—As the lovely girl spoke my own eyes filled with bitter drops—the spirit of Fantasia seemed to fade from within me and when after placing my hand before my swimming eyes I withdrew it again I found myself under the trees on the banks of the Tiber—The sun was just setting & tinging with crimson the clouds that floated over St. Peters—all was still no human voice was heard—the very air was quiet I rose—& bewildered with the grief that I felt within me the recollection of what I had heard—I hastened to the city that I might see human beings not that I might forget my wandering recollections but that I might impress on my mind what was reality & what was either dream—or at least not of this earth—The Corso of Rome was filled with carriages and as I walked up the Trinita dei’ Montes I became disgusted with the crowd that I saw about me & the vacancy & want of beauty not to say deformity of the many beings who meaninglessly buzzed about me—I hastened to my room which overlooked the whole city which as night came on became tranquil—Silent lovely Rome I now gaze on thee—thy domes are illuminated by the moon—and the ghosts of lovely memories float with the night breeze among thy ruins— contemplating thy loveliness which half soothes my miserable heart I record what I have seen—Tomorrow I will again woo Fantasia to lead me to the same walks & invite her to visit me with her visions which I before neglected—Oh let me learn this lesson while yet it may be useful to me that to a mind hopeless & unhappy as mine—a moment of forgetfullness a moment [in] which it can pass out of itself is worth a life of painful recollection.
CHAP. 2
The next morning while sitting on the steps of the temple of Aesculapius in the Borghese gardens Fantasia again visited me & smilingly beckoned to me to follow her—My flight was at first heavy but the breezes commanded by the spirit to convoy me grew stronger as I advanced—a pleasing languour seized my senses & when I recovered I found my self by the Elysian fountain near Diotima—The beautiful female who[m] I had left on the point of narrating her earthly history seemed to have waited for my return and as soon as I appeared she spoke thus—[[100]]
AUTHOR’S FOOTNOTES:
[A] Wordsworth
[B] Dante
[C] Fletcher’s comedy of the Captain.
[D] Lord Byron