XXVI. "The third, Morgante, 's savagest by far; he Plucks up pines, beeches, poplar-trees, and oaks, And flings them, our community to bury; And all that I can do but more provokes." While thus they parley in the cemetery, A stone from one of their gigantic strokes, Which nearly crush'd Rondell, came tumbling over, So that he took a long leap under cover. XXVII. "For God-sake, cavalier, come in with speed; The manna's falling now," the abbot cried. "This fellow does not wish my horse should feed, Dear abbot," Roland unto him replied. "Of restiveness he'd cure him had he need; That stone seems with good-will and aim applied." The holy father said, "I don't deceive; They'll one day fling the mountain, I believe." XXVIII. Orlando bade them take care of Rondello, And also made a breakfast of his own: "Abbot," he said, "I want to find that fellow Who flung at my good horse yon corner-stone." Said the abbot, "Let not my advice seem shallow; As to a brother dear I speak alone; I would dissuade you, baron, from this strife, "That Passamont has in his hand three darts Such slings, clubs, ballast-stones, that yield you must; You know that giants have much stouter hearts Than us, with reason, in proportion just: If go you will, guard well against their arts, For these are very barbarous and robust." Orlando answer'd, "This I'll see, be sure, And walk the wild on foot, to be secure." XXX. The abbot sign'd the great cross on his front, "Then go you with God's benison and mine:" Orlando, after he had scaled the mount, As the abbot had directed, kept the line Right to the usual haunt of Passamont; Who, seeing him alone in this design, Survey'd him fore and aft with eyes observant, Then ask'd him, "If he wish'd to stay as servant ?" XXXI. And promised him an office of great ease, But, said Orlando, "Saracen insane! I come to kill you, if it shall so please God, not to serve as footboy in your train; And being return'd to where Orlando stood, And head, and set both head and helmet ringing, XXXIII. Then Passamont, who thought him slain outright, As to desert would almost be a wrong. XXXIV. And loud he shouted, "Giant, where dost go? 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! I know my life was saved by thee from heaven, I pray thee take heed of me, till I can XXXVII. And, having said thus much, he went his way; To root from out a bank a rock or two. Orlando, when he reach'd him, loud 'gan say, XXXVIII. And hurl'd a fragment of a size so large, 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 birth. 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 to the gate he came with great regret— "Who knocks here?" grumbling all the while, said he. "That," said Orlando, "you will quickly see. XLI. "I come to preach to you, as to your brothers, Sent by the miserable monks-repentance; For Providence divine, in you and others, Condemns the evil done by new acquaintance. 'Tis writ on high-your wrong must pay another's; From heaven itself is issued out this sentence. Know then, that colder now than a pilaster I left your Passamont and Alabaster." XLII. Morgante said, "O gentle cavalier! Now by thy God say me no villany; I by my faith disclose contentedly; The Saracen rejoin'd, in humble tone, "I have had an extraordinary vision; A savage serpent fell on me alone, And Macon would not pity my condition; Orlando answer'd, "Baron just and pious, "The Lord descended to the virgin breast 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: XLVII. "Since God has granted your illumination, XLVIII. "Then," quoth the giant, "blessed be Jesu I wish, for your great gallantry, always." XLIX. And, by the way, about the giants dead 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 fulfil: 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 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 sec 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'd― Ashes 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. LVI. Orlando, seeing him thus agitated, Said quickly, "Abbot, be thou of good cheer; He Christ believes, as Christian must be rated, And hath renounced his Macon false;" which here Morgante with the hands corroborated, A proof of both the giants' fate quite clear: Thence, with due thanks, the abbot God adored, Saying, "Thou hast contented me, O Lord!" LVII. He gazed; Morgante's height he calculated, Know, that no more my wonder will arise LVIII. "And one of our apostles, Saul once named, Long persecuted sore the faith of Christ, Till, one day, by the Spirit being inflamed, 'Why dost thou persecute me thus?' said Christ, And then from his offence he was reclaim'd, And went for ever after preaching Christ, And of the faith became a trump, whose sounding O'er the whole earth is echoing and rebounding. LIX. "So, my Morgante, you may do likewise; He who repents-thus writes the EvangelistOccasions more rejoicing in the skies Than ninety-nine of the celestial list. With just zeal for the Lord, that you'll exist And thus great honour to Morgante paid Much armour was, and hung up certain bows; (1) "Gli dette in su la testa un gran punzone." It is strange that Pulci should have literally anticipated the LXI. There being a want of water in the place, To go for water." "You shall be obey'd And went out on his way unto a fountain, LXII. Arrived there, a prodigious noise he hears, An arrow for his bow, and lifts his head; 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 revenge his fellow-farrow, Against the giant rush'd in fierce career, And reach'd the passage with so swift a foot, Morgante was not now in time to shoot. LXIV. Perceiving that the pig was on him close, He gave him such a punch upon the head (1) As floor'd him, so that he no more arose, Smashing the very bone; and he fell dead The tun was on one shoulder, and there were Nor spilt one drop of water in his race. With the dead boars, and with that brimful vase, Marvell'd to see his strength so very great; So did the abbot, and set wide the gate. LXVI. The monks, who saw the water fresh and good, Rejoiced, but much more to perceive the pork ;All animals are glad at sight of food; They lay their breviaries to sleep, and work With greedy pleasure, and in such a mood, That the flesh needs no salt