The Orlando Innamorato. Matteo Maria Boiardo

in England. Yet Berni and Ariosto have frequently employed the versi sdruccioli where they have aimed at a bold or pathetic effect, though they have also undoubtedly been used by them to heighten that of comic or satirical composition. Caro the cotemporary of Berni is even profuse of triple rhymes in his translation of the Æneid; lyric poets, after the example of Chiabrera, often insert them in the sublimest of their odes; and one, who lately died full of years, managed the rime sdrucciole so easily, as to compose whole poems with them, and with such dignity, both of versification and expression, as (in the opinion of a distinguished Italian friend already cited) to vie with Tasso and Petrarch.

      * For example, there is no rule deemed more absolute, and yet there is none which admits more exceptions than the maxim forbidding a line of ten monosyllables. For monosyllables, in French and English, are often such only to the eye, such words being frequently, in both languages, melted into each other. Hence many good English verses consist of ten words, as that of Dryden, which will be in the recollection of every body,

      "Arms and the man I sing, &c."

      and the French cite as beautiful a line of Racine, which is composed of twelve,

      "Lej ur n'est pas plus pur que le fond de mon cœur."

      ** I quote from memory.

      *** Thus Goldoni in one of his comedies introduces a man improvising in triple rhymes for the sake of producing a ludicrous effect. Goldoni, however, (it must be confessed,) is no authority in questions of language or of versification.

      Now let a man keep such doctrines in mind; let him come to the consideration of Berni's storm with a memory imbued with the sights and sounds seen and heard in one; let him consider all circumstances of metre, not absolutely, but conditionally; that is, in their relation to each other and the thing described, and he will then, I believe, enter into the real spirit in which the poet executed this description, and contemplate him with very different eyes from those with which he viewed him before.

      Another cause of misconception, to which I have already alluded, has probably more misled the mob of readers of Italian poetry, natives as well as foreigners. I mean the language of Berni; and as to this, certainly few very few, are capable of appreciating his skill, or even of making out his track. There is indeed, I believe, no poet of any country, who has attempted so difficult a flight; a flight of unwearied wing, struck out with courage, and maintained only by the most incessant exertion and care.

      Traces of these are seen in what may be called the charts on which he has pricked out his course, and which, I understand, witness as much to his diligence, as Ariosto's attest the care with which he accomplished his most extraordinary voyage. The documents to which I allude, are the original MSS. of the Innamorato, preserved at Brescia. As I was ignorant of the existence of these, during two residences which I made in Italy, I can only speak of them on the testimony of others; but an Italian critic, whom I have often quoted, and from whose authority upon such points I would almost say there was no appeal, once assured me these are as much blotted as those of Ariosto at Ferrara; and that Berni seems to have usually clothed his thoughts in ornate language at first, which he rejected on after-consideration, simplifying, but at the same time improving, his diction, as he proceeded, till he arrived at that exquisite happiness of expression, that curiosa felicitas, which makes his principal charm. It is hence that he is the most untranslatable of authors; since in copying him, it is not only a question of imitating colours, but the fine and more elaborate touches of a peculiar pencil.

      While, however, it is clear that the versification and diction make the great charms of the Innamorato, these beauties should not throw his other excellencies into shade; and the openings of the different cantos, which he has engrafted on the original work of Boiardo, sometimes original, and sometimes imitated from the older poets, are not greatly inferior to those which Ariosto has prefixed to the several cantos of the Furioso, in imitation of him; no, not even in the higher claims of poetical merit.

      These sometimes consist of moral reflections, arising out of the narrative; and the following may remind the reader of one of those little gems scattered through the plays of Shakspeare:—

      Who steals a bugle-horn, a ring, a steed,

       Or such like worthless thing, has some discretion.

       'Tis petty larceny.—Not such his deed

       Who robs us of our fame, our best possession;

       And he who takes our labour's worthiest meed,

       May well be deemed a felon by profession;

       Who so much more our hate and scourge deserves.

       As from the rule of right he wider swerves.

      Sometimes indulging in a declamation against vices or follies, he makes his satire more poignant by allusions to some prevalent practice of the day: thus, in a sally against avarice, he attacks those who masqued it under the disguise of hypocrisy in the following stanza:

      This other, under show of an adviser

       And practiser of what is strict and right;

       But being in effect a rogue and miser,

       Cloisters a dozen daughters out of sight:

       And fain would have the pretty creatures wiser

       Than their frail sisters; but mistakes them quite;

       For they are like the rest, and set the group

       Of monks, and priests, and abbots, cock-a-hoop.

      The following extract, illustrating a philosophical dogma of his age, taken from the opening of the forty-sixth canto, is of another description, and may serve as a specimen of the variety of his vein, and the odd ingenuity with which he winds in and out of his argument; sometimes bearing up for his harbour when in the middle of a digression; and then, when he seems to feel himself sure of a retreat, indulging in a new sally, in which he however never entirely loses sight of his port.

      1.

       He who the name of little world applied

       To man, in this approved his subtle wit:

       Since, save it is not round, all things beside

       Exactly with this happy symbol fit;

       And I may say that long and deep, and wide

       And middling, good and bad, are found in it.

       Here too, the various elements combined

       Are dominant; snow, rain, and mist and wind.

      2.

       Now clear, now overcast. 'Tis there its land

       Will yield no fruit; here bears a rich supply:

       As the mixt soil is marle, or barren sand;

       And haply here too moist, or there too dry.

       Here foaming hoarse, and there with murmur bland,

       Streams glide, or torrents tumble from on high.

       Such of man's appetites convey the notion:

       Since these are infinite, and still in motion.

      3.

       Two solid dikes the invading streams repel,

       The one is Reason, arid the other Shame.

       The torrents, if above their banks they swell,

       Wit and discretion are too weak to tame.

       The crystal waters, which so smoothly well.

       Are appetites of things, devoid of blame.

       Those winds, and rains, and snows, and night, and day.

       Ye learned clerks, divine them as ye may.

      4.

       Among these elements, misfortune wills

       Our nature should have most of earth: for she.

       Moved by what influence heaven or sun instils.

       Is subject to their power; nor less are we.