Imagini ale paginilor
PDF
ePub

Why in this furnace is my spirit proved
Like steel in tempering fire? because I loved?
Because I loved what not to love, and see,
Was more or less than mortal, and than me.
IX.

I once was quick in feeling-that is o'er ;-
My scars are callous, or I should have dash'd
My brain against these bars, as the sun flash'd
In mockery through them; -If I bear and bore
The much I have recounted, and the more
Which hath no words,-'t is that I would not die
And sanction with self-slaughter the dull lie
Which snared me here, and with the brand of shame
Stamp Madness deep into my memory,
And woo Compassion to a blighted name,
Sealing the sentence which my foes proclaim.
No-it shall be immortal!-and I make
A future temple of my present cell,
Which nations yet shall visit for my sake. 1
While thou, Ferrara! when no longer dwell
The ducal chiefs within thee, shalt fall down,
And crumbling piecemeal view thy hearthless halls,

A poet's wreath shall be thine only crown,-
A poet's dungeon thy most far renown,
While strangers wonder o'er thy unpeopled wall's !?
And thou, Leonora ! — thou-who wert ashamed
That such as I could love—who blush'd to hear
To less than monarchs that thou couldst be dear,
Go! tell thy brother, that my heart, untamed
By grief, years, weariness—and it may be
A taint of that he would impute to me-
From long infection of a den like this,
Where the mind rots congenial with the abyss,
Adores thee still; -and add that when the towers
And battlements which guard his joyous hours
Of banquet, dance, and revel, are forgot,
Or left untended in a dull repose,
This-this-shall be a consecrated spot!

But thou-when all that Birth and Beauty throws
Of magic round thee is extinct-shalt have
One half the laurel which o'ershades my grave.
No
power in death can tear our names apart,
As none in life could rend thee from my heart.
Yes, Leonora ! it shall be our fate
To be entwined for ever-but too late!4

Ode on Venice.

I.

OH Venice! Venice! when thy marble walls
Are level with the waters, there shall be
A cry of nations o'er thy sunken halls,

A loud lament along the sweeping sea!
If I, a northern wanderer, weep for thee,

What should thy sons do?-any thing but weep:
And yet they only murmur in their sleep.
In contrast with their fathers-as the slime,
The dull green ooze of the receding deep,
Is with the dashing of the spring-tide foam,
That drives the sailor shipless to his home,
Are they to those that were; and thus they creep,
Crouching and crab-like, through their sapping streets.
Oh! agony that centuries should reap
No mellower harvest! Thirteen hundred years
Of wealth and glory turn'd to dust and tears;

1 ["Which {nation yet shall visit for my sake."— MS.]

? [Those who indulge in the dreams of earthly retribution will observe, that the cruelty of Alfonso was not left without its recompense, even in his own person. He survived the affection of his subjects and of his dependants, who deserted him at his death; and suffered his body to be interred without princely or decent honours. His last wishes were neglected; his testament cancelled. His kinsman, Don Cæsar, shrank from the excommunication of the Vatican, and, after a short struggle, or rather suspense, Ferrara passed away for ever from the dominion of the house of Este.-HOBHOUSE.]

3 [In July, 1586, after a confinement of more than seven years, Tasso was released from his dungeon. In the hope of receiving his mother's dowry, and of again beholding his sister Cornelia, he shortly after visited Naples, where his presence was welcomed with every demonstration of esteem and admiration. Being on a visit at Mola di Gaeta, he received the following remarkable tribute of respect. Marco di Sciarra, the notorious captain of a numerous troop of banditti, hearing where the great poet was, sent to compliment him, and offered him not only a free passage, but protection by the way, and assured him that he and his followers would be proud to execute his orders. See Manso, Vita del Tasso, p. 219.]

4 [The "pleasures of imagination" have been explained

And every monument the stranger meets,
Church, palace, pillar, as a mourner greets;
And even the Lion all subdued appears,
And the harsh sound of the barbarian drum,
With dull and daily dissonance, repeats
The echo of thy tyrant's voice along
The soft waves, once all musical to song,

