FOOTNOTES:

Conforme era l'etateMa 'l pensier più conforme.

Vittoria, from her childish years, displayed the most extraordinary talents, combined with all the personal charms and sweet proprieties more characteristic of her sex. When not more than fifteen or sixteen, she was already distinguished among her countrywomen, and sought even by sovereign princes. The Duke of Savoy and the Duke of Braganza made overtures to obtain her hand; the Pope himself interfered in behalf of one of these princes; but both were rejected. Vittoria, accustomed to consider herself as the destined bride of young d'Avalo, cultivated forhim alone those talents and graces which others admired and coveted, and resolved to wait till her youthful lover was old enough to demand the ratification of their infant vows. She says of herself,

Appena avean gli spirti intera vita,Quando il mio cor proscrisse ogn' altro oggetto.

Pescara had not the studious habits or literary talents of his betrothed bride; but his beauty of person, his martial accomplishments, and his brave and noble nature, were precisely calculated to impress her poetical imagination, as contrasted with her own gentler and more contemplative character. He loved her too with the most enthusiastic adoration; he even prevailed on their mutual parents to anticipate the period fixed for their nuptials; and at the age of seventeen they were solemnly united.

The first four years after their marriage were chiefly spent in a delightful retreat in the island of Ischia, where Pescara had a palace and domain. Here, far from the world, and devoted to eachother, and to the most elegant pursuits, they seem to have revelled in such bliss as poets fancy and romancers feign. Hence the frequent allusions to the island of Ischia, in Vittoria's later poems, as a spot beloved by her husband, and the scene of their youthful happiness. One thing alone was wanting to complete this happiness: Heaven denied them children. She laments this disappointment in the 22d Sonnet, where she says, that "since she may not be the mother of sons, who shall inherit their father's glory, yet she will at least, by uniting her name with his in verse, become the mother of his illustrious deeds and lofty fame."

Pescara, whose active and martial genius led him to take a conspicuous part in the wars which then agitated Italy, at length quitted his wife to join the army of the Emperor. Vittoria, with tears, resigned him to his duties. On his departure she presented him with many tokens of love, and among the rest, with a banner, and a dressing-gown richly embroidered; on the latter she had worked with her own hand, in silken characters,the motto, "Nunquam minus otiosus quam cum otiosus erat."[29]She also presented him with some branches of palm, "In segno di felice augurio;" but her bright anticipations were at first cruelly disappointed. Pescara, then in his twenty-second year, commanded as general of cavalry at the battle of Ravenna, where he was taken prisoner, and detained at Milan. While in confinement, he amused his solitude by showing his Vittoria that he had not forgotten their mutual studies and early happiness at Ischia. He composed an essay or dialogue on Love, which he addressed to her; and which, we are told, was remarkable for its eloquence and spirit as a composition, as well as for the most high-toned delicacy of sentiment. He was not liberated till the following year.

Vittoria had taken for herdevise, such was the fashion of the day, a little Cupid within a circle formed by a serpent, with the motto, "Quem peperit virtus prudentia servet amorem,"—"The love which virtue inspired, discretion shall guard;" and during her husband's absence,she lived in retirement, principally in her loved retreat in the island of Ischia, devoting her time to literature, and to the composition of those beautiful Sonnets in which she celebrated the exploits and virtues of her husband. He, whenever his military or political duties allowed of a short absence from the theatre of war, flew to rejoin her; and these short and delicious meetings, and the continual dangers to which he was exposed, seem to have kept alive, through many long years, all the romance and fervour of their early love. In the 79th Sonnet, Vittoria so beautifully alludes to one of these meetings, that I am tempted to extract it, in preference to others better known, and by many esteemed superior as compositions.

Qui fece il mio bel sol a noi ritorno,Di Regie spoglie carco, e ricche prede:Ahi! con quanto dolor, l'occhio rivedeQuei lochi, ov' ei mi fea già il giorno!Di mille glorie allor cinto d' intorno,E d'onor vero, alla più altiera sedeFacean delle opre udite intera fedeL'ardito volto, il parlar saggio adorno.Vinto da prieghi miei, poi mi mostravaLe belle cicatrici, e 'l tempo, e 'l modoDelle vittorie sue tante, e si chiare.Quanta pena or mi da, gioja mi dava;E in questo, e in quel pensier, piangendo godeTra poche dolci, e assai lagrime amare.

