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THE COLUMN INTENDED BY BUONAPARTE FOR A TRIUMPHAL EDIFICE IN MILAN, NOW LYING BY THE WAY-SIDE IN THE SIMPLON PASS

Ambition--following down this far-famed slope Her Pioneer, the snow-dissolving Sun, While clarions prate of kingdoms to be won-- Perchance, in future ages, here may stop; Taught to mistrust her flattering horoscope By admonition from this prostrate Stone! Memento uninscribed of Pride o'erthrown; Vanity's hieroglyphic; a choice trope In Fortune's rhetoric. Daughter of the Rock, Rest where thy course was stayed by Power divine! The Soul transported sees, from hint of thine, Crimes which the great Avenger's hand provoke, Hears combats whistling o'er the ensanguined heath: What groans! what shrieks! what quietness in death!

Mrs. Wordsworth's Journal contains the following reference to this "column":--"Sat., 9th Sept. (From Bavana to Domo d'Ossola.)--... The fine column--Buonaparte's--seen to-day, arrested here by the news of his overthrow, on its way to form a part of the triumphal arch at Milan!"

"Sunday, 9th September. Domo d'Ossola.--At a considerable height from the river's bed an immense column of granite lies by the wayside, as if its course had been stopped there by tidings of Napoleon's overthrow. It was intended by him for his unfinished triumphal arch at Milan; and I wish it may remain prostrate on the mountain for ages to come. His bitterest foe could scarcely contrive a more impressive record of disappointed vanity and ambition. The sledge upon which it has been dragged from the quarry is rotted beneath it, while the pillar remains as fresh and sparkling as if hewn but yesterday. W., who came after us, said he had named it the 'weary stone,' in memory of that immense stone in the wilds of Peru, so called by the Indians because after 20,000 of them had dragged it over heights and hollows, it tumbled down a precipice, and rested immovable at the bottom, where it must forever remain. Ere long we come to the first passage through the rocks, near the River's bed, and 'Road and River'[IO] for some time fill the bottom of the valley. We miss the bright torrents that stream down the hills bordering the Tesino; but here is no want of variety. We are in closer neighbourhood with the crags; hence their shapes are continually changing, and their appearance is the more commanding; and, wherever an old building is seen, it is overspread with the hues of the natural crags, and is in form of accordant irregularity. The very road itself, however boldly it may bestride the hills or pierce the rocks, is yet the slave of nature, its windings often being governed as imperiously as those of the Vedra within the chasm of the glen." (Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal.)

Another extract from Mrs. Wordsworth's Journal will farther illustrate this sonnet:--

Milan, Sept. 20.--... "Been to see the Bibliotheca Ambrosia.... Petrarch's Virgil delighted us more than all. It had been clawed by Buonaparte; and he had had the audacity to new-bind this book, and place four odious N's upon its back. When he revisited this library, as the animated old librarian related to us, he had this volume under his arm, saying, 'This is mine,' and walked off with it himself. It is well it did not remain in possession of so unworthy a master."--ED.

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