That heaved beneath the moonlight with the throng

Of gondolas-and to the busy hum

Of cheerful creatures, whose most sinful deeds

Were but the overbeating of the heart,

And flow of too much happiness, which needs
The aid of age to turn its course apart
From the luxuriant and voluptuous flood
Of sweet sensations, battling with the blood.
But these are better than the gloomy errors,
The weeds of nations in their last decay,

and justified by Addison in prose, and by Akenside in verse but there are moments of real life when its miseries and its necessities seem to overpower and destroy them. The his tory of mankind, however, furnishes proofs that no bortly suffering, no adverse circumstances, operating on our ma terial nature, will extinguish the spirit of imagination. Perhaps there is no instance of this so very affecting and so very sublime as the case of Tasso. They who have seen the dark, horror-striking dungeon-hole at Ferrara, in which he was confined seven years under the imputation of madness, will have had this truth impressed upon their hearts in a manner never to be erased. In this vault, of which the sight makes the hardest heart shudder, the poet employed himself int nishing and correcting his immortal epic poem. Lord Byra's "Lament" on this subject is as sublime and profound a kesson in morality, and in the pictures of the recesses of the human soul, as it is a production most eloquent, most pathetic, most vigorous, and most elevating among the gifts of the Muse. The bosom which is not touched with it- the fancy which is not warmed, the understanding which is not lightened and exalted by it, is not fit for human intercourse If Lord Byron had written nothing but this, to deny him se praise of a grand poet would have been flagrant injustice r BRYDGES.] gross stupidity.

5 [This Ode was transmitted from Venice, in 1819, along with "Mazeppa."]

When Vice walks forth with her unsoften'd terrors,
And Mirth is madness, and but smiles to slay;
And Hope is nothing but a false delay,

The sick man's lightning half an hour ere death,
When Faintness, the last mortal birth of Pain,
And apathy of limb, the dull beginning

Of the cold staggering race which Death is winning,
Steals vein by vein and pulse by pulse away;
Yet so relieving the o'er-tortured clay,
To him appears renewal of his breath,

And freedom the mere numbness of his chain; —
And then he talks of life, and how again
He feels his spirits soaring- albeit weak,
And of the fresher air, which he would seek;
And as he whispers knows not that he gasps,
That his thin finger feels not what it clasps,
And so the film comes o'er him—and the dizzy
Chamber swims round and round and shadows busy,
At which he vainly catches, flit and gleam,
Till the last rattle chokes the strangled scream,
And all is ice and blackness, and the earth
That which it was the moment ere our birth.

II.

There is no hope for nations! - Search the page
Of many thousand years-the daily scene,
The flow and ebb of each recurring age,
The everlasting to be which hath been,

Hath taught us nought or little still we lean
On things that rot beneath our weight, and wear
Our strength away in wrestling with the air;
For 't is our nature strikes us down: the beasts
Slaughter'd in hourly hecatombs for feasts

Are of as high an order-they must go [slaughter.
Even where their driver goads them, though to
Ye men, who pour your blood for kings as water,
What have they given your children in return?
A heritage of servitude and woes,

A blindfold bondage, where your hire is blows.
What! do not yet the red-hot ploughshares burn,
O'er which you stumble in a false ordeal,
And deem this proof of loyalty the real;
Kissing the hand that guides you to your scars,
And glorying as you tread the glowing bars?
All that your sires have left you, all that Time
Bequeaths of free, and History of sublime,
Spring from a different theme!-Ye see and read,
Admire and sigh, and then succumb and bleed!
Save the few spirits, who, despite of all,
And worse than all, the sudden crimes engender'd
By the down-thundering of the prison-wall,
And thirst to swallow the sweet waters tender'd,
Gushing from Freedom's fountains-when the crowd,
Madden'd with centuries of drought, are loud,
And trample on each other to obtain
The cup which brings oblivion of a chain
Heavy and sore, in which long yoked they plough'd
The sand, or if there sprung the yellow grain,
'Twas not for them, their necks were too much bow'd,
And their dead palates chew'd the cud of pain : ·
Yes! the few spirits—who, despite of deeds
Which they abhor, confound not with the cause
Those momentary starts from Nature's laws,
Which, like the pestilence and earthquake, smite
But for a term, then pass, and leave the earth
With all her seasons to repair the blight
With a few summers, and again put forth

Citles and generations - fair, when freeFor, Tyranny, there blooms no bud for thee!

III.

Glory and Empire! once upon these towers
With Freedom-godlike Triad! how ye sate!
The league of mightiest nations, in those hours
When Venice was an envy, might abate,
But did not quench, her spirit in her fate
All were enwrapp'd: the feasted monarchs knew
And loved their hostess, nor could learn to hate,
Although they humbled with the kingly few
The many felt, for from all days and climes
She was the voyager's worship; even her crimes
Were of the softer order-born of Love,
She drank no blood, nor fatten'd on the dead,
But gladden'd where her harmless conquests spread;
For these restored the Cross, that from above
Hallow'd her sheltering banners, which incessant
Flew between earth and the unholy Crescent,
Which, if it waned and dwindled, Earth may thank
The city it has clothed in chains, which clank
Now, creaking in the ears of those who owe
The name of Freedom to her glorious struggles;
Yet she but shares with them a common woe,
And call'd the "kingdom" of a conquering foe,
But knows what all-and, most of all, we know—
With what set gilded terms a tyrant juggles!

