New-York daily tribune., 1843-05-05
THE TRIBUNE.
letters from Genoa. No. V
Correspondence Of The Tribune.

i, italy, for there were the beautiioi A'a'"'''
1o,tno the bosom of the wafer like swans, anu
rIh their one great white sail that iookcd lihe d
wing, fiyng on their way. 1t was no" ia'e III ''.'
afternoon. but the sun was warm ana g5Nt'e
sontb hreeze was coming up the Gull, bland ana
.os &C /, lime wind; and so turned to ascend
the mountain that forms the amphitheatre oehiho
cono, and which overlooks the entire city and
mort and neighboring sea. II was long and tolI-
s,roe walk The close high walls Knocked every
effort to catch glimpse of the beautiful scene
that knew was spread out below me- At length
reached the summit and oh, what VISION lay
,tmv feet Beggars and street.sngers and all
,uo,o FORGOTTEN. Palaces and towers and gar
a.ns and VINEYARDS and coming and departing
,ossels were crowded into one coup d'@h' On
,ho robt. stretched away the beautiful riricrd, as
&c called. or shore OF the Mediterranean that
Wind toward Nice, sprinklcd with villages. In
,ront was the sea, washing the base oi the Alps,
that stood like g carths gigantic sentncis, with
,he;r white helmets on, flashing in the clear ar
and light of the upper regions. Below lie was
,be city and port of Genoa behind me, the
bleak, gray Appcnincs, piled and packed against
the clear sky On every side, between inc and
the city, were terraced vineyards and gardens.
The sun was going to his bed behind the Alps,
bathing the whole Southern horizon in gold, which
was reflected again in the still water. watched
him till his disc disappeared behind snowpcak,
leaving momentary glow OF fire on gray tort
that frowned from the summit of a nelghborlng
mountain. and then turned TO the panorama be-
low. A long train of mules issued from the city
gates and wound in single file along the riviera
the tnkle of their bells coming faint and low at
intervals to my car Oh the light breeze that
ascended the hill. On every side peasants were
returning home,-somc along the gray shore,
and some winding up the mountain-paths. The
mufled sound of carriage wheels and the murmur
of busy men rose over the close packed city the
night descended upon it. At length the evening
chime of bells rose and trembled over It's marble
palaces, drowning every other sound with It's
louder melody staid on the hilltop watching
the changing scene till darkness closed over the
whole AT length the lantern of the immense
Lighthouse threw It's fame over the sea and
Appenines. casting its deeper light and shade on
mountain, sea and city. | descended to the
town to end the poetry of an Italian day in
cafe, over cup Of coffee. But all the beauties
Of Italian life had not been presented TO me.
With Italians, poetry and music do not end at
the door of an eating house. While was quietly
slipping my coffee, group cntercd,-a man and
boy with flute and violin, and young woman
with guitar. They played and sang their wild
mountain.ars till began to dream of rocks, and
iutting crags, and climbing goats, and eagle
nested huts and brawling torrents. and every
thing in wild, free existence. But alas. for the
poetry OF life So buried was in my thoughts
that did not notice the cessation of the song,
but sat twirling my spoon in my cup, wondering
ifit were not better at once to find some quiet
nook among the hills, and, Roussean-llkc, dream
away existence when the spell was broken by
the soft voice of the Picdmontcsc beside me.
looked up, and there she stood, with n little pew
Ter dish in her hand, most humbly asking for a few
sous. Oh! pretty Piedmontcsc, what fall you
gave me. threw her the coppcrs, showed vexa-
tously my cup aside, and hastcned into the streets
All this, too was for consideration Bah
Lard Of Song. Yes, truly but your inspiration
is Money. And what is Mans boastcd indcpend-
ence OF will, when so slight q thing can for the
moment make Il lest Of all his resolutions, and
wind him, like wand around an impulse
turned to my lodgings, with three Swiss peasants
before me- singing lazty along. Two carried two
different parts, while the third would ever and anon
ling IN by way of chorus his decp,hcavy bass voice
These did not seem to be singing for money; but
could not enjoy it, and, weary and exhausted, |
thought there was no poetry in the world like tic
poetry of Sleep
have gone over these little things, because
they are the best illustration of Italian character
In Just about this proportion arc It's music and
scenery, and bcggarS, and wretchcS mingled. 1T
Is land of great contrasts. The people, with
Their poetry and music, seem to me like specu
lsor in an old Athenian temple, selling It's rich
ornaments that were the objects of his ancestors
Affections and reverence, like the trinkcts OF q toy
shop. The language of Italy was made By poets
and Is Of itself sufficient TO render Its people
e1emnate. Ii has made them excessively po-
HE, but do not like their style. l had rather
nave one good, hearty English good night "
laan all the /" telcissma seras' in Italy. The
beauty of Its women is ovcrdrawn, if one can
adge from those of Genoa, which travellers have
generally lauded very much. You would see
more beautiful ladies in one single walk up Broad
way OF Nav afternoon than have encountered
fer SIX months in Genoa, and | have seen about
all. The truth is, we have derived our ideas of
Italy from England, which Is not distinguished
ior It's beautiful women. Accustomed to the
hoh, L.. of ,i,o