latter, together with the marbles from the Parthenon, and the Phigalian marbles, must be reserved for a future notice.
It only remains to speak of the Tenth Room, and the last. The principal object contained in this room was, I believe, generally considered as the chief boast of this collection before the acquisition of the Elgin Gallery. I allude to the celebrated Discobolus. It is, undoubtedly, a noble production, full of the true air of antiquity in every part of it; and the anatomical details are made out with infinite truth, skill, and knowledge. But I cannot think that it quite deserves the great comparative fame which it enjoys. The general attitude of the figure is not only deficient in a graceful and natural arrangement, but it is scarcely answerable to the action in which it is engaged; and the left foot, with the toes bent under it, would certainly not contribute its due degree of support to the body under its present action. I repeat, however, the details are peculiarly fine, and true.
The other most remarkable objects in this department of the gallery are No. 5—an exquisitely beautiful torso of a female statue; No. 18—an admirably spirited head of a laughing faun; and finally, a bust of a youthful female, which rises out of, and is terminated by the leaves of the lotus flower. This bust is one of the most charming works in the whole collection, Nothing can surpass the natural grace, sweetness, and intellectual beauty of its expression; and it has the rare advantage of being as perfect as when it came from the sculptor's hand, or rather it is more so, since it has received those softening and heightening touches which no hand but that of Time can give.
SONNET, TRANSLATED FROM PETRARCHA;
BEGINNING
"Quanto più m' avvicino al giorno estremo."
The nearer I approach that final day
Which brings our mortal sorrows to a close,
More clearly I perceive how swiftly flows
The tide of Time, and human hopes decay—
And to myself in musing thoughts I say,
Now all my earthly ills, my love; and woes,
From my freed soul shall pass, as fallen snows
Melt in the sun-beam from the hills away;
And eyery fruitless wish shall fly, with life,
Which I so long and rashly have pursued:
Nor smiles, nor tears, nor care, nor worldly strife
Shall on my sweet and perfect peace intrude—
And I by brighter lights shall see more plain
For what fallacious joys we sigh in vain.
