Well, here we are at Padua again! where I will run, and see once more
the places I was before so pleased with. The beautiful church of Santa
Giustina, the ancient church adorned by Cimabue, Giotto, &c. where you
fancy yourself on a sudden transported to Dante's Paradiso, and with for
Barry the painter, to point your admiration of its sublime and
extraordinary merits; but not the shrine of St. Anthony, or the tomb of
Antenor, one rich with gold, the other venerable with rust, can keep my
attention fixed on _them_, while an Italian _May_ offers to every sense,
the sweets of nature in elegant perfection. One view of a smiling
landschape, lively in verdure, enamelled with flowers, and exhilarating
with the sound of music under every tree,
Where many a youth and many a maid
Dances in the chequer'd shade;
And young and old come forth to play,
On a sun-shine holiday;
drives Palladio and Sansovino from one's head; and leaves nothing very
strongly impressed upon one's heart but the recollection of kindness
received and esteem reciprocated. Those pleasures have indeed pursued
me hither; the amiable Countess Ferris has not forgotten us; her
attentions are numerous, tender, and polite. I went to the play with
her, where I was unlucky enough to miss the representation of Romeo and
Juliet, which was acted the night before with great applause, under the
name of _Tragedia Veronese_.
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