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did wealth, asserted boyond all possibility and dispute by the indefatigable industry of Ludiovico Antonio David, a Milanese painter, and published at Bologna ;--another we shall consider as the work of him who restored painting when it was almost sunk; of him whom his art made honorable ; but who neglecting and despising greatness with a sort of cynical pride, was treated suitably to the figure he gave himself, not to his intrinsic merit; which not having philosophy enough to bear, it broke his heart;* another is performed by one, who (on the contrary) was a fine gentleman, and of great magnificence, and was much honored by his own and foreign princes; who was a courtier, a statesman, and a painter; and so much all these, that when he acted in either character, that seemed to be his business, and the others his diversion;t —when one thus reflects, besides the pleasure arising from the beauties and excellencies of the work, the fine ideas it gives us of natural things, the noble way of thinking one finds in it, and the pleasing thoughts it may suggest to us, an additional pleasure results from these reflections.
But, oh! the pleasure ! when a connoisseur and lover of art has before him a picture or drawing, of which he can say, this is the hand, these the thoughts of him who was one of the politest, best-natured gentlemen that ever was; who was beloved and assisted by the greatest wits, and the greatest men then at Rome, at a time when politeness and all those arts which make life taste truly agreeable, were carried to a greater height than at any period since the reign of Augustus: of him who lived in great farne, honor, and magnificence, and died universally lamented; and even missed a cardinal's hat only by dying a few months too soon; but was, above all, highly esteemed and favored by two popes, the only ones
* Caravaggio ?
who filled the chair of St. Peter in his time ;-one (in short) who could have been a Leonardo, a Michael Angelo, a Titian, a Corregio, a Parmegiano, an Annibal, a Rubens, or any other when he pleased, but none of them could ever have been a Raphael
Ode on a Distant Prospect of Etau College.
This poem has been noticed in our preface, and in the introduction to the Long Story. It is full of thought, tenderness, and music, and should make the writer beloved by all persons of reflection, especially those who know what it is to visit the scenes of their schooldays. They may not all regard them in the same melancholy light; but the melancholy light will cross them, and then Gray's lines will fall in upon the recollection, at once like a bitter and a balm.
Her Henry's holy shade;
Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey,
His silver-winding way.
Ah, happy hills, ah, pleasing shade,
Ah, fields beloved in vain,
Where once my careless childhood stray'd,
A stranger yet to pain?
blow A momentary bliss bestow,
As waving fresh their gladsome wing My weary soul they seem to soothe, And, redolent of joy and youth,
To breathe a second spring
Say, father Thames, for thou hast seen
Full many a sprightly race,
The paths of pleasure trace,
The captive linnet which enthrall ?
succeed To chase the rolling circle's speed,
Or urge the flying ball ?
While some, on earnest business bent,
Their murmuring labors ply
To sweeten liberty,
And unknown regions dare descry;
And snatch a fearful joy.
Gay hope is theirs, by fancy fed,
Less pleasing when possest;
The tear forgot as soon as shed,
The sunshine of the breast : Theirs, buxom health of rosy hue, Wild wit, invention ever new,
And lively cheer, of vigor born; The thoughtless day, the easy night, The spirits pure, the slumbers light,
That fly th' approach of morn.
Alas, regardless of their doom,
The little victims play!
Nor care beyond to-day:
And black misfortune's baleful train ; Ah, show them where in ambush stand, To seize their prey, the murderous band !
Ah, tell them they are men !
These shall the fury passions tear,
The vultures of the mind,
And shame that skulks behind ;
That inly gnaws the secret heart;
And sorrow's piercing dart.
Ambition this shall tempt to rise,
Then whirl the wretch from high,