The Works of Lord Byron, Volume 4

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LVIII.

"And one of our apostles, Saul once named,
Long persecuted sore the faith of Christ,
Till, one day, by the Spirit being inflamed,
'Why dost thou persecute me thus?' said Christ;
And then from his offence he was reclaimed,
And went for ever after preaching Christ,
And of the faith became a trump, whose sounding
O'er the whole earth is echoing and rebounding.

LIX.

"So, my Morgante, you may do likewise:
He who repents--thus writes the Evangelist--
Occasions more rejoicing in the skies
Than ninety-nine of the celestial list.
You may be sure, should each desire arise
With just zeal for the Lord, that you'll exist
Among the happy saints for evermore;
But you were lost and damned to Hell before!"

LX.

And thus great honour to Morgante paid
The Abbot: many days they did repose.
One day, as with Orlando they both strayed,
And sauntered here and there, where'er they chose,
The Abbot showed a chamber, where arrayed
Much armour was, and hung up certain bows;
And one of these Morgante for a whim
Girt on, though useless, he believed, to him.

LXI.

There being a want of water in the place,
Orlando, like a worthy brother, said,
"Morgante, I could wish you in this case
To go for water." "You shall be obeyed
In all commands," was the reply, "straight ways."
Upon his shoulder a great tub he laid,
And went out on his way unto a fountain,
Where he was wont to drink, below the mountain.

LXII.

Arrived there, a prodigious noise he hears,
Which suddenly along the forest spread;
Whereat from out his quiver he prepares
An arrow for his bow, and lifts his head;
And lo! a monstrous herd of swine appears,
And onward rushes with tempestuous tread,
And to the fountain's brink precisely pours;
So that the Giant's joined by all the boars.

LXIII.

Morgante at a venture shot an arrow,
Which pierced a pig precisely in the ear,
And passed unto the other side quite through;
So that the boar, defunct, lay tripped up near.
Another, to revenge his fellow farrow,
Against the Giant rushed in fierce career,
And reached the passage with so swift a foot,
Morgante was not now in time to shoot.

LXIV.

Perceiving that the pig was on him close,
He gave him such a punch upon the head[345],
As floored 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 tub was on one shoulder, and there were
The hogs on t'other, and he brushed apace
On to the abbey, though by no means near,
Nor spilt one drop of water in his race.
Orlando, seeing him so soon appear
With the dead boars, and with that brimful vase,
Marvelled to see his strength so very great;
So did the Abbot, and set wide the gate.

LXVI.

The monks, who saw the water fresh and good[346],
Rejoiced, but much more to perceive the pork;
All animals are glad at sight of food:
They lay their breviaries to sleep, and work
With greedy pleasure, and in such a mood,
That the flesh needs no salt beneath their fork.
Of rankness and of rot there is no fear,
For all the fasts are now left in arrear.

LXVII.

As though they wished to burst at once, they ate;
And gorged so that, as if the bones had been
In water, sorely grieved the dog and cat,
Perceiving that they all were picked too clean.
The Abbot, who to all did honour great,
A few days after this convivial scene,
Gave to Morgante a fine horse, well trained,
Which he long time had for himself maintained.

LXVIII.

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 the horse, sinking with the pain, fell dead,
And burst, while cold on earth lay head and hoof.
Morgante said, "Get up, thou sulky cur!"
And still continued pricking with the spur.

LXIX.

But finally he thought fit to dismount,
And said, "I am as light as any feather,
And he has burst;--to this what say you, Count?"
Orlando answered, "Like a ship's mast rather
You seem to me, and with the truck for front:
Let him go! Fortune wills that we together
Should march, but you on foot Morgante still."
To which the Giant answered," So I will.

LXX.

"When there shall be occasion, you will see
How I approve my courage in the fight."
Orlando said, "I really think you'll be,
If it should prove God's will, a goodly knight;
Nor will you napping there discover me.
But never mind your horse, though out of sight
'Twere best to carry him into some wood,
If but the means or way I understood."

LXXI.

The Giant said, "Then carry him I will,
Since that to carry me he was so slack--
To render, as the gods do, good for ill;
But lend a hand to place him on my back."
Orlando answered, "If my counsel still
May weigh, Morgante, do not undertake
To lift or carry this dead courser, who,
As you have done to him, will do to you.

LXXII.