Qui fece il mio bel sol a noi ritorno,Di Regie spoglie carco, e ricche prede:Ahi! con quanto dolor, l'occhio rivedeQuei lochi, ov' ei mi fea già il giorno!

Di mille glorie allor cinto d' intorno,E d'onor vero, alla più altiera sedeFacean delle opre udite intera fedeL'ardito volto, il parlar saggio adorno.

Vinto da prieghi miei, poi mi mostravaLe belle cicatrici, e 'l tempo, e 'l modoDelle vittorie sue tante, e si chiare.

Quanta pena or mi da, gioja mi dava;E in questo, e in quel pensier, piangendo godeTra poche dolci, e assai lagrime amare.

This description of her husband returning, loaded with spoils and honours;—of her fond admiration, mingled with a feminine awe, of his warlike demeanor;—of his yielding, half reluctant, to her tender entreaties, and showing her the wounds he had received in battle;—then the bitter thoughts of his danger and absence, mingling with, and interrupting these delicious recollections of happiness,—are all as true to feeling as they are beautiful in poetry.

After a short career of glory, Pescara was at length appointed commander-in-chief of the Imperial armies, and gained the memorable battle of Pavia. Feared by his enemies, and adored by his soldiers, his power was at this time so great, that many attempts were made to shake his fidelity to the Emperor. Even the kingdom of Naples wasoffered to him if he would detach himself from the party of Charles the Fifth. Pescara was not without ambition, though without "the ill that should attend it." He wavered—he consulted his wife;—he expressed his wish to place her on a throne she was so fitted to adorn. That admirable and high-minded woman wrote to confirm him in the path of honour, and besought him not to sell his faith and truth, and his loyalty to the cause in which he had embarked, for a kingdom. "For me," she said, "believe that I do not desire to be the wife of a King; I am more proud to be the wife of that great captain, who in war, by his valour, and in peace, by his magnanimity, has vanquished the greatest monarchs."[30]

On receiving this letter, Pescara hastened to shake off the subtle tempters round him; but he had previously become so far entangled, that hedid not escape without some impeachment of his before stainless honour. The bitter consciousness of this, and the effects of some desperate wounds he had received at the battle of Pavia, which broke out afresh, put a period to his life at Milan, in his thirty-fifth year.[31]

The Marchesana was at Naples when the news of his danger arrived. She immediately set out to join him; but was met at Viterbo by a courier, bearing the tidings of his death. On hearing this intelligence, she fainted away; and being brought a little to herself, sank into a stupor of grief, which alarmed her attendants for her reason or her life. Seasonable tears at length came to her relief; but her sorrow, for a long, long time, admitted no alleviation. She retired, after her first overwhelming anguish had subsided, to her favourite residence in the isle of Ischia, where she spent, almost uninterruptedly, the first seven years of her widowhood.

Being only in her thirty-fifth year, in the prime of her life and beauty, and splendidly dowered, it was supposed that she would marry again, and many of the Princes of Italy sought her hand; her brothers urged it; but she replied to their entreaties and remonstrances, with a mixture of dignity and tenderness, that "Though her noble husband might be by others reputed dead, he still lived to her, and to her heart."[32]And in one of her poems, she alludes to these attempts to shake her constancy. "I will preserve," she says, "the title of a faithful wife to my beloved,—a title dear to me beyond every other: and on this island-rock,[33]once so dear tohim, will I wait patiently, till time brings the end of all my griefs, as once of all my joys."

D'arder sempre piangendo non mi doglio!Forse avrò di fedele il titol vero,Caro a me sopra ogn' altro eterno onore.Non cambierò la fè,—ne questo scoglioCh' almiosol piacque, ove finire speroCome le dolci già, quest' amare ore![34]

D'arder sempre piangendo non mi doglio!Forse avrò di fedele il titol vero,Caro a me sopra ogn' altro eterno onore.

