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The drooping courser, faint and low,

All feebly foaming went.
A sickly infant had had power
To guide him forward in that hour;

But useless all to me.
His new-born tameness nought avail'd,
My limbs were bound; my force had failid,

Perchance, had they been free.
With feeble effort still I tried
To rend the bonds so starkly tied-

But still it was in vain;
My limbs were only wrung the more,
And soon the idle strife gave o'er,

Which but prolong'd their pain :
The dizzy race seem'd almost done,
Although no goal was nearly won :
Some streaks announced the coming sur

How slow, alas! he came!
Methought that mist of dawning grey
Would never dapple into day;
How heavily it roll’d away-

Before the eastern flame
Rose crimson, and deposed the stars,
And call'd the radiance from their cars, (1)
And fillid the earth, from his deep throne,
With lonely lustre, all his own.

“Up rose the sun; the mists were curld
Back from the solitary world
Which lay around-behind-before;
What booted it to traverse o'er

Plain, forest, river? Man nor brute,

Nor dint of hoof, nor print of foot,
Lay in the wild luxuriant soil;
No sign of travel-none of toil;

The very air was mute;
And not an insect's shrill small horn,
Nor matin bird's new voice was borne
From herb nor thicket. Many a werst,
Panting as if his heart yould burst,
The weary brute still stagger'd on;
And still we were-or seem'd-alone:
At length, while reeling on our way,
Methought I heard a courser neigh,
From out yon tuft of blackening firs,
Is it the wind those branches stirs ?
No, no! from out the forest prance

A trampling troop; I see them come!
In one vast squadron they advance!

I strove to cry-my lips were dumb. The steeds rush on, in plunging pride; But where are they the reins to guide? A thousand horse-and none to ride!

With flowing tail, and flying mane,
Wide nostrils-never stretch'd by pain,
Mouths bloodless to the bit or rein,
And feet that iron never shod,
And flanks unscarr'd by spur or rod,
A thousand horse, the wild, the free,
Like waves that follow o'er the sea,

Came thickly thundering on,
As if our faint approach to meet;
The sight re-nerved my courser's feet,
A moment staggering, feebly fleet,
A moment, with a faint low neigh,

He answer'd, and then fell;
With gasps and glazing eyrs he lay,
And reeking limbs immoveable,

His first and last career is done!
On came the troop—they saw him sloop,

They saw me strangely bound along

His back with many a bloody thong: They stopthey start-they snuff the air, Gallop a moment here and there, Approach, retire, wheel round and round, Then plunging back with sudden bound, Headed by one black mighty steed, Who seem'd the patriarch of his breed,

Without a single speck or hair
Of while upon his shaggy hide;
They snort—they foam-neigh-swerve aside,
And backward to the foresi fly,
By instinct, from a human eye.-

They left me there to my despair,
Link'd 10 the dead and stiffening wretch,
Whose lifeless limbs beneath me strelch,
Relieved from that unwonted weight,
From whence I could not extricale
Nor him nor me-and there we lay

The dying on the dead!
I lillle deem'd another day

Would see my houseless helpless head.

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"And there from morn till twilight bound,
I felt the heavy hours toil round,
With just enough of life lo see
My last of suns go down on me,
In hopeless certainty of mind,
That makes us feel at length resign'd
To that which our foreboding years
Presents the worst and last of fears
Inevitable--even a boon,
Nor more unkind for coming soon;
Yet shunn'd and dreaded with such care,
As if it only were a snare

That prudence might escape:
At times both wish'd for and implored,
At times sought with self-pointed sword,
Yet still a dark and hideous close
To even intolerable woes,

And welcome in no shape.

(1) In the MS.

“Rose crimson, and forbad the stars To sparkle in their radiant cars."-E.

An icy sickness curdling o'er My heart, and sparks that cross'd my brainA gasp, a throb, a start of pain,

A sigh, and nothing more.


