strong and fearless as was the monk himself.

"Adrian, thou dost deceive thyself. The dread
Of Roman thunderbolts is growing faint,
And Reason slacks the bonds thou'dst have eternal.
She'll break them; yet she is not well awake.
Already human thought so far rebels,
That tame it thou canst not: Christ cries to it,
As to the sick of old, '_Arise and walk!_'
'T will trample thee, if thou precede it not:
The world has other truths than of the altar,
Nor will endure a church which hideth Heaven.
Thou wast a shepherd,--be a father: men
Are tired at last of being called a flock;
Too long have they stood trembling in the path
Smit by your pastoral staff. Why in the name
Of Heaven dost trample on the race of man,
The latest offspring of the Thought Divine?"

It is not strange that the emancipated Florentines grow wild with
delight when Rossi declaimed such heresy as this.

Mrs. Trollope's later translations of the patriotic poems of Dall'
Ongaro, the clever Venetian, are very spirited; nor is she unknown as an
original poet. "Baby Beatrice," a poem inscribed to her own fairy child,
that appeared several years ago in "Household Words," is exceedingly
charming; and one of her fugitive pieces, having naturally transformed
itself into "_la lingua del si_," has ever been attributed to her friend
Niccolini.

It was as a poet that Mrs. Trollope, then Miss Garrow, began to
write,--and indeed she may be called a _protegee_ of Walter Savage
Landor, for through his encouragement and instrumentality she first made
her appearance in print as a contributor to Lady Blessington's "Book of
Beauty." There are few who remember the old lion-poet's lines to Miss
Garrow, and their insertion here cannot be considered _mal-a-propos_.

"TO THEODOSIA GARROW.

"Unworthy are these poems of the lights
That now run over them, nor brief the doubt
In my own breast if such should interrupt
(Or follow so irreverently) the voice
Of Attic men, of women such as thou,
Of sages no less sage than heretofore,
Of pleaders no less eloquent, of souls
Tender no less, or tuneful, or devout.
Unvalued, even by myself, are they,--
Myself, who reared them; but a high command
Marshalled them in their station; here they are;
Look round; see what supports these parasites.
Stinted in growth and destitute of odor,
They grow where young Ternissa held