than the Surrey of Spanish letters. We should willingly allot many pages to him and his worthy translator,but, for the present, we must confiue ourselves to a couple of specimens. The following Ode was addressed by Garcilasso to a young Neapolitan lady, (called the Flower of GNIDO, from the quarter of the city of Naples in which she lived,) at the time when a friend of the poet's was enamoured of her. Nothing, we apprehend, can be more perfectly elegant THE FLOWER OF GNIDO. 1. "HAD I the sweet resounding lyre, 2. "Think not, think not, fair flower of Gnide, It e'er should celebrate the scars, And forged the chains that now control 3. "No, no! its harmonies should ring 4. "Of that poor captive, too contemn'd, 5. "Not now he wields for thy sweet sake Else must our weeping strings presume The next is valuable, not only for the great beauty of its language, (to which Wiffen does, on the whole, justice) but as presenting one of the most happy specimens of that particular vein, which was produced by the mixture of Italian ornament, with the deep native sentiment of Castilian passion. THE PROGRESS OF PASSION FOR HIS LADY. 1. "ONCE more from the dark ivies, my proud harp! I wish the sharpness of my ills to be Shown in thy sounds, as they have been shown sharp In their effects; I must bewail to thee The occasions of my grief, the world shall know Wherefore I perish; I at least will die For by the tresses I am dragg'd along The pathway with my blood, it rushes by, Than the swift-footed winds themselves more swift; And, to torment me for a longer space, 2. "Not by my own neglect, into such harm Fell I at first, 'twas destiny that bore, And gave me up to the tormenting charm, For both my reason and my judgment swore To guard me, as in bygone years they well They saw advancing, neither could they tell Or what to make of such unusual foes, How to engage with them, or how repel; But stared to see the force with which they came, Till, spurr'd on by pure shame, With a slow pace and with a timid eye, nigh, The more did aggravating doubt display My life in peril, dreading lest the die 3. "I stood spectator of their chivalry; Fighting in my defence, my Reason tired And faint from thousand wounds became, and I, Unconscious what the insidious thought inspired, Was wishing my mail'd Advocate to quit The hopeless quarrel,-never in my life Was what I wish'd fulfill'd with so much ease, For, kneeling down, at once she closed the strife, And to the Lady did her sword submit, Consenting she should have me for her slave, As victory urged, to slaughter or to save, Whichever most might please. Then, then indeed, I felt my spirit rise, That such unreasonable conditions e'er Had been agreed to; anger, shame, surprise, At once possess'd me, fruitless as they were; Then follow'd grief to know the treaty done, And see my kingdom in the hands of one Who gives me life and death each day, and this Is the most moderate of her tyrannies. 4. "Her eyes, whose lustre could irradiate well The raven night, and dim the mid-day sun, Changed me at once by some emphatic spell From what I was-I gazed, and it was done. Too finish'd fascination! glass'd in mine, Love In the strong arms of Appetite, the fame For me this capture to go gaze, debarr'd Who could believe that I am fall'n so low, lent To freer thoughts, as mournfully mis-spent! But this one grief, and even the rising ghost Of dead joy, gliding by, is heeded not; 8. "In midst of all this agony and woe, A shade of good descends my wounds to heal; Surely, I fancy, my beloved foe Must feel some little part of what I feel. I must at once die-die without my crown And thus from my most miserable estate I draw a gleam of good. But soon my fate this train of things re grave!" These beautiful verses will, we trust, sufficiently recommend Mr Wiffen to the notice of our readers. He is engaged in a work of still greater importance-a new translation of Tasso into English ottava rima, and we confess that we look forward with the highest expectation to a Jerusalem executed by such a hand. Indeed, Mr Wiffen has already published a small specimen of his Tasso; and there can be no doubt, that, when his work is finished, he must find himself in possession of a very enviable reputation. On comparing the fragment he has print ed, with the corresponding pages of Fairfax, (for Hoole is not worth the mentioning,) we think it is impossible that any one should hesitate about agreeing with Mr Wiffen, that a new version was wanted, and with us, that Mr Wiffen is admirably qualified for supplying the want. Mr Wiffen's GARCILASSO is dedicated, with great propriety, to the Duke of Bedfordthe Poet being his Grace's librarian at Woburn Abbey, and deriving from this situation the means of indulging his taste and talents otio haud ignobili. Long may he do so. The dedication, however, will probably be considered as somewhat of a curiosity-for, though the production of an English Quaker, it is as abounding in titles and com pliments, as if Garcilasso himself had indited it in honour of some Spanish Grandee of the first class. In the "Heraldic Anomalies," there is a queer enough chapter on Quakers-and we suspect from the strain thereof, that Mr Wiffen may be called over the coals, even by the brethren of our own time, for the liberal use of" your Grace," and the like sinful abominations.