And, strange to say, the sons of pleasure,
They who have revell’d beyond measure
Jn beauty, wassail, wine, and treasure,
Die calm, or calmer, oft than he
Whose heritage was misery:
For he who hath in turn run through
All that was beautiful and new

Hath nought to hope, and nought to leave;
And save the future (which is view'd
Not quite as men are base or good,
But as their nerves may be endued),

With nought perhaps to grieve:-
The wretch still hopes his woes must end,
And Death, whom he should deem his friend,
Appears, to his distemper'd eyes,
Arrived to rob him of his prize,
The tree of his new paradise.
To-morrow would have given him all,
Repaid his pangs, repair'd his fall;
To-morrow would have been the first
Of days no more deploreıl or curst,
But bright, and long, and beckoning years,
Seen dazzling through the mist of tears,
Guerdon of many a painful hour;
To-morrow would have given him power
To rule, to shine, to smite, to save-
And must it dawn upon his grave?

“The sun was sinking-still I lay
Chain'd to the chill and stiffening steed,
I thought to mingle there our clay;

And my dim eyes of death had need,

No hope arose of being freed: I cast my last looks up the sky,

And there between me and the sun

I saw the expecting raven fly,
Who scarce would wait till both should die,

Ere his repast begun;
He flew and perch'd, then flew once more,
And each time nearer than before;
I saw his wing through twilight fit,
And once so near me he alit

I could have smole, but lack'd the strength :
But the slight motion of my hand,
And feeble scratching of the sand,
The exerted throat's faint struggling noise,
Which scarcely could be callid a voice,

Together scared him off at length.I know no more-my latest dream

Is something of a lovely star

Which fix'd my dull eyes from afar,
And went and came with wandering beam,
And of the cold, dull, swimming, dense
Sensation of recurring sense,
And then subsiding back to death,
And then again a little breath,
A little thrill, a short suspense,

“I woke-Where was 1 ?-Do I see
A human face look down on me?
And doth a roof above me close ?
Do these limbs on a couch repose ?
Is this a chamber where I lie ?
And is it mortal yon bright eje,
That watches me with gentle glance?

I closed my own again once more,
As doubtful that the former trance

Could not as yet be o'er.
A slender girl, long-ha. 'd and tall,
Sale watching by the cottage wall;
The sparkle of her eye I caught,
Even with my first return of thought;
For ever and anon she threw

A prying pitying glance on me
With her black eyes so wild and free:
I gazed, and gazed, until I knew

No vision it could be,-
But that I lived, and was released
From adding to the vulture's feast:
And when the Cossack maid beheld
My heavy eyes at length unseald,
She smiled-and I essay'd to speak,

But fail'd-and she approach'd and made,
With lip and finger, signs that said
I must not strive as yet to break
The silence, till my strength should be
Enough to leave my accents free;
And then her hand on mine she laid,
And smooth'd the pillow for my head,
And stole along on tiploe tread,

And gently oped the door, and spake In whispers-ne'er was voice so sweet! Even music follow'd her light feet;

But those she call'd were not awake, And she went forth; but, ere she pass'd, Another look on me she cast.

Another sign she made, to say,
That I had nought to fear, that all
Were near, at my command or call,

And she would not delay
Her due return :-while she was gone,
Methought I felt too much alone.

XX. .

“She came, with mother and with sire-
What need of more?-I will not tire
With long recital of the rest,
Since I became the Cossack's guest :
They found me senseless on the plain-
They bore me to the nearest hut-

They brought me into life again-
Me-one day o'er their realm to reign!

Thus the vain fool who strove to glut
His rage, refining on my pain,

Sent me forth to the wilderness,
Bound, naked, bleeding, and alone,

the desert to a throne, -
What mortal his own doom may guess ?-

Let none despond, let none despair!
To-morrow the Borysthenes
May see our coursers graze at ease
Upon his Turkish bank,-and never

Had I such welcome for a river

As I shall yield when safely there. (1)
Comrades, good night!”—The Hetman threw
His length beneath the oak-tree shade,
With leafy couch already made,
A bed nor comfortless nor new
To him, who took his rest wheneer
The hour arrived, no matter where:

His eyes the hastening slumbers sleep.
And if ye marvel Charles forgot
To thank his tale, he wonder'd not,

The king had been an hour asleep. (2)

(1) “Charles, having perceived that the day was lost, and that demanded that Mazeppa should be delivered up 10 Peter, but the bis only chance of safely was to retire with the utmost precipi- old Helman of the Cossacks escaped this sale by taking a disease tation, suffered himself to be mounted on horseback, and with the which hastened his death.” Barrow's Peter the Great. remains of his army fled to a place called Perewolochna, situated