Non cambierò la fè,—ne questo scoglioCh' almiosol piacque, ove finire speroCome le dolci già, quest' amare ore![34]

This Sonnet was written in the seventh year of her widowhood. She says elsewhere, that her heart having once been so nobly bestowed, disdains a meaner chain; and that her love had not ceased with the death of its object.—

Di cosi nobil fiamma amore mi cinse,Ch' essendo spenta, in me viva l' ardore.

There is another, addressed to the poet Molza, in which she alludes to the fate of his parents, who, by a singular providence, both expired in the same day and hour: such a fate appeared to her worthy of envy; and she laments very tenderly that Heaven had doomed her to survive him with whom her heart lay buried. There are others addressed to Cardinal Bembo, in which she thus excuses herself for making Pescara the subject of her verse.

Scrivo sol per sfogar l' interna doglia;La pura fe, l' ardor, l' intensa penaMi scusa appo ciascun; che 'l grave piantoE tal, che tempo, ne raggion l' affrena.

There is also a Canzone by Vittoria, full of poetry and feeling, in which she alludes to the loss of that beauty which once she was proud to possess, because it was dear in her husband's sight. "Look down upon me," she exclaims, "from thy seat of glory! look down upon me with those eyes that ever turned with tenderness on mine! Behold, how misery has changed me; how all that once was beauty is fled!—and yet I am—I am the same!"—(Io son—io son ben dessa!)—But no translation—none at least that I could execute—would do justice to the deep pathos, the feminine feeling, and the eloquent simplicity of this beautiful and celebrated poem. The reader will find it in Mathias's collection.[35]

After the lapse of several years, her mind, elevated by the very nature of her grief, took astrong devotional turn: and from this time, we find her poetry entirely consecrated to sacred subjects.

The first of theseRime spiritualiis exquisitely beautiful. She allows that the anguish she had felt on the death of her noble husband, was not alleviated, but rather nourished and kept alive in all its first poignancy, by constantly dwelling on the theme of his virtues and her own regrets; that the thirst of fame, and the possession of glory, could not cure the pining sickness of her heart; and that she now turned to Heaven as a last and best resource against sorrow.[36]

Poichè 'l mio casto amor, gran tempo tenneL' alma di fama accesa, ed ella un angueIn sen nudrio, per cui dolente or langue,—Volta al Signor, onde il remedio venne.....*....*....*....*Chiamar qui non convien Parnasso o Delo;Ch' ad altra acqua s' aspira, ad altro monteSi poggia, u' piede uman per se non sale.

Poichè 'l mio casto amor, gran tempo tenneL' alma di fama accesa, ed ella un angueIn sen nudrio, per cui dolente or langue,—Volta al Signor, onde il remedio venne.

....*....*....*....*

Chiamar qui non convien Parnasso o Delo;Ch' ad altra acqua s' aspira, ad altro monteSi poggia, u' piede uman per se non sale.

Not the least of Vittoria's titles to fame, was the intense adoration with which she inspired Michel Angelo. Condivi says he was enamoured of her divine talents. "In particolare egli amò grandemente la Marchesana di Pescara, del cui divino spirito era inamorato:" and he makes use of a strong expression to describe the admiration and friendship she felt for him in return. She was fifteen years younger than Michel Angelo, who not only employed his pencil and his chisel for her pleasure, or at her suggestion, but has left among his poems several which are addressed to her, and which breathe that deep and fervent, yet pure and reverential love she was as worthy to inspire as he was to feel.

I cannot refuse myself the pleasure of adding here one of the Sonnets, addressed by Michel Angelo to the Marchesana of Pescara, as translated by Wordsworth, in a peal of grand harmony, almost asliterallyfaithful to the expression as to the spirit of the original.

