WORKS OF 
 
 The Italian Engravers 
 
 OF THE 
 
 FIFTEENTH CENTURY. 
 
WORKS OF 
 
 The Italian Tngravers 
 
 OF THE 
 
 FIFTEENTH CENTURY 
 
 REPRODUCED IN FACSIMILE BY PHOTO-INTAGLIO 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE WILLIAM REID, F. S.A. 
 
 Keeper of the Prints and Drawings in the British Museum. 
 
 WITH LETTERPRESS DESCRIPTIONS OF THE WORKS ILLUSTRATED, AND COPIOUS EXTRACTS 
 
 FROM THE TEXT OF THE POEMS. 
 
 First Series — I llustrations : 
 
 IL LIBRO DEL MONTE SANCTO DI DIO, 1477; LA DIVINA COMMEDIA of 
 
 DANTE, 1481; AND THE TRIUMPHS of PETRARCH. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 T he present time may, in many respects, be considered auspicious for the publication of a series 
 of Reproductions from the Fifteenth-century Prints of the Italian School, inasmuch as public 
 attention has recently been, and is about to be again, called to their peculiar merits. Vicomte 
 Henri Delaborde, of the Bibliotheque Nationale, Paris, has just published an excellent work on “La 
 Gravure en Italie avant Marc- Antoine.” Dr. Lippmann, of Berlin, is employed on the drawings of 
 
 Botticelli obtained from the Hamilton Collection, with a view to explaining the connexion between 
 them and contemporary pictures or prints. Mr. Richard Fisher has written an essay upon the Early 
 Italian Prints in the British Museum, which will appear with the Second Volume of his Catalogue of 
 them now in the course of compilation. 
 
 The study of early Italian prints and engravings is one which I had myself hoped to elucidate- 
 more fully ; and it is with regret that I find myself now unable to accomplish the task, which I must 
 leave to younger men. Yet, although I may not have succeeded in throwing new light on the history 
 of Fifteenth-century Art, there is one thing in relation to it which I may, I hope, fairly take credit for 
 having done, viz., that, having had constantly such an object in view, I have prepared the way for 
 future study by bringing together all that is essential as a basis for further work, not only by 
 investigating and obtaining such unique and rare prints of the early Italian School as came in 
 my way from time to time, but by purchasing whole series of prints, and what are, generally termed 
 “ Galleries,” for the British Museum. These have now been arranged in Schools in chronological 
 order. Besides this, I have secured almost all the reproductions from drawings made by M. Braun 
 and others, so that the student now has in the Print Room of the Museum facilities for research 
 which previously were not within his reach there, and such as cannot be obtained elsewhere. 
 
 Another advantage which I may claim to have procured for the student is this, that one section of 
 my Catalogue of the Print Room, now in course of preparation, is devoted to “ Subjects,” on the 
 principle employed to a limited extent by Zani, in his “ Enciclopedia Metodica” (1819-1822). With 
 an old print or drawing before him, representing, say, the Death of Samson, the student can in a 
 few minutes have all the engravings of that subject placed before him. Such an arrangement as this 
 will be found useful in several ways, and will certainly facilitate the identification of pictures with 
 prints after them or drawings made for their preparation. 
 
 Illustrations of “ IL LIBRO DEL MONTE SANCTO DI DIO.” 
 
 In 1477 there was published at Florence a small folio volume, which commences at folio 4 
 thus: “. . . Monte Sancto di Dio composto da Messer Antonio da Siena Reverendissimo Veschovo di 
 Fuligno”; and ends: — “ Finito el mote sco di dio pine Nicolo di lorezo della magna Florentie X., 
 Die Mensis Septembris, ANNO DOMINI. M.CCCCLXXVH.” The writer was Antonio Bettini. 
 The work consists of three treatises on the “ Mount of Christ,” the “ Glory of Paradise,” and the 
 “ Punishments of Hell,” which form the subject of the three engravings contained in the volume and 
 here reproduced. They are from designs of Botticelli, and generally regarded as having been also 
 engraved by him. 
 
 Facsimiles of Early Italian Engravings. 
 
11 
 
 WORKS OF THE ITALIAN ENGRAVERS. 
 
 Illustrations of the “DIVINA COMMEDIA” of Dante Alighieri. 
 
 “ La Divina Commedia,” or, as it is called, the “ Vision of Dante,” consists of three parts, treating 
 
 of Hell, Purgatory, and Paradise. The first of these. Hell, forms the subject illustrated by the prints 
 
 here reproduced They consist of nineteen vignettes (and one repetition of the third) illustrating 
 the first nineteen cantos of the poem, the “ Inferno." The first issue of the work at Florence 
 in 1481, printed by Nicolo di Lorenzo della Magna (Nicholas of Breslau), contained only two of 
 the illustrations, those to the first and second cantos, the others not being ready at the time; but 
 in a subsequent issue seventeen others were added, making up the whole nineteen. A volume 
 containing the complete series of the nineteen prints is very rare. 
 
 The"" collection of the Pritit Department of the British Museum contains a very fine set of these 
 prints, with the rare repetition of No. 3, and there are also in the Library of that Institution six 
 fine copies of the work, two with the complete series, one in the Grenville Library, being without 
 the Roman numerals, which were afterwards engraved on the plates. Another copy in the Cracherode 
 Collection contains eight of the prints, one being in duplicate ; six of these are also in the first state 
 before the numerals. There are two copies, one with the two illustrations to the ist and 2nd Cantos, 
 
 and the other with only one illustration that to Canto 2. 
 
 The reproductions now presented to the public have been taken from the best prints in the 
 
 collection in the British Museum, those of the Dante series comprising examples chosen from among 
 
 seven copies of the work. 
 
 The prints have been described by Bartsch, Ottley, Passavant, and Koloff There is a difference 
 of opinion amongst them as to whether Sandro Botticelli, by whom they were unquestionably designed, 
 had any hand in the engraving, and, if he had, to what extent, or whether he was only the designer, 
 and Baccio Baldini alone was the engraver. More recent investigations of the subject and comparisons 
 with other works of Botticelli, especially a collection of the original drawings by him illustrating the 
 whole of the “ Divina Commedia ” of Dante recently acquired by the Prussian Government, have led 
 to the opinion that these vignettes were only designed by Botticelli, and were engraved (possibly 
 under his direction) by Baldini, of whose style of work they bear indubitable signs. 
 
 Illustrations of the TRIUMPHS OF PETRARCH. 
 
 In the six poems entitled the “Triumphs of Love,” 
 
 “ Chastity,” “ Death," 
 
 “ Fame,” “ Time,” 
 
 and “Eternity” Petrarch describes the six states of Man. 
 
 The nature of man being composed of passion and reason, he at the commencement of life gives 
 himself up to the delights and pleasures of the senses, understood under the name of Love. In the 
 second state man overcomes Love by Reason, and Chastity (personified by Laura) triumphs over Love. In 
 the third the poet explains the triumph of Death, in that it deprives man of his vital functions. In the 
 fourth he shows that Fame triumphs over Death, in that good deeds never die, but live in the 
 memory of posterity. In the fifth Time triumphs over Fame, in that the glory of the world ends 
 with years. In the sixth at last Eternity triumphs over Time and conducts man to Heaven, where 
 
 he enjoys the blessedness which is there the final state. 
 
 This set of prints, illustrating the Triumphs of Petrarch, has erroneously been attributed to 
 Nicoletto da Modena, by Bartsch, but it is more* likely that they were designed, if not executed, by 
 Fra Filippo Lippi. They have many salient characteristics of his style and treatment. If this 
 supposition be correct, it was of importance that the nation should possess a set of them having all their 
 simplicity and chasteness. They were inserted and bound in an imperfect copy of the edition of 
 
 Petrarch, “I Triumphi col comenti di B. Glicino Finisse il commento delli triumphi del Petrarcha 
 
 composto pas il prestantissimo philosoppo Messa Bernardo da Monte Mecinio da Scina. Impresso 
 in. Venetia con grado diligentia per Bernardino da Novara nelli anni del nostro Signore 
 MCCCCLXXXVIII. adi. xviii. Aprile,” which has its own woodcut illustrations, the inserted plates 
 never having any text issued with them. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Having been executed on a very soft metal, probably silver or unhammered copper, the plates had 
 begun to wear from the effects of taking even so few as half a dozen impressions, and consequently, 
 to supply a very limited demand, they had to be reworked. This latter operation, as in many similar 
 instances, was evidently carried out by an engraver of inferior skill. But the plates from which these 
 specimens have been taken were, without doubt, in all their original purity just as they left the 
 artist’s hands, and the impressions themselves, from their having been inserted in a book, have 
 been preserved without a blemish. A duplicate set of these six Triumphs is in the British Museum, 
 printed from the plates after some re-engraving of them had taken place, which we must regard as 
 second states, since still later ones are known to exist. 
 
 The six prints in the first states from which these reproductions are taken were inserted and bound 
 in a folio edition of “ I Triumphi ” which formerly belonged to the library of the Earl of Sunderland, 
 and which was removed from Blenheim, and sold by auction in London in 1882. The volume 
 with the inserted prints was bought after the sale for the British Museum, by special Parliamentary 
 grant, for / 2,050. 
 
 The acquisition of an example of these rare prints in any state is an event to be noted in a life- 
 time ; but the opportunity of obtaining a perfect set, evidently issued together, and in the purest state 
 and condition, was, it must be admitted, a sufficient warrant for the Trustees of the British Museum 
 to recommend its purchase to the Treasury. 
 
 As a means of explaining the subjects illustrated in the prints of which reproductions are here 
 presented to the Public, it has been thought the best and simplest course to give opposite each print 
 a concise description of the part of the work depicted, and such extracts from the text of the poets as 
 will sufficiently explain the illustrations. 
 
 The reproductions, I am pleased to state, have been most successfully executed by Messrs. Dawson. 
 
 G. W. R. 
 
LIST OF PLATES. 
 
 MONTE SANCTO DI DIO. 
 
 1. — The Ladder to Heaven (Mount of Christ). 
 
 2. — Christ within the Vesica Piscis {Glory of Paradise). 
 
 3. — The Devourer of Souls {The Punishment of Hell). 
 
 LTNFERNO DEL DANTE. 
 
 I. — Illustrations to Cantos I., II. 
 
 III. (Two Engravings). 
 
 IV. , V. 
 
 VI., VII. 
 
 VIIL, IX. 
 
 X., XL 
 XIL, XIII. 
 
 XIV., XV. 
 
 XVI., XVII. 
 
 XVIII., XIX. 
 
 1. — Triumph of Love (“ Questo h colui”). 
 
 2. — Triumph of Chastity {‘^ Era la lor victoriosa insegna'f 
 
 3. — Triumph OF Death (“ ciechV^). 
 
 4. — Triumph of Fame (“ Ma per la turba ”). 
 
 5. — Triumph of Time {“Che piu d un giorno”). 
 
 6. — Triumph of Eternity {“ Beati spiriti^’). 
 
 , 3 * 
 
 4 - 
 
 5 - 
 
 6 . 
 
 7 - 
 
 8 . 
 
 9 - 
 
 10. 
 
 
 >5 
 
 I TRIOMFI DEL PETRARCA. 
 
IL LIBRO DEL MONTE SANCTO DI 
 
 DIO. 
 
 I. 
 
 The Author, in three separate treatises, the “Mount of Christ,” the “Glory of Paradise,” and the 
 “ Punishment of Hell,” teaches what should be the highest aim and perfect end of the faithful Christian, — 
 how he may by various degrees attain to the summit of Glory in Paradise. His ascent thereto is 
 allegorically represented as by a ladder placed firmly in the ground of wide-spread Knowledge and 
 Humility, and reaching up to the triple mount. Faith, Hope, and Charity, on the summit of which stands 
 his Saviour. This ladder is called Perseverance, one of its sides being called Prayer and the other 
 Sacrament. It has eleven steps, — the first. Prudence; the second. Temperance; the third. Fortitude; the 
 fourth. Justice ; the fifth. Fear ; the sixth. Piety ; the seventh. Knowledge ; the eighth. Fortitude the ninth. 
 Counsel; the tenth. Intellect; and the eleventh. Wisdom. Man, knowing his own weakness and feeling 
 himself held back by Blindness (Cecita), raises his eyes to the sublime height whence alone help can come, 
 and, having no confidence in his own strength, says, — “ I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence 
 cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord.” He then proceeds to mount the steps of the ladder ; 
 ascends the first four. Prudence, Temperance, Fortitude, and Justice; and by the exercise of these four 
 virtues he elevates himself to that height at which he may become as nearly perfect as possible for him to 
 be ; but the height of the mountain to which the ladder leads being supernatural and above the heavens, it 
 is necessary for the earnest Christian to be drawn up by the Divine help, and thus see God the King of 
 Glory. To him who has already ascended the first four steps God grants the Holy Spirit, which facilitates 
 his ascent of the remaining seven, making the whole eleven. 
 
 * Fortitude occurs a second time, it forming the third and eighth steps of the ladder. 
 
 Facsimiles of Early Italian Engravings. 
 
 c 
 
&nt 1 a 
 
 INTELECTO 
 
 N* A. T'W'- ~ * 
 
 CONSl GUO 
 
 SClENTiA 
 
 PI ETA 
 
 
 timo 
 
 epERAH^A 
 
 om^^9A 
 
 
 PRVD ENTIA 
 
 :5i\miiirA 
 
IL LIBRO DEL MONTE SANCTO DI DIO. 
 
 IK the second treatise the “ Glory of Paradise ” is then treated upon by the author, and ts “y^ 
 
 full-length figure of Jesus Christ standing in one of the almond-shaped glorres (mandorla) m whtch the 
 
 “IrpiA, Jin g.n„.l .he «t ihn »«»• — » 
 
 surround the image of the Saviour. 
 
 D 
 
 Bacsimiles of Early Italian Engtavtnsi, 
 

IL LIBRO DEL MONTE SANCTO DI DIO. 
 
 III. 
 
 In the third treatise the Punishments of Hell are treated on. They are described as mental sufferings, 
 corporal pain, and eternal torment in fire within the bowels of the earth. The author does not describe 
 the various kinds of horrible tortures depicted as being inflicted by demons in the print, which are 
 mainly those adapted from the fresco of Hell executed in the fourteenth century by Bernardo Orcagna, 
 still in existence in the Campo Santo at Pisa. 
 
 Facsimiles of Early Italian Engravings. 
 
 E 
 
DANTE’S INFERNO— CANTO I. 
 
 Dante loses himself at night in a gloomy wood, and at daybreak, reaching the foot ot a mountain, 
 in attempting its ascent is molested by a panther, a lion, and a wolf. He then meets the spirit of 
 Virgil, who tells him, if he will follow, he will show him the punishments of Hell and Purgatory, and 
 be afterwards conducted by a worthier spirit (Beatrice) into Paradise. Virgil moves on, Dante 
 following him : — 
 
 I found me in a gloomy wood astray. 
 
 Gone from the path direct : and e’en to tell 
 It were no easy task, how savage wild 
 That forest, how robust its growth. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 But when a mountain’s foot I reach’d, where closed 
 The valley that had pierced my heart with dread, 
 
 I look’d aloft, and saw his shoulders broad 
 Already vested with that planet’s beam 
 Who leads all wand’rers safe through ev’ry way. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Scarce the ascent 
 
 Began, when, lo ! a panther, nimble, light. 
 
 And cover’d with a speckled skin, appear’d ; 
 
 Nor, when it saw me, vanish’d ; rather strove 
 To check my onward going ; that ofttimes 
 With purpose to retrace my steps, I turn’d. 
 
