THE

HE Morgante Maggiore, of the first canto of which this translation is offered, divides with the Orlando Innamorato the honor 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, in his continuation, by a judicious mixture of the gayety 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 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 favorite topics. It appears to me, that such an intention would have been no less hazardous to the poet 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 dullness 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, etc., as it suits his convenience; so has the translator. In other respects the version is faithful to the best of the translator's 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 favors 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.

CANTO THE FIRST.

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,

*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."

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 everything 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.

"T was in the season when sad Philomel Weeps with her sister, who remembers and

eplores the ancient woes which both befell, And makes the nymphs enamor'd, to the hand f Phaeton by Phoebus loved so well

His car (but temper'd by his sire's command) as given, and on the horizon's verge just now -ppear'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,
nd carry prose or rhyme, and this my lay

Of Charles the Emperor, whom you will find
y several pens already praised; but they
Who to diffuse his glory were inclined,
or all that I can see in prose or verse,

lave 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,

XI.

But watchful Fortune, lurking, takes good heed
Ever some bar 'gainst our intents to bring:
While Charles reposed him thus, in word and deed,
Orlando ruled court, Charles, and everything;
Curst Gan, with envy bursting, had such need
To vent his spite, that thus with Charles the
king

One day he openly began to say,
"Orlando must we always then obey?

XII.

"A thousand times I 've been about to say, Orlando too presumptuously goes on;

Here are we, counts, kings, dukes, to own thy sway, Hamo, and Otho, Ogier, Solomon,

Each have to honor thee and to obey;

But he has too much credit near the throne, Which we won't suffer, but are quite decided By such a boy to be no longer guided.

XIII.

"And even at Aspramont thou didst begin To let him know he was a gallant knight,

wrought,

Certes, far more than yet is said or thought.

VI.

You still may see at Saint Liberatore
The abbey, no great way from Manopell,
Erected in the Abruzzi to his glory,

Because of the great battle in which fell
A pagan king, according to the story,

And felon people whom Charles sent to hell: And there are bones so many, and so many, Near them Giusaffa's would seem few, if any.

VII.

But the world, blind and ignorant, don't prize
His virtues as I wish to see them: thou,
Florence, by his great bounty don't arise,
And hast, and may have, if thou wilt allow,
All proper customs and true courtesies:

Whate'er thou hast acquired from them till now,
With knightly courage, treasure, or the lance,
Is sprung from out the noble blood of France.

VIII.

Twelve paladins had Charles in court, of whom
The wisest and most famous was Orlando;
Him traitor Gan conducted to the tomb

In Roncesvalles, as the villain plann'd to,
While the horn rang so loud, and knell'd the doom
Of their sad rout, though he did all knight can do;
And Dante in his comedy has given

To him a happy seat with Charles in heaven.

'Twas

IX.

Christmas-day; in Paris all his court Charles held; the chief, I say, Orlando was, The Dane; Astolfo there too did resort,

Also Ansuigi, the gay time to pass

In festival and in triumphal sport,

The much-renown'd St. Dennis being the cause; Angiolin of Bayonne, and Oliver,

And gentle Belinghieri too came there.
X.

Avolio, and Arino, and Othone

Of Normandy, and Richard Paladin, Wise Hamo, and the ancient Salamone, Walter of Lion's Mount, and Baldovin, Who was the son of the sad Ganellone, Were there, exciting too much gladness in The son of Pepin-when his knights came hither, He groan'd with joy to see them all together.

But I know who that day had won the fight If it had not for good Gherardo been;

The victory was Almonte's else; his sight He kept upon the standard, and the laurels In fact and fairness are his earning, Charles.

XIV.

"If thou rememberest being in Gascony,

When there advanced the nations out of Spain, The Christian cause had suffer'd shamefully, Had not his valor driven them back again. Best speak the truth when there's a reason why: Know then, oh, Emperor! that all complain : As for myself, I shall repass the mounts O'er which I cross'd with two and sixty counts.

66

XV.

""T is fit thy grandeur should dispense relief, For the whole court is more or less in grief: So that each here may have his proper part,

Perhaps thou deem'st this lad a Mars in heart ?"
Orlando one day heard this speech in brief,
As by himself it chanced he sate apart:
Displeased he was with Gan because he said it,
But much more still that Charles should give him
credit.
XVI.

And with the sword he would have murder'd Gan,
But Oliver thrust in between the pair,
And from his hand extracted Durlindan,
And thus at length they separated were.
Orlando, angry too with Carloman,

Wanted but little to have slain him there;
Then forth alone from Paris went the chief,
And burst and madden'd with disdain and grief.
XVII.

From Ermellina, consort of the Dane,

He took Cortana, and then took Rondell, And on towards Brara prick'd him o'er the plain; And when she saw him coming, Aldabelle Stretch'd forth her arms to clasp her lord again: Orlando, in whose brain all was not well, As "Welcome, my Orlando, home," she said, Raised up his sword to smite her on the head.

XVIII.

Like him a fury counsels; his revenge

On Gan in that rash act he seem'd to take, Which Aldabella thought extremely strange; But soon Orlando found himself awake;

Disarm me: why such craven did I fight?" But Christ his servants ne'er abandons long, Especially Orlando, such a knight,

As to desert would almost be a wrong. While the giant goes to put off his defences, Orlando has recall'd his force and senses:

XXXIV.

And loud he shouted, "Giant, where dost go? Thou thought'st me doubtless for the bier outlaid;

To the right about-without wings thou 'rt too slow
To fly my vengeance-currish renegade!
'Twas but by treachery thou laid'st me low."
The giant his astonishment betray'd,
And turn'd about, and stopp'd his journey on,
And then he stoop'd to pick up a great stone.
XXXV.