Yes! hope may with my strong desire keep pace,And I be undeluded, unbetrayed;For if of our affections none find graceIn sight of Heaven, then, wherefore had God madeThe world which we inhabit? Better pleaLove cannot have, than that in loving theeGlory to that eternal peace is paid,Who such divinity to thee impartsAs hallows and makes pure all gentle hearts.His hope is treacherous only whose love diesWith beauty, which is varying every hour:But, in chaste hearts, uninfluenced by the powerOf outward change, there blooms a deathless flower,That breathes on earth the air of Paradise.

He stood by her in her last moments; and when her lofty and gentle spirit had forsaken its fairtenement, he raised her hand and kissed it with a sacred respect. He afterwards expressed to an intimate friend his regret, that being oppressed by the awful feelings of that moment, he had not, for the first and last time, pressed his lips to hers.

Vittoria had another passionate admirer in Galeazzo di Tarsia, Count of Belmonte in Calabria, and an excellent poet of that time.[37]His attachment was as poetical, but apparently not quite so Platonic, as that of Michel Angelo. His beautiful Canzone beginning,

A qual pietra sommigliaLa mia bella Colonna,

contains lines rather more impassioned than the modest and grave Vittoria could have approved: for example—

Con lei foss' io da che si parte il sole,E non ci vedesse altri che le stelle,—Solo una notte—e mai non fosse l' Alba!

Marini and Bernardo Tasso were also numbered among her poets and admirers.

Vittoria Colonna died at Rome, in 1547. She was suspected of favouring in secret the reformed doctrines; but I do not know on what authority Roscoe mentions this. Her noble birth, her admirable beauty, her illustrious marriage, her splendid genius, (which made her the worship of genius—and the theme of poets,) have rendered her one of the most remarkable of women;—as her sorrows, her conjugal virtues, her innocence of heart, and elegance of mind, have rendered her one of the most interesting.

Where could she fix on mortal groundThose tender thoughts and high?Now peace, the woman's heart hath found,And joy, the poet's eye![38]

Antiquity may boast its heroines; but it required virtues of a higher order to be a Vittoria Colonna, or a Lady Russel, than to be a Portiaor an Arria. How much more graceful, and even more sublime, is the moral strength, the silent enduring heroism of the Christian, than the stern, impatient defiance of destiny, which showed so imposing in the heathen! How much more difficult is it sometimes to live than to die!

Più val d' ogni vittoria un bel soffirire.

Or as Campbell has expressed nearly the same sentiment,

To bear, is to conquer our fate!

FOOTNOTES:[28]Orlando Furioso, canto 37.[29]"Never less idle than when idle."[30]"Non desidero d'esser moglie d'un re; bensi di quel gran capitano, il quale non solamente in guerra con valor, ma ancora in pace con la magnanimità ha saputo vincere i re più grande." (Vita di Vittoria Colonna, da Giambattista Rota.)[31]See in Robertson's Charles V. an account of the generous conduct of Pescara to the Chevalier Bayard.[32]Che il suo sole, quantunque dagli altri fosse riputato morte, appresso di lei sempre vivea. (Vita.)[33]Ischia.[34]Sonnet 74.[35]Componimenti Lirici, vol. i. 144.[36]L'honneur d'avoir été, entre toutes les poëtes, la première à composer un recueil de poësies sacrées, appartient, toute entière, à Vittoria Colonna. (See Ginguené.) Her masterpieces, in this style, are said to be the sonnet on the death of our Saviour.—"Gli Angeli eletti al gran bene infinito;"and the hymn"Padre Eterno del cielo!"which is sublime: it may be found in Mathias's Collection, vol. iii.[37]Died 1535.[38]Mrs. Hemans.

[28]Orlando Furioso, canto 37.

[29]"Never less idle than when idle."

[30]"Non desidero d'esser moglie d'un re; bensi di quel gran capitano, il quale non solamente in guerra con valor, ma ancora in pace con la magnanimità ha saputo vincere i re più grande." (Vita di Vittoria Colonna, da Giambattista Rota.)

[31]See in Robertson's Charles V. an account of the generous conduct of Pescara to the Chevalier Bayard.

[32]Che il suo sole, quantunque dagli altri fosse riputato morte, appresso di lei sempre vivea. (Vita.)