 ***** 
 
 And by new dread succeeded, when in view 
 A lion came ’gainst me as it appear’d. 
 
 With his head held aloft and hunger-mad. 
 
 That e’en the air was fear-struck. A she-wolf 
 Was at his heels. 
 
 ***** 
 
 While to the lower space with backward step 
 I fell, my ken discern’d the form of one 
 Whose voice seem’d faint through long disuse of speech. 
 When him in that great desert I espied, 
 
 “ Have mercy on me,” cried I out aloud, 
 
 “ Spirit ! or living man ! whate’er thou be.” 
 
 He answer’d : “Now not man, man once I was.” 
 ***** 
 
 “ I, for thy profit pond’ring, now devise 
 That thou mayst follow me ; and I, thy guide. 
 
 Will lead thee hence through an eternal space. 
 
 Where thou shalt hear despairing shrieks and see 
 Spirits of old tormented, who invoke 
 A second death ; and those next view, who dwell 
 Content in fire, for that they hope to come, 
 
 Whene’er the time may be, among the blest. 
 
 Into whose regions, if thou then desire 
 To ascend, a spirit worthier than I 
 Must lead thee, in whose charge when I depart 
 Thou shalt be left.” 
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 Dante distrusts his own strength unaided being sufficient for undertaking the proposed journey. Virgil 
 encourages him, and relates how Beatrice had appeared to him and besought him to assist Dante. His 
 courage becomes restored, and he begs Virgil to lead on, and he will follow his guide, master, and lord : — 
 
 “ Myself I deem not worthy, and none else 
 Will deem me. I, if on this voyage, then, 
 
 I venture, fear it will in folly end. 
 
 Thou, who art wise, better my meaning know’st 
 Than I can speak.” * * * 
 
 * * <( jf right thy words 
 
 I scan,” replied that shade magnanimous, 
 
 “ Thy soul is by vile fear assail’d, which oft 
 So overcasts a man that he recoils 
 From noblest resolution, like a beast 
 At some false semblance in the twilight gloom. 
 
 That from this terror thou mayst free thyself, 
 
 I will instruct thee why I came, and what 
 I heard in that same instant, when for thee 
 Grief touch’d me first. I was among the tribe 
 Who rest suspended, when a dame, so blest 
 And lovely I besought her to command. 
 
 Call’d me ; her eyes were brighter than the star 
 Of day ; and she, with gentle voice and soft 
 Angelically tuned, her speech address’d : 
 
 ‘ O courteous shade of Mantua ! thou whose fame 
 Yet lives and shall live long as nature lasts ! 
 
 A friend not of my fortune but myself 
 On the wide desert on his road has met 
 Hindrance so great, that he through fear has turn’d. 
 Now, much I dread lest he past help have stray’d. 
 
 And I be risen too late for his relief, 
 
 From what in heaven of him I heard. Speed now. 
 
 And by thy eloquent persuasive tongue. 
 
 And by all means for his deliverance meet. 
 
 Assist him. So to me will comfort spring. 
 
 I who now bid thee on this errand forth 
 Am Beatrice ! ’ 
 
 ***** 
 
 When she had ended her bright beaming eye.s 
 Tearful she turn’d aside ; whereat I felt 
 Redoubled zeal to serve thee. As she will’d 
 Thus am I come.” 
 
 ***** 
 
 As florets, by the frosty air of night 
 
 Bent down and closed when day has blanch’d their leaves. 
 
 Rise all unfolded on their spiry stems ; 
 
 So was my fainting vigour new-restored. 
 
 And to my heart such kindly courage ran. 
 
 That I as one undaunted soon replied : 
 
 “ O full of pity she, who undertook 
 My succour ! and thou kind, who didst perform 
 So soon her true behest ! With such desire 
 Thou has disposed me to renew my voyage. 
 
 That my first purpose fully is resumed. 
 
 Lead on : one only will is in us both. 
 
 Thou art my guide, my master thou, and lord.” 
 
 Facsimiles of Early Italian Engravings. 
 
 F 
 
DANTE’S INFERNO— CANTO III. 
 
 Dante follows Virgil to the gate of Hell, on which the former reads the terrible inscription. Led by 
 Virgil, Dante enters the portal. He then beholds a throng of spirits, who rend the air with groans, cries, 
 and lamentations. The pair then pass on to the river Acheron, where they find the ferryman Charon, who 
 conveys the spirits across it. Dante, overcome by fear and terror at what he sees, falls down senseless as if 
 in sleep : — 
 
 “ Through me you pass into the city of woe ; 
 Through me you pass into eternal pain : 
 
 Through me, amongst the people lost for aye. 
 Justice the founder of my fabric moved. 
 
 To rear me was the task of power divine, 
 Supremest wisdom and primeval love. 
 
 Before me things create were none, save things 
 Eternal, and eternal I endure. 
 
 All hope abandon, ye who enter here !” 
 
 * * * * * 
 Here sighs, with lamentations and loud moans. 
 Resounded through the air pierced by no star, 
 That e’en I wept at ent’ring * * 
 
 I then : “ Master, what doth aggrieve them thus 
 That they lament so loud ? ” He straight replied, 
 “ That will I tell thee briefly. These of death 
 No hope may entertain ; and their blind life 
 So meanly passes, that all other lots 
 They envy. Fame of them the world hath none. 
 Nor suffers; Mercy and Justice scorn them both. 
 Speak not of them, but look and pass them by.” 
 
 A nd I, who straightway look’d, beheld a flag. 
 Which whirling ran around so rapidly, 
 
 That it no pause obtain’d ; and following came 
 Such a long train of spirits, I should ne’er 
 
 Have thought that death so many had despoil’d. 
 
 * * * * * 
 Till we had reach’d the river, I from speech 
 Abstain’d. And, lo ! towards us in a bark 
 Comes on an old man, hoary white with eld. 
 Crying, “ Woe to you, wicked spirits ! hope not 
 Ever to see the sky again. I come 
 To take you to the other shore, across 
 Into eternal darkness, there to dwell 
 In fierce heat and in ice * * * 
 
 Then all together, sorely wailing, drew 
 To the cursed strand, that every man must pass 
 Who fears not God. Charon, demoniac form, 
 With eyes of burning coal, collects them all, 
 Beck’ning, and each that lingers with his oar 
 Strikes. * * * * 
 
 Thus go they over through the umber’d wave, 
 
 And ever they on the opposing bank 
 Be landed, on this side another throng 
 Still gathers. * * * * 
 
 Fear chills my brow. The sad earth gave a blast. 
 
 That, light’ning, shot forth a vermilion flame. 
 Which all my senses conquer’d quite, and I 
 Down dropp’d as one with sudden slumber seized. 
 
 CANTO III A. 
 
 Repetition varying, as will be seen, materially in the design from the last, and not belonging to the 
 set ; it is, however, placed by Bartsch at the end of the series. William Young Ottley appears to be 
 of an opinion that this composition was designed and engraved by another hand, and no doubt he is 
 perfectly correct. 
 
 Facsimiles of Early Italian Engravings 
 
 G 
 
DANTE’S INFERNO— CANTO IV. 
 
 A HEAVY clap of thunder rouses Datite from the swoon into which he has fallen. . Following Virgil, he 
 descends into Limbo, the first circle of Hell, the abode of those who, though not sinners, have not been 
 baptised ; amongst these he meets many men of great renown, — Homer, Horace, Ovid, Lucan. These, 
 beckoning him, lead him on to a magnificent castle, begirt by seven lofty walls enclosing a verdant mead, 
 where he is shown many great spirits of antiquity. His guide then leads him into the second circle of 
 Hell 
 
 Broke the deep slumber in my brain a crash 
 Of heavy thunder, that I shook myself. 
 
 As one by main force roused. 
 
 ***** 
 
 “ Now let us to the blind world there beneath 
 Descend,” the bard began, all pale of look, 
 
 * * * Onward, this said, he moved, 
 
 And, ent’ring, led me with him, on the bounds 
 Of the first circle that surrounds th’ abyss. 
 
 Here, as mine ear could note, no plaint was heard 
 Except of sighs, that made th’ eternal air 
 Tremble, not caused by tortures, but from grief 
 Felt by those multitudes, many and vast, 
 
 Of men, women, and infants. Then to me 
 The gentle guide : “ Inquires! thou not what spirits 
 Are these which thou behold’st ? Ere thou pass 
 Farther, I would thou know that these of sin 
 Were blameless ; and, if aught they merited. 
 
 It profits not, since baptism was not theirs. 
 
 The portal to thy faith. If they before 
 The Gospel lived, they served not God aright ; 
 
 And among such am I. For these defects, 
 
 And for no other evil, we are lost. 
 
 Only so far afflicted that we live 
 
 Desiring without hope ” * * * 
 
 Meantime a voice I heard : “ Honour the bard 
 Sublime ! his shade returns that left us late.” 
 
 No sooner ceased the sound than I beheld 
 Four mighty spirits towards us bend their steps. 
 
 Of semblance neither sorrowful nor glad. 
 
 When thus my master kind began : “ Mark him. 
 
 Who in his right hand bears that falchion keen. 
 
 The other three preceding, as their lord. 
 
 This is that Homer of all bards supreme ; 
 
 Flaccus the next, in Satire’s vein excelling ; 
 
 The third is Naso j Lucan is the last.” 
 
 * , * * * At foot 
 
 Of a magnificent castle we arrived. 
 
 Seven times with lofty walls begirt, and round, 
 
 Defended by a pleasant stream. O’er this 
 
 As o’er dry land we pass’d. Next through seven gates 
 
 I with those sages enter’d, and we came 
 
 Into a mead with lively verdure fresh. 
 
 ***** 
 
 We to one side retired, into a place 
 Open and bright and lofty, whence each one 
 Stood manifest to view. Incontinent, 
 
 There on the green enamel of the plain 
 Were shown me the great spirits, by whose sight 
 I am exalted in my own esteem. 
 
 CANTO V. 
 
 Descending into the second circle, Dante encounters at the entrance Minos, the judge of the Infernal 
 Regions, who bids him beware entering lest harm come to him. There he beholds the punishments of 
 carnal sinners who are incessantly blown about by violent winds in darkness, among whom he sees the 
 spirits of Semiramis, Cleopatra, Achilles, Helen, Paris, and others. Seeing Francesca de Rimini, and her 
 lover Malatesta, she relates her sad love-story, which so overpowers his feelings that he faints : — 
 
 From the first circle I descended thus 
 Down to the second, which, a lesser space 
 Embracing, so much more of grief contains, 
 Provoking bitter moans. There Minos stands. 
 Grinning with ghastly feature ; he, of all 
 Who enter, strict examining the crimes. 
 
 Gives sentence, and dismisses them beneath. 
 According as he foldeth him around : 
 
 For, when before him comes th’ ill-fated soul. 
 
 It all confesses ; and that judge severe 
 Of sins, considering what place in hell 
 Suits the transgression, with his tail so oft 
 Himself encircles, as degrees beneath 
 He dooms it to descend. Before him stand 
 Alway a numerous throng ; and in his turn 
 Each one, to judgment passing, speaks, and hears 
 His fate, thence downward to his dwelling hurl’d. 
 ***** 
 
 Into a place I came 
 
 Where light was silent all. Bellowing there groan’d 
 A noise as of a sea in tempest torn 
 By warring winds. The stormy blast of Hell 
 
 Facsimiles of Early Italian Engravings. 
 
 With restless fury drives the spirits on. 
 
 Whirl’d round and dash’d amain with sore annoy. 
 ***** 
 
 When I had heard my sage instructor name 
 Those dames and knights of antique days, o’erpower’d 
 By pity, well-nigh in amaze my mind 
 Was lost ; and I began : “ Bard ! willingly 
 I would address those two together coming. 
 
 Which seem so light before the wind.” He thus : 
 
 “ Note thou, when near they to us approach ; 
 
 Then by that love which carries them along. 
 
 Entreat, and they will come.” Soon as the wind 
 Sway’d them towards us, I thus framed my speech : 
 
 ‘‘ O wearied spirits ! come and hold discourse 
 With us if by none else restrain’d.” As doves. 
 
 By fond desire invited, on wide wings 
 And firm, to their sweet nest returning home. 
 
 Cleave the air, wafted by their will along. 
 
 Thus, issued from that troop where Dido ranks. 
 
 They, through the ill air speeding, with such force 
 My cry prevail’d, by strong affection urged. 
 
 H 
 
 / 
 
DANTE’S INFERNO— CANTO VI. 
 
 Recovering from his insensibility, Dante arrives in the third circle, and finds himself in the midst of souls 
 tormented for gluttony by ceaseless showers of hailstones, sleet, and discoloured foul water pouring on 
 them. He sees Cerberus, the cruel three-headed monster, flaying and tearing the limbs of his victims in 
 pieces with his claws. A noted glutton called Ciacco tells Dante of the discord that will happen at 
 Florence. Passing on, discoursing with his guide, he comes to the fourth circle, where he meets Plutus : — 
 
 My sense reviving, that erewhile had droop’d 
 With pity for the kindred shades, whence grief 
 O’ercame me wholly, straight around I see 
 New torments, new tormented souls, which way 
 Soe’er I move, or turn, or bend my sight. 
 
 In the third circle I arrive, of showers 
 Ceaseless, accursed, heavy and cold, unchanged 
 For ever, both in kind and in degree. 
 
 Large hail discolour’d water, sleety flow 
 Through the dun midnight air stream’d down amain, 
 Stank all the land whereon that tempest fell. 
 Cerberus, cruel monster, fierce and strange. 
 
 Through his wide threefold throat, barks as a dog 
 Over the multitude immersed beneath. 
 
 His eyes glare crimson, black his unctuous beard. 
 His belly large, and claw’d the hands, with which 
 He tears the spirits, flays them, and their limbs 
 Piecemeal disparts. Howling, there spread, as curs. 
 Under the rainy deluge, with one side 
 The other screening • oft they roll them round, 
 
 A wretched, godless crew. When that great worm 
 Descried us savage Cerberus, he oped 
 
 His jaws, and the fangs show’d us ; not a limb 
 Of him but trembled. Then my guide, his palms 
 Expanding on the ground, thence fill’d with earth 
 Raised them, and cast it in his ravenous maw. 
 E’en as a dog, that yelling bays for food 
 His keeper, when the morsel comes, lets fall 
 His fury, bent alone with eager haste 
 To swallow it; so dropp’d the loathsome cheeks 
 Of demon Cerberus, who thundering stuns 
 The spirits, that they for deafness wish in vain, 
 ***** 
 
 “ Inform me 
 
 Who thou art, that in a place so sad 
 Art set, and in such torment, that, although 
 Other be greater, none disgusteth more.” 
 
 * * * “Ye citizens 
 
 Were wont to name me Ciacco. For the sin 
 Of gluttony, damn’d vice, beneath this rain 
 E’en as thou see’st, I with fatigue am worn ; 
 
 Nor I sole spirit in this woe ; all these 
 Have by like crime incurr’d like punishment.” 
 
 CANTO VII. 
 
 Dante encounters Plutus, who, rebuked by Virgil, falls back, and they, passing on, descend to the fourth 
 circle, where they see the prodigal and avaricious, amongst whom are Popes, Cardinals, Kings, &c., 
 suffering the punishment assigned them, namely, pushing weights with their breasts against each other ; 
 then crossing the fifth circle, descending to the Stygian lake, in whose filthy waters the angry are tormented. 
 Afterwards they arrive at the base of a tower ; — 
 
 “Ah me ! O Satan ! Satan !” loud exclaim’d 
 Plutus, in accent hoarse of wild alarm. 
 
