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Grave Matron, whoso seeks to blazon thee, Needs not make use of witts false Heraldry; Whoso should give thee all thy worth would swell So high, as'twould turn the world infidel. Had he great Maro's Muse, or Tully's tongue, Or raping numbers like the Thracian Song, In crowning of her merits he would be Sumptuously poor, low in Hyperbole.

He put XIII Pslames in verse for our Quire, And with XXVII Pastorals witcht Apollo's Lyre." "Do you recollect John Norton's funeral elegy on Ann Bradstreet, the Eve of our female minstrelsy?" interrogated Miss Hurribattle; "there are two lines in it which are still in my memory: 'Could Maro's muse but hear her lively strain, He would condemn his works to fire again.

Could Maro's Muse but hear her lively strain, He would condemn his works to fire again, Methinks I hear the Patron of the Spring, The unshorn Deity abruptly sing. Some doe for anguish weep, for anger I That Ignorance should live, and Art should die.

Visits to the ancient palace of Queen Joanna to the modern villa of the Margravine to the Sibyl's Cave, and to Maro's Tomb to some sites that owed their interest to classic associations to others that claimed it from present beauty wiled away days swiftly and pleasurably. What with youth, change of scene, and an Italian sky, George was no longer an invalid.