are most precious, yet there are Others, that follow them, to me still more so; When once again he changes, once again Clothing himself in grandeur all his own; When, like a ghost, shadowless, colourless, He melts away into the Heaven of Heavens; Himself alone revealed, all lesser things As though they were not!] |
‘II. ‘But the Bise blew cold; And, bidden to a spare but cheerful meal, I sate among the holy brotherhood At their long board. The fare, indeed, was such As is prescribed on days of abstinence, But might have pleased a nicer taste than mine, And through the floor came up; an ancient matron, Serving unseen below; while from the roof (The roof, the floor, the walls of native fir) A lamp hung flickering, such as loves to fling Its partial light on Apostolic heads, And sheds a grace on all. Theirs Tune as yet Had changed not. Some were almost in the prime; Nor was a brow o’ercast. Seen as I saw them, Ranged round their hearthstone in a leisure hour, They were a simple and a merry race, Mingling small games of chance with social converse, And gathering news of all who came that way, As of some other world. |
| THE FIRST PART OF 'ITALY' | 319 |
‘Italy. (This to be the title to this chapter.) ‘Am I in Italy? Is this the Mincius? &c. |
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‘O Italy! how beautiful thou art!
Yet I could weep—for thou art lying, alas,
Low in the dust; and they who come, admire thee
As we admire the beautiful in death.
Thine was a dangerous gift, the gift of Beauty;
Would thou hadst less, or wert as once thou wast,
Inspiring awe in those who now enslave thee!
—But why despair? Twice hast thou lived already;
Twice shone among the nations of the world,
As the sun shines among the lesser lights
Of heaven; and shalt again. . . .’
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