 And the kind sage, whom no event surprised. 
 
 To comfort me thus spake : “ Let not thy fear 
 Harm thee, for power in him, be sure, is none 
 To hinder down this rock thy safe descent.” 
 
 Then to that swoln lip turning, “ Peace ! ” he cried, 
 
 “ Cursed wolf ! thy fury inward on thyself • 
 
 Prey and consume thee ! Through the dark profound, 
 Not without cause, he passes. ' So ’tis will’d 
 On high.” * * * * 
 
 As sails, full-spread and bellying with the wind, 
 
 Drop suddenly collapsed if the mast split. 
 
 So to the ground down dropp’d the cruel fiend. 
 
 Thus we, descending to the fourth steep ledge. 
 
 Gain’d on the dismal shore, that all the woe 
 Hems in of all the universe * * * 
 
 New pains, new troubles, as I here beheld 
 Wherefore doth fault of ours bring us to this ? 
 
 E’en as a billow on Charybdis rising, 
 
 Against encounter’d billow dashing breaks; 
 
 F'acsimtles of Early Italian Engravings, 
 
 Such is the dance this wretched race must lead. 
 
 Whom more than elsewhere numerous here I found. 
 From one side and the other, with loud voice, 
 
 Both roll’d on weights, by main force of their breasts, 
 Then smote together, and each one forthwith 
 Roll’d them back voluble, turning again ; 
 
 Exclaiming these, “ Why hold’st thou so fast ? ” 
 
 Those answering, “ And why castest thou away ? ” 
 
 So, still repeating their despiteful song, 
 
 They to the opposite point, on either hand. 
 
 Traversed the horrid circle ; then arrived. 
 
 Both turn’d them round, and through the middle space 
 Conflicting met again. * * * 
 
 * * * We the circle cross’d 
 
 To the next steep, arriving at a well. 
 
 That boiling pours itself down to a foss 
 Sluiced from its source. Far murkier was the wave 
 Than sablest grain : and we in company 
 Of the inky waters, journeying by their side. 
 
 Enter’d, though by a different tract, beneath 
 Into a lake, the Stygian named. 
 
 I 
 

DANTES INFERNO— CANTO VIII. 
 
 Phlegyas, the ferryman of the lake, summoned by the signal of two cressets, comes in his bark towards 
 Dante and Virgil. They step into the vessel, and are rowed along the miry stream, on their way meeting 
 with the spirit of Filippo Argenti, who, stretching forth his hands to them, is thrust back by Virgil. 
 Arriving at the city of Dis, they find its gates closed against them by Demons, which angers Virgil : — 
 
 My theme pursuing, I relate that ere 
 We reach’d the lofty turret’s base, our eyes 
 Its height ascended, where we mark’d unhung 
 Two cressets, and another saw from far 
 Return the signal. * * * * ***** * '* 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 Never was arrow from the cord dismiss’d 
 That ran its way so nimbly through the air, 
 
 As a small bark, that through the waves I spied 
 Toward us coming, under the sole sway 
 Of one that ferried it, who cried aloud : 
 
 “Art thou arrived, fell spirit?” “Phlegyas, Phlegyas, 
 This time thou criest in vain,” my lord replied ; 
 
 “ No longer shalt thou have us, but while o’er 
 The slimy pool we pass.” * * 
 
 * * My guide, descending, stepp’d 
 
 Into the skiff, and bade me enter next. 
 
 Close at his side ; nor till my entrance seem’d 
 The vessel freighted. Soon as both embark’d. 
 Cutting the waves, goes on the ancient prow, 
 
 More deeply than with others it is wont. 
 
 While we our course o’er the dead channel held. 
 
 One drench’d in mire before me came, and said : 
 
 “ Who art thou that thus comest ere thine hour ? ” 
 
 I answer’d : “ Though I come, I tarry not ; 
 
 But who art thou that art become so foul ? ” 
 
 “ One as thou see’st who mourns,” he straight replied. 
 To which I thus : “ In mourning and in woe. 
 
 Cursed spirit, tarry thou. I know thee well 
 E’en thus in filth disguised.” Then stretch’d he forth 
 Hands to the bark ; whereof my teacher sage 
 Aware, thrusting him back : “ Away, down there. 
 
 To the other dogs ! ” * * * 
 
 And thus the good instructor : “Now my son 
 Draws near the city that of Dis is named. 
 
 With its grave denizens, a mighty throng.” 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 We came within the fosses deep that moat 
 This region comfortless. The walls appear’d 
 As they were framed of iron. * * 
 
 * * * Upon the gates I spied 
 
 More than a thousand who of old from heaven 
 Were shower’d. With ireful gestures, “ Who is this,” 
 They cried, “ that, without death first felt, goes through 
 The regions of the dead ? ” * * 
 
 * * * Closed were the gates. 
 
 By those our adversaries, on the breast 
 
 Of my liege lord. 
 
 CANTO IX. 
 
 Dante beholds at top of a tower the three Furies enveloped in flames, who call upon Medusa to change 
 him to stone. Lest this should happen by Dante’s viewing her, Virgil covers with his hands the eyes of 
 Dante. An angel then appears gliding over the lake, who with a touch of a wand causes the gates to open. 
 Entering the city, they come where heretics are suffering the punishments allotted them in sepulchres 
 of fire : — 
 
 * * Mine eye toward the lofty tower 
 
 Had drawn me wholly to its burning top. 
 
 Where in an instant I beheld uprisen 
 
 At once three hellish Furies, stain’d with blood. 
 
 In limb and motion feminine they seem’d ; 
 
 Around them greenest Hydras twisting roll’d 
 Their volumes ; adders and cerastes crept 
 Instead of hair, and their fierce temples bound. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Their breast they each one clawing tore ; themselves 
 Smote with their palms, and such shrill clamour raised. 
 That to the bard I clung, suspicion-bound. 
 
 “ Hasten, Medusa ; so to adamant 
 
 Him shall we change all, looking down, exclaim’d : 
 
 “ E’en when by Theseus’ might assail’d, we took 
 No ill revenge.” “Turn thyself round and keep 
 Thy countenance hid ; for, if the Gorgon dire 
 Be shown, and thou shouldst view it, thy return 
 Upwards would be for ever lost.” This said. 
 
 Himself, my gentle master, turn’d me round ; 
 
 Nor trusted he my hands, but with his own 
 He also hid me. * * * 
 
 Mine eyes he loosed, and spake : “ And now direct 
 Thy visual nerve along that ancient foam. 
 
 There thickest where the smoke ascends.” As frogs 
 Before their foe, the serpent, through the wave 
 Ply swiftly all, till at the ground each one 
 Lies on a heap ; more than a thousand spirits 
 Destroy’d, so saw I fleeing before one 
 Who pass’d with unwet feet the Stygian sound. 
 
 He, from his face removing the gross air. 
 
 Oft his left hand forth stretch’d, and seem’d alone 
 By that annoyance wearied. I perceived 
 That he was sent from Heaven ; and to my guide 
 Turn’d me, who signal made that I should stand 
 Quiet, and bend to him. Ah, me ! how full 
 Of noble anger seem’d he. To the gate 
 He came, and with his wand touch’d it, whereat 
 Open without impediment it flew. 
 
 Fttcsifniles oy Early Italian Engravings, 
 
 K 
 
DANTE’S INFERNO— CANTO X. 
 
 Having entered the gate, and proceeding by a secret path, Dante and his guide enter the region where 
 heretics are undergoing torments in burning sepulchres. Dante discourses with Farinata degli Uberti and 
 
 Cavalcante Cavalcanti, lying in their fiery tombs, 
 region, they pass by a path through a noisome valley 
 
 I, soon as enter’d, throw mine eye around. 
 
 And see, on every part, wide-stretching space, 
 
 Replete with bitter pain and torment ill. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 The place is all thick-spread with sepulchres ; 
 
 So was it here, save what in horror here 
 
 Excell’d j for midst the graves were scatter’d flames. 
 
 Wherewith intensely all throughout they bum’d. 
 
 That iron for no craft there hotter needs. 
 ***** 
 
 “ Lo ! Farinata there, who hath himself 
 Uplifted j from his girdle upwards, all 
 Exposed, behold him.” 
 
 ***** 
 
 Then, peering forth from the unclosed jaw, 
 
 Rose from his side a shade, high as the chin. 
 
 Leaning, methought, upon its knees upraised. 
 
 It look’d around, as eager to explore 
 If there were other with me ; but, perceiving 
 
 The former predicts Dante’s exile. Leaving this 
 
 That fond imagination quench’d, with tears 
 
 Thus spake : “ If thou through this blind prison goest. 
 
 Led by thy lofty genius and profound, 
 
 Where is my son ? and wherefore not with thee ? ” 
 
 I straight replied : “ Not of myself I come ; 
 
 By him who there expects me, through this clime 
 Conducted, whom perchance Guido thy son 
 Had in contempt.” * * * 
 
 ***** 
 Meanwhile the other, great of soul, near whom 
 I yet was station’d, changed not count’nance stern. 
 Nor moved the neck, nor bent his ribbed side. 
 
 “ And if,” continuing the first discourse, 
 
 “ They in this art,” he cried, “ small skill have shown. 
 That doth torment me more e’en than this bed. 
 
 But not yet fifty times shall be relumed 
 
 Her aspect, who reigns here Queen of this realm 
 
 Ere thou shalt know the full weight of that art. 
 ***** 
 
 CANTO XL 
 
 Dante and Virgil come to the verge of a high bank surrounded by craggy rocks which encloses the seventh 
 circle. Dante marks a sepulchre bearing a scroll with the words upon it, “ I have in charge Pope Anastatius, 
 whom Photinus drew from the right path.” Both retiring behind the lid of this tomb, to avoid the fetid 
 exhalations rising from the abyss, Virgil instructs Dante as to the disposition of the three following circles, 
 and as to what sinners are therein punished, and, after discoursing on other subjects, they pass on to a steep 
 passage leading towards the seventh circle : — 
 
 Upon the utmost verge of a high bank, 
 
 By craggy rocks environ’d round, we came. 
 
 Where woes beneath, more cruel yet, were stow’d : 
 
 And here, to shun the horrible excess 
 
 Of fetid exhalation upward cast 
 
 From the profound abyss, behind the lid 
 
 Of a great monument we stood retired, 
 
 Whereon this scroll I mark’d : “ I have in charge 
 Pope Anastatius, whom Photinus drew 
 From the right path.” — “ Ere our descent, behoves. 
 We make delay, that somewhat first the sense. 
 
 To the dire breath accustom’d, afterward 
 Regard it not.” My master thus ; to whom, 
 Answering, I spake : “ Some compensation find. 
 That the time pass not wholly lost.” He then : 
 
 “ Lo ! how my thoughts e’en to thy wishes tend. 
 My son ! Within these rocks,” he thus began, 
 
 “ Are three close circles in gradation placed. 
 
 To these which now thou leav’st. Each one is full 
 Of spirits accursed ; but, that the sight alone 
 Hereafter may suffice thee, listen how 
 And for what cause in durance they abide.” 
 
 ***** 
 
 * * * “ But follow now 
 
 My steps on forward journey bent; for now 
 The Pisces play with undulating glance 
 Along the horizon, and the Wain lies all 
 O’er the north-west ; and onward there a space 
 Is our steep passage down the rocky height.” 
 
 Facsimiles of Early Italian Engravii:igs. 
 
 L 
 
V 
 
 - .Xi 
 
 f 
 
DANTE’S INFERNO — CANTO XII. 
 
 Dante and his guide descend the precipice by a rough craggy way to the seventh circle. Encountering 
 the Minotaur, Virgil bids him stand aside, and they descend to the river of blood, wherein are immersed 
 Aose who have injured others by violence, at whom Centaurs, running along the banks, aim arrows. 
 
 If they attempt to emerge from it. Being opposed by three of these.-Chiron, Nessus, and Pholus,— Virgil 
 prevails on N essus to carry Dante across the stream : — 
 
 The place, where to descend the precipice 
 We came, was rough as Alp ; and on its verge 
 Such object lay as every eye would shun. 
 
 * * * * .jf. 
 
 At point of the disparted ridge lay stretch’d 
 The infamy of Crete, detested brood 
 Of the feign’d heifer : and, at sight of us, 
 
 It gnaw’d itself, as one with rage distract. 
 
 To him my guide exclaim’d : ‘‘Perchance thou deem’st 
 The King of Athens here, who, in the world 
 Above, thy death contrived. Monster avaunt ! 
 
 He comes not tutor’d by thy sister’s art, 
 
 But to behold your torments is he come.” 
 ***** 
 
 “ But fix thine eyes beneath : the river of blood 
 Approaches, in which all those are steep’d 
 Who have by violence injured.” * * 
 
 * * * * . I beheld 
 
 An ample fosse, that in a bow was bent. 
 
 As circling all the plain j for so my guide 
 Had told. Between it and the ramparts’ base. 
 
 On trail ran Centaurs, with keen arrows arm’d 
 As to the chase they on the earth were wont. 
 
 At seeing us descend they each jone stood ; 
 
 And, issuing from the troop, three sped with bows 
 And missile weapons chosen first * * 
 
 Then me he touch’d and spake : “ Nessus is this, 
 Who for the fair Dejanira died. 
 
 And wrought himself revenge for his own fate. 
 
 He in the midst, that on his breast looks down, 
 
 Is the great Chiron who Achilles nursed ; 
 
 That other Pholus prone to wrath.” Around 
 The fosse these go by thousands, aiming shafts * 
 
 At whatsoever spirit dares emerge 
 From out the blood, more than his guilt allows. 
 ***** 
 
 “To tread so wild a path, grant us, I pray. 
 
 One of thy band, whom we may trust secure. 
 
 Who to the ford may lead us, and convey 
 Across him mounted on his back ; for he 
 Is not a spirit that may walk the air.” 
 
 Then, on his right breast turning, Chiron thus 
 To Nessus spake : “ Return and be their guide. 
 
 And if ye chance to cross another troop. 
 
 Command them keep aloof.” Onward we moved. 
 The faithful escort by our side, along 
 The border of the crimson-seething flood. 
 
 Whence, from those steep’d within, loud shrieks arose. 
 
 CANTO XIII. 
 
 They then enter on a forest without a path, full of knotted trees covered with poisoned thorns, in which 
 the Harpies build their nests. In these gnarled trunks are shut up the spirits of those who have done 
 themselves violence,— among them Piero delle Vigne, Lano, and Giacomo St. Andrea. Dante tears off a 
 branch from one of the trees, which evokes reproaches from it. Certain black female mastiffs tear the 
 branches which contain the spirit of St. Andrea, the fragments of which Dante, at his request, gathers up ; 
 
 We enter’d on a forest, where no track 
 Of steps had worn a way. Not verdant there 
 The foliage, but of dusky hue ; not light 
 The boughs and tapering, but with knares deform’d 
 And matted thick : fruits there were none, but thorns 
 Instead, with venom fill’d. * * 
 
 Here the brute Harpies make their nest, the same 
 Who from Strophades the Trojan band 
 Drove with dire boding of their future woe. 
 
 Broad are their pennons, of the human form 
 Their neck and countenance, arm’d with talons keen. 
 The feet and the huge belly fledged with wings. 
 
 These sit and wail on the drear mystic wood. 
 ***** 
 
 On all sides 
 
 I heard sad plainings breathe, and none could see 
 From whom they might have issued. In amaze 
 Fast bound I stood. He, as it seem’d, believed 
 That I had thought so many voices came 
 From some amid those thickets close conceal’d. 
 
