In one of the halls above stairs the most remarkable statue is that of the dying gladiator (brought back from Paris); this is certainly a noble piece of sculpture; the bodily pain and mental anguish are singularly well expressed in the countenance; a superb bronze statue of Hercules; a Centaur in black marble; a Faun in rosso antico; a group of Cupid and Psyche; a Venus in Parian marble rather larger than the common size.

DONATELLO, a young Italian whose marvellous resemblance to the Marble Faun of Praxiteles is the subject of jesting remark to three American friends.

Soft nymphs on timid step the triumph view, And listening fauns with beating hoofs pursue; With pointed ears the alarmed forest starts, And love and music soften savage hearts.

But more worthy of attention is the torso of a faun on the left, on a revolving pedestal which (unlike those in the Bargello, as we shall discover) really does revolve and enables you to admire the perfect back.

He was the faun to the curling locks and the pointed ears, with not a trace of the satyr; all youth and grace and radiance.

He would have chased the faun into seclusion until he could clothe him in English trousers, and would have rendered the Venus of Milo into bits.

A Song for the Zodiack. Let murmuring Lovers no longer repine, But their Hearts and their Voices advance; Let the Nymphs and the Swains in the kind Chorus join, And the Satyrs and Fauns in a Dance. Let Nature put on her Beauty of May, And the Fields and the Meadows adorn; Let the Woods and the Mountains resound with the Joy, And the Echoes their Triumph return.