"Take care he don't revenge himself, though dead,
As Nessus did of old beyond all cure.
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.
In place, my gentle Roland, of this palfrey,
With all the bells, I'd carry yonder belfry."

LXXIII.

The Abbot said, "The steeple may do well,
But for the bells, you've broken them, I wot."
Morgante answered, "Let them pay in Hell
The penalty who lie dead in yon grot;"
And hoisting up the horse from where he fell,
He said, "Now look if I the gout have got,
Orlando, in the legs,--or if I have force;"--
And then he made two gambols with the horse.

LXXIV.

Morgante was like any mountain framed;
So if he did this 'tis no prodigy;
But secretly himself Orlando blamed,
Because he was one of his family;
And fearing that he might be hurt or maimed,
Once more he bade him lay his burden by:
"Put down, nor bear him further the desert in."
Morgante said, "I'll carry him for certain."

LXXV.

He did; and stowed him in some nook away,
And to the abbey then returned with speed.
Orlando said, "Why longer do we stay?
Morgante, here is nought to do indeed."
The Abbot by the hand he took one day,
And said, with great respect, he had agreed
To leave his reverence; but for this decision
He wished to have his pardon and permission.

LXXVI.

The honours they continued to receive
Perhaps exceeded what his merits claimed:
He said, "I mean, and quickly, to retrieve
The lost days of time past, which may be blamed;
Some days ago I should have asked 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
The Abbot, abbey, and this solitude--
So much I love you in so short a time;
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.
Meantime we stand expectant of your blessing.
And recommend us to your prayers with pressing."

LXXVIII.

Now when the Abbot Count Orlando heard,
His heart grew soft with inner tenderness,
Such fervour in his bosom bred each word;
And, "Cavalier," he said, "if I have less
Courteous and kind to your great worth appeared,
Than fits me for such gentle blood to express,
I know I have done too little in this case;
But blame our ignorance, and this poor place.

LXXIX.

"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,
That wheresoe'er you go I too shall be,
And, on the other part, you rest with me.

LXXX.

"This may involve a seeming contradiction;
But you I know are sage, and feel, and taste,
And understand my speech with full conviction.
For your just pious deeds may you be graced
With the Lord's great reward and benediction,
By whom you were directed to this waste:
To His high mercy is our freedom due,
For which we render thanks to Him and you.

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 formed to wear our sober cloth,

LXXXII.

"But to bear arms, and wield the lance; indeed,
With these as much is done as with this cowl;
In proof of which the Scripture you may read,
This Giant up to Heaven may bear his soul
By your compassion: now in peace proceed.
Your state and name I seek not to unroll;
But, if I'm asked, this answer shall be given,
That here an angel was sent down from Heaven.

LXXXIII.

"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 answered, "If there should lie loose
Some armour, ere our journey we begin,
Which might be turned 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 covered 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[347], was too small,
And that too had the mail inlaid with rust.
They wondered how it fitted him exactly,
Which ne'er had suited others so compactly.

LXXXV.

'Twas an immeasurable Giant's, who
By the great Milo of Agrante fell
Before the abbey many years ago.
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 occurred 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!

[Note to Stanza v. Lines 1, 2.--In an Edition of the _Morgante Maggiore_
issued at Florence by G. Pulci, in 1900, line 2 of stanza v. runs thus--

"Com' egli ebbe un Ormanno e 'l suo Turpino."

The allusion to "Ormanno," who has been identified with a mythical
chronicler, "Urmano from Paris" (see Rajna's _Ricerche sui Reali di
Francia_, 1872, p. 51), and the appeal to the authority of Leonardo
Aretino, must not be taken _au pied de la lettre_. At the same time, the
opinion attributed to Leonardo is in accordance with contemporary
sentiment and phraseology. Compare "Horum res gestas si qui auctores
digni celebrassent, quam magnae, quam admirabiles, quam veteribus illis
similes viderentur."--B. Accolti Aretini (_ob._ 1466) _Dialogus de
Praestantia Virorum sui AEvi_. P. Villani, _Liber de Florentiae Famosis
Civibus_, 1847, p. 112. From information kindly supplied by Professor V.
Rossi, of the University of Pavia.]

