this weeping life lasted, he was hardly recognised
by his friends; all looked on a man so entirely transformed with deep
compassion. Dante, won over by those who could console the inconsolable,
was at length solicited by his relations to marry a lady of his own
condition in life; and it was suggested that as the departed lady had
occasioned him such heavy griefs, the new one might open a source of
delight. The relations and friends of Dante gave him a wife that his
tears for Beatrice might cease.

It is supposed that this marriage proved unhappy. Boccaccio, like a
pathetic lover rather than biographer, exclaims, _Oh menti cicche! Oh
tenebrosi intelletti! Oh argomenti vani di molti mortali, quante sono le
ruiscite in assai cose contrarie a' nostri avvisi!_ &c. "Oh blind men!
Oh dark minds! Oh vain arguments of most mortals, how often are the
results contrary to our advice! Frequently it is like leading one who
breathes the soft air of Italy to refresh himself in the eternal shades
of the Rhodopean mountains. What physician would expel a burning fever
with fire, or put in the shivering marrow of the bones snow and ice? So
certainly shall it fare with him who, with a new love, thinks to
mitigate the old. Those who believe this know not the nature of love,
nor how much a second passion adds to the first. In vain would we
assist or advise this forceful passion, if it has struck its root near
the heart of him who long has loved."

Boccaccio has beguiled my pen for half-an-hour with all the loves and
fancies which sprung out of his own affectionate and romantic heart.
What airy stuff has he woven into the "Vita" of Dante! this _sentimental
biography_! Whether he knew but little of the personal history of the
great man whom he idolised, or whether the dream of the mother--the
May-day interview with the little Brice, and the rest of the
children--and the effusion on Dante's marriage, were grounded on
tradition, one would not harshly reject such tender incidents.[265] But
let it not be imagined that the heart of Boccaccio was only susceptible
to amorous impressions--bursts of enthusiasm and eloquence, which only a
man of genius is worthy of receiving, and only a man of genius is
capable of bestowing--kindle the masculine patriotism of his bold,
indignant spirit!

Half a century had elapsed since the death of Dante, and still the
Florentines showed no sign of repentance for their ancient hatred of
their persecuted patriot, nor