[33]Ischia.

[34]Sonnet 74.

[35]Componimenti Lirici, vol. i. 144.

[36]L'honneur d'avoir été, entre toutes les poëtes, la première à composer un recueil de poësies sacrées, appartient, toute entière, à Vittoria Colonna. (See Ginguené.) Her masterpieces, in this style, are said to be the sonnet on the death of our Saviour.—"Gli Angeli eletti al gran bene infinito;"and the hymn"Padre Eterno del cielo!"which is sublime: it may be found in Mathias's Collection, vol. iii.

"Gli Angeli eletti al gran bene infinito;"

and the hymn

"Padre Eterno del cielo!"

which is sublime: it may be found in Mathias's Collection, vol. iii.

[37]Died 1535.

[38]Mrs. Hemans.

Vittoria Colonna, and her famed friend and contemporary, Veronica, Countess of Correggio, are inseparable names in the history of Italian literature, as living at the same time, and equally ornaments of their sex. They resembled each other in poetical talent, in their domestic sorrows and conjugal virtues: in every other respect the contrast is striking. Vittoria, with all her genius, seems to have been as lovely, gentle, and feminine a creature as ever wore the form of woman.

No lily—no—nor fragrant hyacinth,Had half such softness, sweetness, blessedness.

Veronica, on the contrary, was one,

——to whose masculine spiritTo touch the stars had seemed an easy flight.

She added to her talents and virtues, strong passions,—and happily also sufficient energy of mind to govern and direct them. She had not Vittoria's personal charms: it is said, that if her face had equalled her form, she would have been one of the most beautiful women of her time; but her features were irregular, and her grand commanding figure, which in her youth was admired for its perfect proportions, grew large and heavy as she advanced in life. She retained, however, to the last, the animation of her countenance, the dignity of her deportment, and powers of conversation so fascinating, that none ever approached her without admiration, or quitted her society without regret.

Her verses have not the polished harmony and the graceful suavity of Vittoria's; but more vigour of expression, and more vivacity of colouring. Their defects were equally opposed:the simplicity of Veronica sometimes borders upon harshness and carelessness; the uniform sweetness of Vittoria is sometimes too elaborate and artificial.

Veronica Gambara was born in 1485. Herfortunateparents, as her biographer expresses it,[39]were Count Gian Francisco Gambara, and Alda Pia. In her twenty-fifth year, when already distinguished as a poetess, and a woman of great and various learning, she married Ghiberto Count of Correggio, to whom she appears to have been attached with all the enthusiasm of her character, and by whom she was tenderly loved in return. After the birth of her second son, she was seized with a dangerous disorder, of what nature we are not told. The physicians informed her husband that they did not despair of her recovery, but that the remedies they should be forced to employ would probably preclude all hope of her becoming again a mother. The Count, who had always wished for a numerous offspring, orderedthem to employ these remedies instantly, and save her to him at every other risk. She recovered; but the effects upon her constitution were such as had been predicted.

Like Vittoria Colonna, she made the personal qualities and renown of her husband the principal subjects of her verse. She dwells particularly on his fine dark eyes, expressing very gracefully the various feelings they excited in her heart, whether clouded with thought, or serene with happiness, or sparkling with affection.[40]She devotes six Sonnets and a Madrigal to this subject; and if we may believe his poetical and admiring wife, these "occhi stellante" could combine more variety of expression in a single glance than ever did eyes before or since.

Lieti, mesti, superbi, umili, altieri,Vi mostrate in un punto; onde di spemeE di timor m' empiete.—

There is great power and pathos in one of her poems, written on his absence.