IV.

The name of Commonwealth is past and gone
O'er the three fractions of the groaning globe;
Venice is crush'd, and Holland deigns to own
A sceptre, and endures the purple robe;
If the free Switzer yet bestrides alone
His chainless mountains, 't is but for a time,
For tyranny of late is cunning grown,
And in its own good season tramples down
The sparkles of our ashes. One great clime,
Whose vigorous offspring by dividing ocean
Are kept apart and nursed in the devotion
Of Freedom, which their fathers fought for, and
Bequeath'd -a heritage of heart and hand,
And proud distinction from each other land,
Whose sons must bow them at a monarch's motion,
As if his senseless sceptre were a wand
Full of the magic of exploded science-
Still one great clime, in full and free defiance,
Yet rears her crest, unconquer'd and sublime,
Above the far Atlantic!-She has taught
Her Esau-brethren that the haughty flag,
The floating fence of Albion's feebler crag,
May strike to those whose red right hands have bought
Rights cheaply earn'd with blood. —- Still, still, for ever
Better, though each man's life-blood were a river,
That it should flow, and overflow, than creep
Through thousand lazy channels in our veins,
Damm'd like the dull canal with locks and chains,
And moving, as a sick man in his sleep,
Three paces, and then faltering: - better be
Where the extinguish'd Spartans still are free,
In their proud charnel of Thermopylæ,
Than stagnate in our marsh, or o'er the deep
Fly, and one current to the ocean add,
One spirit to the souls our fathers had,
One freeman more, America, to thee !

The Morgante Maggiore

OF PULCI.1

ADVERTISEMENT.

THE Morgante Maggiore, of the first canto of which this translation is offered, divides with the Orlando Innamorato the honour of having formed and suggested the style and story of Ariosto. The great defects of Boiardo were his treating too seriously the narratives of chivalry, and his harsh style. Ariosto,

[The following translation was executed at Ravenna, in February, 1820, and first saw the light in the pages of the unfortunate journal called "The Liberal." The merit of it, as Lord Byron over and over states in his letters, consists in the wonderful verbum pro verbo closeness of the version. It was, in fact, an exercise of skill in this art, and cannot be fairly estimated, without continuous reference to the original Italian, which the reader will therefore now find placed opposite to the text. Those who want full information, and clear philosophical views, as to the origin of the Romantic Poetry of the Italians, will do well to read at length an article on that subject, from the pen of the late Ugo Foscolo, in the forty-second number of the Quarterly Review. We extract from it the passage in which that learned writer applies himself more particularly to the Morgante of Pulci. After showing that all the poets of this class adopted as the groundwork of their fictions, the old wild materials which had for ages formed the stock in trade of the professed story-tellers, in those days a class of persons holding the same place in Christendom, and more especially in Italy, which their brothers still maintain all over the East,- Foscolo thus proceeds:

"The customary forms of the narrative all find a place in romantic poetry: such are the sententious reflections suggested by the matters which he has just related, or arising in anticipation of those which he is about to relate, and which the story-teller always opens when he resumes his recitations; his defence of his own merits against the attacks of rivals in trade; and his formal leave-taking when he parts from his audience, and invites them to meet him again on the morrow. This method of winding up each portion of the poem is a favourite among the romantic poets; who constantly finish their cantos with a distich, of which the words may vary, but the sense is uniform.

All' altro canto ve farò sentire,

So all' altro canto mi verrete a udire.'- ARIOSTO.

Or at the end of another canto, according to Harrington's translation,-
I now cut off abruptly here my rhyme,
And keep my tale unto another time.'

"The forms and materials of these popular stories were adopted by writers of a superior class, who considered the vulgar tales of their predecessors as blocks of marble finely tinted and variegated by the hand of nature, but which might afford a masterpiece, when tastefully worked and polished. The romantic poets treated the traditionary fictions just as Dante did the legends invented by the monks to maintain their mastery over weak minds. He formed them into a poem, which became the admiration of every age and nation; but Dante and Petrarca were poets, who, though universally celebrated, were not universally understood. The learned found employment in writing comments upon their poems; but the nation, without even excepting the higher ranks, knew them only by nune. At the beginning of the fifteenth century, a few obscure authors began to write romances in prose and in rhyme, taking for their subject the wars of Charlemagne and Orlando, or sometimes the adventures of Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. These works were so pleasing, that they were rapidly multiplied: but the bards of romance cared little about style or versification, they sought for adventures, and enchantments, and miracles. We here obtain at least a partial explanation of the rapid decline of Italian poetry, and the amazing corruption of the Italian language, which took place immediately after the death of Petrarch, and which proceeded from bad to worse until the era of Lorenzo de' Medici.