 And thus his speech resumed ; “ If thou lop off 
 A single twig from one of those ill plants. 
 
 The thought thou hast conceived shall vanish quite.” 
 
 Facsimiles of Early Italian Engravings, 
 
 Thereat, a little stretching forth my hand. 
 
 From a great wilding gather’d I a branch. 
 
 And straight the trunk exclaim’d : “ Why pluck’st thou me ? ’ 
 Then, as the dark blood trickled down its side. 
 
 These words it added : “ Wherefore tear’st me thus ? 
 
 Is there no touch of mercy in thy breast ? 
 
 Men once were we, that now are rooted here. 
 
 Thy hand might well have spared us, had we been 
 The souls of serpents.” * * * 
 
 * * * Behind them was a wood 
 
 Full of black female mastiffs, gaunt and fleet 
 As greyhounds that have newly slipp’d the leash. 
 
 On him, who squatted down, they struck their fangs, 
 
 And, having rent him piecemeal, bore away 
 The tortured limbs. * * * 
 
 * * * * My master spake : 
 
 “ Say, who wast thou, that at so many points 
 Breath’st out with blood thy lamentable speech ? ” 
 
 He answer’d : “O ye spirits ! arrived in time 
 To spy the shameful havoc that from me 
 My leaves hath sever’d thus, gather them up. 
 
 And at the foot of their sad parent-tree 
 Carefully lay them.” 
 
 M 
 
DANTE’S INFERNO— CANTO 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Dante and Virgil then enter on a plain of dry hot sand, wherein they see flocks of naked spirits being 
 tormented by flakes of fire continually showering down upon them. Here they see King Capaneus, who, 
 lying recumbent, as if in defiant dignity, addresses them. They, passing on, come to a streamlet of blood 
 running through the sandy plain : — 
 
 A plain we reach’d, that from its sterile bed 
 Each plant repell’d. The mournful wood waves round 
 Its garland on all sides, as round the wood 
 Spreads the sad fosse. There, on the very edge, 
 
 Out steps we stay’d. It was an area wide 
 Of arid sand and thick, * * * 
 
 Of naked spirits many a flock I saw, 
 
 All weeping piteously, to different laws 
 Subjected ; for on the earth some lay supine. 
 
 Some crouching close were seated, others paced 
 Incessantly around j the latter tribe 
 More numerous, those fewer who beneath 
 The torment lay, but louder in their grief. 
 
 O’er all the sand fell slowly, wafting down 
 Dilated flakes of fire, * * * 
 
 So fell the eternal fiery flood, wherewith 
 The marie glow’d underneath, * * 
 
 Unceasing was the play of wretched hands. 
 
 Now this, now that way glancing, to shake off 
 The heat still falling fresh. I thus began : 
 
 * * * * “ Say, who 
 
 Is yon huge spirit, that, as seems, heeds not 
 The burning, but lies writhen in proud scorn, 
 
 As by the sultry tempest immatured ? ” 
 
 Straight he himself, who was aware I ask’d 
 My guide of him, exclaim’d : “ Such as I was 
 When living, dead such now I am. If Jove 
 Weary his workman out, from whom in ire 
 He snatch’d the lightnings, that at my last day 
 Transfix’d me ; if the rest he weary out. 
 
 At their black smithy labouring by turns. 
 
 In Mongibello, while he cries aloud : 
 
 ‘ Help, help, good Mulciber,’ as erst he cried 
 In the Phlegrsean warfare ; and the bolts 
 Launch he, full aim’d at me, with all his might ; 
 He never should enjoy a sweet revenge,” 
 
 Then, thus my guide, in accent higher raised 
 Than I before had heard him : “ Capaneus ! 
 Thou art more punish’d, in that this thy pride 
 Lives yet unquench’d : no torment, save thy rage, 
 Were to thy fury pain proportion’d full.” 
 
 * * Silently on we pass’d. 
 
 To where there gushes from the forest’s bound 
 A little brook, whose crimson’d wave yet lifts 
 My hair with horror. 
 
 CANTO XV. 
 
 Passing along one of the mounds which form the embankment of the stream, Dante and Virgil come 
 upon a troop of spirits, who, eyeing them, come beside the pier. They are the spirits of those who have 
 broken Nature’s laws. One of them catching at Dante’s skirt he recognises as Brunetto Latini, his former 
 tutor, with whom he discourses : — 
 
 One of the solid margins bears us now 
 Enveloped in the mist that, from the stream 
 Arising, hovers o’er, and saves from fire 
 Both piers and water. * * * 
 
 * * * We from the wood 
 
 Were now so far removed that, turning round, 
 
 I might not have discern’d it, when we met 
 A troop of spirits, who came beside the pier. 
 
 They each one eyed us, as at eventide 
 One eyes another under a new moon ; 
 
 And towards us sharpen’d their sight as keen 
 As an old tailor at his needle’s eye. 
 
 Thus narrowly explored by all the tribe, 
 
 I was agnised of one, who by the skirt 
 
 Caught me and cried : “ What wonder have we here ? ” 
 
 And I, when he to me outstretch’d his arm. 
 
 Intently fix’d my ken on his parch’d looks, 
 
 That, although smirch’d with fire, they hinder’d not 
 But I remember’d him ; and towards his face 
 My hand inclining answer’d : “ Ser Brunetto ! 
 
 Facsimiles of Early Italian Engravings. 
 
 And are ye here ? ” He thus to me ; “ My son ! 
 
 Oh, let it not displease thee, if Brunetto 
 
 Latini but; a little space with thee 
 
 Turn back, and leave his fellows to proceed. 
 
 I thus to him replied : “ Much as I can 
 I thereto pray thee ; and, if thou be willing 
 That I here seat me with thee, I consent ; 
 
 His leave, with whom I journey, first obtain’d.” 
 
 “ O son,” said he, “ whoever of this throng 
 One instant stops, lies then a hundred years, 
 
 No fan to ventilate him when the fire 
 Smites sorest. Pass thou therefore on. I close 
 Will at thy garments walk, and then rejoin 
 My troop, who go mourning their endless doom.” 
 ***** 
 
 Thereat my sapient guide upon his right 
 Turn’d himself back, then look’d at me, and spake ; 
 “ He listens to good purpose who takes note.” 
 
 I not the less still on my way proceed. 
 
 Discoursing with Brunetto. 
 
 N 
 

XIV 
 
 
 
 XV 
 
DANTE’S INFERNO— CANTO XVI. 
 
 Proceeding further along the mound the pair arrive near the end of the stream. Here Dante is accosted 
 by three of the spirits of his countrymen Guidoguerra, Aldobrandi, and Rusticucci. Arriving where the 
 
 stream descends into the eighth circle, Virgil throws 
 from its depths a monster of hideous shape : — 
 
 Now came I where the water’s din was heard, 
 
 As down it fell into the other round. 
 
 Resounding like the hum of swarming bees : 
 
 When forth together issued from a troop. 
 
 That pass’d beneath the fierce tormenting storm. 
 
 Three spirits, running swift. They towards us came, 
 
 And each one cried aloud : “ Oh ! do thou stay, 
 
 Whom, by the fashion of thy garb, we deem 
 To be some inmate of our evil land.” 
 
 ***** 
 
 “ If woe of this unsound and dreary waste,” 
 
 Thus one began, “ added to our sad cheer 
 Thus peel’d with flame, do call forth scorn on us 
 And our entreaties, let our great renown 
 Incline thee to inform us who thou art, 
 
 That dost imprint, with living feet unharm’d. 
 
 The soil of Hell ? He in whose track thou see’st 
 My steps pursuing, naked though he be 
 And reft of all, was of more high estate 
 Than thou believest : grandchild of the chaste 
 Gualdrada, him they Guidoguerra call’d. 
 
 Who in his lifetime many a noble act 
 
 into the abyss the girdle of Dante, which brings up 
 
 Achieved, both by his wisdom and his sword. 
 
 The other, next to me, that beats the sand, 
 
 Is Aldobrandi, name deserving well, 
 
 In the upper world, of honour ; and myself. 
 
 Who in this torment do partake with them. 
 
 Am Rusticucci.” * * * 
 
 ***** 
 
 I had a cord that braced my girdle round. 
 
 Wherewith I erst had thought fast bound to take 
 The painted leopard. This, when I had all 
 Unloosen’d from me (so my master bade), 
 
 I gather’d up, and stretch’d it forth to him. 
 
 Then to the right he turn’d, and from the brink 
 Standing few paces distant, cast it down 
 Into the deep abyss. * * * 
 
 Through the gross and murky air I spied 
 A shape come swimming up, that might have quell’d 
 The stoutest heart with wonder • in such guise 
 As one returns who hath been down to loose 
 An anchor grappled fast against some rock. 
 
 Or to aught else that in the salt wave lies. 
 
 Who, upward springing, close draws in his feet 
 
 CANTO XVII. 
 
 Virgil points out the monster Geryon, whom he beckons to him. Further on Dante beholds another tribe 
 of spirits tormented for having done violence to Art. Kach bears upon his breast an escutcheon with the 
 emblems of a lion, a goose, and a swine, the arms respectively of the Gianfigliazzi, the Ubbriacchi, and the 
 Scrovigni. After conversing with these Dante returns and finds Virgil seated on the back of the beast. 
 Encouraged to do the like, Dante mounts, and they descend together towards the eighth circle 
 
 “ Lo ! the fell monster with the deadly sting. 
 
 Who passes mountains, breaks through fenced walls 
 And firm embattled spears, and with his filth 
 Taints all the world.” Thus me my guide address’d. 
 And beckon’d him, that he should come to shore 
 
 Near to the stony causeway’s utmost edge. 
 ***** 
 
 His face the semblance of a just man’s wore. 
 
 So kind and gracious was its outward cheer ; 
 
 The rest was serpent all : two shaggy claws 
 Reach’d to the armpits ; and the back and breast 
 And either side were painted o’er with nodes 
 And orbits * * * In the void 
 
 Glancing, his tail upturn’d its venomous fork. 
 
 With sting like scorpion’s arm’d. 
 
 ***** 
 
 A little further on mine eye beholds 
 
 A tribe of spirits, seated on the sand. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Noting the visages of some who lay 
 Beneath the pelting of that dolorous fire. 
 
 One of them all I knew not ; but perceived 
 
 That, pendent from his neck, each bore a pouch 
 With colours and with emblems various mark’d. 
 On which it seem’d as if their eye did feed. 
 
 And, when amongst them looking round I came, 
 A yellow purse I saw with azure wrought, 
 
 That wore a lion’s countenance and port. 
 
 Then, still my sight pursuing its career. 
 
 Another I beheld than blood more red, 
 
 A goose display of whiter wing than curd. 
 
 And one who bore a fat and azure swine 
 
 Pictured on his white scrip. 
 ***** 
 
 Backward my steps from those sad spirits turn’d. 
 My guide already seated on the haunch 
 Of the fierce animal I found. * * 
 
 I settled me upon those shoulders huge. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 Soon as I mounted in his arms aloft. 
 
 Embracing held me up ; and thus he spake : 
 
 “ Geryon ! now move thee ; be thy wheeling gyres 
 Of ample circuit, easy thy descent. 
 
 Think on the unusual burden thou sustain’st.” 
 
 Facsimiles of Early Italian Engravings. 
 
 o 
 

 DANTE’S INFERNO— CANTO XVIII. 
 
 Descending from Geryon’s back at the foot of a rock in a region called Malebolge, near ten yawning chasms 
 flanked with bridges, Dante sees in one of them the spirits of swarms of naked sinners being scourged by 
 Demons. He catches sight of and accosts the spirit of Venedico Caccianimico. In another chasm he 
 
 sees other spirits immersed in ordure, amongst whom, searching with inquisitive eye, he recognises Alessio 
 and the courtezan Thais : — 
 
 There is a place within the depths of hell 
 Call’d Malebolge, all of rock dark-stain’d 
 With hue ferruginous, e’en as the steep 
 That round it circling winds. Right in the midst 
 Of that abominable region, yawns 
 A spacious gulf profound, whereof the frame 
 Due time shall tell. The circle that remains. 
 Throughout its round, between the gulf and base 
 Of the high craggy banks, successive forms 
 Ten bastions in its hollow bottom raised. 
 ***** 
 
 From Geryon’s back dislodged, the bard to left 
 Held on his way, and I behind him moved. 
 
 On our right hand new misery I saw, 
 
 New pains, new executioners of wrath. 
 
 That swarming peopled the first chasm. Below 
 Were naked sinners. Hitherward they came. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 Each diverse way, along the grisly rock, 
 
 Horn’d Demons I beheld, with lashes huge. 
 
 That on their back unmercifully smote. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Meantime, as on I pass’d, one met my sight. 
 
 Whom soon as view’d, “ Of him,” cried I, “ not yet 
 Mine eye hath had its fill.” I therefore stay’d 
 My feet to scan him, and the teacher kind 
 Paused with me, and consented I should walk 
 Backward a space ; and the tormented spirit. 
 
 Who thought to hide him, bent his visage down. 
 
 But it avail’d him naught ; for I exclaim’d ; 
 
 “ Thou who dost cast thine eye upon the ground. 
 Unless thy features do belie thee much, 
 
 Venedico art thou.” * * * 
 
 * * * Now had we come 
 
 Where, crossing the next pier, the straiten’d path 
 Bestrides its shoulders to another arch. 
 
 And thence I saw within the fosse below, 
 
 A crowd immersed in ordure, that appear’d 
 Draff of the human body. There beneath, 
 Searching with eye inquisitive, I mark’d 
 One with his head so grimed, ’twere hard to deem 
 If he were clerk or layman. * * 
 
 “And thou Alessio art, of Lucca sprung.” 
 
 CANTO XIX. 
 
 Dante and Virgil reach the third chasm, where those condemned for simony are punished by being 
 fixed head downwards in circular pits, their legs only appearing ; on the soles of their feet burning flames 
 play continually. Dante, descending with his guide to the fourth pier, finds Pope Nicholas the Fifth, with 
 
 whom he converses. Afterwards Virgil, catching Dante in his arms, carries him back to the arch leading to 
 the fifth pier : — 
 
 Upon the following vault 
 We now had mounted, where the rock impends 
 Directly o’er the centre of the fosse. * 
 
 ***** 
 
 I saw the livid stone, throughout the sides 
 And in its bottom, full of apertures. 
 
 All equal in their width, and circular each. 
 
 * * * From out the mouth 
 
 Of every one emerged a sinner’s feet. 
 
 And of the legs high upward as the calf. 
 
 The rest beneath was hid. On either foot 
 The soles were burning ; whence the flexile joints 
 Glanced with such violent motion, as had snapt 
 Asunder cords or twisted withs. As flame. 
 Feeding on unctuous matter, glides along 
 The surface, scarcely touching where it moves, 
 
 So here from heel to point glided the flames. 
 ***** 
 
 Thereat on the fourth pier we came, we turn’d. 
 And on our left descended to the depth. 
 
 Facsimiles of Early Italian En^ravin^s. 
 
 A narrow strait, and perforated close. 
 
 Nor from his side my leader set me down. 
 
 Till to his orifice he brought whose limb 
 Quiv’ring express’d his pang. “ Whoe’er thou art. 
 Sad spirit ! thus reversed, and as a stake 
 Driv’n in the soil,” I in these words began • 
 
 “If thou be able, utter forth thy voice.” 
 ***** 
 
 “ What then of me requir’st ? If to know 
 So much imports thee who I am that thou 
 Hast therefore down the bank descended, learn 
 
 ■* f 
 
 That in the mighty mantle I was robed, 
 
 And of a she-bear was indeed the son.” 
 