O Stella! O Fato! del mio mal si avaro!Ch' l mio ben m'allontani, anzi m'involi—Fia mai quel di ch' io lo riveggia o mora?[41]

Veronica lost her husband, after nine years of the happiest union.[42]He gave her an incontrovertible proof of his attachment and boundless confidence, by leaving her his sole executrix, with the government of Correggio, and the guardianship of his children during their minority. Her grief on this occasion threw her into a dangerous and protracted fever, which during the rest of her life attacked her periodically. She says in one of her poems, that nothing but the fear of not meeting her beloved husband in Paradise prevented her from dying with him. She not only vowed herself to a perpetual widowhood, but to a perpetual mourning; and the extreme vivacity of her imagination was displayed in the strangetrappings of woe with which she was henceforth surrounded. She lived in apartments hung and furnished with black, and from which every object of luxury was banished: her liveries, her coach, her horses, were of the same funereal hue. There is extant a curious letter addressed by her to Ludovico Rossi, in which she entreats her dear Messer Ludovico, by all their mutual friendship, to procure, at any price, a certain black horse, to complete her set of carriage horses—"più che notte oscuri, conformi, proprio a miei travagli." Over the door of her sleeping-room she inscribed the distich which Virgil has put into the mouth of Dido.

Ille meos, primus qui me sibi junxit, amoresAbstulit: ille habeat secum servetque sepulchro!He who once had my vows, shall ever have,Beloved on earth and worshipped in the grave!

Ille meos, primus qui me sibi junxit, amoresAbstulit: ille habeat secum servetque sepulchro!

He who once had my vows, shall ever have,Beloved on earth and worshipped in the grave!

But, unlike Dido, she did not "profess too much." She kept her word. Neither did she neglect her duties; but more fortunate in one respect than her fair and elegant friend theMarchesana, she had two sons, to whose education she paid the utmost attention, while she administered the government of Correggio with equal firmness and gentleness. Her husband had left a daughter,[43]whom she educated and married with a noble dower. Her eldest son, Hypolito, became a celebrated military commander; her youngest and favourite son, Girolamo, was created a cardinal. Wherever Veronica loved, it seems to have been with the same passionateabandonwhich distinguished her character in every thing. Writing to a friend to recommend her son to his kind offices, she assures him that "he (her son) is not only a part of herself—but ratherherself. Remember," she says, "Ch'egli è la Veronica medesima,"—a strong and tender expression.

We find her in correspondence with all the most illustrious characters, political and literary, of that time; and chiefly with Ariosto, Bembo, Molza, Sanazzaro, and Vittoria Colonna. Ariostohas paid her an elegant compliment in the last canto of the Orlando Furioso. She is one among the company of beautiful and accomplished women and noble knights, who hail the poet, at the conclusion of his work, as a long-travelled mariner is welcomed to the shore:

Veronica da Gambara e con loroSi grata a Febo, e al santo aonio coro.

This was distinction enough to immortalize her, if she had not already immortalized herself.

Veronica was not a prolific poetess; but the few Sonnets she has left, have a vigour, a truth and simplicity, not often met with among therimatoriof that rhyming age. She has written fewer good poems than Vittoria Colonna, but among them, two which are reckoned superior to Vittoria's best,—one addressed to the rival monarchs, Charles the Fifth and Francis the First, exhorting them to give peace to Italy, and unite their forces to protect civilized Europe from the incursions of the infidels; the other, which is exquisitely tender and picturesque, was composedon revisiting her native place Brescia, after the death of her husband.

Poi che per mia ventura a veder torno, &c.

It may be found in the collection of Mathias.

Veronica da Gambara died in 1550, and was buried by her husband.

It should seem that poetical talents and conjugal truth and tenderness were inherent in the family of Veronica. Her niece, Camilla Valentini, the authoress of some very sweet poems, which are to be found in variousScelte, married the Count del Verme, who died after a union of several years. She had flung herself, in a transport of grief, on the body of her husband; and when her attendants attempted to remove her, they found her—dead! Even in that moment of anguish her heart had broken.

O judge her gently, who so deeply loved!Her, who in reason's spite, without a crime,Was in a trance of passion thus removed!

I have been detained too long in "the sweetSouth;" yet, before we quit it for the present, I must allude to one or two names which cannot be entirely passed over, as belonging to the period of which we have been speaking—the golden age of Italy and of literature.