"It was then that Pulci composed his Morgante for the amusement of Madonna Lucrezia, the mother of Lorenzo; and he usert to recite it at table to Ficino, and Po'itian, and Lorenzo, and the other illustrious characters who then flourished at Florence: yet Pulci adhered strictly to the original plan of the popular story tellers; and if his successors have embellished them so that they can scarcely be recognised, it is certain that in no other poein can they be found so genuine and native as in the Mor gante. Pulci accommodated himself, though sportively, to the genius of his age; classical taste and sound criticism began to prevail, and great endeavours were making by the learned to separate historical truth from the chaos of fable and tradition: so that, though Pulci introduced the most extravagant fables, he affected to complain of the errors of his prede cessors. I grieve,' he said, for my emperor Charlemagne: for I see that his history has been badly written and worse understood."

E del mio Carlo imperador m'increbbe;
E' stata questa istoria, a quel ch'io veggio,
Di Carlo, male intesa e scritta peggio."

"And whilst he quotes the great historian Leonardo Aretino with respect, he professes to believe the authority of the holy Archbishop Turpin, who is also one of the heroes of the pocin. In another passage, where he imitates the apologies of the story-tellers, he makes a neat allusion to the taste of his audience. I know, he says, that I must proceed straightforward, and not tell a single lie in the course of my tale. This is not a

in his continuation, by a judicious mixture of the gaiety of Pulci, has avoided the one; and Berni, in his reformation of Boiardo's poem, has corrected the other. Pulci may be considered as the precursor and model of Berni altogether, as he has partly been to Ariosto, however inferior to both his copyists. He is no less the founder of a new style of poetry very lately sprung up in England. I allude to that of

story of mere invention: and if I go one step out of the right road, our chastises, another criticises, a third scolds-they try to drive me madbut in fact they are out of their senses."

"Pulci's versification is remarkably fluent. Yet he is deficient in me lody: his language is pure, and his expressions flow naturally; bet Lás phrases are abrupt and unconnected, and he frequently writes ur gra trustically. His vigour degenerates into harshness; and his love of reoty prevents the developement of his poetical imagery. He bear, sil te marks of rude genius; he was capable of delicate pleasantry, yet bis o are usually bitter and severe. His humour never arises from points, bat from unexpected situations strongly contrasted. The Emperor Place magne sentences King Marsilius of Spain to be hanged for high tresam, and Archbishop Turpin kindly offers his services on the occasion.

E' disse: Io vo', Marsilio, che tu muoja
Dove tu ordinasti il tradimento.
Disse Turpino: lo voglie fare il boja,
Carlo rispose. Ed io son ben contento
Che sia trattato di questi due cani
L'opera santa con le sante mani."

"Here we have an emperor superintending the executios of king, ho is hanged in the presence of a vast multitude, all of whom are great's mckfied at beholding an archbishop officiating in the character of a finiales of the law. Before this adventure took place, Caradoro bad despatchw ambassador to the emperor, complaining of the shameful con suc đi wicked Paladin, who had seduced the princess his daughter. does not present himself with modern diplomatic courtesy. 'Macon t'abbatta come traditore, O disleale e ingiusto iinperadore!

A Caradoro è stato scritto, O Carlo,

O Carlo! O Carlo! (e crollava la testa)

De la tua corte, che non puoi negarlo, De la sua figlia cosa disonesta.

[ocr errors]

"O Charles,' he cried, Charles, Charles!'- and as be cried
He shook his head-a sad complaint I bring
Of shameful acts which cannot be denied:
King Caradore has ascertained the thing.
Which comes moreover proved and verified
By letters from your own side of the water
Respecting the behaviour of his daughter."