 ***** 
 
 * * * In both arms 
 
 He caught, and to his bosom lifting me. 
 
 Upward retraced the way of his descent. 
 
 Nor weary of his weight he press’d me close. 
 
 Till to the summit of the rock we came. 
 
 Our passage from the fourth to the fifth pier. 
 
 P 
 
PETRARCH’S TRIUMPHS. 
 
 THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE. 
 
 The Poet relates a vision he had at break of day at Vaiicluse, in which he beheld Love seated on a chariot 
 of fire drawn by four white horses, having Jupiter chained to the front of it, behind which followed a 
 prodigious number of Love’s prisoners, whose names he learns from a friend who is amongst them. In three 
 other chapters the poet relates an interview he had with King Masinissa, Sophonisba, Seleucus, and 
 Antiochus, and speaks of and names a great number of other lovers, and finally describes their triumphs 
 and torments : — 
 
 It was the time when I do sadly pay 
 My sighs, in tribute to that sweet-sour day, 
 
 Which first gave being to my tedious woes ; 
 
 The sun now o’er the Bull’s horns proudly goes. 
 
 And Phaeton had renew’d his wonted race ; 
 
 When Love, the season, and my own ill case. 
 
 Drew me that solitary place to find 
 In which I oft unload my charged mind : 
 
 There, tired with raving thoughts and helpless moan; 
 Sleep seal’d my eyes up, and, my senses gone, 
 
 My waking fancy spied a shining light, 
 
 In which appear’d long pain, and short delight. 
 
 A mighty General I then did see, 
 
 Like one who, for some glorious victory. 
 
 Should to the Capitol in triumph go : 
 
 I (who had not been used to such a show 
 In this soft age, where we no valour have. 
 
 But pride) admired his habit, strange and brave. 
 
 And having raised mine eyes, which wearied were, 
 
 To understand this sight was all my care. 
 
 Four snowy steeds a fiery chariot drew; 
 
 There sat the cruel boy ; a threatening yew 
 His right hand bore, his quiver arrows held, 
 
 Against whose force no helm or shield prevail’d. 
 
 Two party-col our’d wings his shoulders ware ; 
 
 All naked else ; and round about his chair 
 Were thousand mortals : some in battle ta’en. 
 
 Many were hurt with darts, and many slain. 
 
 Glad to learn news, I rose, and forward press’d 
 So far, that I was one amongst the rest ; 
 
 As if I had been kill’d with loving pain 
 Before my time ; and, looking through the train 
 Of this tear-thirsty king, I would have spied 
 Some of my old acquaintance, but descried 
 No face I knew : if any such there were. 
 
 They were transform’d with prison, death, and care. 
 
 At last one ghost, less sad than th’ others came. 
 
 Who, near approaching, call’d me by my name. 
 
 And said : “ This comes of Love.” “ What may you be, 
 I answer’d, wondering much, “ that thus know me ? 
 
 For I remember not t’have seen your face.” 
 
 He thus replied : “ It is the dusky place 
 That dulls thy sight, and this hard yoke I bear : 
 
 Else I a Tuscan am ; thy friend, and dear 
 To thy remembrance.” His wonted phrase 
 And voice did then discover what he was. 
 
 So we retired aside, and left the throng. 
 
 When thus he spake : “I have expected long 
 To see you here with us ; your face did seem 
 To threaten you no less. I do esteem 
 Your prophecies ; but I have seen what care 
 Attends a lover’s life ; and must beware.” 
 
 “ Yet have I oft been beaten in the field. 
 
 And sometimes hurt,” said I, “but scorn’d to yield.” 
 
 He smiled and said : “ Alas ! thou dost not see. 
 
 My son, how great a flame’s prepared for thee.” 
 
 I knew not then what by his words he meant : 
 
 But since I find it by the dire event ; 
 
 And in my memory ’tis fix’d so fast, 
 
 That marble gravings cannot firmer last. 
 
 Meanwhile my forward youth did thus inquire : 
 
 “ What may these people be ? I much desire 
 To know their names ; pray, give me leave to ask.” 
 
 “ I think ere long ’twill be a needless task,” 
 
 Replied my friend ; “ thou shalt be of the train, 
 
 And know them all ; this captivating chain 
 Thy neck must bear (though thou dost little fear), 
 And sooner change thy comely form and hair. 
 
 Than be unfetter’d from the cruel tie, 
 
 Howe’er thou struggle for thy liberty ; 
 
 Yet, to fulfil thy wish, I will relate 
 
 What I have learn’d. The first that keeps such state. 
 
 By whom our lives and freedoms we forego. 
 
 The world hath caWd him Love ; and he (^you know. 
 But shall know better when he mnes to be 
 A lord to you, as now he is to me) 
 
 Is in his childhood mild, fierce in his age ; 
 
 ’Tis best believed of those that feel his rage. 
 
 The truth of this thou in thyself shalt find, 
 
 I warn thee now, fray keep it in thy mind.* 
 
 Of idle looseness he is oft the child ; 
 
 With pleasant fancies nourish’d and is styled 
 Or made a god by vain and foolish men : 
 
 And for a recompense, some meet their bane ; 
 
 Others, a harder slavery must endure 
 
 Than many thousand chains and bolts procure. 
 
 That other gallant lord is conqueror 
 Of conquering Rome, led captive by the fair 
 Egyptian queen, with her persuasive art. 
 
 Who in his honours claims the greatest part ; 
 
 For binding the world’s victor with her charms. 
 
 His trophies are all hers by right of arms. 
 
 The next is his adoptive son, whose love 
 May seem more just, but doth no better prove ; 
 
 For though he did his loved Livia wed. 
 
 She was seducbd from her husband’s bed. 
 
 Nero is third, disdainful, wicked, fierce. 
 
 And yet a woman found a way to pierce 
 His angry soul. Behold, Marcus, the grave 
 Wise emperor, is fair Faustina’s slave. 
 
 These two are tyrants : Dionysius, 
 
 And Alexander, both suspicious. 
 
 And yet both loved : the last a just reward 
 Found of his causeless fear. I know y’ have heard 
 Of him, who for Creusa on the rock 
 Antandrus mourn’d so long ; whose warlike stroke 
 At once revenged his friend and won his love : 
 
 And of the youth whom Phsedra could not move 
 T’ abuse his father’s bed ; he left the place, 
 
 And by his virtue lost his life (for base 
 Unworthy loves to rage do quickly change). 
 
 It kill’d her too ; perhaps in just revenge 
 
 The lines in Italics are the rendering into English of the six lines in Italian at the foot of the print, the “Triumph 
 
 U1 XjUVC. 
 
 Facsimiles of Early Italian Engravings, 
 
 Q 
 
THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE. 
 
 Of wrong’d Theseus, slain Hippolytus, 
 
 And poor forsaken Ariadne : thus 
 It often proves that they who falsely blame 
 Another, in one breath themselves condemn : 
 
 And who have guilty been of treachery. 
 
 Need not complain, if they deceived be. 
 
 Behold the brave hero a captive made 
 With all his fame, and ’twixt these sisters led ; 
 
 Who, as he joy’d the death of th’ one to see, 
 
 His death did ease the other’s misery. 
 
 The next that followeth, though the world admire 
 His strength. Love bound him. Th’ other full of ire 
 Is great Achilles, he whose pitied fate 
 Was caused by Love. Demophoon did not hate 
 Impatient Phyllis, yet procured her death. 
 
 This Jason is, he whom Medea hath 
 Obliged by mischief ; she to her father proved 
 False, to her brother cruel ; t’ him she loved 
 Grew furious, by her merit over-prized. 
 
 Hypsipyle comes next, mournful, despised. 
 
 Wounded to see a stranger’s love prevail 
 More than her own, a Greek. Here is the frail 
 Fair Helena, with her the shepherd boy. 
 
 Whose gazing looks h^rt Greece, and ruin’d Troy. 
 
 ’Mongst other weeping souls, you hear the moan 
 (Enone makes, her Paris being gone ; 
 
 And Menelaus, for the woe he had 
 To lose his wife. Hermione is sad, 
 
 And calls her dear Orestes to her aid. 
 
 And Laodamia, that hapless maid. 
 
 Bewails Protesilaus. Argia proved 
 To Polynice more faithful than the loved 
 (But false and covetous) Amphiaraus’ wife. 
 
 The groans and sighs of those who lose their life 
 By this kind lord, in unrelenting flames 
 You hear : I cannot tell you half their names. 
 For they appear not only men that love. 
 
 The gods themselves do fill this myrtle grove : 
 You see fair Venus caught by Vulcan’s art 
 With angry Mars : Proserpina apart 
 From Pluto, jealous Juno, yellow-hair’d 
 Apollo, who the young god’s courage dared ; 
 And, of his trophies proud, laugh’d at the bow. 
 Which in Thessalia gave him such a blow. 
 
 What shall I say ? — here, in a word, are all 
 The gods that Varro mentions, great and small ; 
 Each with innumerable bonds detain’d. 
 
 And Jupiter before the chariot chain’d.” 
 

 
 
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PETRARCH’S TRIUMPHS.* 
 
 THE TRIUMPH OF CHASTITY. 
 
 The Poet relates the battle between Love and Chastity in the person of Laura, and describes the 
 victory and triumph of the latter, and the manner in which Chastity binds and leads Love prisoner to her 
 Temple at Rome accompanied by a troop of maids and chaste matrons, afterwards consecrating his bow 
 and arrows in memory of his defeat : — 
 
 When to one yoke at once I saw the height 
 Of gods and men subdued by Cupid’s might, 
 
 I took example from their cruel fate, 
 
 And by their sufferings eased my own hard state ; 
 
 Since Phoebus and Leander felt like pain, 
 
 The one a god, the other but a man ; 
 
 One snare caught Juno and the Carthage dame 
 (Her husband’s death prepared her funeral flame — 
 ’Twas not a cause that Virgil maketh one ) ; 
 
 I need not grieve that, unprepared, alone, 
 
 Unarm’d, and young, I did receive a wound. 
 
 Or that my enemy no hurt hath found 
 By Love ; or that she clothed him in my sight. 
 
 And took his wings, and marr’d his winding flight ; 
 
 No angry lions send more hideous noise 
 From their beat breasts, nor clashing thunder’s voice 
 Rends heaven, frights earth, and roareth through the air 
 With greater force than Love had raised, to dare 
 Encounter her of whom I write ; and she 
 As quick and ready to assail as he : 
 
 Enceladus when Etna most he shakes. 
 
 Nor angry Scylla nor Charybdis makes 
 
 So great and frightful noise, as did the shock 
 
 Of this (first doubtful) battle : none could mock 
 
 Such earnest war ; all drew them to the height 
 
 To see what ’mazed their hearts and dimm’d their sight. 
 
 Victorious Love a threatening dart did show 
 
 His right hand held ; the other bore a bow. 
 
 The string of which he drew just by his ear; 
 
 No leopard could chase a frighted deer 
 
 (Free, or broke loose) with quicker speed than he 
 
 Made haste to wound ; fire sparkled from his eye. 
 
 I burn’d, and had a combat in my breast, 
 
 Glad t’ have her company, yet ’twas not best 
 (Methought) to see her lost, but ’tis in vain 
 T’ abandon goodness, and of fate complain ; 
 
 Virtue her servants never will forsake. 
 
 As now ’twas seen, she could resistance make : 
 
 No fencer ever better warded blow. 
 
 Nor pilot did to shore more wisely row 
 To shun a shelf, than with undaunted power 
 She waved the stroke of this sharp conqueror. 
 
 Mine eyes and heart were watchful to attend. 
 
 In hope the victory would that way bend 
 It ever did ; and that I might no more 
 Be barr’d from her ; as one whose thoughts before 
 His tongue hath utter’d them you well may see 
 Writ in his looks ; “ Oh ! if you victor be. 
 
 Great sir,” said I, “ let her and me be bound 
 Both with one yoke ; I may be worthy found. 
 
 And will not set her free, doubt not my faith 
 When I beheld her with disdain and wrath 
 So fill’d, that to relate it would demand 
 A better muse than mine : her virtuous hand 
 Had quickly quench’d those gilded fiery darts. 
 
 Which, dipp’d in beauty’s pleasure, poison hearts. 
 Neither Camilla, nor the warlike host 
 That cut their breasts, could so much valour boast ; 
 Nor Csesar in Pharsalia fought so well. 
 
 As she ’gainst him who pierceth coats of mail ; 
 
 All her brave virtues arm’d, attended there, 
 
 (A glorious troop !) and marched, pair by pair : 
 
 Honour and blushes first in rank ; the two 
 Religious virtues make the second row 
 (By those the other women doth excel) : 
 
 Prudence and Modesty, the twins that dwell 
 Together, both were lodgbd in her breast : 
 
 Glory and Perseverance, ever blest : 
 
 Fair Entertainment, Providence without. 
 
 Sweet Courtesy, and Pureness round about ; 
 
 Respect of credit, fear of infamy ; 
 
 Grave thoughts in youth ; and, what not oft agree, 
 
 True Chastity and rarest Beauty ; these 
 
 All came ’gainst Love, and this the heavens did please, 
 
 And every generous soul in that full height. 
 
 He had no power left to bear the weight ; 
 
 A thousand famous prizes hardly gain’d 
 
 She took j and thousand glorious palms obtain’d. 
 
 Shook from his hands ; the fall was not more strange 
 
 Of Hannibal, when Fortune pleased to change 
 
 Her mind, and on the Roman youth bestow 
 
 The favours he enjoy’d •, nor was he so 
 
 Amazed who frighted the Israelitish host — 
 
 Struck by the Hebrew boy, that quit his boast ; 
 
 Nor Cyrus more astonish’d at the fall 
 The Jewish widow gave his general : 
 
 As one that sickens suddenly, and fears 
 His life, or as a man ta’en unaw'ares 
 In some base act, and doth the finder hate ; 
 
 Just so was he, or in a worse estate : 
 
 Fear, grief, and shame, and anger, in his face 
 Were seen : no troubled seas more rage : the place 
 Where huge Typhoeus groans, nor Etna, when 
 Her giant sighs, were moved as he was then. 
 
 I pass by many noble things I see 
 
 (To write them were too hard a task for me), 
 
 To her and those that did attend I go : 
 
 Her armour was a robe more white than snow ; 
 
 And in her hand a shield like his she bare 
 Who slew Medusa ; a fair pillar there 
 Of jasp was next, and with a chain (first wet 
 In Lethe flood) of jewels fitly set. 
 
 Diamonds, mix’d with topazes (of old 
 ’Twas worn by ladies, now ’tis not), first hold 
 She caught, then bound him fast ; then such revenge 
 She took as might suffice. My thoughts did change : 
 And I, who wish’d him victory before, 
 
 Was satisfied he now could hurt no more. 
 
 I cannot in my rhymes the names contain 
 Of blessbd maids that did make up her train ; 
 
 Calliope nor Clio could suffice. 
 
 Nor all the other seven, for th’ enterprise ; 
 
 Yet some I will insert may justly claim 
 Precedency of others. Lucrece came 
 On her right hand ; Penelope was by. 
 
 Those broke his bow, and made his arrows lie 
 Split on the ground, and pull’d his plumes away 
 From off his wings : after, Virginia, 
 
 Near her vex’d father, arm’d with wrath and hate. 
 Fury, and iron, and love, he freed the state 
 
 * The Italian lines at the foot of this print are contained in the “ Triumph of Death,” and the rendering of them will be found in that poem. 
 