(2) Tlc copy of Mazeppa sent to this country by Lord Byron is in the angle formed by the junction of the Vorskla and the Borys- in the handwriting of Theresa, Countess Guiccioli; and it is im- ! thenes. Here, accompanied by Mazeppa, and a few hundreds of possible not to suspect that the Poet bad some circumstances of his followers, Charles swam over the latter great river, and pro- his own personal history in bis mind, when he portrayed the fair ceeding over a desolate country, in danger or perishing with Polish Theresa, ber youthsul lover, and thc jealous rage of the old bunger, at length reached the Boy, where be was kindly received Count Palatine.-E. by the Turkish pacha. The Russian envoy al the Sublime Porle

Morgante Maggiore;



great defects of Boiardo were his treating too seriously the narratives of chivalry, and his barsh

style. Ariosto, in his continuation, by a judicious The Morgante Maggiore, of the first canto of mixture of the gaiely of Pulci, has avoided the one; which this translation is offered, divides with the and Berni, in his reformation of Boiardo's poem, Orlando Innconorato the honour of having formed has corrected the other. Pulci may be considered and suggested the style and story of Ariosto. The as the precursor and model of Berni altogether, as

(1) This translation was executed at Ravenna, in February, 1820, him again on the morrow. This method of winding up each porand first saw the light in the pages of the unfortunate journal called tion of the poem is a favourite among the romantic poets; who The Liberal. The meril of it, as Lord Byron over and over states constantly finish their cantos with a distich, of which the words in his letters, consists in the wonderful verbum pro verbo close- may vary, but the sense is uniform: ness of the version. It was, in fact, an exercise of skill in this

• All'altro canto vi farò sentire, art; and cannot be fairly estimated, without reference to the

Se all'altro canto mi verrete audire.'- Ariosto. original Italian. Those wlio want full information, and clear philosophical views, as to the origin of the Romantic Poetry of the or at the end of another canto, according to Harrington's Transla

tion: Italians, will do well to read at length an article on that subject, from the pen of the late Ugo Foscolo, in No. XLII. of the Quar

• I now cut off abruptly here my rhyme, Terly Review. We extract from it the passage in which that

And keep my tale unto another time.' learned writer applie: himself more particularly to the Morgante “The forms and materials of these popular stories were adopted of Pulci. After showing that all the poets of this class adopted, by writers of a superior class, who considered the vulgar tales of as the groundwork of their fictions, the old wild materials which their predecessors as blocks of marble finely tinted and variegaled had for ages formed the stock in trade of the professed story-tellers, by the hand of nature, but which might afford a masterpiece when

- in those days a class of persons holding the same place in Christ- tastefully worked and polished. The romantic poets treated the endom, and more especially in Italy, which their brothers still traditionary fictions just as Dante did the legends invented by the maintain all over the East, --Foscolo thus proceeds:

monks to maintain their mastery over weak minds. He formed “The customary forms of the narrative all find a place in ro- them into a poem which became the admiration of every age and mantic poetry: such are,—the sententious reflections suggested by nation : but Dante and Petrarca were poels who, though univerthe matters which he has just related, or arising in anticipation of sally celebrated, were not universally understood, The learned those which he is about to relate, and which the story-teller always found employment in writing comments upon their poems; but opens when he resumes his recitations ; his defence of his own the nation, without even excepting the higher ranks, knew them merits against the attacks of rivals in trade; and his formal leave- only by name. At the beginning of the fifteenth century, a few taking when he parts from his audience, and invites them to meet obscure authors began to write romances in prose and in rhyme,

he bas partly been to Ariosto, however inferior to pears to me, that such an intention would have both his copyists. He is no less the founder of a been no less hazardous to the poet than to the new style of poetry very lately sprung up in England. priest, particularly in that age and country; and I allude to that of the ingenious Whistlecraft. The the permission to publish the poem, and its recepserious poems on Roncesvalles in the same lan-tion among the classics of Italy, prove that it neither guage, and more particularly the excellent one of was nor is so interpreted. That he intended 10 riMr. Merivale, are to be traced to the same source. dicule the monastic life, and suffered his imagiIt has never yet been decided entirely whether nation to play with the simple dulness of his conPulci's intention was or was not to deride the re- verted giant, seems evident enough; but surely it ligion which is one of his favourite topics. It ap-were as unjust to accuse him of irreligion on this