[ocr errors]

"Such scenes may appear somewhat strange; but Caradoro's emb«Quare, and the execution of King Marsilius, are told in atrict conformity to the notions of the common people, and as they must still be described if wished to imitate the popular story-tellers. If Pule be acce mai y fined and delicate, his snatches of amenity resulted from the national racter of the Florentines, and the revival of letters. But at the same time, we must trace to national character, and to the influence et his duly c panions, the buffoonery which, in the opinion of foreigners, frequen tx Par graces the poem. M. Ginguéné has criticised Pulci in the usual aye of ha countrymen. He attributes modern manners to ancient times, and it for granted that the individuals of every other nation think and a modern Frenchmen. On these principles, be concludes that Pulc., ben with respect to his subject and to his mode of treating it, intended only ta write burlesque poetry; because, as he says, such buffooners coa 1 4 have been introduced into a composition recited to Lorenzo de Mou and his enlightened guests, if the author had intended to be in earnest. In fine portrait of Lorenzo given by Machiavelli at the end of his Flare history, the historian complains that he took more pleasure in the cez of jesters and buffoons than beseemed such a man. It is a lies ove that Benedetto Varchi, a contemporary historian, makes the same plaint of Machiavelli himself. Indeed, many known anecdotes ✅ Maka velli, no less than his fugitive pieces, prove that it was only when acting the statesman that he wished to be grave; and that he ca like other men when he laid aside his dignity. We do not thank he was in the wrong. But, whatever opinion may be formed on the sche we shall yet be forced to conclude that great men may be care-l to blame the manners of their times, without being able to withsund shut influence. In other respects, the poem of Pulci is sericea, hab is chat and in tone. And here we shall repeat a general observation, which advise our readers to apply to all the romantic poems of the la That their comic humour arises from the contrast between the deavours of the writers to adhere to the forms and skjerts of the story-tellers, and the efforts made at the same time by the extra writers to render such materials interesting and sublime.

"This simple elucidation of the causes of the poetical chance of the Morgante has been overlooked by the critics, and they have therefore puted with great earnestness during the last two centuries, behet Morgante is written in just or earnest; and whether Puks out o atheist, who wrote in verse for the express purpose of scoffing at al: my big m Mr. Merivale inclines, in his Orlando in Roncesvalles, to the ears » L M. Ginguéné, that the Morgante is decidedly to be considered in a but lesque poem, and a satire against the Christian religion Yve Mr. Meevale himself acknowledges that it is wound up with a tragical effect, und dignified by religious sentiment; and is therefore forced to as the question amongst the unexplained, and perhaps inexplicabile, periciana of the human mind. If a similar question had not been already i both in regard to Shakspeare and to Ariosto, it might be Mid C dispute whether the former intended to write tragedies, and wheslint Of

[ocr errors]

the ingenious Whistlecraft. The serious poems on Roncesvalles in the same language, and more particularly the excellent one of Mr. Merivale, are to be traced to the same source. It has never yet been decided entirely whether Pulci's intention was or was not to deride the religion which is one of his favourite topics. It appears to me, that such an intention would have been no less hazardous to the port than to the priest, particularly in that age and country; and the permission to publish the poem, and its reception among the classics of Italy, prove that it neither was nor is so interpreted. That he intended to ridicule the monastic life, and suffered his imagination to play with the simple dulness of his converted giant, seems evident enough; but surely it were as unjust to accuse him of irreligion on this account, as to denounce Fielding for his Parson Adams, Barnabas, Thwackum, Supple, and the Ordinary in Jonathan Wild, - or Scott, for the exquisite use of his Covenanters in the "Tales of my Landlord."

In the following translation I have used the liberty of the original with the proper names; as Pulci uses Gan, Ganellon, or Ganellone; Carlo, Carlomagno, or Carlomano; Rondel, or Rondello, &c., as it suits his convenience; so has the translator. In other respects the version is faithful to the best of the translator's

