ot fly."

The reader will recollect the anecdote told in the _Life of Dr.
Johnson_. We will not leave the Florentine gallery without a word on the
_Whetter_. It seems strange that the character of that disputed statue
should not be entirely decided, at least in the mind of any one who has
seen a sarcophagus in the vestibule of the Basilica of St. Paul without
the walls, at Rome, where the whole group of the fable of Marsyas is
seen in tolerable preservation; and the Scythian slave whetting the
knife, is represented exactly in the same position as this celebrated
masterpiece. The slave is not naked; but it is easier to get rid of this
difficulty than to suppose the knife in the hand of the Florentine
statue an instrument for shaving, which it must be, if, as Lanzi
supposes, the man is no other than the barber of Julius Caesar.
Winckelmann, illustrating a bas-relief of the same subject, follows the
opinion of Leonard Agostini, and his authority might have been thought
conclusive, even if the resemblance did not strike the most careless
observer.[598] Amongst the bronzes of the same princely collection, is
still to be seen the inscribed tablet copied and commented upon by Mr.
Gibbon.[599] Our historian found some difficulties, but did not desist
from his illustration. He might be vexed to hear that his criticism has
been thrown away on an inscription now generally recognised to be a
forgery.

15.

In Santa Croce's holy precincts lie.
Stanza liv. line 1.

This name will recall the memory, not only of those whose tombs have
raised the Santa Croce into the centre of pilgrimage--the Mecca of
Italy--but of her whose eloquence was poured over the illustrious ashes,
and whose voice is now as mute as those she sung. Corinna is no more;
and with her should expire the fear, the flattery, and the envy, which
threw too dazzling or too dark a cloud round the march of genius, and
forbad the steady gaze of disinterested criticism. We have her picture
embellished or distorted, as friendship or detraction has held the
pencil: the impartial portrait was hardly to be expected from a
contemporary. The immediate voice of her survivors will, it is probable,
be far from affording a just estimate of her singular capacity. The
gallantry, the love of wonder, and the hope of associated fame, which
blunted the edge of censure, must cease to exist.--The dead hav