s of life, were tapestried in black; and black was the hue of
her livery, her carriages, and her horses. To further proclaim to all
the world her love for the departed, she had painted over the door of
her chamber the couplet which Virgil has ascribed to Dido:

"Ille meos, primus qui me sibi junxit, amores
Abstulit: ille habeat secum servetque sepulchro!"

[He who first linked me to himself hath borne away my affection: may he
possess it still and retain it in his grave!]

As to her personal appearance, Veronica was not beautiful in face, as
her features were irregular; but it was said of her in her early
womanhood that if her face had equalled her form she would have been one
of the most beautiful women of her time. She was high-strung,
enthusiastic, and passionate, but she possessed a character and an
intelligence which enabled her to hold herself in check; she was a most
devoted wife and entirely domestic in her disposition. Her poetry is
addressed chiefly to her husband, and she never tires of extolling his
many virtues. His eyes, in particular, seem to have been especially
beautiful in her sight, as she devotes no less than six sonnets and a
madrigal to a description of their charms, calling them _occhi
stellante_, and telling of their power in most fervid terms. We cannot,
however, consider her as a woman who was wholly concerned with her own
small affairs, as her letters show her to have been in communication
with the most illustrious literary men and women of all Italy, including
Ariosto, Bembo, Sannazzaro, and Vittoria Colonna. Though her literary
baggage was not extensive, the few sonnets she has left have a strength,
simplicity, and sincerity which were rare among the poets of her time.
Her best poem was one addressed to the rival sovereigns, the Emperor
Charles V., and the brilliant Francis I. of France; in it she pleads
with them to give peace to Italy and join their forces, so as to drive
back from the shores of Europe the host of the infidels. Her death
occurred in the year 1550, and then, Mrs. Jameson tells us in somewhat
ambiguous phrase, "she was buried by her husband." A little reflection
will clear away the doubt, however, and make clear the fact that she was
laid to rest beside the husband for whom she had buried herself in black
for so many years.

No woman more completely devoted herself to her husband's memory, by
means of her enduring verse, or deserves a higher place in the annals of