 R 
 
 Facsimiles of Early Italian Ensravings. 
 
THE TRIUMPH OF CHASTITY. 
 
 And her from slavery, with a manly blow ; 
 
 Next were those barbarous women, who could show 
 They judged it better die than suffer wrong 
 To their rude chastity ; the wise and strong — 
 
 The chaste Hebrgean Judith follow’d these ; 
 
 The Greeks that saved her honour in the seas ; 
 With these and other famous souls I see 
 Her triumph over him who used to be 
 Master of all the world ; among the rest 
 The vestal nun I spied who was so bless’d 
 As by a wonder to preserve her fame ; 
 
 Next came Hersilia, the Roman dame 
 (Or Sabine rather) with her valorous train, 
 
 Who prove all slanders on that sex are vain. 
 
 Then, ’mongst the foreign ladies, she whose faith 
 T’ her husband (not ^neas) caused her death ; 
 
 The vulgar ignorant may hold their peace. 
 
 Her safety to her chastity gave place ; 
 
 Dido, I mean, whom no vain passion led 
 (As fame belies her) ; last, the virtuous maid 
 Retired to Arno, who no rest could find. 
 
 Her friends’ constraining power forced her mind. 
 The Triumph thither went where salt waves wet 
 The Baian shore eastward ; her foot she set 
 
 There on firm land, and did Avernus leave 
 On the one hand, on th’ other Sybil’s cave ; 
 
 So to Linternus march’d, the village where 
 
 The noble Africane lies buried ; there 
 
 The great news of her triumph did appear 
 
 As glorious to the eye as to the ear 
 
 The fame had been ; and the most chaste did show 
 
 Most beautiful ; it grieved Love much to go 
 
 Another’s prisoner, exposed to scorn. 
 
 Who to command whole empires seembd born. 
 Thus to the chiefest city all were led, 
 
 Entering the temple which Sulpicia made 
 Sacred ; it drives all madness from the mind ; 
 
 And chastity’s pure temple next we find. 
 
 Which in brave souls doth modest thoughts beget, 
 Not by plebeians enter’d, but the great 
 Patrician dames ; there were the spoils display’d 
 Of the fair victress ; there her palms she laid, 
 
 And did commit them to the Tuscan youth, 
 
 Whose marring scars bear witness of his truth : 
 
 With others more, whose names I fully knew 
 (My guide instructed me), that overthrew 
 The power of Love : ’mongst whom, of all the rest, 
 Hippolytus and Joseph were the best. 
 
II 
 
 on Kaim,n ue^amentc/ma dmmo 
 Loto andar Mor fanax parole 
 Boat“o cbcf'i chi nafc€ a aal chilioo 
 
 In canij>o u^^Kleun canclido hctmellm' 
 
 Cofo topatii alcollo 
 
PETRARCH’S TRIUMPHS. 
 
 THE TRIUMPH OF DEATH. 
 
 The Poet relates how Chastity (Laura), returning from her triumph, encounters Death, represented as a 
 woman of hideous mien, clothed in a black mantle. He states how he then saw in a great plain a vast 
 number of dead of all nations, amongst them Popes, Kings, Emperors, &c., all naked and miserable. 
 Death discourses on the vanities of the world. The Poet then tells how Death had triumphed over Laura 
 whom he describes in Chapter II., as visiting him after death : — 
 
 The glorious Maid, whose soul to heaven is gone 
 And left the rest cold earth, she who was grown 
 A pillar of true valour, and had gain’d 
 Much honour by her victory, and chain’d 
 That god which doth the world with terror bind, 
 Using no armour but her own chaste mind ; 
 
 A fair aspect, coy thoughts, and words well weigh’d. 
 Sweet modesty to these gave friendly aid. 
 
 It was a miracle on earth to see 
 The bow and arrows of the deity. 
 
 And all his armour broke, who erst had slain 
 Such numbers, and so many captive ta’en ; 
 
 The fair dame from the noble sight withdrew 
 With her choice company, — they were but few. 
 
 And made a little troop, true virtue’s rare, — 
 
 Yet each of them did by herself appear 
 A theme for poems, and might well incite 
 The best historian : th^ bore a white 
 Unspotted ermine, in a field of green, 
 
 About whose neck a topaz chain was seen 
 Set in pure gold ; their heavenly words and gait 
 Expressed them blest were born for such a fate* 
 Bright stars they seem’d, she did a sun appear, 
 
 Who darken’d not the rest, but made more clear 
 Their splendour ; honour in brave minds is found : 
 This troop, with violets and roses crown’d, 
 
 Cheerfully march’d, when lo, I might espy 
 Another ensign dreadful to mine eye, — 
 
 A lady clothed in black, whose stern looks were 
 With horror fill’d, and did like hell appear. 
 Advanced, and said, “ You who are proud to be 
 So fair and young, yet have no eyes to see 
 How near you are your end j- behold, I am 
 She, whom they, fierce, and blind, and cruel name. 
 Who meet untimely deaths ; ’twas I did make 
 Greece subject, and the Roman Empire shake ; 
 
 My piercing sword sack'd Troy, how many rude 
 And barbarous people are by me subdued ? 
 
 Many ambitious, vain, and amorous thought 
 My unwish’d presence hath to nothing brought ; 
 
 Now am I come to you, while yet your state 
 Is happy, ere you feel a harder fate.” 
 
 “ On these you have no power,” she then replied, 
 (Who had more worth than all the world beside,) 
 
 “ And little over me ; but there is one 
 Who will be deeply grieved when I am gone, 
 
 His happiness doth on my life depend, 
 
 I shall find freedom in a peaceful end.” 
 
 As one who glancing with a sudden eye 
 Some unexpected object doth espy; 
 
 Then looks again, and doth his own haste blame : 
 
 So in a doubting pause, this cruel dame 
 A little stay’d, and said, “ The rest I call 
 To mind, and know I have o’ercome them all” : 
 Then, with less fierce aspect, she said, “ Thou guide 
 Of this fair crew, hast not my strength assay’d. 
 
 Let her advise, who may command, prevent 
 Decrepit age, ’tis but a punishment ; 
 
 * Rendering of the lines in Italian at foot of the print “ Triumph of Chastity.” 
 
 From me this honour thou alone shall have, 
 
 Without or fear or pain, to find thy grave.” 
 
 “ As He shall please, who dwelleth in the heaven 
 And rules on earth, such portion must be given 
 To me, as others from thy hand receive,” 
 
 She answer’d then ; afar we might perceive 
 Millions of dead heap’d on th’ adjacent plain ; 
 
 No verse nor prose may comprehend the slain 
 Did on Death’s triumph wait, from India, 
 
 From Spain, and from Morocco, from Cathay, 
 
 And all the skirts of th’ earth they gather’d were ; 
 Who had most happy lived, attended there : 
 
 Popes, Emperors, nor Kings, no ensigns wore 
 Of their past height, but naked show’d and poor. 
 Where be their riches, where their precious gems, 
 Their mitres, sceptres, robes, and diadems ? 
 
 0 miserable men, whose hopes arise 
 From worldly joys, yet be there few so wise 
 As in those trifling follies not to trust ; 
 
 And if they be deceived, in end ’tis just : 
 
 Ah ! more than blind, what gain you by your toil T 
 You must return once to your mother^ s soil, 
 
 And after-times your names shall hardly know. 
 
 Nor any profit from your labour grow ; 
 
 All those strange countries by your warlike stroke 
 Submitted to a tributary yoke ;f 
 The fuel erst of your ambitious fire. 
 
 What help they now ? The vast and bad desire 
 Of wealth and power at a bloody rate 
 Is wicked, — better bread and water eat 
 With peace ; a wooden dish doth seldom hold 
 A poison’d draught ; glass is more safe than gold 
 But for this theme a larger time will ask, 
 
 1 must betake me to my former task. 
 
 The fatal hour of her short life drew near. 
 
 That doubtful passage which the world doth fear 
 Another company, who had not been 
 
 Freed from their earthy burden there were seen, 
 
 To try if prayers could appease the wrath, 
 
 Or stay th’ inexorable hand, of Death. 
 
 That beauteous crowd convened to see the end 
 Which all must taste ; each neighbour, every friend 
 Stood by, when grim Death with her hand took hold. 
 And pull’d away one only hair of gold. 
 
 Thus from the world this fairest flower is ta’en 
 To make her shine more bright, not out of spleen 
 How many moaning plaints, what store of cries 
 Were utter’d there, when Fate shut those fair eyes 
 For which so oft I sung ; whose beauty burn’d 
 My tortured heart so long ; while others mourn’d. 
 
 She pleased, and quiet did the fruit enjoy 
 Of her blest life : “ Farewell,” without annoy, 
 
 “ True saint on earth,” said they ; so might she be 
 Esteem’d, but nothing bates Death’s cruelty. 
 
 What shall become of others, since so pure 
 A body did such heats and colds endure. 
 
 And changed so often in so little space ? 
 
 Ah, worldly hopes, how blind you be, how base ! 
 
 f Rendering of the lines in Italian at foot of the print “ Triumph of Death.” 
 
 Facsimiles of Early Italian Engravings. 
 
 s 
 
THE TRIUMPH OF DEATH. 
 
 If since I bathe the ground with flowing tears 
 For that mild soul, who sees it, witness bears ; 
 
 And thou who read’st mayst judge she fetter’d me 
 The sixth of April, and did set me free 
 On the same day and month. Oh ! how the way 
 Of fortune is unsure ; none hates the day 
 Of slavery, or of death, so much as I 
 Abhor the time which wrought my liberty. 
 
 And my too lasting life ; it had been just 
 My greater age had first been turn’d to dust. 
 
 And paid to time, and to the world, the debt 
 I owed, then earth had kept her glorious state : 
 Now at what rate I should the sorrow prize 
 I know not, nor have heart that can suffice 
 The sad affliction to relate in verse. 
 
 Of these fair dames, that wept about her hearse ; 
 
 “ Courtesy, Virtue, Beauty, all are lost ; 
 
 What shall become of us? None else can boast 
 Such high perfection ; no more we shall 
 Hear her wise words, nor the angelical 
 Sweet music of her voice.” While thus they cried. 
 The parting spirit doth itself divide 
 
 With every virtue from the noble breast. 
 
 As some grave hermit seeks a lonely rest : 
 
 The heavens were clear, and all the ambient air 
 Without a threatening cloud ; no adversaire 
 Durst once appear, or her calm mind affright ; 
 Death singly did herself conclude the fight j 
 After, when fear, and the extremest plaint 
 Were ceased, th’ attentive eyes of all were bent 
 On that fair face, and by despair became 
 Secure ; she who was spent, not like a flame 
 By force extinguish’d, but as lights decay. 
 
 And undiscerned waste themselves away : 
 
 Thus went the soul in peace j so lamps are spent, 
 As the oil fails which gave them nourishment 
 In sum, her countenance you st;ill might know 
 The same it was, not pale, but white as snow, 
 Which on the tops of hills in gentle flakes 
 Falls in a calm, or as a man that takes 
 Desired rest, as if her lovely sight 
 Were closed with sweetest sleep, after the sprite 
 Was gone. If this be that fools call to die. 
 
 Death seem’d in her exceeding fair to be. 
 
 The night — that follow’d the disastrous blow 
 Which my spent sun removed in heaven to glow. 
 
 And left me here a blind and desolate man — 
 
 Now far advanced, to spread o’er earth began 
 The sweet spring dew which harbingers the dawn. 
 When slumber’s veil and visions are withdrawn ; 
 When, crown’d with oriental gems, and bright 
 As newborn day, upon my tranced sight 
 My Lady lighted from her starry sphere : 
 
 With kind speech and soft sigh, her hand so dear,’ 
 
 So long desired in vain, to mine she press’d, 
 
 While heavenly sweetness instant warm’d my breast : 
 
 “ Remember her, who, from the world apart. 
 
 Kept all your course since known to that young heart. 
 Pensive she spoke, with mild and modest air 
 Seating me by her, on a soft bank, where. 
 
 In greenest shade, the beech and laurel met. 
 
 “ Remember ? Ah ! how should I e’er forget ? 
 
 Yet tell me, idol mine,” in tears I said. 
 
 “Live you? — or dreamt I — is, is Laura dead?” 
 
 “ Live I ? I only live, but you indeed 
 Are dead, and must be, till the last best hour 
 Shall free you from the flesh and vile world’s power. 
 But, our brief leisure lest desire exceed. 
 
 Turn we, ere breaks the day already nigh. 
 
 To themes of greater interest, pure and high.” 
 
 Then I : “ When ended the brief dream and vain 
 That men call life, by you now safely pass’d. 
 
 Is death indeed such punishment and pain ?” 
 Replied she : “ While on earth your lot is cast, 
 
 Slave to the world’s opinions blind and hard. 
 
 True happiness shall ne’er your search reward ; 
 Death to the good a dreary prison opes. 
 
 But to the vile and base, who all their hopes 
 And cares below have fix’d, is full of fear ; 
 
 And this my loss, now mourn’d with many a tear. 
 Would seem a gain, and, knew you my delight 
 Boundless and pure, your joyful praise excite.” 
 
Tsf on afpeaa.te^che Utnotte fr’cclii 
 CKome fa tapiu partexh e 'cv ceito 
 InRnita e/fafcbtera 'loccKb- 
 
 lO cicchi li tan to a ffatica t ch e g/oua r 
 Turri totnatealiagtum TTiacfreantiG 
 El nome \ioff to a pena firttmoua - 
 
PETRARCH’S TRIUMPHS. 
 
 THE TRIUMPH OF FAME.* 
 
 The Poet describes a vision in which he sees Fame triumph over Death. He sees a long array of* 
 people marching on, being those whose deeds and works had carried their memories down to posterity. In 
 the second and third chapters the Poet mentions the names of Greeks, Romans, Jews, Assyrians, and 
 others who had acquired celebrity in war or government, or had been renowned in science, philosophy, 
 poetry, medicine, &c. : — 
 
 When cruel Death his paly ensign spread 
 Over that face, which oft in triumph led 
 My subject thoughts; and beauty’s sovereign light. 
 Retiring, left the world immersed in night ; 
 
 The Phantom, with a frown that chill’d the heart. 
 Seem’d with his gloomy pageant to depart, 
 
 Exulting in his formidable arms. 
 
 And proud of conquest o’er seraphic charms. 
 When, turning round, I saw the Power advance 
 That breaks the gloomy grave’s eternal trance, 
 
 And bids the disembodied spirit claim 
 The glorious guerdon of immortal Fame. 
 
 Like Phosphor, in the sullen rear of night, 
 
 Before the golden wheels of orient light 
 He came. But who the ’tendant pomp can tell, 
 What mighty master of the corded shell 
 Can sing how heaven above accordant smiled, 
 
 And what bright pageantry the prospect fill’d. 
 
 I look’d, but all in vain : the potent ray 
 Flash’d on my sight intolerable day 
 At first ; but to the splendour soon inured. 
 
 My eyes perused the pomp with sight assured. 
 
 True dignity in every face was seen. 
 
 As on they march’d with more than mortal mien ; 
 And some I saw whom Love had link’d before, 
 Ennobled now by Virtue’s lofty lore. 
 
 Caesar and Scipio on the dexter hand 
 Of the bright goddess led the laurell’d band. 
 
 One, like a planet by the lord of day, 
 
 Seem’d o’er-illumined by her splendid ray, 
 
 By brightness hid ; for he, to virtue true. 
 