Orlando had Cortana bare in hand;

To split the head in twain was what he schemed: Cortana clave the skull like a true brand,

And pagan Passamont died unredeem'd,
Yet harsh and haughty, as he lay he bann'd,
And most devoutly Macon still blasphemed;
But while his crude, rude blasphemies he heard,
Orlando thank'd the Father and the Word,—

XXXVI.

Saying, "What grace to me thou 'st this day given!
And I to thee, oh, Lord! am ever bound.
I know my life was saved by thee from heaven,
Since by the giant I was fairly down'd.
All things by thee are measured just and even;
Our power without thine aid would nought be
found:

I pray thee take heed of me, till I can
At least return once more to Carloman."

XXXVII.

And having said thus much, he went his way;
And Alabaster he found out below,
Doing the very best that in him lay

To root from out a bank a rock or two. Orlando, when he reach'd him, loud 'gan say, "How think'st thou, glutton, such a stone to throw?"

When Alabaster heard his deep voice ring,
He suddenly betook him to his sling,

XXXVIII.

And hurl'd a fragment of a size so large,
That if it had in fact fulfill'd its mission,
And Roland not avail'd him of his targe,
There would have been no need of a physician.
Orlando set himself in turn to charge,

And in his bulky bosom made incision
With all his sword. The lout fell; but o'erthrown, he
However by no means forgot Macone.

XXXIX.

Morgante had a palace in his mode,

Composed of branches, logs of wood, and earth, And stretch'd himself at ease in this abode,

And shut himself at night within his berth. Orlando knock'd, and knock'd again, to goad The giant from his sleep; and he came forth The door to open, like a crazy thing,

For a rough dream had shook him slumbering.

XL.

He thought that a fierce serpent had attack'd him;
And Mahomet he call'd; but Mahomet
Is nothing worth, and not an instant back'd him;
But praying blessed Jesu, he was set

At liberty from all the fears which rack'd him;
And to the gate he came with great regret-

XLV.

The Lord descended to the virgin breast
Of Mary Mother, sinless and divine;
If you acknowledge the Redeemer blest,
Without whom neither sun nor star can shine,
Abjure bad Macon's false and felon test,
Your renegado god, and worship mine,
Baptize yourself with zeal, since you repent."
To which Morgante answer'd, "I'm content."
XLVI.

And then Orlando to embrace him flew,
And made much of his convert, as he cried,
"To the abbey I will gladly marshal you."
To whom Morgante, "Let us go," replied;
"I to the friars have for peace to sue."

Which thing Orlando heard with inward pride,
Saying, "My brother, so devout and good,
Ask the abbot pardon, as I wish you would :

Oft, perfect baron! have I heard of you Through all the different periods of my days: And, as I said, to be your vassal too

I wish, for your great gallantry always." Thus reasoning, they continued much to say, And onwards to the abbey went their way. XLIX.

And by the way about the giants dead

Orlando with Morgante reason'd: "Be, For their decease, I pray you, comforted; And, since it is God's pleasure, pardon me; A thousand wrongs unto the monks they bred, And our true Scripture soundeth openly, Good is rewarded, and chastised the ill, Which the Lord never faileth to fulfill: L.

"Because his love of justice unto all

Is such, he wills his judgment should devour All who have sin, however great or small; But good he well remembers to restore. Nor without justice holy could we call

Him, whom I now require you to adore. All men must make his will their wishes sway, And quickly and spontaneously obey.

LI.

"And here our doctors are of one accord,

Coming on this point to the same conclusion, That in their thoughts who praise in heaven the Lord If pity e'er was guilty of intrusion

For their unfortunate relations stored

In hell below, and damn'd in great confusion, Their happiness would be reduced to nought, And thus unjust the Almighty's self be thought.

LII.

"But they in Christ have firmest hope, and all Which seems to him, to them too must appear Well done; nor could it otherwise befall:

He never can in any purpose err.
If sire or mother suffer endless thrall,

They don't disturb themselves for him or her; What pleases God to them must joy inspire;Such is the observance of the eternal choir.'

LIII.

"A word unto the wise," Morgante said, "Is wont to be enough, and you shall see How much I grieve about my brethren dead; And if the will of God seem good to me, Just, as you tell me, 't is in heaven obey'dAshes to ashes,-merry let us be!

I will cut off the hands from both their trunks, And carry them unto the holy monks,

LIV.

"So that all persons may be sure and certain That they are dead, and have no further fear To wander solitary this desert in,

And that they may perceive my spirit clear By the Lord's grace, who hath withdrawn the curtain

Of darkness, making his bright realm appear." He cut his brethren's hands off at these words, And left them to the savage beasts and birds.

LV.

Then to the abbey they went on together,

Where waited them the abbot in great doubt. The monks, who knew not yet the fact, ran thither, To their superior, all in breathless rout, Saying with tremor, "Please to tell us whether You wish to have this person in or out?" The abbot, looking through upon the giant, Too greatly fear'd, at first, to be compliant.

Arrived there, a prodigious noise he hears,
Which suddenly along the forest spread,
Whereat from out his quiver he prepares
An arrow for his bow, and lifts his head;
And lo! a monstrous herd of swine appears,
And onward rushes with tempestuous tread,
And to the fountain's brink precisely pours;
So that the giant's join'd by all the boars.
LXIII.

Morgante at a venture shot an arrow,

Which pierced a pig precisely in the ear, And pass'd unto the other side quite thorough; So that the boar, defunct, lay tripp'd up near. Another, to avenge his fellow farrow,

Against the giant rush'd in fierce career,