other did not mean to burlesque bis heroes. It is a happy thing that, with gird to those two great writers, the war has ended by the fortunate intervetion of the general body of readers, who, on such occasions, form their Jes ginent with less erudition and with less prejudice than the critics. Bat Puid is little read, and his age is little known. We are told by Mr. Merivale, that the points of abstruse theology are discussed in the Morgante with a degree of sceptical freedom which we should imagine to be together remote frotn the sprit of the fifteenth century. Mr. Merivale for M. Ginguene, who follows Voltaire. And the philosopher of Ferney, Sodways beating up in all quarters for allies against Christianity, colwird all thes niptural passages of Pulci, upon which he commented in his 0.. Hat it is only strice the Counci of Trent, that any doubt which wight be raid on a re igious dogma exposed an author to the charge of I pray whilst, in the fifteenth century, a Catholic might be sincerely de at, and yet allow himself a certain degree of latitude in theological date. At one and the same time the Florentines might well believe in the Gospel and laugh at a doctor of divinity: for it was exactly at this Ta that they had been spectators of the memorabile controversies between the reperentatives of the eastern and western churches. Greek and Latin kape from every corner of Christendom had assembled at Florence for the purpose of trying whether they could possibly understand each other; ard when thes separated, they hated each other worse than before. At the very time when Pules was composing his Morgante, the clergy of Florence pressed against the excommunications pronounced by Sixtus IV., and with expersons by which his holiness was anathematised in his turn. During the proceedings, an archbishop, convicted of being a papal emis sary, was hanged from one of the windows of the government pa ace at Florence this event may have suggested to Pulci the idea of converting another archbishop into a hangman. The romant e poets subst tuted Ginerary and centific observations for the trivial digresions of the storyBETS. This was a grat improvement; and although it was not well managed by Paici, yet he presents us with much curious incidental matter. In quoting histophical friend and contemporary Matteo Palmieri, he espan the contect of brutes by a bold hypothesis-he supposes that they af animated by evil spirita. This idea gave no offence to the theologians of the theenth century; but it excited much orthodox indigration when Farber Bougeant, a French monk, brought it forward as a new theory of Men Mr Mertle, after observing that Pulci died before the discovery of Americs by Columbus, quotes a passage which will become a very intting document for the philosophical historian We give it in his pre transation: The water is level through its whole extent, although, Are the earth, it has the form of a globe. Mankind in those ages were Tech more torant than now. Hercules would blush at this day for having faed lite colamns. Vesels will soon pass far beyond them. They may soon reach another hemisphere, because every thing tends to its centre; in like manner as, by a divine mystery, the earth is suspended in the midst of the wars, here telow are cities and empires, which were ancient. The inhaitants of those regions were called Antipodes. They have plants and Sumals as well as you, and wage wars as well as you.- Morgante, c. xxv. 1. TT, &c.

"The more we consider the traces of ancient science, which break in transient flashes through the darkness of the middle ages, and which gradually re-unsinated the horizon, the more shall we be disposed to adopt the hypothesis sugrested by Bailly, and supported by him with seductive eloquence. He maintained that all the acquirements of the Greeks and Romans had been transmitted to them as the wrecks and fragments of the

edge once poseal by primeval nations, by empires of sages and pophts, who were afterwards swept from the face of the globe by mrshel ning catastrophe. His theory may be considered as exersvagant; but of the literary productions of the Romans were not yet extant, it cald seem Incredible, that, after the lapse of a few centuries, the vilisation of the Augustan age could have been succeeded in Italy by mh barbarity. The Italians were so ignorant, that they forgot their Carrelly sams; and before the eleventh century individuals were known only by their Christian names. They had an indistinct idea, in the middle ages, of the existence of the antipodes; but it was a reminiscence of anCe knowledge. Dante has indicated the umber and position of the stars urposing the polar comate lation of the Austral hemisphere. At the same the tells us, that when I ufer was hurled from the celestial regions, Car arch desti transtized the globe; half his body remained on our side of

ability in combining his interpretation of the one language with the not very easy task of reducing it to the same versification in the other. The reader, on comparing it with the original, is requested to remember that the antiquated language of Pulci, however pure, is not easy to the generality of Italians themselves, from its great mixture of Tuscan proverbs; and he may therefore be more indulgent to the present attempt. How far the translator has succeeded, and whether or no he shall continue the work, are questions which the public will decide. He was induced to make the experiment partly by his love for, and partial intercourse with, the Italian language, of which it is so easy to acquire a slight knowledge, and with which it is so nearly impossible for a foreigner to become accurately conversant. The Italian language is like a capricious beauty, who accords her smiles to all, her favours to few, and sometimes least to those who have courted her longest. The translator wished also to present in an English dress a part at least of a poem never yet rendered into a northern language; at the same time that it has been the original of some of the most celebrated productions on this side of the Alps, as well as of those recent experiments in poetry in England which have been already mentioned.

the centre of the earth, and half on the other side. The shock given to the earth by his fall drove a great portion of the waters of the ocean to the southern hemisphere, and only one high mountain remained uncovered, upon which Dante places his purgatory. As the fall of Lucifer happened before the creation of Adam, it is evident that Dante did not admit that the southern hemisphere had ever been inhabited; but, about thirty years after wards, Petrarch, who was better versed in the ancient writers, ventured to hint that the sun shone upon mortals who were unknown to us.

Nella s'agion che il ciel rapido inchina
Vers' occidente, e che il dì nostro vola
A gente che di là forse l' aspetta.'

