370 XLIX. And, by the way, about the giants dead And, since it is God's pleasure, pardon me; "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. Him, whom I now require you to adore. 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,— "But they in Christ have firmest hope, and all He never can in any purpose err. They don't disturb themselves for him or her; LIII. "A word unto the wise," Morgante said, I will cut off the hands from both their trunks, LIV. And that they may perceive my spirit clear LV. Then to the abbey they went on together, Where waited them the abbot in great doubt. Orlando, seeing him thus agitated, Said quickly, "Abbot, be thou of good cheer; A proof of both the giants' fate quite clear: 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, And went for ever after preaching Christ, "So, my Morgante, you may do likewise; He who repents-thus writes the evangelist- Than ninety-nine of the celestial list. And thus great honour to Morgante paid The abbot: many days they did repose. LXI. There being a want of water in the place, LXII. Arrived there, a prodigious noise he hears, An arrow for his bow, and lifts his head; Morgante at a venture shot an arrow, Which pierced a pig precisely in the ear, Against the giant rush'd in fierce career, 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 Next to the other. Having seen such blows, The other pigs along the valley fled; Morgante on his neck the bucket took, Full from the spring, which neither swerved nor shook. LXV. The tun was on one shoulder, and there were With the dead boars, and with that brimful vase, 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 (1) "Gli dette in su la testa un gran punzone." It is strange that Pulci should have literally anticipated the technical terms of my old friend and master, Jackson, and the art which he has carried to its highest pitch. "A punch on the head," or "a With greedy pleasure, and in such a mood, That the flesh needs no salt beneath their fork, As though they wish'd to burst at once, they ate; Perceiving that they all were pick'd too clean. The horse Morgante to a meadow led, To gallop, and to put him to the proof, Thinking that he a back of iron had, Or to skim eggs unbroke was light enough; But finally he thought fit to dismount, "When there shall by 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, But lend a hand to place him on my back.” punch in the head,"-un punzone in su la testa,"-is the exact and frequent phrase of our best pugilists, who little dream that they are talking the purest Tuscan. 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 ;" Morgante was like any mountain framed; He did; and stow'd him in some nook away, And said, with great respect, he had agreed To leave his reverence; but for this decision He wish'd to have his pardon and permission. LXXVI. The honours they continued to receive Perhaps exceeded what his merits claim'd: He said, "I mean, and quickly, to retrieve The lost days of time past, which may be blamed; Some days ago I should have ask'd your leave, Kind father, but I really was ashamed, And know not how to show my sentiment, So much I see you with our stay content. LXXVII. "But in my heart I 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, Courteous and kind to your great worth appear'd, "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, "This may involve a seeming contradiction; LXXXI. "You saved at once our life and soul: such fear The giants caused us, that the way was lost By which we could pursue a fit career 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; LXXXII. "But to bear arms, and wield the lance; indeed, Your state and name I seek not to unroll; "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 Some armour, ere our journey we begin, Which might be turn'd to my companion's use, The gift would be acceptable to me." The abbot said to him, "Come in and see." LXXXIV. 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 The whole, which, save one cuirass, was too small, T was an immeasurable giant's, who The story on the wall was figured well, In the last moment of the abbey's foe, Who long had waged a war implacable: Precisely as the war occurr'd they drew him, And there was Milo as he overthrew him. LXXXVI. Seeing this history, Count Orlando said In his own heart, “O God, who in the sky Know'st all things! how was Milo hither led? Who caused the giant in this place to die?" And certain letters, weeping, then he read, So that he could not keep his visage dry,— As I will tell in the ensuing story. From evil keep you the high King of glory! The Prophecy of Dante. (1) DEDICATION. ""Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore, And coming events cast their shadows before."