"Sir," replied Michael, "you mistake: these things The shadow came-a tall, thin, gray-hair'd figure, Are of a former life, and what we do Above is more august; to judge of kings Is the tribunal met: so now you know." "Then I presume those gentlemen with wings," Said Wilkes, "are cherubs; and that soul below Looks much like George the Third, but to my mind A good deal older-Bless me! is he blind?” LXIX. "He is what you behold him, and his doom Depends upon his deeds," the Angel said. "If you have aught to arraign in him, the tomb Gives licence to the humblest beggar's head To lift itself against the loftiest."-" Some,” Said Wilkes, "don't wait to see them laid in lead, For such a liberty-and I, for one, Have told them what I thought beneath the sun." LXX. "Abote the sun repeat, then, what thou hast To urge against him," said the Archangel. "Why," Replied the spirit, "since old scores are past, Must I turn evidence? In faith, not I. Besides, I beat him hollow at the last, With all his Lords and Commons: in the sky I don't like ripping up old stories, since His conduct was but natural in a prince. That look'd as it had been a shade on earth; Quick in its motions, with an air of vigor, But nought to mark its breeding or its birth; Now it wax'd little, then again grew bigger, With now an air of gloom, or savage mirth, But as you gazed upon its features, they Changed every instant-to what, none could say LXXVI. The more intently the ghosts gazed, the less Could they distinguish whose the features were; The Devil himself seem'd puzzled even to guess; They varied like a dream-now here, now there; And several people swore from out the press, They knew him perfectly; and one could swear He was his father: upon which another Was sure he was his mother's cousin's brother: LXXVII. Another, that he was a duke or knight, A nabob, a man-midwife; but the wight, And who and what art thou?" the Archangel said." "For that you may consult my title page," Replied this mighty shadow of a shade: "If I have kept my secret half an age, I scarce shall tell it now."-"Canst thou upbraid," And scribbles as if head clerk to the Fates. Who knows to what his ribaldry may run, When such an ass as this, like Balaam's, prates ?" Aught further?" Junius answer'd, "You had better" Let's hear," quoth Michael, "what he has to say, First ask him for his answer to my letter: LXXXIII. My charges upon record will outlast The brass of both his epitaph and tomb." "Repent'st thou not," said Michael, "of some past Exaggeration? something which may doom Thyself if false, as him if true? Thou wast Too bitter-is it not so ?-in thy gloom You know we're bound to that in every way." XC. Now the bard, glad to get an audience, which To all unhappy hearers within reach Of poets when the tide of rhyme's in flow, Of passion?"-"Passion!" cried the phantom dim, But stuck fast with his first hexameter, 'I loved my country, and I hated him. Not one of all whose gouty feet would stir. He said (I only give the heads)-he said, Of which he butter'd both sides; 'twould delay XCVII. He had written praises of a regicide; He had written praises of all kings whatever; Aloud, a scheme less moral than 'twas clever. Had turn'd his coat-and would have turn d his skin. XCVIII. He had sung against all battles, and again In their high praise and glory; he had call'd Reviewing*"the ungentle craft," and then Become as base a critic as e'er crawl'd— • See "Life of H. Kirke White." Those grand heroics acted as a spell: The angels stopp'd their ears and plied their pinion, And I leave every man to his own opinion ;) Saint Peter, who has hitherto been known CV. He first sank to the bottom-like his works, It may be, still, like dull books on a shelf, In his own den, to scrawl some "Life," or "Vision," A drowned body lies at the bottom till rotten; it then floats, as most peo- CVI. As for the rest, to come to the conclusion Was, that King George slipp'd into heaven for MORGANTE MAGGIORE, DI MESSER LUIGI PULCI. ADVERTISEMENT. the Ordinary in Jonathan Wild-or Scott, for tne exquisite use of his Covenanters in the "Tales of THE Morgante Maggiore, of the first canto of my Landlord.” which this translation is offered, divides with the In the following translation I have used the Orlando Innamorato the honor of having formed liberty of the original with the proper names ; and suggested the style and story of Ariosto. The as Pulci uses Gan, Ganellon, or Ganellone; Carlo, great defects of Boiardo, were his treating too seri-Carlomagno, or Carlomano; Rondel, or Rondello, ously the narratives of chivalry, and his harsh style. &c., as it suits his convenience; so has the transAriosto, in his continuation, by a judicious mixture lator. In other respects the version is faithful to of the gayety of Pulci, has avoided the one; and the best of the translator's ability in combining his Berni, in his reformation of Boiardo's poem, has interpretation of the one language with the not corrected the other. Pulci may considered as the very easy task of reducing it to the same versificaprecursor and model of Berni altogether, as he has tion in the other. The reader, on comparing it partly been to Ariosto, however inferior to both his with the original, is requested to remember that copyists. He is no less the founder of a new style the antiquated language of Pulci, however pure, of poetry very lately sprung up in England. I is not easy to the generality of Italians themselves, allude to that of the ingenious Whistlecraft. The from its great mixture of Tuscan proverbs; and serious poems on Roncesvalles in the same lan- he may therefore be more indulgent to the present guage, and more particularly the excellent one attempt. How far the translator has succeeded, of Mr. Merivale, are to be traced to the same and whether or no he shall continue the work, are questions which the public will decide. He was It has never yet been decided entirely whether induced to make the experiment partly by his love Pulci's intention was or was not to deride the for, and partial intercourse with, the Italian lanreligion which is one of his favorite topics. It guage, of which it is so easy to acquire a slight appears to me, that such an intention would have knowledge, and with which it is so nearly imposbeen no less hazardous to the poet than to the sible for a foreigner to become accurately conversant. priest, particulary in that age and country; The Italian language is like a capricious beauty, and the permission to publish the poem, and its who accords her smiles to all, her favors to few, reception among the classes of Italy, prove that it and sometimes least to those who have courted her neither was nor is so interpreted. That he intended longest. The translator wished also to present in to ridicule the monastic life, and suffered his imagi- an English dress a part at least of a poem' never yet nation to play with the simple dulness of his rendered into a northern language; at the same converted giant, seems evident enough; but surely time that it has been the original of some of the it were as unjust to accuse him of irreligion most celebrated productions on this side of the on this account, as to denounce Fielding for his Alps, as well of those recent experiments in poetry Parson Adams, Barnabas, Thwackum, Supple, and in England which have been already mentioned. source. CANTÒ I. I. IN the beginning was the Word next God; Of thinking, and without hím 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 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 enamor'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. 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 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 then till now, With knightly courage, treasure, or the lance, Is sprung from out the noble blood of France. VIII. Twelve paladins had Charles in ccurt, of whom In Roncesvalles, as the villain plann'd too, To him a happy seat with Charles in heaven. IX. 'Twas Christmas-day; in Paris all his court 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: 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 altogether. XI. But watchful Fortune, lurking, takes good heed 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, 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 The victory was Almonte's else; his sight He kept upon the standard, and the laurels In fact and fairness are his earning, Charles. |