distinguished by unrivalled melody, and peculiarly capable of
furnishing to lofty and passionate thoughts their appropriate
garb of severe and concise expression.

To many this may appear a singular panegyric on the Italian
tongue. Indeed the great majority of the young gentlemen and
young ladies, who, when they are asked whether they read Italian,
answer "yes," never go beyond the stories at the end of their
grammar,--The Pastor Fido,--or an act of Artaserse. They could
as soon read a Babylonian brick as a canto of Dante. Hence it is
a general opinion, among those who know little or nothing of the
subject, that this admirable language is adapted only to the
effeminate cant of sonnetteers, musicians, and connoisseurs.

The fact is that Dante and Petrarch have been the Oromasdes and
Arimanes of Italian literature. I wish not to detract from the
merits of Petrarch. No one can doubt that his poems exhibit,
amidst some imbecility and more affectation, much elegance,
ingenuity, and tenderness. They present us with a mixture which
can only be compared to the whimsical concert described by the
humorous poet of Modena:

"S'udian gli usignuoli, al primo albore,
Egli asini cantar versi d'amore."
(Tassoni; Secchia Rapita, canto i. stanza 6.)

I am not, however, at present speaking of the intrinsic
excellencies of his writings, which I shall take another
opportunity to examine, but of the effect which they produced on
the literature of Italy. The florid and luxurious charms of his