Bernardino Rota, who died in 1575, a poet of considerable power and pathos, has left a volume of poems, "In vita e in morte di Porzia Capece;" she was a beautiful woman of Naples, whom he loved and afterwards married, and who was snatched from him in the pride of her youth and beauty. Among his Sonnets, I find one peculiarly striking, though far from being the best. The picture it presents, with all its affecting accompaniments, and the feelings commemorated, are obviously taken from nature and reality. The poet—the husband—approaches to contemplate the lifeless form of his Portia, and weeping, he draws from her pale cold hand the nuptial ring, which he had himself placed on her finger with all the fond anticipations of love and hope—the pledge of a union which death alone could dissolve: and now, with a breaking heart, he transfers it to his own. Such is thesubject of this striking poem, which, with some few faults against taste, is still singularly picturesque and eloquent, particularly the last six lines.—

Questa scolpita in oro, amica fede,Che santo amor nel tuo bel dito pose,O prima a me delle terrene cose!Donna! caro mio pregio,—alta mercede—Ben fu da te serbata; e ben si vedeChe al commun' voler' sempre rispose,Del dì ch' il ciel nel mio pensier' t' ascose,E quanto puote dar, tutto mi diede!Ecco ch' io la t' invola—ecco ne spoglioIl freddo avorio che l' ornava; e vestoLa mia, più assai che la tua, mano esangue.Dolce mio furto! finchè vivo io voglioChe tu stia meco—ne le sia molestoCh' or di pianto ti bagni,—e poi di sangue!

Ecco ch' io la t' invola—ecco ne spoglioIl freddo avorio che l' ornava; e vestoLa mia, più assai che la tua, mano esangue.Dolce mio furto! finchè vivo io voglioChe tu stia meco—ne le sia molestoCh' or di pianto ti bagni,—e poi di sangue!

"This circlet of sculptured gold—this pledge which sacred affection placed on that fair hand—O Lady! dearest to me of all earthly things,—my sweet possession and my lovely prize,—well and faithfully didst thou preserve it! the bond of a mutuallove and mutual faith, even from that hour when Heaven bestowed on me all it could bestow of bliss. Now then—O now do I take it from thee! and thus do I withdraw it from the cold ivory of that hand which so adorned and honoured it. I place it on mine own, now chill, and damp, and pale as thine.—O beloved theft!—While I live thou shall never part from me. Ah! be not offended if thus I stain thee with these tears,—and soon perhaps with life drops from my heart."

Castiglione, besides being celebrated as the finest gentleman of his day, and the author of that code of all noble and knightly accomplishments, of perfect courtesy and gentle bearing—"Il Cortigiano," must have a place among our conjugal poets. He had married in 1516, Hypolita di Torrello, whose accomplishments, beauty, and illustrious birth, rendered her worthy of him. It appears, however, that her family, who were of Mantua, could not bear to part with her,[44]and that after her marriage, she remained in that city, while Castiglione was ambassador at Rome. This separation gave rise to a very impassioned correspondence;and the tender regrets and remonstrances scattered through her letters, he transposed into a very beautiful poem, in the form of an epistle from his wife. It may be found in the appendix to Roscoe's Leo X. (No. 196.) Hypolita died in giving birth to a daughter, after a union of little more than three years, and left Castiglione for some time inconsolable. We are particularly told of the sympathy of the Pope and the Cardinals on this occasion, and that Leo condoled with him in a manner equally unusual and substantial, by bestowing on him immediately a pension of two hundred gold crowns.

FOOTNOTES:[39]Zamboni.[40]"Molto vagamente spiegando i varj e differenti effetti che andavano cagionando nel di lei core, a misura che essi eran torbidi, o lieti, o sereni"—See her Life by Zamboni.[41]Sonnet 16.[42]Ghiberto da Correggio died 1518.[43]Constance; by his first wife, Violante di Mirandola.[44]Serassi.—Vita di Baldassare Castiglione.

[39]Zamboni.

[40]"Molto vagamente spiegando i varj e differenti effetti che andavano cagionando nel di lei core, a misura che essi eran torbidi, o lieti, o sereni"—See her Life by Zamboni.

[41]Sonnet 16.

