BOOK IX.

CHAPTER I.

To the memory of Milton and Shakespeare our friend, Philotes, has erected monuments in one of the most retired recesses of a glen, as well as to the virtues of Epaminondas and Washington;-the glories of the ancient and the modern world; and a parallel between whom were even worthy the pen of Plutarch. The monument in honour of the two poets is surmounted by two alabaster vases :-that to the memory of the statesmen consists of a small pillar of white marble, standing on a pedestal of black granite. On the east side of this column is simply inscribed the name of the Grecian hero; on the west, that of the American. Round the pedestal is written, "THE BEST

OF MEN MAN HAS DECLARED THEM ;—THE BETTER OF

THE TWO LET HEAVEN DECIDE.' Some little way farther on, is a tablet, commemorating the friendships of Tacitus and Pliny; Ovid and Propertius; Rucella and Trissino; Plutarch and Colonna; Sannazaro and Pietro Bembo; Boileau and Racine; Dyson and Akenside.

A temple, erected on a small mountain, which overlooks the vale, and which can be seen from the summits of all the larger ones, has been dedicated to

Liberty. In the niches are the busts of Alfred, Edgar, and Howel-Dha; Hampden and Sidney; Somers and Camden; Wallace and Chatham.

Names, grateful to the patriot's ear;

Which British sons delight to hear:

Names, which the brave will lang revere

Wi' valour's sigh!

Dear to the Muse! but doubly dear

To Liberty!

The names of a few others are inscribed on the ceiling. They are not numerous; for Philotes has long doubted the evidence of historians; and has learnt the necessary art of distinguishing between patriots and demagogues. In the library are suspended portraits of our best historians and philosophers :-Bede, the father of English history; Robertson, the Livy of Scotland; Gibbon, who traced the decline and fall not only of an empire, but of philosophy and taste; and Roscoe, who illumines the annals of mankind by a history of the restoration of literature and the arts. There, also, are the busts of Locke, Bacon, Boyle, and Paley. In the saloon hang, as large as life, whole length portraits of Gainsborough, and Wright of Derby; Sir Joshua Reynolds and Barry; Fuseli and West. In the cloisters, which lead to the chapel, are small marble monuments, commemorating the virtues of Tillotson, Sherlocke and Hoadley; Blair, Lowth, and Porteus; men who, in a peculiar degree, possessed That golden key,

Which opes the palace of Eternity.

Near the fountain, which waters the garden, stands

the statue of Hygeia; holding in her hand a tablet, on which are inscribed the names of Harvey, Sydenham, and Hunter. Health, in the character of a Fawn, supports the bust of Armstrong.

On the obelisk, at the farther end of the shrubbery, hang two medallions; one of Nelson, the other of Moore. These are the only warriors, to whom Philotes has been anxious to pay the homage of admiration and gratitude.

A column, erected on the highest peak of the mountains, celebrates the virtues and genius of Newton and Halley, Ferguson and Herschell. Embosomed in trees, through which are formed four shady vistas, exhibiting so many resemblances of fretted aisles, stands a temple of Gothic architecture. Eolian harps, concealed among mosses and lilies of the valley, decorate the windows; near which stand the statues of Haydn and Handel, Pleyel and Mozart. Paintings by some of our best modern artists cover the walls and ceilings of the temple. The subjects of these pictures are represented, as indulging in various amusements. Taliesin is listening to the sounds of his own harp; Chaucer is occupied in writing his Romance of the Rose: Spenser is reading the Orlando Furioso of Ariosto; Shakespeare is dipping his pen in the overflowings of a human heart; and Milton appears wrapt in silent ecstacy; contemplating with awful devotion the opening of a cloud, which progressively unfolds to his astonished eye the wonders of the Empyrean. Otway is represented, as melting into tears, at the sorrows of his

own Monimia; Pope is receiving a crown of laurel from his master, Homer; Akenside is refreshing his intellectual thirst, at the fountain of the Naiads; Thomson and Dyer, Beattie and Macpherson, are standing in view of the four vistas, appearing to contemplate the beauties of the surrounding scenery; while Burns is wandering among his native mountains, and making their vast solitudes resound with the name of liberty. Leaving this temple, we walk to the farther end of the western vista; where we come to an Alpine bridge: and, after making a few turns, we arrive unexpectedly at a small lake, shaded by trees of every description; at the north end of which, we observe a portico of the Tuscan order. On approaching it, we read on the entablature the following inscription :

ILLE POTENS SUI

LETUSQUE DEGET, cui licet in diem
DIXISSE, VIXI.

"Ah! he is indeed happy," has Colonna often exclaimed, as he has passed this beautiful spot ;-" he is of all men happy, who has the power of saying at the close of every day, 'I have lived.' Neither Homer, nor Horace, nor Tasso, nor Shakespeare, have ever uttered a greater truth than this!"

In an alcove, immediately behind this portico, stands a statue, leaning over a circular marble basin, The statue is that of a female, in whose countenance we immediately recognize the nymph of the FoUNTAIN OF TEARS. At the foot of the pedestal is in

scribed an elegant Alcaic fragment from the pen of Gray :

O Lachrymarum Fons !-tener sacros
Ducentium ortus ex animo; quatuor

Felix!-in imo qui scatentem

Pectore, te, Pia Nympha!-sensit.

CHAPTER II.

FROM the splendid domain of Philotes, permit me to invite you, my Lelius, to a description of a small cottage, in which Colonna passed the summer of 1814. It stood in a garden with a small lawn before it, at one end of a village; of which was retired and well-wooded. The porch was covered with honeysuckles. A grape vine and a pear-tree lined one wing; a peach and a nectarine-tree the other. The garden was an union of the flower, vegetable, and fruit garden. Before the lawn was a meadow of about two or three acres. At the bottom of this meadow ran a small rivulet. On the other side were several gardens belonging to the villagers. Beyond these a mossy terrace led to the banks of the river, which was about half a mile wide. Over this noble river rose a line of small hills, at the feet of which stood the village, Parsonage House, and church of St. Ismaels. On the right three green fields rising above each other, and studded, as it were, with cows and sheep, terminated at the upper end in a wood, the green of which was variously tinted.