THE CERTOSA OF FLORENCE 
he has breathed his parting sigh, and his eyes have 
closed in their last slumber ; but a happy smile still 
plays on his features, the brightness of the long life 
spent in doing good shining on his countenance. The 
mere sight of his face is enough to take away all terror 
from the thought of death. It is all so easy and 
natural, just as if he had laid down to rest, a little 
tired with his long journey, and in that sleep had 
found all his soul desired. 
“ He was ninety-five years old when he died,” said 
the monk who stood with me by the tomb, and then 
turned away, as if this explained everything. 
Of about the same date as Buonafede’s tomb is 
the stained glass in one of the cloisters representing 
scenes from the life of St. Bruno, and ascribed to 
Giovanni da Udine, the friend of Raphael, who spent 
some years at Florence, and designed the windows of 
the Laurentian Library, before returning to die at 
Rome and be laid by the side of Raphael, “ never 
again to be divided from him whom living he had 
refused to leave” {Vasari). St. Bruno’s history 
appears again in a number of frescoes executed by 
Bernardino Poccetti, that prolific artist whose works 
in Florentine churches and convents have rendered 
him, in the eyes of modern travellers, a type of the 
decadence of Italian painting. 
More interesting are the series of busts by Gio- 
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