FOOTNOTES:

[332] {283}[Matteo Maria Bojardo (1434-1494) published his _Orlando
Innamorato_ in 1486; Lodovico Ariosto (1474-1533) published the _Orlando
Furioso_ in 1516. A first edition of Cantos I.-XXV. of Luigi Pulci's
(1431-1487) _Il Morgante Maggiore_ was printed surreptitiously by Luca
Veneziano in 1481. Francesco Berni, who recast the _Orlando Innamorato_,
was born circ. 1490, and died in 1536.]

[333] [John Hermann Merivale (1779-1844), the father of Charles
Merivale, the historian (Dean of Ely, 1869), and of Herman,
Under-Secretary for India, published his _Orlando in Roncesvalles_ in
1814.]

[334] {284}[Parson Adams and Barnabas are characters in _Joseph
Andrews_; Thwackum and Supple, in _The History of Tom Jones, a
Foundling_.]

[335] {285}[Byron insisted, in the first place with Murray (February 7,
1820, _Letters_, 1900, iv. 402), and afterwards, no doubt, with the
Hunts, that his translation of the _Morgante Maggiore_ should be "put by
the original, stanza for stanza, and verse for verse." In the present
issue a few stanzas are inserted for purposes of comparison, but it has
not been thought necessary to reprint the whole of the Canto.

"IL MORGANTE MAGGIORE.

ARGOMENTO.

"Vivendo Carlo Magno Imperadore
Co' Paladini in festa e in allegria,
Orlando contra Gano traditore
S'adira, e parte verso Pagania:
Giunge a un deserto, e del bestial furore
Di tre giganti salva una badia,
Che due n'uccide, e con Morgante elegge,
Di buon sozio e d'amico usar la legge."

CANTO PRIMO.

I.

"In principio era il Verbo appresso a Dio;
Ed era Iddio il Verbo, e 'l Verbo lui:
Quest' era nel principio, al parer mio;
E nulla si puo far sanza costui:
Pero, giusto Signor benigno e pio,
Mandami solo un de gli angeli tui,
Che m'accompagni, e rechimi a memoria
Una famosa antica e degna storia.

II.

"E tu, Vergine, figlia, e madre, e sposa,
Di quel Signor, che ti dette le chiave
Del cielo e dell' abisso, e d' ogni cosa,
Quel di che Gabriel tuo ti disse Ave!
Perche tu se' de' tuo' servi pietosa,
Con dolce rime, e stil grato e soave,
Ajuta i versi miei benignamente,
E'nsino al fine allumina la mente.

III.

"Era nel tempo, quando Filomena
Colla sorella si lamenta e plora,
Che si ricorda di sua antica pena,
E pe' boschetti le ninfe innamora,
E Febo il carro temperato mena,
Che 'l suo Fetonte l'ammaestra ancora;
Ed appariva appunto all' orizzonte,
Tal che Titon si graffiava la fronte:

IV.

"Quand'io varai la mia barchetta, prima
Per ubbidir chi sempre ubbidir debbe
La mente, e faticarsi in prosa e in rima,
E del mio Carlo Imperador m'increbbe;
Che so quanti la penna ha posto in cima,
Che tutti la sua gloria prevarrebbe:
E stata quella istoria, a quel ch'i' veggio,
Di Carlo male intesa, e scritta peggio."]

[336] {287}[Philomela and Procne were daughters of Pandion, King of
Attica. Tereus, son of Ares, wedded Procne, and, after the birth of her
son Itys, concealed his wife in the country, with a view to dishonouring
Philomela, on the plea of her sister's death. Procne discovered the
plot, killed her babe, and served up his flesh in a dish for her
husband's dinner. The sisters fled, and when Tereus pursued them with an
axe they besought the gods to change them into birds. Thereupon Procne
became a swallow, and Philomela a nightingale. So Hyginus, _Fabulae_,
xlv.; but there are other versions of Philomela's woes.]

[337] [In the first edition of the _Morgante Maggiore_ (Firenze, 1482
[_B. M._ G. 10834]), which is said (_vide_ the _colophon_) to have been
issued "under the correction of the author, line 2 of this stanza runs
thus: "_comegliebbe u armano el suo turpino_;" and, apparently, it was
not till 1518 (Milano, by Zarotti) that _Pipino_ was substituted for
_Turpino_. Leonardo Bruni, surnamed Aretino (1369-1444), in his _Istoria
Fiorentina_ (1861, pp. 43, 47), commemorates the imperial magnificence
of _Carlo Magno_, and speaks of his benefactions to the Church, but does
not--in that work, at any rate--mention his biographers. It is possible
that if Pulci or Bruni had read Eginhard, they thought that his
chronicle was derogatory to Charlemagne. (See Gibbon's _Decline and
Fall_, 1825, iii. 376, note 1, and Hallam's _Europe during the Middle
Ages_, 1868, p. 16, note 3; _et vide post_, p. 309.)]

