See! Boccace sits, unfolding on his knees But from his mantle's fold, and near the heart, Samuel Taylor Coleridge. PIAZZA DELLA SIGNORIA. AMONG the awful forms that stand assembled In the great square of Florence, may be seen That Cosmo, not the father of his country, But with his helmet off, in kingly state, Half of what passed died with him; but the rest, All that, by those who listened, could be gleaned Two of his sons, Giovanni and Garzia, (The eldest had not seen his sixteenth summer,) The trembling Cosmo guessed the deed, the doer; In secret to that chamber, at an hour When all slept sound, save the disconsolate mother, And closely questioned him. No change betrayed Or guilt or fear. The bloody sheet. "Blood calls for "Look there! look there!" he cried, blood, and from a father's hand! Unless thyself wilt save him that sad office." "What!" he exclaimed, when, shuddering at the sight, And thou shouldst be the slayer of us all." 'Tis a most wretched father who implores it.” Long on Garzia's neck he hung, and wept Well might De Thou, When in his youth he came to Cosmo's court, Think on the past; and, as he wandered through The ancient palace, through those ample spaces Silent, deserted, — stop awhile to dwell Upon two portraits there, drawn on the wall Together, as of two in bonds of love, One in a Cardinal's habit, one in black, Those of the unhappy brothers, and infer From the deep silence that his questions drew, The terrible truth. Well might he heave a sigh For poor humanity, when he beheld That very Cosmo shaking o'er his fire, Wrapt in his nightgown, o'er a sick man's mess, At once his nurse and his interpreter. Samuel Rogers. THE STATUE AND THE BUST. THERE's a palace in Florence, the world knows well, And a statue watches it from the square, Aud this story of both do the townsmen tell. Ages ago, a lady there, At the furthest window facing the east, Asked, "Who rides by with the royal air?" The bridesmaids' prattle around her ceased: They felt by its beats her heart expand, That selfsame instant, underneath, Gay he rode, with a friend as gay, Till he threw his head back, – "Who is she? "A bride the Riccardi brings home to-day." Carved like the heart of the coal-black tree, Crisped like a war-steed's encolure, Which vainly sought to dissemble her eyes And lo, a blade for a knight's emprise دو He looked at her, as a lover can; She looked at him, as one who awakes, As love so ordered for both their sakes, (For Via Larga is three-parts light, But the palace overshadows one, Because of a crime which may God requite! To Florence and God the wrong was done, The Duke (with the statue's face in the square) Turned in the midst of his multitude At the bright approach of the bridal pair. Face to face the lovers stood A single minute and no more, While the bridegroom bent as a man subdued, Bowed till his bonnet brushed the floor,- In a minute can lovers exchange a word? |