The words
'Charlatan!' 'You a poet!' in a variety of languages, greeted me by way
of farewell from the Shadows.
"'The renowned Laura, if I am not mistaken,' I ventured to remark,
recognising her, indeed, from the miniature in the Laurentian library at
Florence.
"She bowed, and I began to ask for her adorer, Petrarch.
"'Excuse me,' said Laura, as we glided down a mossy path, under the shade
of trees particularly dear to poets, 'excuse me, but the sonneteer of
whom you speak is one whose name I cannot bear to mention. His conduct
with Burns's Clarinda, his heartless infatuation for Stella--'
"'You astonish me,' I said. 'In the Paradise of Poets--'
"'They are poets still--incorrigible!' answered the lady; then slightly
raising her voice of silver, as a beautiful appearance in a toga drew
near, she cried '_Catullo mio_!'
"The greeting between these accomplished ghosts was too kindly to leave
room for doubt as to the ardour of their affections.
"'Will you, my Catullus,' murmured Laura, 'explain to this poet from the
land of fogs, any matters which, to him, may seem puzzling and unfamiliar
in our Paradise?'
"The Veronese, with a charming smile, took my hand, and led me to a
shadowy arbour, whence we enjoyed a prospect of many rivers and mountains
in the poets' heaven. Among these I recognised the triple crest of the
Eildons, Grongar Hill, Cithaeron and Etna; while the reed-fringed waters
of the Mincius flowed musically between the banks and braes o' bonny Doon
to join the Tweed.
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