| Bring me, I pray—an exile sad— Some token of that valley bright, Where in my sheltered childhood glad, The future was a dream of light. Beside the gentle stream, where swell Its waves beneath the lilac tree, Ye saw the cot I love so well— And speak ye of that home to me? |
We have no fault to find with these verses in themselves—as specimens of the manner of the French chansonnier, we have no patience with them. What we have quoted, is the second stanza of the song. Our remarks, here, with some little modification, would apply to the Sepulchres of Foscolo, especially to the passage commencing
|
Yes—Pindemonte! The aspiring soul is fired to lofty deeds By great men's monuments, &c. |
They would apply, also, with somewhat less force, to Lamartine's Loss of the Anio, in the original of which by the way, we cannot perceive the lines answering to Mrs. E's verses
| All that obscures thy sovereign majesty Degrades our glory in degrading thee. |
Quevedo's Sonnet Rome in Ruins, we happen to have by us at this moment. The translation in this instance is faultless, and combines, happily, a close approximation to the meaning of the original, with its quaint air and pompous rhythm. The Sonnet itself is a plagiarism entire, from Girolamo Preti. The opening lines of Quevedo,
| Pilgrim! in vain thou seekest in Rome for Rome! Alas! the Queen of nations is no more! Dust are her towers, that proudly frowned of yore, And her stern hills themselves have built their tomb, |
are little else than the
| Roma in Roma non è In se stessa cadeo morta e sepolta, &c. |
of Girolamo. But this is no concern of Mrs. Ellet's.