anile or Belfry Tower to see the
view from its summit. Florence lay at our feet, diminished to a model
of itself, with its walls and gates, its streets and bridges, palaces
and churches, all and each distinctly visible; and beyond, the Val
d'Arno with its amphitheatre of hills, its villas, and its
vineyards--classical Fesole, with its ruined castle, and Monte
Ulivetto, with its diadem of cypresses; luxuriant nature and graceful
art, blending into one glorious picture, which no smoky vapours, no
damp exhalations, blotted and discoloured; but all was serenely bright
and fair, gay with moving life, and rich with redundant fertility.

"O dell' Etruria gran Citta Reina,
D'arti e di studj e di grand' or feconda;
Cui tra quanto il sol guarda, e 'l mar circonda,
Ogn' altra in pregio di belta s' inchina:
Monti superbi, la cui fronte alpina
Fa di se contra i venti argine e sponda:
Valli beate, per cui d'onda in onda
L'Arno con passo signoril cammina:
Bei soggiorni ove par ch' abbiansi eletto
Le grazie il seggio, e, come in suo confine,
Sia di natura il bel tutto ristretto, &c."

Filicaja will be pardoned for his hyperboles by all who remember that
he was himself a Florentine.

* * * * *

28.--"Corinne" I find is a fashionable _vade mecum_ for sentimental
travellers in Italy; and that I too might be _a la mode_, I brought it
from Molini's to-day, with the intention of reading on the spot, those
admirable and affecting passages which relate to Florence; but when I
began to cut the leaves, a kind of terror seized me, and I threw it
down, resolved not to open it again. I know myself weak--I feel myself
unhappy; and to find my own feelings reflected from the pages of a
book, in language too deeply and eloquently true, is not good for me.
I want no helps to admiration, nor need I kindle my enthusiasm at the
torch of another's mind. I can suffer enough, feel enough, think
enough, without this.

Not being well, I spent a long morning at home, and then strayed into
the church of the Santo Spirito, which is near our hotel. There is in
this church a fine copy of Michel Angelo's Pieta, which a monk, whom I
met in the church, insisted was the original. But I believe the
_originalissimo_ group is at Rome. There are also two fine pictures, a
marriage of the Virgin, in a very sweet Guido-like style, and the
woman taken in adultery. This church is the richest in p