-Campbell. LADY! (2) if for the cold and cloudy clime I dare to build the imitative rhyme, Spakest; and for thee to speak and be obey'd Such sounds are utter'd, and such charms display'd, So sweet a language from so fair a mouth— PREFACE. IN the course of a visit to the city of Ravenna in the summer of 1819, it was suggested to the author, (1) This poem, which Lord Byron, in sending it to Mr. Murray, called "the best thing he had ever done, if not unintelligible," was written, in the summer of 1819, at --That place Of old renown, once in the Adrian sea, The Prophecy, however, was first published in May, 1821. It is dedicated to the Countess Guiccioli, who thus describes the origin of its composition:-"On my departure from Venice, Lord Byron had promised to come and see me at Ravenna. Dante's tomb, the classical pinewood, the relics of antiquity which are to be found "'T was in a grove of spreading pines he stray'd," etc. Dryden's Theodore and Honoria, that, having composed something on the subject of Tasso's confinement, he should do the same on 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 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 is 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 before the latter event, foretelling the fortunes of Italy in general in the ensuing centuries. In adopting this plan I have had in my mind the Cassandra of Lycophron, and the Prophecy of Nereus by Horace, as well as the Prophecies of Holy Writ. The measure adopted is the terza rima of Dante, which I am not aware to have seen hitherto tried in our language, except it may be by Mr. Hayley, of whose translation I never saw but one extract, quoted in the notes to Caliph Vathek; so that—if I do not err-this poem may in that place, afforded a sufficient pretext for me to invite him to come, and for him 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 composed his Prophecy." "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, Shall salt his bread and give him means of life. "Moore be considered as a metrical experiment. The cantos are short, and about the same length of those of the poet, whose name I have borrowed, and most probably taken in vain. Amongst the inconveniences of authors in the present day, it is difficult for any who have a name, good or bad, to escape translation. I have had the fortune to see the fourth canto of Childe Harold translated into Italian versi sciolti,—that is, a poem written in the Spenserean stanza into blank verse, without regard to the natural divisions of the stanza or of the sense. If the present poem, being on a national topic, should chance to undergo the same fate, I would request the Italian reader to remember that when I have failed in the imitation of his great "Padre Alighier," I have failed in imitating that which all study and few understand, since to this very day it is not yet settled what was the meaning of the allegory in the first canto of the Inferno, unless Count Marchetti's ingenious and probable conjecture may be considered as having decided the question. He may also pardon my failure the more, as I am not quite sure that he would be pleased with my success, since the Italians, with a pardonable nationality, are particularly jealous of all that is left them as a nation-their literature; and in the present bitterness of the classic and romantic war, are but ill disposed to permit a foreigner even to approve or imitate them, without finding some fault with his ultramontane presumption. I can easily enter into all this, knowing what would be thought in England of an Italian imitator of Milton, or if a translation of Monti, or Pindemonte, or Arici, should be held up to the rising generation as a model for their future poetical essays. But I perceive that I am deviating into an address to the Italian reader, when my business is with the English one; and, be they few or many, I must take my leave of both. (1) Dante Alighieri was born in Florence in May, 1265, of an ancient and honourable family. In the early part of his life he gained some credit in a military character, and distinguished himself by his bravery in an action where the Florentines obtained a signal victory over the citizens of Arezzo. He became still more eminent by the acquisition of court honours; and at the age of thirty-five he rose to be one of the chief magistrates of Florence, when that dignity was conferred by the suffrages of the people. From this exaltation the poet himself dated his principal misfortunes. Italy was at that time distracted by the contending factions of the Ghibelines and Guelphs,-among the former Dante took an active part. In one of the proscriptions h I was banished, his possessions confiscated, and he died in exile in 1521. Boccaccio thus describes his person and manners:'He was of the middle stature, of a mild disposition, and, from the time he arrived at manhood, grave in his manner and deport. ment. His clothes were plain, and his dress always conformable to his years: his face was long; his nose aquiline; his eyes rather large than otherwise. His complexion was dark, melancholy, and pensive. In his meals he was extremely moderate; in his THE PROPHECY OF DANTE. (1) CANTO I. ONCE more in man's frail world! which I had left From star to star to reach the almighty throne. Love so ineffable, and so alone, That nought on earth could more my bosom move, By tyrannous faction, and the brawling crowd; manners most courteous and civil; and, both in public and private life, he was admirably decorous."-E. (2) The reader is requested to adopt the Italian pronunciation of Beatrice, sounding all the syllables. (3) Canzone, in which Dante describes the person of Beatrice, Strophe third: "Che sol per le belle opre Che fanno in Cielo il sole e l'altre stelle Così se guardi fiso Pensar ben dei ch' ogni terren' piacere." (4) "According to Boccaccio, Dante was a lover long before he was a soldier, and his passion for the Beatrice whom he has immortalised commenced while he was in his ninth year, and she in her eighth year. It is said that their first meeting was at a banquet in the house of Folco Portinaro, her father; and certain it is, that the impression then made on the susceptible and constant heart of Dante was not obliterated by her death, which happened after an interval of sixteen years." Cary. |