The spirits flag below.

With a beam of departed joy,
The eye may kindle yet:
As the cloud in yon wintry sky,
Still glows with the sun that is set,

The cloud will vanish away--
The sun while shine to morrow--
To me shall break no day
On this dull night of sorrow!

A REPLY TO A REPROACH.

I would not that the world should know,
How deep within my panting heart
A thousand warmer feelings glow,
Than word or look could e'er impart.

I would not that the world should guess
At aught beyond this outward show;
What happy dreams in secret bless--
What burning tears in secret flow.

And let them deem me cold or vain;
--O there is one who thinks not so!
In one devoted heart I reign,
And what is all the rest below?

9.--We have had two days of truly English weather; cold, damp, and
gloomy, with storms of wind and rain. I know not why, but there is
something peculiarly deforming and discordant in bad weather here; and
we are all rather stupid and depressed. To me, sunshine and warmth are
substitutes for health and spirits; and their absence inflicts
positive suffering. There is not a single room in our palazzetto which
is weather-proof; and as to a good fire, it is a luxury unknown, but
not unnecessary, in these regions. In such apartments as contain no
fire-place, a stufa, or portable stove, is set, which diffuses little
warmth, and renders the air insupportably close and suffocating.

I witnessed a scene last night, which was a good illustration of that
extraordinary indolence for which the Romans are remarkable. Our
laquais Camillo suffered himself to be turned off, rather than put
wood on the fire three times a-day; he would rather, he said, "starve
in the streets than break his back by carrying burdens like an ass;
and though he was miserable to displease the Onoratissimo Padrone, his
first _duty_ was to take care of his own health, which, with the
blessing of the saints, he was determined to do." R---- threw him his
wages, repeating with great contempt the only word of his long speech
he understood, "_Asino!_" "Sono Romano, io," replied the fellow,
drawing himself up with dignity. He look his wages, however, and
marched out of the house.

The impertinence of this Camillo was sometimes amusing, but oftener
provoking. He piqued himself on being a profound antiquarian, would
confute Nibby, and carried