ILLNESS OF MR. OWEN. 185 weak, and apparently near his dissolution. He was cheered in this lonely situation on seeing a friend, and with an overflowing heart praised the God of consolation, who did not permit him to be wholly deserted. He seems perfectly aware of his danger, and never breathes the slightest wish that his life should be prolonged, so entire is his resignation to the will of God. On his countenance beams the same meek expression, "Not my will, but thine be done, O Lord." Indeed, I think his will is rather to depart, and be with Christ. He will not speak nor be spoken to but on spiritual things, as if this world and all its concerns were for ever excluded from his thoughts. I do not now mark daily occurrences, they are so uniform. In the morning I walk out with the children to the Trinita di Monte, or to the Coliseum; the greater part of the remainder of the day is spent with Mr. Owen, who likes to see any of us who can come to him. He is also favoured daily with the visits of an excellent clergyman, Mr. M-, and some other pious persons, amongst whom are Mrs. B, and the German minister, Dr. Schmeider, who is a Lutheran. Sunday, May 7. We partook of the Holy Communion with Mr. Owen, and found it indeed an ordinance of mercy and peace. Before receiving the Sacrament this day, he quoted the text, "But I refrain my soul and keep it low, like as a child that is weaned from its mother; yea, my soul is 186 PRINCE AND PRINCESS OF DENMARK. even as a weaned child." "It is what I wish," he added, "to wean my affections from every earthly object, and fix them exclusively above." A deep interest is attached to every word which he utters, as proceeding from the lips of one just hovering on the brink of eternity. He sometimes desires to see the children, to whom he speaks when able, in such a manner, that I am sure the impression will not be soon effaced from their minds. Dear Anny, in particular, listens to him with rivetted attention. He often tells me that I remind him of his mother, in my care and attentions towards him, in which he gratifies me exceedingly. I wish so much to supply to him her place, and trust that I may in future keep in view his example of calm resignation and perfect peace. This evening I was sent for in haste; the Prince and Princess of Denmark having signified their intention of coming to our house, as our windows looked into the Corso, that they might from thence witness the funeral procession of a Cardinal, which was to pass that way. They did not, however, arrive until some time after it had passed. They were accompanied by Baron Schubart, two other noblemen, and two ladies; they all remained conversing pleasantly about an hour and a half. The princess is very affable and pleasing in her manner. She addressed each of us in French. When she spoke to me, Anny, knowing my inability to answer her fluently, replied for me with a timid blush, PALACE OF THE CÆSARS. 187 making my excuse. pleased with her, and continued to converse with her for a considerable time. On taking leave, she invited us to attend her weekly soirées; but this we could not do without mixing more in the world than suits our inclinations. The princess looked much We spent the next day most delightfully, in wandering through the ruins of the palace of the Cæsars. The dinner-table was spread under a high arch, which excluded the sun-beams, but admitted a most beautiful prospect; fine music all the time resounding from caverns below. Never was there a day of greater enjoyment: the children appeared beside themselves as they bounded through the time-worn breaches. Miss C. was one of the company. Her passion for painting fixes her at Rome. She sat opposite to Anny, whose sweet expressive countenance she studied with an artist's eye, observing to a person who sat next her, that if Leonardi da Vinci had seen the face of that child, he would have copied it for that of an angel. Every one seems struck with the appearance of our dear Anny, who improves daily in every grace and beauty. At Lucca baths, where they passed the first summer after their arrival in Italy, the children enjoyed unrestrained liberty. Anny, in particular, bounded over the wild and lovely scenery, like the young mountain kid, with unwearying pleasure, and gathered the flowers which, with eager de 188 ITALIAN VERSES. light, she would display to her mama, when called in to take her lesson from a priest, who was employed to instruct the little ones in the Italian language. The appearance of our dear child on these occasions, her joyous countenance brightened by rosy health, so much excited the admiration of this respectable old man, that he made it the subject of the following lines, translated by a friend. Addressed by the Rev. Martino Martini to A. S., Bagni di Lucca, March 26, 1817. "Signorina, perchè con tanto impegno Incirca, andate di fioretti aprici? Perchè son vostri amici, Il colle, il monte, e la foresta opaca? Voi arrossite tacendo ? Intendo, intendo. Di citta popolosa odiato il fasto, L'invidia nequitosa, e l'ozio molle. Al monte, al bosco, al colle Viva innocenza, candida e vermiglia, Che a, mirarla ben, ben, vi rassomiglia." Translation. "Little damsel, tell I pray, Why eager o'er these wilds you stray, On sunny bank, in leafy bower? Thy chosen friends, these hills, these woods, A timid blush o'erspreads your cheek: Silent you stand, then let me speak. ITALIAN VERSES. I know, I know you hate the strife, 189 LETTER XXVI. Rome, May 15, 1820. MRS. Ot and her family returned from Frescati, to make arrangements for their final departure. Mrs. Ot's lovely daughter, A., who is just seventeen, looks like a shadow which is departing. Since we saw her last, consumption has made deep inroads. Her mother has performed the painful but necessary duty of making her acquainted with her real situation; and, through grace, she has learned to turn her thoughts from the gay expectations of youth, to the cold and cheerless grave, not only with resignation, but with the joyful assurance, that though in Adam all must die, in Christ, all who believe shall be made alive. In consequence of the precarious state of Mr. William Owen's health, for his life now seems to vi |