Respectans notasque domos, et dulcia regna,
Nil usquâm videt infelix praeter mare tristi
Lumine percussum, et pallentes sulphure campos,
Fumumque, flammasque, rotataque turbine sara.
Quin ubi detonuit fragor, et lux reddita colo:
Maestos confluere agricolas, passuque videres
Tandem iterum timido deserta requirere tecta:
Sperantes, si forte oculis, si forte darentur.
Uxorum cineres, miserorumve ossa parentum,
(Tenuia, sed tanti saltem solatia luctus)
Uná colligere et justà componere in urna.
Uxorum nusquam, cineres, nusquam ossa parentum
(Spem miseram!) assuetosve Lares, aut rura widebant.
Quippe ubi planities campi diffusajacebat;
Mons novus: ille supercilium, frontemque favilla
Incanum ostentans, ambustis cautibus, a quor
Subjectum, stragemgue suam, maesta arva, minaci
Despicit imperio, soloque in littore regnat.
Hinc infame locinomen, multosque per annos
Immemor antiquae laudis, nescire labores
Womeris, et nullo tellus revirescere cultu.
Non avium colles, non carmine matutino
Pastorum resonare ; aded undique dirus habebat
Informes late horror agros saltusque vacantes.
Saepius et longé detorquens navita proram
Monstrabat digito littus, sava-que revolvens
Funera narrabat noctis, veteremdue ruinam.

Montis adhuc facies manet hirta atque aspera saxis:
Sed furor extinctus jamdudum, et flamma quievit,
Quae nascentiaderat; seu forté bituminis atri
Defluxere olim rivi, atque effoeta lacuna
Pabula sufficere ardori, viresque recusat;
Sive in visceribus meditans incendia jam nunc
(Horrendüm) arcanis glomerat genti esse futurae
Exitio, sparsos tacitusque recolligit ignes.

Raro per clivos haud secius ordine vidi
Canescentem oleam : longum post tempus amicti
Wite virent tumuli; patriamque revisere gaudens
Bacchus in assuetis tenerum caput exerit arvis
Wix tandem, infidoque audet se credere coelo.

There was a certain little ode" set out from Rome, in a letter of recommendation to you, but possibly fell into the enemies' hands, for I never heard of its arrival. It is a little impertinent to inquire after its welfare; but you, that are a father, will excuse a parent's foolish fondness. Last post I received a very diminutive letter; it

* The Alcaic Ode inserted in Letter XXI.

made excuses for its unentertainingness, very little to the purpose; since it assured me, very strongly, of your esteem, which is to me the thing; all the rest appear but as the petits agrémens, the garnishing of the dish. P. Bougeant, in his Langage des Bétes, fancies that your birds, who continually repeat the same note, say only in plain terms, “Je vous aime, ma chere; ma chere, je vous aime;” and that those of greater genius indeed, with various trills, run divisions upon the subject; but that the fond, from whence it all proceeds, is “toujours je vous aime.” Now you may, as you find yourself dull or in humour, either take me for a chaffinch or nightingale; sing your plain song, or shew your skill in music, but in the bottom let there be, toujours, toujours de l'Amitié. As to what you call my serious letter, be assured, that your future state is to me entirely indifferent. Do not be angry, but hear me; I mean with respect to myself. For whether you be at the top of Fame, or entirely unknown to mankind; at the council-table, or at Dick's Coffee-house; sick and simple, or well and wise; whatever alteration mere accident works in you (supposing it utterly impossible for it to make any change in your sincerity and honesty, since these are conditions sine qud mon), I do not see any likelihood of my not being yours ever. -


Florence, Oct. 9, 1740. THE beginning of next spring is the time determined for our return at farthest; possibly it may be before that time. How the interim will be employed, or what route we shall take, is not so certain. If we remain friends with France, upon leaving this country we shall cross over to Venice, and so return through the cities north

