ADVERTISEMENT. THE following poem is grounded on a circumstance mentioned in Gibbon's "Antiquities of the House of Brunswick." I am aware, that in modern times, the delicacy or fastidiousness of the reader may deem such subjects unfit for the purposes of poetry. The Greek dramatists, and some of the best of our old English writers, were of a different opinion: as Alfieri and Schiller have also been, more recently, upon the Continent. The following extract will explain the facts on which the story is founded. The name of Azo is substituted for Nicholas, as more metrical. "Under the reign of Nicholas III. Ferrara was polluted with a domestic tragedy. By the testimony of an attendant, and his own observation, the Marquis of Este discovered the incestuous loves of his wife Parisina, and Hugo his bastard son, a beautiful and valiant youth. They were beheaded in the castle by the sentence of a father and husband, who published his shame, and survived their execution. He was unfortunate, if they were guilty: if they were innocent, he was still more unfortunate; nor is there any possible situation in which I can sincerely approve the last act of the justice of a parent."-GIBBON's Miscellaneous Works, vol. iii. p. 470. ["Ferrara is much decayed and depopulated; but the castle still exists entire ; and I saw the court where Parisina and Hugo were beheaded, according to the annal of Gibbon."-B. Letters, 1817. ] INTRODUCTION TO PARISINA. "PARISINA" is perhaps, the most sweetly versified of Lord Byron's tales. Although the beauties were at once acknowledged, and fragments of its music were soon on every lip, there was, at the period of its publication, a general expression of regret that the author should invite sympathy for incestuous lovers. To this it may be replied, that the sympathy is for their sufferings and not for their sin. So far from extenuating the crime, or apologising for the criminals, the poet maintains the justice of their dreadful doom. But no management can remove the objections to a subject which is naturally revolting, and in obedience to the feeling Lord Byron abandoned his original design of making Selim the brother of the "Bride of Abydos." Notwithstanding that the situation admits of powerful writing, and that the finest works of the Greeks, as well as many among the moderns, turn upon similar catastrophes, the time, he said, or such topics had long gone by. In spite of the refinement with which he has conducted the narrative, it is to be regretted that he did not adhere to the opinion when he planned "Parisina," and devote the same amount of beautiful verse to a more legitimate theme. With respect to the evil tendency which has been sometimes ascribed to his tales in the mass, it has been well remarked by Sir E. Brydges that the usages depicted in the " Giaour," and its companions, are too remote from our own to have a mischievous effect, while the sentiments they evoke are universally applicable, and convey delight to the mind. In speaking of the collective stories, it may be interesting to add, that all his heroines were framed, as Lord Byron related to Lady Blessington, on an imaginative model which he had rarely or ever met with in life,-a union, as to their persons, of rounded forms with fairy hands and feet, and as to their manners, of refinement with want of education. In practice he found that untutored simplicity was allied to coarseness, and that diminutive hands and feet were joined to spare figures, which he held in abhorrence. These contradictory characteristics, which he expected would vouch to posterity for his taste in beauty, are less distinctly defined in the poems than in the oral commentary. The mental qualities of his favourites had a living original. What he called "his fables about the celestial nature of women," were derived from his youthful ideas of Miss Chaworth; nor could his fancy conjure up richer colours than were reflected from "his bright morning-star of Annesley." He asserted, however, that most of the perfection was due to the illusions of love, and that if Miss Chaworth had something of the angel, she had not a little of the woman. PARISINA.' I. Ir is the hour when from the boughs Seem sweet in every whisper'd word; "This turned out a calamitous year for the people of Ferrara, for there occurred a very tragical event in the court of their sovereign. Our annals, both printed and in manuscript, with the exception of the unpolished and negligent work of Sardi, and one other, have given the following relation of it,-from which, however, are rejected many details, and especially the narrative of Bandelli, who wrote a century afterwards, and who does not accord with the contemporary historians. "By the above-mentioned Stella dell' Assassino, the Marquis, in the year 1405, had a son called Ugo, a beautiful and ingenuous youth. Parisina Malatesta, second wife of Niccolo, like the generality of step-mothers, treated him with little kindness, to the infinite regret of the Marquis, who regarded him with fond partiality. One day she asked leave of her husband to undertake a certain journey, to which he consented, but upon condition that Ugo should bear her company; for he hoped by these means to induce her, in the end, to lay aside the obstinate aversion which she had conceived against him. And indeed his intent was accomplished but too well, since, during the journey, she not only divested herself of all her hatred, but fell into the opposite extreme. After their return, the Marquis had no longer any occasion to renew his former reproofs. It happened one day that a