taking for their subject the-wars of Charlemagne and Orlando, or whom are greatly edified at beholding an archbishop officiating sometimes the adventures of Artbur and the Knights of the Round in the character of a tinisher of the law. Before this adventure Table. These works were so pleasing, thai they were rapidly took place, Caradoro had despatched an ambassador to the emmultiplied: but the bards of romance cared lillic about style or peror, complaining of the shameful conduct of a wicked Paladin,

versification, they sought for adventures, and enchantments, and who had seduced the princess his daughter. The orator does no! miracles. We bere obtain at leasi a partial explanation of the present himself with modern diplomatic courtesyrapid declinc of Italian poetry, and the amazing corruption of the

• Macon l'abballa come Iraditore, Italian language, which took place immediately after the death of

O disleale cingiusto inperadore! Petrarch, and which proceeded from bad to worse until the era of

A Caradoro e stalo scrillo, () Carlo, Lorenzo de Medici.

O Carlo ! O Carlo ! (e crollava la lesta) "ll was then that Pulci composed his Morgante for the annuse

De la tua corte, che non puoi negarlo, ment of Madonna Lucrezia, the mother of Lorenzo; and he used

De la sua figlia cosa disonesta.' lo recile it at table to Ficino, and Politian, and Lorenzo, and the "O Charles,' he cried, Charles, Charles!'-and as he cried other illustrious cbaracters who then flourished at Florence: yet llo shook his head-.a sad complaint I bring Pulci adhered strictly to the original plan of the popular story

Or shameful acts which cannot be denied : tellers; and if bis successors have embellished them so that they

King Caradore bas ascerlain'd the thing,

Which comes morcover proved and verified can scarcely be recognised, it is certain that in no other poem

By letters from your own side of the water can they be found so genuine and nalive as in the Morgante. Respecting the behaviour of his daughler.'

Pulci accommodated himself, though sportively, to the genius of his age : classical taste and sound criticism beyan lo prevail, and embassy, and the execution of King Marsilius, are told in strict

"Such scenes may appear somewhat strange; but Caradoro's great endeavours were making by the learned to separate historical truth from the chaos of fable and tradition: so that, though Pulci conformity to the notions of the common people, and as they must introduced the most extravagant fables, he affected to complain

or ar Pulci be occasionally refined and delicate, his snatches of ame

still be described, if we wished to imilate the popular story-tellers. the errors of his predecessors. 'I grieve, he said, 'for my Emu- nity resulted from the national character of the Florentines, and peror Charlemagne ; for I see that his history has been badly the revival of letters. But, at the same time, we must trace to written and worse undersiood.'

national character, and 10 the inlluence of his daily companions, • E del mio Carlo imperador m'increbbe;

the busToonery which, in the opinion of foreigners, frequently È stata questa istoria, a quel ch'io veggio,

disgraces the poem. M. Ginguené has criticised Pulci in the usual Di Carlo, male intesa e scrilla peggio.'

style of his countrymen. lle attribules modern manners to anAnd whilst he quotes the great historian Leonardo Aretino with cient times, and takes it for granted that the individuals of every respect, he prosesses to believe the authority of the holy Archbishop other nation think and act like modern Frenchmen. On these Turpin, who is also one of the heroes of the poem. In another principles, he concludes that Pulci, both with respect to his subpassage, where he imitates the apologies of the story-lellers, he ject and to his mode of treating it, intended only lo write burlesque makes a neat allusion lo the taste of his audience. I know,' he poetry; because, as he says, such busoonery could not have been says, “that I must proceed straight-forward, and not tell a single introduced into a composilion recited to Lorenzo de' Medici lie in the course of my lale. This is not a story of mere invention: and his enlightened guesis, is the author had intended to be in and if I go one step out of the right road, one chastises, another earnest. In the fine portrait of Lorenzo given by Machiavelli at erilicises, a third scolds—they try to drive me mad—but in fact they the end of his Florentine history, the historian complains that he are out of their senses.'

look more pleasure in the company of jesters and bussoons than "Pulci's versification is remarkably fluent. Yet he is deficient beseemed such a man. It is a little singular that Benedello Varchi, in melody; his language is pure, and his expressions flow nalu a contemporary historian, makes the same complaint of Machiarally; but his phrases are abrupt and unconnected, and he fre- velli himself. Indeed, many known anecdotes of Machiavelli, no quently writes ungrammatically. His vigour degenerates into less than his fugitive pieces, prove that it was only when he was barshness; and his love of brevity prevents the developement of acting the statesman that he wished to be grave; and that he could his poetical imagery. He bears all the marks of rude genius; he laugh like other men when he laid aside his dignity. We do not , was capable of delicate pleasantry, yet his smiles are usually bilier think he was in the wrong. But, whatever opinion may be formed and severe.

