[Footnote 30:  St. Luke ii. 48.]

[Footnote 31:  The stoning of Stephen.]

[Footnote 32:  These illustrative spectacles are not among the best inventions of Dante.  Their introduction is forced, and the instances not always pointed.  A murderess, too, of her son, changed into such a bird as the nightingale, was not a happy association of ideas in Homer, where Dante found it; and I am surprised he made use of it, intimate as he must have been with the less inconsistent story of her namesake, Philomela, in the Metamorphoses.]

[Footnote 33:  So, at least, I conceive, by what appears afterwards; and I may here add, once for all, that I have supplied the similar requisite intimations at each successive step in Purgatory, the poet seemingly having forgotten to do so.  It is necessary to what he implied in the outset.  The whole poem, it is to be remembered, is thought to have wanted his final revision.]

[Footnote 34:  What an instance to put among those of haste to do good!  But the fame and accomplishments of Caesar, and his being at the head of our Ghibelline’s beloved emperors, fairly overwhelmed Dante’s boasted impartiality.]

[Footnote 35:  A masterly allegory of Worldly Pleasure.  But the close of it in the original has an intensity of the revolting, which outrages the last recesses of feeling, and disgusts us with the denouncer.]

[Footnote 36:  The fierce Hugh Capet, soliloquising about the Virgin in the tones of a lady in child-bed, is rather too ludicrous an association of ideas.  It was for calling this prince the son of a butcher, that Francis the First prohibited the admission of Dante’s poem into his dominions.  Mr. Cary thinks the king might have been mistaken in his interpretation of the passage, and that “butcher” may be simply a metaphorical term for the blood-thirstiness of Capet’s father.  But when we find the man called, not the butcher, or that butcher, or butcher in reference to his species, but in plain local parlance “a butcher of Paris” (un beccaio di Parigi), and when this designation is followed up by the allusion to the extinction of the previous dynasty, the ordinary construction of the words appears indisputable.  Dante seems to have had no ground for what his aristocratical pride doubtless considered a hard blow, and what King Francis, indeed, condescended to feel as such.  He met with the notion somewhere, and chose to believe it, in order to vex the French and their princes.  The spirit of the taunt contradicts his own theories elsewhere; for he has repeatedly said, that the only true nobility is in the mind.  But his writings (poetical truth excepted) are a heap of contradictions.]

[Footnote 37:  Mr. Cary thought he had seen an old romance in which there is a combat of this kind between Jesus and his betrayer.  I have an impression to the same effect.]

[Footnote 38: 

  “O Signor mio, quando saro io lieto
  A veder la vendetta the nascosa
  Fa dolce l’ira tua nel tuo segreto!”