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of the Po to Genoa; from thence take a felucca to Marseilles, and come back through Paris. If the contrary fall out, which seems not unlikely, we must make the Milanese, and those parts of Italy, in our way to Venice; from thence pass through the Tirol into Germany, and come home by the Low-countries. As for Florence, it has been gayer than ordinary for this last month, being one round of balls and entertainments, occasioned by the arrival of a great Milanese lady; for the only thing the Italians shine in, is their reception of strangers. At such times every thing is magnificence: the more remarkable, as in their ordinary course of life they are parsimonious even to a degree of nastiness. I saw in one of the vastest palaces in Rome (that of Prince Pamfilio) the apartment which he himself inhabited, a bed that most servants in England would disdain to lie in, and furniture much like that of a soph at Cambridge, for convenience and neatness. This man is worth 30,000l. sterling a year. As for eating, there are not two cardinals in Rome that allow more than six paoli, which is three shillings a day, for the expense of their table; and you may imagine they are still less extravagant here than there. But when they receive a visit from any friend, their houses and persons are set out to the greatest advantage, and appear in all their splendour; it is, indeed, from a motive of vanity, and with the hopes of having it repaid them with interest, whenever they have occasion to return the visit. I call visits going from one city of Italy to another; for it is not so among acquaintance of the same place on common occasions. The new Pope has retrenched the charges of his own table to a sequin (ten shillings) a meal. The applause which all he says and does meets with, is enough to encourage him really to deserve fame. They say he is an able and honest man; he is reckoned a wit too. The other day, when the senator of Rome came to wait upon

him, at the first compliments he made him the Pope pulled off his cap: his master of the ceremonies, who stood by his side, touched him softly, as to warn him that such a condescension was too great in him, and out of all manner of rule; upon which he turned to him and said, “Oh! I cry you mercy, good master, it is true, I am but a novice of a pope; I have not yet so much as learned ill manners.” “* *

z XXIX. M.R. G. RA Y TO HIS FATHER. Florence, Jan. 12, 1741.* WE still continue constant at Florence, at present one of the dullest cities of Italy. Though it is the middle of the carnival there are no public diversions; nor is masquerading permitted as yet. The Emperor's obsequies are to be celebrated publicly the 16th of this month; and, after that, it is imagined every thing will go on in its usual course. In the mean time, to employ the minds of the populace, the government has thought fit to bring into the city in a solemn manner, and at a great expense, a famous statue of the Virgin, called the Madonna dell’ Impruneta, from the place of her residence, which is upon a mountain seven miles off. It never has been practised but at times of public calamity; and was done at present to avert the ill effects of a late great inundation, which it was feared might cause some epidemical distemper. It was introduced a fortnight ago in procession, attended by the council of regency, the senate, the nobility, and all the religous orders, on foot and bare-headed, and so carried to the great church, where it was frequented by an infinite concourse of people from all the country round. Among the rest I paid my devotions almost every day, and saw numbers of people possessed with the devil, who were brought to be exorcised. It was indeed in the evening, and the church doors were always shut before the ceremonies were finished, so that I could not be eye-witness of the event; but that they were all cured is certain, for one never heard any more of them the next morning. I am to-night just returned from seeing our lady make her exit with the same solemnities she entered. The show had a finer effect than before, for it was dark; and everybody (even those of the mob that could afford it) bore a white-wax flambeaux. I believe they were at least five thousand of them, and the march was near three hours in passing before the window. The subject of all this devotion is supposed to be a large tile with a rude figure in bas-relief upon it. I say supposed, because since the time it was found (for it was found in the earth in ploughing) only two people have seen it; the one was, by good-luck, a saint; the other was struck blind for his presumption. Ever since she has been covered with seven veils; nevertheless, those who approach her tabernacle cast their eyes down, for fear they should spy her through all her veils. | Such is the history, as I had it from the lady of the house where I stood to see her pass; with many other circumstances, all which she firmly believes, and ten thousands beside. . . . . . . . We shall go to Venice in about six weeks, or sooner. A number of German troops are upon their march into this state, in case the King of Naples thinks proper to attack it. It is certain he has asked the Pope's leave for his troops to pass through his country. The Tuscans in general are much discontented, and foolish enough to wish for a Spanish government, or any rather than this. * * * * - -

* Between the date of this and the foregoing letter the reader will perceive an interval of full three months: as Mr. Gray saw no new places during this period,

his letters were chiefly of news and common occurrences, and are therefore omitted.

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