-To be sure, Paul called a Roman dignitary, "Most noble Festus," only for giving him a decent hearing; and our friend may justify, on this authority, and that a fortiori too, for we suspect he has much more reason to applaud John Duke of Bedford, than ever the Apostle had to applaud the most noble Festus. MR W. S. ROSE. The second work of this class we are to notice, is Mr William Stewart Rose's Translation of the Orlando Furioso of which six cantos have just appeared in a very neat little volume of the same size with his abridgment of the INNAMORATO. The specimens we gave a few months back of Mr Rose's translation from Berni, might, perhaps, render it a matter of little consequence, though we should entirely omit extracting from his Furioso. We shall, however, gratify our selves by quoting a few of these delicious stanzas. Some of our readers may not have had any opportunity of seeing Mr Rose's little volume, and may, perhaps, be saying to themselves, "This is a book which no doubt we must buy some day-but we shall wait till it is complete." We mean to poke these dilatory people by our extracts. Such a way of proceeding is exceedingly unfair to the publisher of a work like this—a work which, of "Le Donne, i Cavalier, l'arme, gli amori, Le cortesie, l'audaci imprese io canto, Seguendo l' ire, e i giovenil furori "Dirò d'Orlando in un medesmo tratto necessity, addresses itself to the more refined classes-and we may add, is unfair to the author too-for there is no author that does not write the more spiritedly for being encouraged, and as for being too rapid and careless of execution, this is a species of transgression which no one will think Mr Rose likely to fall into. Never was such close scrupulous fidelity of rendering associated with such light dancing elegance of language. This, indeed, will be an addition to the standard literature of our country. A hundred years hence, it will stand beside Dryden's Virgil, Pope's Homer, and Carey's Dante. We shall, partly for the sake of the lazy reader, and partly because we are luxuriously disposed ourselves, give Ariosto's own stanzas, side by side with those of his English translator. The well-known commencement of the whole poem is thus felicitously transfused. "OF LOVES and LADIES, KNIGHTS and Of COURTESIES, and many a DARING And from those ancient days my story bring, Flush'd with his youthful rage and furious Who on king Charles', the Roman emperor's head Had vow'd due vengeance for Troyano dead. "In the same strain of Roland will I tell Se da colei, che tal quasi m' hà fatto, "Piacciavi, generosa Erculea prole, "Voi sentirete fra i più degni Eroi, “Orlando, che gran tempo innamorato "Per fare al Rè Marsilio, e al Rè Agra mante Battersi ancor del folle ardir la guancia; D'aver condotto l' un d'Africa quante Genti erano atte a portar spada, e lancia: L'altro, d'aver spinta la Spagna in nante, A distruzion del bel Regno di Francia, E così Orlando arrivò quivi appunto, Ma tosto si pentì d' esservi giunto. “Che gli fù tolta la sua Donna poi; "Nata pochi dì innanzi era una gara Tra'l Conte Orlando, e'l suo cugin Rinaldo ; Che ambiduo avean per la bellezza rara If she, who to like cruel pass has well Nigh brought my feeble wit, which fain would climb, And hourly wastes my sense, concede me skill And strength my daring promise to fulfil. "Good seed of Hercules, give ear and deign, Thou that this age's grace and splendour art, Hippolitus, to smile upon his pain Who tenders what he has with humble heart. For, though all hope to quit the score were vain, My pen and page may pay the debt in part; Then, with no jealous eye my offering scan, Nor scorn my gift, who give thee all I can. "Roland, who long the lady of Catay, Angelica, had loved, and with his brand Raised countless trophies to that damsel gay, In India, Median, and Tartarian land, Westward with her had measured back his way; Where, nigh the Pyrenees, with many a band Of Germany and France, King Charlemagne Had camp'd his faithful host upon the plain. "To make King Agramant, for penance, smite His cheek, and rash Marsilius rue the hour; This, when all train'd with lance and sword to fight, He led from Africa to swell his power; 'Twas thus Orlando came where Charles was tented In evil hour, and soon the deed repented. |