His humour never arises from points, but from on the subject, we shall yet be forced to conclude that great unexpected situations strongly contrasted. The Emperor Cbare men may be compelled to blame the manners of their times, emagne sentences King Marsilius of Spain to be hanged for high without being able to withstand their influence. In other respects, treason; and Archbishop Turpin kindly offers his services on the the poem of Pulci is serious, both in subject and in lone. And occasion.

here we shall repeat a general observation, which we advise our • E' disse : lo vo', Marsilio, che tu muoja

readers to apply to all the romantic poems of the Italians-Thal Dove tu ordinasti il tradimento

their comic humour arises from the contrast between the conDisse Turpino : lo voglio fare il boja.

stant endeavours of the writers to adhere to the forms and Cirlo rispose : Ed io son ben contento

subjects of the popular story-tellers, and the efforts made at The sia trattata di questi due cani

the same time by the genius of these writers lo render such L'opera santa con le sapte mani.'

materials interesting and sublime. "Here we have an emperor superintending the execution of a “This simple elucidation of the causes of the poetical character king, who is hanged in the presence of a vast multitude, all of of the Morgante has been ovcrlooked by the critics; and they

'account, as to denounce Fielding for his Parson as it suits his convenience; so has the translator. Adams, Barnabas, Thwackum, Supple, and the In other respects the version is faithful, to the best Ordinary in Jonathan Wild,—or Scott, for the of the translator's ability, in combining bis interexquisite use of his Covenanters in the Tales of my pretation of the one language with the nol very easy Landlord.

task of reducing it to the same versification in the In ti:e following translation I have used the li- other. The reader, on comparing it with the oriberly of the original with the proper names : as ginal, is requested to remember that the antiquated Pulci uses Gan, Ganellon, or Ganellone ; Carlo, Car- language of Pulci, however pure, is not easy to the lomagno, or Carlomano; Rondel, or Rondello, etc. Generality of Italians themselves, from its great

have therefore disputed with great earnestness during the last although, like the earth, it has the form ol a globe. Mankind in two centuries, whether the Morganle is written in jest or ear- those ages were much more ignorant than now. Hercules would nest; and whether Pulci is not an atheist, who wrote in verse blush at this day for having fixed his columns. Vessels will soon for the crpress purpose o scosling at all religion. Mr. Merivale pass far beyond them. They may soon reach another hemisphere, inclines, in lis Orlando in Roncesralles, 10 the opinion of because every thing lends lo ils centre; in like manner, as by a M. Ginguenė, that the Morgan'e is decidedly to be considered divine mystery, the earth is suspended in the midst of the stars; ai a burlesque poern, and a salire against the Christian religion. here below are cities and empires, which were ancient. The Yel Mr. Merivale himself acknowledges that it is wound up with inhabitants of those regions were called Antipodes. They have a tragical effect, and lignified by religious sentiment; and is piants and animals as well as you, and wage wars as well as you.' therefore forced to leave the question amongst the unexplained, - Morgante, c. XXV. st. 229, etc. and perhaps inexplicable, plicnomena of the human mind.' la

“The more we consider the traces of ancient science, which similar question had not been already decided, both in regard break in transient flashes through the darkness of the middle ages,

to Shakspeare and to Ariosto, il miglit be still a subject of dispute and which gradually re-illuminated the horizon, the more shall wneiher the former intended to write tragedies, and whether the we be disposed to adopt the hypothesis suggested by Bailly, and

