In Corsica, the impression is di?erent. In the immensity of its forests, the Isolitary traveller still hears the lamenti 0f generations and shivers with the pity of death, or crosses the moor in peril of rohhers; and, in the cloud-swept solitude of the heights, seats himself at the humole hearth of soothsaying shepherds, poets of the peahs, who recite Tasso and Ariosto to the accompaniment of.