[42]Ghiberto da Correggio died 1518.

[43]Constance; by his first wife, Violante di Mirandola.

[44]Serassi.—Vita di Baldassare Castiglione.

My next instance of conjugal poetry is taken from the literary history of our own country, and founded on as true and touching a piece of romance as ever was taken from the page of real life.

Dr. Donne, once so celebrated as a writer, now so neglected, is more interesting for his matrimonial history, and for one little poem addressed to his wife, than for all his learned, metaphysical, and theological productions. As a poet, it is probable that even readers of poetry know little of him, except from the lines at the bottom of the pages in Pope's version, or rather translation, ofhis Satires, the very recollection of which is enough to "set one's ears on edge," and verify Coleridge's witty and imitative couplet.—

Donne—whose muse on dromedary trots,—Twists iron pokers into true love knots.

It is this inconceivable harshness of versification, which has caused Donne to be so little read, except by those who make our old poetry their study. One of these critics has truly observed, that "there is scarce a writer in our language who has so thoroughly mixed up the good and the bad together." What is good, is the result of truth, of passion, of a strong mind, and a brilliant wit: what is bad, is the effect of a most perverse taste, and total want of harmony. No sooner has he kindled the fancy with a splendid thought, than it is as instantly quenched in a cloud of cold and obscure conceits: no sooner has he touched the heart with a feeling or sentiment, true to nature and powerfully expressed, than we are chilled or disgusted by pedantry or coarseness.

The events of Donne's various life, and theromantic love he inspired and felt, make us recur to his works, with an interest and a curiosity, which while they give a value to every beauty we can discover, render his faults more glaring,—more provoking,—more intolerable.

In his youth he lavished a considerable fortune in dissipation, in travelling, and, it may be added, in the acquisition of great and various learning. He then entered the service of Lord Chancellor Ellesmere, as secretary. Under the same roof resided Lady Ellesmere's niece, Anne Moore, a lovely and amiable woman. She was about nineteen, and Donne was about thirty, handsome, lively, and polished by travel and study. They met constantly, and the result was a mutual attachment of the most ardent and romantic character. As they were continually together, and always in presence of watchful relations ("ambushed round with household spies," as he expresses it,) it could not long be concealed. "The friends of both parties," says Walton, "used much diligence and many arguments to kill or cool their affections for each other, but in vain:"and the lady's father, Sir George Moore, "knowing prevention to be the best part of wisdom," came up to town in all haste, and carried off his daughter into the country. But his preventive wisdom came too late: the lovers had been secretly married three weeks before.

This precipitate step was perhaps excusable, from the known violence and sternness of Sir George's character. His daughter was well aware that his consent would never be voluntary: she preferred marrying without it, to marrying against it; and trusted to obtain his forgiveness when there was no remedy:—a common mode of reasoning, I believe, in such cases. Never perhaps was a youthful error of this description more bitterly punished—more deeply expiated—and so little repented of!

The Earl of Northumberland undertook to break the matter to Sir George, to reason with him on the subject; and to represent the excellent qualities of his son-in-law, and the duty of forgiveness, as a wise man, a father, and Christian. His intention was benevolent, and we have reasonto regret that his speech or letter has not been preserved; for (such is human inconsistency!) this very Earl of Northumberland never could forgive his own daughter a similar disobedience,[45]but followed it with his curse, which he was with difficulty prevailed on to retract. His mediation failed: Sir George, on learning that his precautions came too late, burst into a transport of rage, the effect of which resembled insanity. He had sufficient interest in the arbitrary court of James, to procure the imprisonment of Donne and the witnesses of his daughter's marriage; and he insisted that his brother-in-law should dismiss the young man from his office,—his only support. Lord Ellesmere yielded with extreme reluctance, saying, "he parted with such a friend and such a secretary, as were a fitter servant for a King." Donne, in sending this news to his wife, signs his name with the quaint oddity, which was so characteristic of his mind,—John Donne, Anne Donne,—undone:andundonethey truly were. As soon as he was released he claimed his wife; but it was many months before they were allowed to meet.

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