other did not mean to bur:esque his heroes. Ji is a happy thing supported by him with sedaclive eloquence. He maintained that that, with regard to those two great writers, the war has ended by all the acquirements of the Greeks and Romans had been transthe fortunate intervention of thic general body of readers, who, on mitted to them as the wrecks and fragments of the knowledge such occasions, form their judgment withi less erudition and with once possessed by primæval nations, by empires of sages and less prejudice than the critics. But Pulci is lilile read, and his philosophers, who were afterwards swept from the face of the age is little known. We are told by Mr. Merivale, thal the points globe by some overwhelming catastrophe. His theory may be of abstruse theology are discussed in the Morg nle with a degree considered as extravagant; but if the literary productions of the of sceptical freedom which we should imagine to be allogether Romans were not yet extant, it would seem incredible that after remote from the spirit t'e fifteenth century.' Mr. Merivale the lapse of a few centuries, the civilisation of the Augustan age follows M. Ginguenė, who follows Voltaire. And the philosopher could have been succeeded in Italy by such barbarity. The ltaof Ferney, who was always beating up in alt quarters for allies lians were so ignorant, that they forgot their family names; and against Christianity, collected all the scriplural passages of Pulci, before the eleventh century individuals were known only by their upon which he commented in his own way. But it is only since Christian names. They had an indistinct idea, in the middle the Council of Trent, that any doubt which might be raised on a ages, of the existence of the antipodes: but it was a reminiscence religious dogma exposed an author to the charge of impiety; of ancient knowledge. Dante has indicated the number and po whilst

, in the fifteenth century, a Catholic might be sincerely sition of the stars composing the polar constellation of the Austral devout and yet allow himself a certain degree of latitude in theo- hemisphere. At the same time he tells us, that when Lucifer was logical doubt. At one and the same time the Florentines might burled from the celestial regions, the arch-devil iranstised the well believe in the Gospel and laugh at a doctor of divinity: for it globe; half his body remained on our side of the centre of the was exactly at this era that they had been spectators of the me- earth, and half on the other side. The shock given to the earth morable controversies between the representatives of the eastern by his fall drove a great portion of the waters of the ocean to the and western church's. Greek and Latin bishops from every southern hemisphere, and only one high mountain remained uncorner of Christendom had assembled at Florence, for the purpose covered, upon which Dante places bis purgatory. As the fall of of trying whether they could posibly understand each other; and Luciser happened before the creation of Adam, it is evident that when they s parated, they hated cach other worse than before. At Dante did not admit that the southern hemisphere had ever been the very time when Pulci was composing his Morgante, the inhabited; but, about thirty years afterwards, Petrarch, who was clery o: Florence protested against the excommunications pro- better versed in the ancient writers, ventured 10 bint that the sun nounced by Sixtus IV., and with expressions by which his holiness shone upon mortals who were unknown lo us:was anathematisert in his turn. During these proceedings, an

• Nella stagion che il ciel rapido inchina. archibisliop, convicted of being a papal emissary, was hanged

Vers' occidente, e che il di nostro vola 'lom one of the wind)ws of the government palace at Florence :

A gente che di là forse l'aspetta.' liis cv.'nt may have suggested to Pulci the idea of converting "In the course of half a century after Petrarch, another step another archbishop into a hangman. The romantic poets sub was gained. The existence of the antipodes was fully demonstiluted literary and scientilic observations for the trivial digres strated. Pulci raises a devil 10 announce the fact; but it had sions o? the story-tel ers. This was a great improvement : and been taught to him by bis fellow-citizen Paolo Toscanelli, an er- | although it was not well managed hy Pulci, yet he presents us cellent astronomer and mathematician, who wrote in his old age with much curious incidental malter. In quoting his philoso- to Christopher Columbus, exhorting him to undertake his expediphical fiend and contemporary Matteo Palmieri, he explains the tion. A lew stanzas have been translated by Mr. Merivale, with instinct of brutes by a bold hypothesis--he supposes that they some slight variations, which do not wrong the original. They may are animated by evil spirits. This idea gave no offence to the be considered as a specimen of Pulci's poetry, when he writes theologians of the fificenth century; but it excited much ortho- with imagination and feeling. Orlando bids farewell to his dying for indignation when Father Bougeant, a French monk, brought horse:il forward as a new theory of his own. Mr. Merivale, after observing that Pulci lied before the discovery of America by

· His faithful steed, that long hud served him well Columbus, quotes a passage which will become a very interest

In peace and war, now closed bis languid eye,

Kneeld at his feet, and seem'd to say * Farewell! ing document for the philosophical historian.' We give it in his

I've brought thee to the destined port, and die." prose translation: The water is level through its whole extent,

Orlando sell anew his sorrows swell

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