beneath their fork, Of rankness and of rot there is no fear, For all the fasts are now left in arrear. LXVII. As though they wish'd to burst at once, they ate; In water, sorely grieved the dog and cat, A few days after this convivial scene, technical terms of my old friend and master, Jackson, and the art which he has carried to its highest pitch. LXVIII. The horse Morgante to a meadow led, Or to skim eggs unbroke was light enough; But the horse, sinking with the pain, fell dead, And burst, while cold on earth lay head and hoof. Morgante said, "Get up, thou sulky cur!" And still continued pricking with the spur. LXIX. But finally he thought fit to dismount, And said, "I am as light as any feather, "When there shall be occasion, you will see But never mind your horse, though out of sight "T were best to carry him into some wood, If but the means or way I understood." LXXI. The giant said, "Then carry him I will, May weigh, Morgante, do not undertake "Take care he don't revenge himself, though dead, As Nessus did of old beyond all cure. I don't know if the fact you've heard or read; But he will make you burst, you may be sure." "But help him on my back," Morgante said, “And you shall see what weight I can endure. The abbot said, "The steeple may do well, The penalty who lie dead in yon grot;" He said, "Now look if I the gout have got, Morgante was like any mountain framed ; Because he was one of his family; And fearing that he might be hurt or maim'd, Once more he bade him lay his burden by: Put down, nor bear him further the desert in." Morgante said, "I'll carry him for certain." punch on the head," or "a punch in the head,"-un punzone in su la testa,"-is the exact and frequent phrase of our LXXV. "Morgante, here is nought to do indeed." The abbot by the hand he took one day, And said, with great respect, he had agreed The honours they continued to receive Perhaps exceeded what his merits claim'd: "But in my heart 1 bear through every clime For me, from heaven reward you with all good The God so true, the eternal Lord sublime! Whose kingdom at the last hath open stood. Now when the abbot Count Orlando heard, And, "Cavalier," he said, "if I have less "We can indeed but honour you with masses, And sermons, thanksgivings, and pater-nosters, Hot suppers, dinners (fitting other places In verity much rather than the cloisters); But such a love for you my heart embraces, For thousand virtues which your bosom fosters, That wheresoe'er you go I too shall be, And, on the other part, you rest with me. LXXX. "This may involve a seeming contradiction; But you I know are sage, and feel, and taste, "You saved at once our life and soul: such fear In search of Jesus and the saintly host; And your departure breeds such sorrow here, That comfortless we all are to our cost; But months and years you would not stay in sloth," Nor are you form'd to wear our sober cloth; best pugilists, who little dream that they are talking the purest Tuscan. THE PROPHECY OF DANTE. LXXXII. This giant up to heaven may bear his soul Your state and name I seek not to unroll; But, if I'm ask'd, this answer shall be given, That here an angel was sent down from heaven. LXXXIII. "If you want armour or aught else, go in, Look o'er the wardrobe, and take what you choose, And cover with it o'er this giant's skin." Orlando answer'd, "If there should lie loose Which might be turn'd to my companion's use, And in a certain closet, where the wall Was cover'd with old armour like a crust, The abbot said to them, "I give you all." Morgante rummaged piecemeal from the dust (1) "It is strange that here nobody understands the real precise meaning of 'sbergo' or usbergo; an old Tuscan word which I have rendered cuirass, but am not sure it is The whole, which, save one cuirass, (1) was too small, LXXXV. 'Twas an immeasurable giant's, who The story on the wall was figured well, Who long had waged a war implacable: LXXXVI. Seeing this history, Count Orlando said So that he could not keep his visage dry,- From evil keep you the high King of glory! not helmet." (Lord B. to Mr. Murray.) See also antè, page 326, note.-P. E. The Prophecy of Dante." "'Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore, DEDICATION. LADY! (2) if for the cold and cloudy clime I dare to build the imitative rhyme, THOU art the cause; and howsoever I Such sounds are utter'd, and such charms display'd, Ah! to what effort would it not persuade? (3) (1) This poem, which Lord Byron, in sending it to Mr. Of old renown, once in the Adrian sea, The Prophecy, however, was first published in May, 1821. PREFACE. In the course of a visit to the city of Ravenna in the summer of 1819, it was suggested to the author that, having composed something on the subject of Tasso's confinement, he should do the same Dante's exile, the tomb of the poet forming one of the principal objects of interest in that city, both to the native and to the stranger. on "On this hint I spake," and the result has been the following four cantos, in terza rima, now offered to the reader. If they are understood and approved, it my purpose to continue the poem, in various other cantos, to its natural conclusion in the present age. The reader is requested to suppose that Dante addresses him in the interval between the conclusion of the Divina Commedia and his death, and shortly to accept my invitation. He came in the month of June, 1819, arriving at Ravenna on the day of the festival of the Corpus Domini. Being deprived at this time of his books, his horses, and all that occupied him at Venice, I begged him to gratify me by writing something on the subject of Dante; and, with his usual facility and rapidity, he com. posed his Prophecy."-L. E. "There were in this poem originally three lines of remarkable strength and severity, which, as the Italian poet against whom they were directed was then living, were omitted in the publication. I shall here give them from memory:The prostitution of his muse and wife, Both beautiful, and both by him debased, Shall salt his bread and give him means of life.'" Moore.-P. E. Galt.-P.E. (2) "Prettily but inharmoniously turned." (3) The Countess Guiccioli was the daughter of Count Gamba, a nobleman of Ravenna. She was taken, at an |