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Updated: June 17, 2025
Guido's Salvator Mundi, Dominichino's St. John, all gazed upon him, and he felt himself thrilled with tenderness, devotion, and amazement, as in an enchanted world. When he recovered his recollection, his tears began to flow, and he remained there, heedless of the cold, sitting amidst his new-found treasures, till morning dawned.
They were only saying that in a month their little swifts in the slates would be able to fly. While he sat so quiet on the ground and hidden by the wheat, he heard a cuckoo such a long way off it sounded like a watch when it is covered up. "Cuckoo" did not come full and distinct it was such a tiny little "cuckoo" caught in the hollow of Guido's ear. The cuckoo must have been a mile away.
Her eyes were thrown up, bright with a crowd of tears her dark brows bent together, like Pain and Beauty meeting in one; and her glorious golden hair swept off her shoulders as she hung forward to my hands. Could I lose such a prize. If anything could have persuaded me, would not that? I thought of Dante's Madonna Guido's Magdalen. Is there sin in it? I see none! And if there is, it's all mine!
All the principal rooms, even those appropriated to sleep, were on the same floor. A small but lofty and octagonal hall conducted to a suite of four rooms. At one extremity was a moderately-sized dining-room with a ceiling copied from the rich and gay colours of Guido's "Hours;" and landscapes painted by Cleveland himself, with no despicable skill, were let into the walls.
There was a little pause, during which a luxuriant lady in green, who sat on Guido's other side, determined to attract his attention, and spoke to him; but before he could answer, some one opposite asked her a question about dress, which was intensely interesting to her, because she dressed abominably.
It was painted for a rich patron who desired a composition treated like Guido's Virgin, and filled with several young girls of differing types of beauty. These beautiful compositions, more especially the last, The Deluge, typifying winter, will repay careful study.
There were a certain number of Messer Guido's friends there, too, that had joined him in the procession, and that now lingered in the hope to bear him with them to some merriment more to their liking than Messer Folco's transpontine hospitality. So that the open place was far from empty for all its bigness.
Peter's shortly after two, we walked round the whole church, looking at all the pictures and most of the monuments, . . . . and paused longest before Guido's "Archangel Michael overcoming Lucifer." This is surely one of the most beautiful things in the world, one of the human conceptions that are imbued most deeply with the celestial. . . .
Then, when it was too late for me to amend my error, came Messer Guido's death, and no man knows now what became of those verses. As for me, I cannot remember them, try I never so hard to cudgel my brains for their meaning and sequence.
In Klinger's play, as we have seen, everything is made to turn upon Guido's cankering doubt of his brother's seniority. One gets the impression that if the doubt could be settled by indisputable evidence in favor of Ferdinando, there would be no casus belli; the younger son would bow to the law of primogeniture and that would end the matter.
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