 His mind from Love’s soft bondage nobly drew. 
 The other, half a slave to female charms, 
 
 Parted his homage to the god of arms 
 And Love’s seductive power : but, close and deep. 
 Like files that climb’d the Capitolian steep 
 In years of yore, along the sacred way 
 A marshal squadron came in long array. 
 
 In ranges as they moved distinct and bright. 
 
 On every burganet that met the light. 
 
 Some name of long renown, distinctly read. 
 
 O’er each majestic brow a glory shed. 
 
 Still on the noble pair my eyes I bent. 
 
 And watch’d their progress up the steep ascent. 
 The second Scipio next in line was seen. 
 
 And he that seem’d the lure of Egypt’s queen ; 
 With many a mighty chief I there beheld. 
 
 Whose valorous hand the battle’s storm repell’d. 
 Two fathers of the great Cornelian name. 
 
 With their three noble sons who shared their fame. 
 One singly march’d before, and, hand in hand. 
 
 His two heroic partners trod the strand. 
 
 The last was first in fame ; but brighter beams 
 His follower flung around in solar streams. 
 Metaurus’ champion, whom the moon beheld, 
 When his resistless spears the current swell’d 
 With Libya’s hated gore, in arms renown’d 
 
 Was he, nor less with Wisdom’s olive crown’d. 
 
 Quick was his thought and ready was his hand. 
 
 His power accomplish’d what his reason plann’d ; 
 
 He seem’d, with eagle eye and eagle wing. 
 
 Sudden on his predestined game to spring. 
 
 But he that follow’d next with step sedate 
 Drew round his foe the viewless snare of fate ; 
 
 While, with consummate art, he kept at bay 
 The raging foe, and conquer’d by delay. 
 
 Another Fabius join’d the stoic pair. 
 
 The Pauli and Marcelli famed in war ; 
 
 With them the victor in the friendly strife, 
 
 Whose public virtue quench’d his love of life. 
 
 With either Brutus ancient Curius came ; 
 
 Fabricius, too, I spied, a nobler name 
 (With his plain russet gown and simple board) 
 
 Than either Lydian with her golden hoard. 
 
 Then came the great dictator from the plough ; 
 
 And old Serranus show’d his laurell’d brow, 
 
 Marching with equal step. Camillus near. 
 
 Who, fresh and vigorous in the bright career 
 Of honour, sped, and never slack’d his pace. 
 
 Till Death o’ertook him in the noble race. 
 
 And placed him in a sphere of fame so high. 
 
 That other patriots fill’d a lower sky. 
 
 Even those ungrateful hands that seal’d his doom 
 Recall’d the banish’d man to rescue Rome. 
 
 Torquatus nigh, a sterner spectre stood. 
 
 His fasces all besmear’d with filial blood : 
 
 He childless to the shades resolved to go. 
 
 Rather than Rome a moment should forego 
 
 That dreadful discipline, whose rigid lore 
 
 Had spread their triumphs round from shore to shore. 
 
 Then the two Decii came, by Heaven inspired. 
 
 Divinely bold, as when the foe retired 
 
 Before their Heaven-directed march, amazed. 
 
 When on the self-devoted men they gazed. 
 
 Till they provoked their fate. And Curtius nigh 
 As when to heaven he cast his upward eye. 
 
 And all on fire with glory’s opening charms. 
 
 Plunged to the Shades below with clanging arms, 
 Lsevinus, Mummius, with Flaminius show’d. 
 
 Like meaner lights along the heavenly road ; 
 
 And he who conquer’d Greece from sea to sea. 
 
 Then mildly bade th’ afflicted race be free. 
 
 Next came the dauntless envoy, with his wand, 
 
 Whose more than magic circle on the sand 
 The frenzy of the Syrian king confined : 
 
 O’er-awed he stood, and at his fate repined. 
 
 Great Manlius, too, who drove the hostile throng 
 Prone from the steep on which his members hung, 
 
 (A sad reverse) the hungry vultures’ food. 
 
 When Roman justice claim’d his forfeit blood. 
 
 Then Codes came, who took his dreadful stand 
 Where the wide arch the foaming torrent spann’d. 
 Stemming the tide of war with matchless might, 
 
 And turn’d the heady current of the fight. 
 
 * The Italian lines at the foot of this print are contained in the poem the “ Triumph of Time,” and the rendering 
 Facsimiles of Early Italian Engravings. 
 
 of them will be found in that poem. 
 
 T 
 
 
 . I '• V: 
 
THE TRIUMPH OF FAME. 
 
 And he that, stung with fierce vindictive ire, 
 Consumed his erring hand with hostile fire. 
 
 Duillius next and Catulus were seen, 
 
 Whose daring navies plough’d the billowy green 
 I’hat laves Pelorus and the Sardian shore, 
 
 And dyed the rolling waves with Punic gore. 
 
 Great Appius next advanced in sterner mood, 
 
 Who with patrician loftiness withstood 
 
 The clamours of the crowd. But, close behind, 
 
 Of gentler manners and more equal mi nd, 
 
 Came one, perhaps the first in martial might, 
 
 Yet his dim glory cast a waning light ; 
 
 But neither Bacchus, nor Alcmena’s son 
 Such trophies yet by east or west have won ; 
 
 Nor he that in the arms of conquest died. 
 
 As he, when Rome’s stern foes his valour tried. 
 
 Yet he survived his fame. But luckier far 
 Was one that followed next, whose golden star 
 To better fortune led, and mark’d his name 
 Among the first in deeds of martial fame : 
 
 But cruel was his rage, and dipp’d in gore 
 By civil slaughter was the wreath he wore. 
 
 A less ensanguined laurel graced the head 
 Of him that next advanced with lofty tread. 
 
 In martial conduct and in active might 
 Of equal honour in the fields of fight. 
 
 Then great Volumnius, who expell’d the pest 
 Whose spreading ills the Romans long distress’d. 
 Rutilius Cassus, Philo next in sight 
 Appear’d, like twinkling stars that gild the night. 
 
 Three men I saw advancing up the vale. 
 
 Mangled with ghastly wounds through plate and mail : 
 Dentatus, long in standing fight renown’d, 
 
 Sergius and Scseva oft with conquest crown’d ; 
 
 The triple terror of the hostile train, 
 
 On whom the storm of battle broke in vain. 
 Another Sergius near with deep disgrace 
 Marr’d the long glories of his ancient race, 
 
 Marius, then, the Cimbrians who repell’d 
 From fearful Rome, and Lybia’s tyrant quell’d. 
 And Fulvius, who Campania’s traitors slew. 
 
 And paid ingratitude with vengeance due. 
 
 Another nobler Fulvius next appear’d ; 
 
 And there the Father of the Gracchi rear’d 
 A solitary crest. The following form 
 Was he that often raised the factious storm — 
 
 Bold Catulus, and he whom fortune’s ray 
 Illumined still with beams of cloudless day 
 Yet fail’d to chase the darkness of the mind. 
 
 That brooded still on loftier hopes behind. 
 
 From him a nobler line in two degrees 
 Reduced Numidia to reluctant peace. 
 
 Crete, Spain, and Macedonia’s conquer’d lord 
 Adorn’d their triumphs and their treasures stored. 
 Vespasian, with his son, I next survey’d, 
 
 An angel soul in angel form array’d ; 
 
 Nor less his brother seem’d in outward grace, 
 
 But hell within belied a beauteous face. 
 
 Then Nerva, who retrieved the falling throne. 
 
 And Trajan, by his conquering eagles known. 
 Adrian, and Antonine the just and good. 
 
 He, with his son, the golden age renew’d ; 
 
 And ere they ruled the world, themselves subdued. 
 Then, as I turn’d my roving eyes around, 
 
 Quirinus I beheld with laurel crown’d. 
 
 And five succeeding kings. The sixth was lost, 
 
 By vice degraded from his regal post ; 
 
 A sentence just, whatever pride may claim, 
 
 For virtue only finds eternal Fame. 
 

 
 -4 
 
 
 'W. 
 
 ; Im fxptflmw'Un a gt^Ticli errortaue^ 
 
 I I Doppo k Uinga eta ilnome chiaro 
 ' I Cbee c|uej'^a|3etr5chefi fappre^- 
 
 
 T anm mnce 8^ntoglrei!temp<> auat^o 
 
 ChiaiYi all hv(^3if i&c p\or^r fe^iohdo p , 
 Ne |>fii cKf coptro alph'mo e afcun Hpm> ■ |i j 
 
PETRARCH’S TRIUMPHS. 
 
 THE TRIUMPH OF TIME. 
 
 The Poet sees a band of mortals moving on as if disdaining Time’s resistless power; he then reflects how 
 Time overthrows all mortal things, and destroys the remembrance of them and of those whose achievements 
 had almost made their names immortal, and he says that man should therefore place his hopes on a more 
 solid foundation than a worldly one, seeing how swiftly and surely time passes away : — 
 
 Behind Aurora’s wheels the rising sun 
 His voyage from his golden shrine begun, 
 
 With such ethereal speed, as if the Hours 
 Had caught him slumb’ring in her rosy bowers. 
 
 With lordly eye, that reach’d the world’s extreme, 
 Methought he look’d, when, gliding on his beam, 
 
 That wingbd power approach’d that wheels his car 
 In its wide annual range from star to star, 
 
 Measuring vicissitude ; till, now more near, 
 Methought these thrilling accents met my ear : — 
 
 “ New laws must be observed if mortals claim, 
 
 Spite of the lapse of time, eternal fame. 
 
 Those laws have lost their force that Heaven decreed, 
 And I my circle run with fruitless speed ; 
 
 If fame’s loud breath the slumb’ring dust inspire, 
 
 And bid to live with never-dying fire. 
 
 My power, that measures mortal things, is cross’d, 
 
 And my long glories in oblivion lost. 
 
 If mortals on yon planet’s shadowy face. 
 
 Can match the tenor of my heavenly race, 
 
 I strive with fruitless speed from year to year 
 To keep precedence o’er a lower sphere. 
 
 In vain you flaming coursers I prepare. 
 
 In vain the watery world and ambient air 
 Their vigour feeds, if thus, with angels’ flight 
 A mortal can o’ertake the race of light ! 
 
 Were you a lesser planet, doom’d to run 
 A shorter journey round a nobler sun ; 
 
 Ranging among yon dusky orbs below, 
 
 A more degrading doom I could not know : 
 
 Now spread your swiftest wings, my steeds of flame, 
 We must not yield to man’s ambitious aim. 
 
 With emulation’s noblest fires I glow. 
 
 And soon that reptile race that boast below 
 Bright Fame’s conducting lamp, that seems to vie 
 With my incessant journeys round the sky, 
 
 And gains, or seems to gain, increasing light. 
 
 Yet shall its glories sink in gradual night. 
 
 But I am still the same ; my course began 
 Before that dusky orb, the seat of man. 
 
 Was built in ambient air : with constant sway 
 I lead the grateful change of night and day. 
 
 To one ethereal track for ever bound. 
 
 And ever treading one eternal round.” — 
 
 And now, methought, with more than mortal ire. 
 
 He seem’d to lash along his steeds of fire; 
 
 And shot along the air with glancing ray, 
 
 Swift as a falcon darting on its prey ; 
 
 No planet’s swift career could match his speed, 
 
 That seem’d the power of fancy to exceed. 
 
 The courier of the sky I mark’d with dread. 
 
 As by degrees the baseless fabric fled 
 
 That human power had built, while high disdain 
 
 I felt within to see the toiling train 
 
 Striving to seize each transitory thing 
 
 That fleets away on dissolution’s wing ; 
 
 And soonest from the firmest grasp recede, 
 
 Like airy forms, with tantalizing speed. 
 
 0 mortals ! ere the vital powers decay, 
 
 Or palsied eld obscures the mental ray. 
 
 Raise your affections to the things above. 
 
 Which time or fickle chance can never move. 
 
 Had you but seen what I despair to sing, 
 
 How fast his courser plied the flaming wing 
 With unremitted speed, the soaring mind 
 Had left his low terrestrial cares behind. 
 
 But what an awful change of earth and sky 
 All in a moment pass’d before my eye ! 
 
 Now rigid winter stretch’d her brumal reign 
 With frown Gorgonean over land and main ; 
 
 And Flora now her gaudy mantle spread. 
 
 And many a blushing rose adorn’d her bed : 
 
 The momentary seasons seem’d to fleet 
 
 From bright solstitial dews to winter’s driving sleet, 
 In circle multiform, and swift career : 
 
 A wondrous tale, untold to mortal ear 
 Before : yet reason’s calm unbiass’d view 
 Must soon pronounce the seeming fable true. 
 
 When deep remorse for many a wasted spring 
 Still haunts the frighted soul on demon wing. 
 
 Fond hope allured me on with meteor flight, 
 
 And Love my fancy fed with vain delight. 
 
 Chasing through fairy fields her pageants gay. 
 
 But now, at last, a clear and steady ray, 
 
 From reason’s mirror sent, my folly shows. 
 
 And on my sight the hideous image throws 
 Of what I am, — a mind eclipsed and lost, 
 
 By vice degraded from its noble post ; 
 
 But yet, e’en yet, the mind’s elastic spring 
 Buoys up my powers on resolution’s wing. 
 
 While on the flight of time, with rueful gaze 
 Intent, I try to thread the backward maze, 
 
 And husband what remains, a scanty space. 
 
 Few fleeting hours, alas ! have pass’d away. 
 
 Since a weak infant in the lap I lay ; 
 
 For what is human life hut one uncertain day t 
 Now hid by flying vapours, dark and cold, 
 
 And brighten'd now with gleams of sunny gold. 
 
 That mock the gazer’s eye with gaudy show. 
 
 And leave the victim to substantial woe: 
 
 Yet hope can live beneath the stormy sky. 
 
 And empty pleasures have their pinions ply ; * 
 
 And frantic pride exalts the lofty brow, 
 
 Nor marks the snares of death that lurk below. 
 Uncertain, whether now the shaft of fate 
 Sings on the wind, or Heaven prolongs my date. 
 
 1 see my hours run on with cruel speed. 
 
 And in my doom the fate of all I read ; 
 
 A certain doom, which nature’s self must feel 
 When the dread sentence checks the mundane wheel. 
 Go ! court the smiles of Hope, ye thoughtless crew ! 
 Her fairy scenes disclose an ample view 
 To brainless men. But Wisdom o’er the field 
 Casts her keen glance, and lifts her beamy shield 
 To meet the point of Fate, that flies afar. 
 
 And with stern vigilance expects the war. 
 
 * Rendering of the lines in Italian at foot of the print, the “ Triumph of Time.” 
 
 Facsimiles of Early Italian Engravings. 
 
THE TRIUMPH OE TIME. 
 
 Perhaps in vain my admonitions fall, 
 
 Yet still the Muse repeats the solemn call ; 
 
 Nor can she see unmoved your senses drown’d 
 By Circe’s deadly spells in sleep profound. 
 
 She cannot see the flying seasons roll 
 In dread succession to the final goal, 
 
 And sweep the tribes of men so fast away, 
 
 To Stygian darkness or eternal day, 
 
 With unconcern. — Oh ! yet the doom repeal 
 Before your callous hearts forget to feel ; 
 
 E’er Penitence foregoes her fruitless toil. 
 
 Or hell’s black regent claims his human spoil. 
 
 Oh, haste ! before the fatal arrows fly 
 That send you headlong to the nether sky. 
 
 When down the gulf the sons of folly go 
 In sad procession to the seat of woe ! 
 
