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, 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 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 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 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 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.

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 St. 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 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 court, of whom
The wisest and most famous was Orlando ;
Him traitor Gan conducted to the tomb

In Roncesvalles, as the villain plann'd too,
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.

IX.

'T was 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.

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.

"6 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 honour 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,
And by the fount did much the day to win;
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 valour 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.
XV.

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

XXV.

Our ancient fathers living the desert in, For just and holy works were duly fed; Think not they lived on locusts sole, 't is certain

That manna was rain'd down from heaven instead; But here 't is fit we keep on the alert in [for bread, Our bounds, or taste the stones shower'd down From off yon mountain daily raining faster, And flung by Passamont and Alabaster.

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,
As knowing sure that you will lose your life.

XXIX.

"That Passamont has in his hand three dartsSuch 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.
ΧΧΧ.

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?"
ΧΧΧΙ.

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;
You with his monks so oft have broke the peace-
Vile dog! 't is past his patience to sustain."
The giant ran to fetch his arms, quite furious,
When he received an answer so injuricus.

XXXII.

And being return'd to where Orlando stood, [ing
Who had not moved him from the spot, and swing-
The cord, he hurl'd a stone with strength so rude,
As show'd a sample of his skill in slinging;
It roll'd on Count Orlando's helmet good

And head, and set both head and helmet ringing,
So that he swoon'd with pain as if he died,
But more than dead, he seem'd so stupified.
XXXIII.

Then Passamont, who thought him slain outright,
Said, "I will go, and while he lies along,
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?
"T was 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, O 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
pray thee take heed of me, till I can

I

At least return once more to Carloman." XXXVII.

[found.

Morgante said, "Oh, gentle cavalier!

Now by thy God say me no villany;
The favour of your name I fain would hear,
And if a Christian, speak for courtesy."
Replied Orlando, " So much to your ear
I by my faith disclose contentedly;
Christ I adore, who is the genuine Lord,
And, if you please, by you may be adored."
XLIII.

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; Hence to thy God, who for ye did atone

Upon the cross, preferr'd I my petition; His timely succour set me safe and free, And I a Christian am disposed to be."

XLIV.

Orlando answer'd, "Baron just and pious,
If this good wish your heart can really move
To the true God, you will not then deny us
Eternal honour, you will go above,
And, if you please, as friends we will ally us,
And I will love you with a perfect love.
Your idols are vain liars, full of fraud:
The only true God is the Christians' God.
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."