ast; its colouring
has been formed by clouds, and its modulation by the roaring of the sea;
but when Italian words, brilliant as an Italian festival, resonant like
those instruments of victory, which have been compared to scarlet among
colours; when these words, bearing the stamp of that joy which a fine
climate spreads through every heart, are pronounced in a moving voice,
their lustre softened, their strength concentrated, the soul is affected
in a manner as acute as unforeseen. The intention of nature seems
baffled, her benefits of no use, her offers rejected, and the expression
of pain, in the midst of so many enjoyments, astonishes and affects us
more deeply than the grief which is sung in those northern languages
which it seems to inspire.

FOOTNOTE:

[5] We must expect from this censure upon the Italian mode of
declamation, the celebrated Monti, who recites verses as well as he
composes them. It is really one of the greatest dramatic pleasures that
can be experienced, to hear him recite the Episode of Ugolin, of
Francesca da Rimini, the Death of Clorinda, &c.

Chapter iv.

The Senator took the crown of myrtle and laurel which he was to place on
the head of Corinne. She removed the shawl which graced her forehead,
and all her ebon hair fell in ringlets about her shoulders. She advanced
with her head bare, and her look animated by a sentiment of pleasure and
gratitude which she sought not to conceal. She a second time bent her
knee, to receive the crown; but she displayed less agitation and tremor
than at first; she had just spoken; she had just filled her mind with
the most noble thoughts, and enthusiasm conquered diffidence. She was
no longer a timid woman, but an inspired priestess who joyfully
consecrated herself to the worship of genius.

As soon as the crown was placed on the head of Corinne all the
instruments were heard in those triumphant airs which fill the soul with
the most sublime emotion. The sound of kettle-drums, and the flourish of
trumpets, inspired Corinne with new feelings--her eyes were filled with
tears--she sat down a moment, and covered her face with her
handkerchief. Oswald, most sensibly affected, quitted the crowd, and
advanced to speak to her, but was withheld by an invincible
embarrassment. Corinne looked at him for some time, taking care
nevertheless, that he should not observe the attention she paid him; but
when the Prince Castel-Forte came to take her hand, in order to