"In the course of half a century after Petrarch, another step was gained. The existence of the antipodes was fully demonstrated. Pulci raises a devil to announce the fact; but it had been taught to him by his fellow-citizen Paolo Toscanelli, an excellent astronomer and mathematician, who wrote in his old age to Christopher Columbus, exhorting ! im to undertake his expedition. A few stanzas have been translated by Mr. Merivale, with some slight variations, which do not wrong the original. They may be considered as a specimen of Pulci's poetry, when he writes with imagination and feeling Orlando bids farewell to his dying horse.

His faithful steed, that long had served him well
In peace and war, now closed his languid eye,
Kneel'd at his feet, and seem'd to say Farewell!
I've brought thee to the destined port, and die."
Orlando felt anew his sorrows swell
When he beheld his Brigliadoro lie
Stretch'd on the field, that crystal fount beside,
Stiffen'd his limbs, and cold his warlike pride:

And, O my much loved seed, my generous friend,

Companion of my better years!" he said;

And have 1 lived to see so sad an end

Of all thy toils, and thy brave spirit fled.

O pardon me, if e'er I did offend

With hasty wrong that mild and faithful head!'

Just then, his eyes a momentary light

Flash'd quick; - then closed again in endless night."

"When Orlando is expiring on the field of battle, an angel descends to him, and promises that Alda his wife shall join him in paradise.

Bright with eternal youth and fadeless bloom,
Thine Aldabella thou shalt behold once more,

Partaker of a bliss beyond the tomb

With her whom Sinai's holy hills adore,

Crown'd with fresh flowers, whose colour and perfume

Surpass what Spring's rich bosom ever bore

Thy mourning widow here she will remain,

And be in Heaven thy joyful spouse again."

"Whilst the soul of Orlando was soaring to heaven, a soft and plaintive strain was heard, and ange ic voices joined in celestial harmony. They sang the psalm, When Israel went out of Egypt; and the singers were known to be angels from the trembling of their wings.

Poi si sentì con un suon dolce e fioco
Certa armonia con si soavi accenti
Che ben parea d' angelici stromenti.

*

In exitu Israel, cantar, de Egypto, Sentito fu dagli angeli solenne

Che si conobbe al tremolar le penne.'

"Dante has inserted passages from the Vulgate in his Divina Commedia: and Petrarch, the most religious of poets, quotes Scripture even when he is courting. Yet they were not accused of impiety. Neither did Pulci incur the danger of a posthumous excommunication until after the Reformation, when Pius V. (a Dominican, who was turned into a saint by a subsequent pope promoted the welfare of holy mother church by burning a few wicked books, and hanging a few troublesome authors. The notion that Pulci was in the odour of heresy influenced the opinion of Milton, who only speaks of the Morgante as a sportful rom ince. Milton was anxious to prove that Catholic writers had ridiculed popish divines, and that the Bible

El Morgante Maggiore.

CANTO PRIMO.

The Morgante Maggiore. '

CANTO THE FIRST.

I.

In principio era il Verbo appresso a Dio;
Ed era Iddio il Verbo, e 'l Verbo lui :
Questo era nel principio, al parer mio;
E nulla si può far sanza costui :
Però, giusto Signor benigno e pio,
Mandami solo un de gli angeli tui,
Che m'accompagni, e rechimi a memoria
Una famosa antica e degna storia.

II.

E tu Vergine, figlia, e madre, e sposa
Di quel Signor, che ti dette le chiave
Del cielo e dell' abisso, e d'ogni cosa,
Quel dì che Gabriel tuo ti disse Ave!
Perchè tu se' de' tuo' servi pietosa,
Con dolce rime, e stil grato e soave,
Ajuta i versi mici benignamente,
E'nfino al fine allumina la mente.

III.

Era nel tempo, quando Filomena
Con la sorella si lamenta e plora,
Che si ricorda di sua antica pena,
E pe' boschetti le ninfe innamora
E Febo il carro temperato mena,
Che 'l suo Fetonte l'ammaestra ancora ;
Ed appariva appunto all' orizzonte,
Tal che Titon si graffiava la fronte.
IV.

Quand' io varai la mia barchetta, prima
Per ubbidir chi sempre ubbidir debbe
La mente, e faticarsi in prosa e in rima,
E del mio Carlo Imperador m'increbbe;
Che so quanti la penna ha posto in cima,
Che tutti la sua gloria prevarrebbe :
E stata quella istoria, a quel ch' i' veggio,
Di Carlo male intesa, e scritta peggio.

V.

