Of racking malady. And true it is, That not the less a frank, courageous heart And buoyant spirit triumphed over pain; And he was strong to follow in the steps Of the fair Muses. Not a covert path Leads to the dear Parnassian forest's shade, That might from him be hidden; not a track Mounts to pellucid Hippocrene, but he Had traced its windings. This Savona knows, Yet no sepulchral honors to her Son She paid, for in our age the heart is ruled Only by gold. And now a simple stone Inscribed with this memorial here is raised By his bereft, his lonely Chiabrera.
Think not, O Passenger who read'st the lines! That an exceeding love hath dazzled me;
No, he was one whose memory ought to spread Where'er Permessus bears an honored name, And live as long as its pure stream shall flow.
DESTINED to war from very infancy Was I, Roberto Dati, and I took
In Malta the white symbol of the Cross: Nor in life's vigorous season did I shun Hazard or toil; among the sands was seen Of Lybia; and not seldom on the banks Of wide Hungarian Danube, 't was my lot
To hear the sanguinary trumpet sounded. So lived I, and repined not at such fate: This only grieves me, for it seems a wrong, That, stripped of arms, I to my end am brought On the soft down of my paternal home. Yet haply Arno shall be spared all cause To blush for me. Thou, loiter not nor halt In thy appointed way, and bear in mind How fleeting and how frail is human life!
O FLOWER of all that springs from gentle blood, And all that generous nurture breeds to make Youth amiable! O friend so true of soul To fair Aglaia! by what envy moved, Lelius! has death cut short thy brilliant day In its sweet opening? and what dire mishap Has from Savona torn her best delight?
For thee she mourns, nor e'er will cease to mourn; And, should the outpourings of her eyes suffice not For her heart's grief, she will entreat Sebeto Not to withhold his bounteous aid, Sebeto, Who saw thee, on his margin, yield to death, In the chaste arms of thy beloved Love! What profit riches? what does youth avail? Dust are our hopes;-I, weeping bitterly, Penned these sad lines, nor can forbear to pray That every gentle Spirit hither led
May read them not without some bitter tears.
Nor without heavy grief of heart did he On whom the duty fell (for at that time The father sojourned in a distant land) Deposit in the hollow of this tomb
A brother's Child, most tenderly beloved! FRANCESCO was the name the Youth had borne, POZZOBONNELLI his illustrious house;
And when beneath this stone the Corse was laid, of all Savona streamed with tears. Alas! the twentieth April of his life Had scarcely flowered: and at this early time, By genuine virtue he inspired a hope
That greatly cheered his country to his kin He promised comfort; and the flattering thoughts His friends had in their fondness entertained,* He suffered not to languish or decay. Now is there not good reason to break forth Into a passionate lament? O Soul! Short while a Pilgrim in our nether world, Do thou enjoy the calm empyreal air; And round this earthly tomb let roses rise, An everlasting spring! in memory Of that delightful fragrance which was once From thy mild manners quietly exhaled.
*In justice to the Author, I subjoin the original:
Non lasciava languire i bei pensieri.
That thou, with no reluctant voice, for him Here laid in mortal darkness, wouldst prefer A prayer to the Redeemer of the world. This to the dead by sacred right belongs; All else is nothing. — Did occasion suit To tell his worth, the marble of this tomb Would ill suffice: for Plato's lore sublime, And all the wisdom of the Stagirite, Enriched and beautified his studious mind : With Archimedes also he conversed
As with a chosen friend; nor did he leave Those laureate wreaths ungathered which the Nymphs
Twine near their loved Permessus.
Himself above each lower thought uplifting, His ears he closed to listen to the songs Which Sion's Kings did consecrate of old; And his Permessus found on Lebanon. A blessed man! who of protracted days. Made not, as thousands do, a vulgar sleep; But truly did he live his life. Urbino, Take pride in him! —O Passenger, farewell!
By a blest Husband guided, Mary came From nearest kindred, Vernon her new name; She came, though meek of soul, in seemly pride Of happiness and hope, a youthful Bride. O dread reverse! if aught be so, which proves That God will chasten whom he dearly loves. Faith bore her up through pains in mercy given, And troubles that were each a step to Heaven: Two Babes were laid in earth before she died; A third now slumbers at the Mother's side; Its Sister-twin survives, whose smiles afford A trembling solace to her widowed Lord.
Reader! if to thy bosom cling the pain Of recent sorrow combated in vain ;
Or if thy cherished grief have failed to thwart Time still intent on his insidious part, Lulling the mourner's best good thoughts asleep, Pilfering regrets we would, but cannot, keep; Bear with him, — judge him gently who makes known
His bitter loss by this memorial Stone; And pray that in his faithful breast the grace Of resignation find a hallowed place.
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