 Thus deeply musing on the rapid round 
 Of planetary speed, in thought profound 
 I stood, and long bewail’d my wasted hours. 
 
 My vain afflictions, and my squander’d powers : 
 When, in deliberate march, a train was seen 
 In silent order moving o’er the green ; 
 
 A band that seem’d to hold in high disdain 
 The desolating power of Time’s resistless reign : 
 Their names were hallow’d in the Muse’s song. 
 Wafted by fame from age to age along, 
 
 High o’er oblivion’s deep, devouring wave, 
 
 Where millions find an unrefunding grave. 
 
 With envious glance the changeful power beheld. 
 The glorious phalanx which his power repell’d. 
 And faster now the fiery chariot flew. 
 
 While Fame appear’d the rapid flight to rue. 
 
 And labour’d some to save. But, close behind, 
 
 I heard a voice, which, like the western wind. 
 That whispers softly through the summer shade. 
 These solemn accents to mine ear convey’d : — 
 
 “ Man is a falling flower ; and Fame in vain 
 Strives to protract his momentaneous reign 
 Beyond his bounds, to match the rolling tide. 
 
 On whose dread waves the long Olympiads ride. 
 Till, fed by time, the deep procession grows 
 And in long centuries continuous flows ; 
 
 For what the power of ages can oppose ? 
 
 Though Tempo’s rolling flood, or Hebrus claim 
 Renown, they soon shall live an empty name. 
 Where are their heroes now, and those who led 
 The files of war by Xanthus’ gory bed ? 
 
 Of Tuscan Tyber’s more illustrious band. 
 
 Whose conquering eagles flew o’er sea and land ? 
 What is renown ? — a gleam of transient light. 
 
 That soon an envious cloud involves in night, 
 
 While passing Time’s malignant hands diffuse 
 On many a noble name pernicious dews. 
 
 Thus our terrestrial glories fade away. 
 
 Our triumphs past the pageants of a day ; 
 
 Our fields exchange their lords, our kingdoms fall. 
 
 And thrones are wrapt in Hades’ funeral pall. 
 
 Yet virtue seldom gains what vice had lost. 
 
 And oft the hopes of good desert are cross’d. 
 
 Not wealth alone, but mental stores decay. 
 
 And, like the gifts of Mammon, pass away ; 
 
 Nor wisdom, wealth, nor fortune can withstand 
 His desolating march by sea and land ; 
 
 Nor prayers, nor regal power his wheels restrain. 
 
 Till he has ground us down to dust again. 
 
 Though various are the titles men can plead, 
 
 Some for a time enjoy the glorious meed 
 That merit claims ; yet unrelenting fate 
 On all the doom pronounces soon or late ; 
 
 And whatsoe’er the vulgar think or say. 
 
 Were not your lives thus shorten’d to a day. 
 
 Your eyes would see the consummating power 
 His countless millions at a meal devour.” 
 
 And reason’s voice my stubborn mind subdued ; 
 Conviction soon the solemn words pursued ; 
 
 I saw all mortal glory pass away. 
 
 Like vernal snows beneath the rising ray ; 
 
 And wealth, and power, and honour, strive in vain 
 To ’scape the laws of Time’s despotic reign. 
 
 Though still to vulgar eyes they seem to claim 
 A lot conspicuous in the lists of Fame, 
 
 Transient as human joys ; to feeble age 
 They love to linger on this earthly stage. 
 
 And think it cruel to be call’d away 
 On the faint morn of life’s disastrous day. 
 
 Yet ah ! how many infants on the breast 
 By Heaven’s indulgence sink to endless rest ! 
 
 And oft decrepit age his lot bewails. 
 
 Whom every ill of lengthen’d life assails. 
 
 Hence sick despondence thinks the human lot 
 A gift of fleeting breath too dearly bought : 
 
 But should the voice of Fame's obstreperous blast 
 From ages on to future ages last, 
 
 Een to the trump of doom, — how poor the prize 
 Whose worth depends upon the changing skies ! 
 
 What time bestows and claims {the fleeting breath 
 Of fame) is but, at best, a second death , — 
 
 A death that none of mortal race can shun. 
 
 That wastes the brood of time, and triumphs o'er the sun* 
 
 * Rendering of the Italian lines at the foot of the print “The Triumph of Fame.” 
 
1 
 
PETRARCH’S TRIUMPHS. 
 
 THE TRIUMPH OF ETERNITY. 
 
 The Poet, feeling that nothing on earth has a long duration, resolves to give himself up to God as the 
 Sovereign Good on whom he should fix all his hopes. In the end he imagines to have seen Eternity 
 triumph over Time, describing the end of the world, the judgment to come, and the state of Eternal 
 Glory : — 
 
 W HEN all beneath the ample cope of heaven 
 I saw, like clouds before the tempest driven, 
 
 In sad vicissitude’s eternal round, 
 
 Awhile I stood in holy horror bound ; 
 
 And thus at last with self-exploring mind. 
 
 Musing, I ask’d, “ What basis I could find 
 To fix my trust ? ” An inward voice replied, 
 
 “ Trust to the Almighty ; He thy steps shall guide ; 
 He never fails to hear the faithful prayer, 
 
 But worldly hope must end in dark despair.” 
 
 Now, what I am, and what I was, I know ; 
 
 I see the seasons in procession go 
 With still increasing speed ; while things to come, 
 Unknown, unthought, amid the growing gloom 
 Of long futurity, perplex my soul. 
 
 While life is posting to its final goal. 
 
 Mine is the crime, who ought with clearer light 
 To watch the winged years’ incessant flight ; 
 
 And not to slumber on in dull delay 
 Till circling seasons bring the doomful day. 
 
 But grace is never slow in that, I trust. 
 
 To wake the mind, before I sink to dust. 
 
 With those strong energies that lift the soul 
 To scenes unhoped, unthought, above the pole. 
 While thus I ponder’d, soon my working thought 
 Once more that ever-changing picture brought 
 Of sublunary things before my view. 
 
 And thus I question’d with myself anew ; — 
 
 “What is the end of this incessant flight 
 Of life and death, alternate day and night ? 
 
 When will the motion on these orbs impress’d 
 Sink on the bosom of eternal rest ? ” 
 
 At once, as if obsequious to my will. 
 
 Another prospect shone, unmoved and still ; 
 
 Eternal as the heavens that glow’d above, 
 
 A wide resplendent scene of light and love. 
 
 The wheels of Phoebus from the zodiac turn’d ; 
 
 No more the nightly constellations burn’d ; 
 
 Green earth and undulating ocean roll’d 
 Away, by some resistless power controll’d ; 
 Immensity conceived, and brought to birth 
 A grander firmament, and more luxuriant earth. 
 What wonder seized my soul when first I view’d 
 How motionless the restless racer stood. 
 
 Whose flying feet, with winged speed before. 
 
 Still mark’d with sad mutation sea and shore. 
 
 No more he sway’d the future and the past. 
 
 But on the moveless present fix’d at last ; 
 
 As at a goal reposing from his toils. 
 
 Like earth unclothed of all its vernal foils. 
 
 Unvaried scene ! where neither change nor fate. 
 
 Nor care, nor sorrow, can our joys abate ; 
 
 Nor finds the light of thought resistance here. 
 
 More than the sunbeams in a crystal sphere. 
 
 But no material things can match their flight. 
 
 In speed excelling far the race of light. 
 
 Oh ! what a glorious lot shall then be mine 
 If Heaven to me these nameless joys assign ! 
 
 For there the sovereign good for ever reigns. 
 
 Nor evil yet to come, nor present pains ; 
 
 No baleful birth of time its inmates fear, 
 
 That comes the burthen of the passing year, 
 
 No solar chariot circles through the signs. 
 
 And now too near, and now too distant, shines ; 
 To wretched man and earth’s devoted soil 
 Dispensing sad variety of toil. 
 
 Oh ! happy are the blessed souls that sing 
 Loud hallelujahs in eternal ring! 
 
 Thrice happy he, who late, at last shall jind 
 A lot in the celestial climes assign! d ! 
 
 He, led by grace, the auspicious ford explores, 
 Where, cross the plains, the wintry torrent roars ; 
 That troublous tide, where, with incessant strife, 
 Weak mortals struggle through, and call it life!* 
 
 In love with Vanity, oh ! doubly blind 
 Are they that final consolation find 
 In things that fleet on dissolution’s wing. 
 
 Or dance away upon the transient ring 
 Of seasons, as they roll. No sound they hear 
 From that still voice that Wisdom’s sons revere ; 
 No vestment they procure to keep them warm 
 Against the menace of the wintry storm ; 
 
 But all exposed, in naked nature lie, 
 
 A shivering crowd beneath the inclement sky. 
 
 Of reason void, by every foe subdued, 
 
 Self-ruin’d, self-deprived of sovereign good ; 
 Reckless of Him, whose universal sway. 
 
 Matter, and all its various forms, obey \ 
 
 Whether they mix in elemental strife. 
 
 Or meet in married calm, and foster life. 
 
 His nature baffles all created mind. 
 
 In earth or heaven, to fathom, or to find. 
 
 One glimpse of glory on the saints bestow’d, 
 
 With eager longings fills the courts of God 
 For deeper views, in that abyss of light. 
 
 While mortals slumber here, content with night : 
 Though nought, we find, below the moon, can fill 
 The boundless cravings of the human will. 
 
 And yet, what fierce desire the fancy wings 
 To gain a grasp of perishable things ; 
 
 Although one fleeting hour may scatter far 
 The fruit of many a year’s corroding care ; 
 
 Those spacious regions where our fancies roam. 
 Pain’d by the past, expecting ills to come, 
 
 In some dread moment, by the fates assign’d, 
 Shall pass away, nor leave a rack behind ; 
 
 And Time’s revolving wheels shall lose at last 
 The speed that spins the future and the past. 
 And, sovereign of an undisputed throne. 
 
 Awful eternity shall reign alone. 
 
 Then every darksome veil shall fleet away 
 That hides the prospects of eternal day : 
 
 Those cloud-born objects of our hopes and fears. 
 Whose air-drawn forms deluded memory bears 
 As of substantial things, away so fast 
 Shall fleet, that mortals, at their speed aghast, 
 Watching the change of all beneath the moon. 
 Shall ask, what once they were, and will be soon ? 
 
 Eacsimiles of Early Italian Engravings. 
 
 * Rendering of the lines in Italian at foot of the print, the “ Triumph of Eternity.’ 
 
 X 
 
THE TRIUMPH OF ETERNITY. 
 
 The time will come when every change shall cease, 
 This quick revolving wheel shall rest in peace : 
 
 No summer then shall glow, nor winter freeze ; 
 Nothing shall be to come, and nothing past, 
 
 But an eternal now shall ever last. 
 
 Though time shall be no more, yet space shall give 
 A nobler theatre to love and live. 
 
 The winged courier then no more shall claim 
 The power to sink or raise the notes of Fame, 
 
 Or give its glories to the noontide ray : 
 
 True merit then, in everlasting day. 
 
 Shall shine for ever, as at first it shone 
 At once to God and man and angels known. 
 
 Happy are they who in this changing sphere 
 Already have begun the bright career 
 That reaches to the goal which, all in vain. 
 
 The Muse would blazon in her feeble strain : 
 
 But blest above all other blest is he 
 Who from the trammels of mortality. 
 
 Ere half the vital thread, ran out, was free. 
 
 Mature for Heaven j where now the matchless fair 
 Preserves those features, that seraphic air. 
 
 And all those mental charms that raised my mind. 
 To judge of heaven while yet on earth confined. 
 That soft attractive glance that won my heart 
 When first my bosom felt unusual smart, 
 
 Now beams, now glories, in the realms above. 
 
 Fed by the eternal source of light and love. 
 
 Then shall I see her as I first beheld, 
 
 But lovelier far, and by herself excell’d ; 
 
 And I distinguish’d in the bands above 
 Shall hear this plaudit in the choirs of love : — 
 
 “ Lo ! this is he who sung in mournful strains 
 For many years a lover’s doubts and pains j 
 Yet in this soul-expanding, sweet employ, 
 
 A sacred transport felt above all vulgar joy.” 
 
 She too shall wonder at herself to hear 
 Her praises ring around the radiant sphere : 
 
 But of that hour it is not mine to know ; 
 
 To her, perhaps, the period of my woe 
 Is manifest ; for she my fate may find 
 In the pure mirror of the eternal mind. 
 
 To me it seems at hand a sure presage. 
 
 Denotes my rise from this terrestrial stage ; 
 
 Then what I gain’d and lost below shall lie 
 Suspended in the balance of the sky. 
 
 And all our anxious sublunary cares 
 Shall seem one tissue of Arachne’s snares ; 
 
 And all the lying vanities of life, 
 
 ^ The sordid source of envy, hate, and strife, 
 
 Ignoble as they are, shall then appear 
 
 Before the searching beam of truth severe ; 
 
 Then souls, from sense refined, shall see the fraud 
 That led them from the living way of God. 
 
 From the dark dungeon of the human breast 
 All direful secrets then shall rise confess’d. 
 
 In honour multiplied — a dreadful show 
 To hierarchies above, and saints below. 
 
 Eternal reason then shall give her doom ; 
 
 And sever’d wide, the tenants of the tomb 
 Shall seek their portions with instinctive haste. 
 Quick as the savage speeds along the waste. 
 
 Then shall the golden hoard its trust bfetray. 
 
 And they, that, mindless of that dreadful day. 
 Boasted their wealth, its vanity shall know 
 In the dread avenue of endless woe : 
 
 While they whom moderation’s wholesome rule 
 Kept still unstain’d in Virtue’s heavenly school. 
 
 Who the calm sunshine of the soul beneath 
 Enjoy’d, will share the triumph of the Faith. 
 
 These pageants five the world and I beheld. 
 
 The sixth and last, I hope, in heaven reveal’d 
 (If Heaven so will), when Time with speedy hand 
 The scene despoils, and Death’s funereal wand 
 The triumph leads. But soon they both shall fall 
 Under that mighty hand that governs all. 
 
 While they who toil for true renown below, 
 
 Whom envious Time and Death, a mightier foe, 
 Relentless plunged in dark oblivion’s womb. 
 
 When virtue seem’d to seek the silent tomb, 
 
 Spoil’d of her heavenly charms once more shall rise. 
 Regain their beauty, and assert the skies ; 
 
 Leaving the dark sojourn of time beneath, 
 
 And the wide desolated realms of death. 
 
 But she will early seek these glorious bounds. 
 Whose long-lamented fall the world resounds 
 In unison with me. And Heaven will view 
 That awful day her heavenly charms renew, 
 
 When soul with body joins. Gehenna’s strand 
 Saw me enroll’d in Love’s devoted band. 
 
 And mark’d my toils through many hard campaigns 
 And wounds, whose scars my memory yet retains. 
 Blest is the pile that marks the hallow’d dust ! — 
 There, at the resurrection of the just. 
 
 When the last trumpet with earth-shaking sound 
 Shall wake her sleepers from their couch profound; 
 Then, when that spotless and immortal mind 
 In a material mould once more enshrined. 
 
 With wonted charms shall wake seraphic love. 
 
 How will the beatific sight improve 
 Her heavenly beauties in the climes above ! 
 
 WYMAN AND SONS, PRINTERS, GREAT QUEEN STREET, LINCOLN’S INN FIELDS, LONDON, W.C. 
 
ch e n d fo f nm o cbQtQ 
 m\o/ 8^ trfuouano iti taVgjra* 
 ilnoit^e lotcx 
 
 a mei'nona etct na 
 
 


 
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