Diceva già Lionardo Aretino,

Che s'egli avesse avuto scrittor degno,
Com'egli ebbe un Ormanno il suo Pipino
Ch'avesse diligenzia avuto e ingegno;
Sarebbe Carlo Magno un uom divino;
Però ch'egli ebbe gran vittorie e regno,
E fece per la chiesa e per la fede
Certo assai più, che non si dice o crede.

had been subjected to private judgment, notwithstanding the popes had prohibited the reading of it. His ardour did not allow him to stop and examine whether this prohibition might not be posterior to the death of Pulci. Milton had studied Pulci to advantage. The knowledge which he ascribes to his devils, their despairing repentance, the lofty sentiments which he bestows upon some of them, and, above all, the principle that, notwithstanding their crime and its punishment, they retain the grandeur and perfection of angelic nature, are all to be found in the Morgante as well as in Paradise Lost. Ariosto and Tasso have imitated other passages. When great poets borrow from their inferiors in genius, they turn their acquisitions to such advantage that it is difficult to detect their thefts, and still more difficult to blame them.

"The poem is filled with kings, knights, giants, and devils. There are many battles and many duels. Wars rise out of wars, and empires are conquered in a day. Pulci treats us with plenty of magic and enchantment. His love adventures are not peculiarly interesting; and, with the excep tion of four or five leading personages, his characters are of no moment. The fab e turns wholly upon the hatred which Ganellon, the felon knight of Maganza, bears towards Orlando and the rest of the Christian Paladins. Charlemagne is easily practised upon by Ganellon, his prime confidant and man of business. So he treats Orlando and his friends in the most scurvy manner imaginable, and sends them out to hord service in the wars against France. Ganel on is despatched to Spain to treat with King Marsilius, being also instructed to obtain the cesshm of a kingdom for Orlando; but he concerts a treacherous device with the Spaniards, and Orlando is killed

I.

In the beginning was the Word next God;
God was the Word, the Word no less was he:
This was in the beginning, to my mode

Of thinking, and without him nought could be: Therefore, just Lord! from out thy high abode, Benign and pious, bid an angel flee,

One only, to be my companion, who
Shall help my famous, worthy, old song through.
II.

And thou, oh Virgin! daughter, mother, bride
Of the same Lord, who gave to you each key
Of heaven, and hell, and every thing beside,
The day thy Gabriel said "All hail!" to thee,
Since to thy servants pity's ne'er denied,
With flowing rhymes, a pleasant style and free,
Be to my verses then benignly kind,
And to the end illuminate my mind.

III.

'Twas in the season when sad Philomel

Weeps with her sister, who remembers and Deplores the ancient woes which both befel, And makes the nymphs enamour'd, to the hand Of Phaeton by Phoebus loved so well

His car (but temper'd by his sire's command) Was given, and on the horizon's verge just now Appear'd, so that Tithonus scratch'd his brow:

IV.

When I prepared my bark first to obey,

As it should still obey, the helm, my mind, And carry prose or rhyme, and this my lay

Of Charles the Emperor, whom you will find By several pens already praised; but they Who to diffuse his glory were inclined, For all that I can see in prose or verse, Have understood Charles badly, and wrote worse.

V.

Leonardo Aretino said already,

That if, like Pepin, Charles had had a writer Of genius quick, and diligently steady,

No hero would in history look brighter; He in the cabinet being always ready,

And in the field a most victorious fighter, Who for the church and Christian faith had wrought, Certes, far more than yet is said or thought.

at the battle of Roncesvalles. The intrigues of Ganel'on, his pite, his patience, his obstinacy, his dissimulation, his affected humility, d his inexhaustible powers of intrigue, are admirably depicted; and fas character constitutes the chief and finest feature in the poem. Charlemagne is a worthy monarch, but esily gifted. Orlando is a real hero, chaste and disinterested, and who fights in good earnest for the proposter of the faith. He baptizes the glant Morgante, who afterwards serre like a faithful squire. There is another giant, whose name is Margulies Morgante falls in with Margutte; and they become sworn brothers. Mar gutte is a very infidel giant, ready to confess his failings, and full of drollery. He sets all a-laughing, readers, giants, devils, and heroes; and he ausbes his career by laughing till he bursts."]

["About the Morgante Maggiore, I won't have a line omitted. It may circulate or it may not, but all the criticism on earth sha'n't touch a line, unless it be because it is badly translated. Now you say, and I say, and others say, that the translation is a good one, and so it shall go to press as it is. Pulci must answer for his own irreligion: I answer for the translation only." Lord Byron to Mr. Murray, 1829.Why don't you publish my Pulci,- the best thing I ever wrote." Ib. 1821.]

« ÎnapoiContinuă »