in years, had
resigned his pulpit in the University of Paris, in order to return to
his native country, and came to Avignon with the intention of going by
sea to Florence. Petrarch pressed him strongly to visit him at Vaucluse,
interspersing his persuasion with many compliments to King Robert of
Naples, to whom he knew that Dionisio was much attached; nor was he
without hopes that his friend would speak favourably of him to his
Neapolitan Majesty. In a letter from Vaucluse he says:--"Can nothing
induce you to come to my solitude? Will not my ardent request, and the
pity you must have for my condition, bring you to pass some days with
your old disciple? If these motives are not sufficient, permit me to
suggest another inducement. There is in this place a poplar-tree of so
immense a size that it covers with its shade not only the river and its
banks, but also a considerable extent beyond them. They tell us that
King Robert of Naples, invited by the beauty of this spot, came hither
to unburthen his mind from the weight of public affairs, and to enjoy
himself in the shady retreat." The poet added many eulogies on his
Majesty of Naples, which, as he anticipated, reached the royal ear. It
seems not to be clear that Father Dionisio ever visited the poet at
Vaucluse; though they certainly had an interview at Avignon. To
Petrarch's misfortune, his friend's stay in that city was very short.
The monk proceeded to Florence, but he found there no shady retreat like
that of the poplar at Vaucluse. Florence was more than ever agitated by
internal commotions, and was this year afflicted by plague and famine.
This dismal state of the city determined Dionisio to accept an
invitation from King Robert to spend the remainder of his days at his
court.

This monarch had the happiness of giving additional publicity to
Petrarch's reputation. That the poet sought his patronage need not be
concealed; and if he used a little flattery in doing so, we must make
allowance for the adulatory instinct of the tuneful tribe. We cannot
live without bread upon bare reputation, or on the prospect of having
tombstones put over our bones, prematurely hurried to the grave by
hunger, when they shall be as insensible to praise as the stones
themselves. To speak seriously, I think that a poet sacrifices his
usefulness to himself and others, and an importance in society which may
be turned to public good, if he shuns the patronage that can be obtained
by unparasit