  Chiabrera, an Italian poet, is said to have written the following inscription for his tomb: “Friend, I while living sought comfort in Parnassus; Do thou, better counselled, seek it in Calvary.” The setting sun shone down the Apennines, Gilding Vesuvius and his purpling vines, And his dark collonades of whispering pines. The tinkling bells of the returning flocks Rang through the lengthening shadows of the rocks And grateful coolness filled the shepherd’s walks. The Star of Evening trembled in the West, Like a rich pearl on Beauty’s throbbing breast, And Heaven was all aglow with rapture blest. Upon his death-couch Chiabrera lay, Life’s waning lights across his features play Like the last beams of yon declining day. And as departing day its glory shed Bright on the group which gathered round his bed, In faltering words the dying poet said: “Chill blow the gales across the sea of Death, Upon my brow I feel their icy breath— And the bright star of song forsakes my path. “No more Apollo’s mount shall I behold— The rainbow mist that round its summit rolled Fades into clouds all joyless, dark and cold. “The groves are withered on Parnassus’ side; The fields are dead—the streams no longer glide, And every fount by fiery heat is dried. “All dumb and shattered lies Apollo’s shell, Broke are the chords my fingers loved so well, Mourning the hand that wove their fairy spell. “Dread Calvary! beneath thy sheltering rock Oh, let the gentle Shepherd of the flock Shield me in mercy from the tempest’s shock; “There from the pelting storm and bitter blast, My weary soul its refuge finds at last. Behold the Cross! The pang of Death is past. “Parnassus! up whose steeps I long have striven, Thy summit, by the thunder-tempest riven, Stops in the clouds—but Calvary’s rests in Heaven.” |
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