“In an age more proud and more free than that of Tasso, Petrarch was, like Dante, the valorous poet of Italian independence.  In other climes he is only known by his amours,—­here, more severe recollections encircle his name with never-fading honour; for it is known that he was inspired by his country more than by Laura herself.

“He re-animated antiquity by his vigils; and, far from his imagination raising any obstacle to the most profound studies, its creative power, in submitting the future to his will, revealed to him the secrets of past ages.  He discovered how greatly knowledge assists invention; and his genius was so much the more original, since, like the eternal forces, he could be present at all periods of time.

“Ariosto derived inspiration from our serene atmosphere, and our delicious climate.  He is the rainbow which appeared after our long wars; brilliant and many-hued, like that herald of fine weather, he seems to sport familiarly with life; his light and gentle gaiety is the smile of nature and not the irony of man.

“Michael Angelo, Raphael, Pergolese, Galileo, and you, intrepid travellers, greedy of new countries, though nature could offer nothing finer than your own, join your glory also to that of the poets.  Artists, scholars, philosophers! you are, like them, the children of that sun which by turns developes the imagination, animates thought, excites courage, lulls us into a happy slumber, and seems to promise everything, or cause it to be forgotten.

“Do you know that land where the Orange-trees bloom, which the rays of heaven make fertile with love?  Have you heard those melodious sounds which celebrate the mildness of the nights?  Have you breathed those perfumes which are the luxury of that air, already so pure and so mild?  Answer, strangers; is nature in your countries so beautiful and so beneficent?

“In other regions, when social calamities afflict a country, the people must believe themselves abandoned by the Deity; but here we ever feel the protection of heaven; we see that he interests himself for man, that he has deigned to treat him as a noble being.

“It is not only with vine branches, and with ears of corn, that Nature is here adorned; she prodigally strews beneath the feet of man, as on the birthday of a sovereign, an abundance of useless plants and flowers, which, destined to please, will not stoop to serve.

“The most delicate pleasures nourished by nature are enjoyed by a nation worthy of them—­a nation who are satisfied with the most simple dishes; who do not become intoxicated at the fountains of wine which plenty prepares for them;—­a nation who love their sun, their arts, their monuments, their country, at once antique and in the spring of youth;—­a nation that stand equally aloof from the refined pleasures of luxury, as from the gross and sordid pleasures of a mercenary people.”

“Here sensations are confounded with ideas; life is drawn in all its fulness from the same spring, and the soul, like the air, inhabits the confines of earth, and of heaven.  Genius is untrammelled because here reverie is sweet:  its holy calm soothes the soul when perturbed, lavishes upon it a thousand illusions when it regrets a lost purpose, and when oppressed by man nature is ready to welcome it.”