servant of the Marquis, named Zoese, or, as some call him, Giorgio, passing before the apartments of Parisina, saw going out from them one of her chamber-maids, all terrified and in tears. Asking the reason, she told him that her mistress, for some slight offence, had been beating her; and, giving vent to her rage, she added, that she could easily be revenged, if she chose to make known the criminal familiarity which subsisted between Parisina and her step-son. The servant took note of the words, and related them to his master. He was astounded thereat, but, scarcely believing his ears, he assured himself of the fact, alas! too clearly, on the 18th of May, by looking through a hole made in the ceiling of his wife's chamber. Instantly he broke into a furious rage, and arrested both of them, together with Aldobrandino Rangoni, of Modena, her gentleman, and also, as some say, two of the women of her chamber, as abettors of this sinful act. He ordered them to be brought to a hasty trial, desiring the judges to pronounce sentence, in the accustomed forms, upon the culprits. This sentence was And gentle winds, and waters near, Each flower the dews have lightly wet, death. Some there were that bestirred themselves in favour of the delinquents, and, amongst others, Ugoccion Contrario, who was all-powerful with Niccolo, and also his aged and much deserving minister Alberto dal Sale. Both of these, their tears flowing down their cheeks, and upon their knees, implored him for mercy; adducing whatever reasons they could suggest for sparing the offenders, besides those motives of honour and decency which might persuade him to conceal from the public so scandalous a deed. But his rage made him inflexible, and, on the instant, he commanded that the sentence should be put in execution. "It was, then, in the prisons of the castle, and exactly in those frightful dungeons which are seen at this day beneath the chamber called the Aurora, at the foot of the Lion's tower, at the top of the street Giovecca, that on the night of the 21st of May were beheaded, first, Ugo, and afterwards Parisina. Zoese, he that accused her, conducted the latter under his arm to the place of punishment. She, all along, fancied that she was to be thrown into a pit, and asked at every step, whether she was yet come to the spot? She was told that her punishment was the axe. She enquired what was become of Ugo, and received for answer, that he was already dead; at which, sighing grievously, she exclaimed, 'Now, then, I wish not myself to live ;' and, being come to the block, she stripped herself, with her own hands, of all her ornaments, and, wrapping a cloth round her head, submitted to the fatal stroke, which terminated the cruel scene. The same was done with Rangoni, who, together with the others, according to two calendars in the library of St. Francesco, was buried in the cemetery of that convent. Nothing else is known respecting the women. "The Marquis kept watch the whole of that dreadful night, and, as he was walking backwards and forwards, enquired of the captain of the castle if Ugo was dead yet? who answered him, Yes. He then gave himself up to the most desperate lamentations, exclaiming, 'Oh! that I too were dead, since I have been hurried on to resolve thus against my own Ugo!' And then gnawing with his teeth a cane which he had in his hand, he passed the rest of the night in sighs and in tears, calling frequently upon his own dear Ugo. On the following day calling to mind that it would be necessary to make public his justification, seeing that the transaction could not be kept secret, he ordered the narrative to be drawn out upon paper, and sent it to all the courts of Italy. "On receiving this advice, the Doge of Venice, Francesco Foscari, gave orders, but without publishing his reasons, that stop should be put to the preparations for a tournament, which, under the auspices of the Marquis, and at the expense of the city of Padua, was about to take place, in the square of St. Mark, in order to celebrate his advancement to the ducal chair. "The Marquis, in addition to what he had already done, from some unaccountable burst of vengeance, commanded that as many of the married women as were well known to him to be faithless, like his Parisina, should, like her, be beheaded. Amongst others, Barberina, or, as some call her, Laodamia Romei, wife of the court judge, underwent this sentence, at the usual place of execution; that is to say, in the quarter of St. Giacomo, opposite the present fortress, beyond St. Paul's. It cannot be told how strange appeared this proceeding in a prince, who, considering his own disposition, should, as it seemed, have been in such cases most indulgent. Some, however, there were who did not fail to commend him."* * FRIZZI-"History of Ferrara." And in the heaven that clear obscure, As twilight melts beneath the moon away." II. But it is not to list to the waterfall And it is not to gaze on the heavenly light "Tis not for the sake of its full-blown flower; There glides a step through the foliage thick, And her cheek grows pale, and her heart beats quick 'Tis past-her lover's at her feet. III. And what unto them is the world beside, Of aught around, above, beneath; They only for each other breathe; So deep, that did it not decay, The hearts which feel its fiery sway: Of guilt, of peril, do they deem In that tumultuous tender dream ? 2 The lines contained in this section were printed as set to music some time since, but belong to the poem where they now appear; the greater part of which was composed prior to "Lara." |