[338] {288}[For an account of the Benedictine Monastery of San
Liberatore alla Majella, which lies to the south of Manoppello (eight
miles southwest of Chieto, in the Abruzzi), see _Monumenti Storici ed.
Artistici degli Abruzzi_, by V. Bindi, Naples, 1889, Part I. (Testo),
pp. 655, _sq_. The abbey is in a ruinous condition, but on the walls of
"_un ampio porticato_," there is still to be seen a fresco of
Charlemagne, holding in his hands the deed of gift of the Abbey lands.]

[339] [That is, the valley of Jehoshaphat, the "valley where Jehovah
judges" (see Joel iii. 2-12); and, hence, a favourite burial-ground of
Jews and Moslems.]

[340] [The text as it stands is meaningless. Probably Byron wrote "dost
arise." The reference is no doubt to the supposed restoration of
Florence by Charlemagne.]

[341] {289}["The _Morgante_ is in truth the epic of treason, and the
character of Gano, as an accomplished but not utterly abandoned Judas,
is admirably sustained throughout."--_Renaissance in Italy_, 1881, iv.
444.]

[342]

["Cosi per Carlo Magno e per Orlando,
Due ne segui lo mio attento sguardo,
Com' occhio segue suo falcon volando."

_Del Paradiso_, Canto XVIII. lines 43-45.]

[343] {296}["Macon" is another form of "Mahomet." Compare--

"O Macon! break in twain the steeled lance."

Fairfax's Tasso, _Gerusalemme Liberata_, book ix. stanza xxx. line i.]

[344] [Pulci seems to have been the originator of the humorous
understatement. Compare--

"And the subsequent proceedings interested him no more."

Bret Harte's Poems, _The Society upon the Stanislaus_, line 26.]

[345] {303} "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 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.

[346] {304}["Half a dozen invectives against tyranny confiscate C^d.^
H^d.^ in a month; and eight and twenty cantos of quizzing Monks,
Knights, and Church Government, are let loose for centuries."--Letter to
Murray, May 8, 1820, _Letters_, 1901, v. 21.]

[347] {308}[Byron could not make up his mind with regard to the
translation of the Italian _sbergo_, which he had, correctly, rendered
"cuirass." He was under the impression that the word "meant _helmet_
also" (see his letters to Murray, March 1, 5, 1820, _Letters_, 1900, iv.
413-417). _Sbergo_ or _usbergo_, as Moore points out (_Life_, p. 438,
note 2), "is obviously the same as hauberk, habergeon, etc., all from
the German _halsberg_, or covering for the neck." An old dictionary
which Byron might have consulted, _Vocabolario Italiano-Latino_, Venice,
1794, gives _thorax_, _lorica_, as the Latin equivalent of "Usbergo =
armadura del busto, corazza." (See, too, for an authority quoted in the
_Dizzionario Universale_ (1797-1805) of Alberti di Villanuova,
_Letters_, 1900, iv. 417, note 2.)]

FRANCESCA OF RIMINI.

INTRODUCTION TO _FRANCESCA OF RIMINI_.

The MS. of "a _literal_ translation, word for word (versed like the
original), of the episode of Francesca of Rimini" (Letter March 23,
1820, _Letters_, 1900, iv. 421), was sent to Murray from Ravenna, March
20, 1820 (_ibid_., p. 419), a week after Byron had forwarded the MS. of
the _Prophecy of Dante_. Presumably the translation had been made in the
interval by way of illustrating and justifying the unfamiliar metre of
the "Dante Imitation." In the letter which accompanied the translation
he writes, "Enclosed you will find, _line for line_, in _third rhyme_
(_terza rima_,) of which your British Blackguard reader as yet
understands nothing, Fanny of Rimini. You know that she was born here,
and married, and slain, from Cary, Boyd, and such people already. I have
done it into _cramp_ English, line for line, and rhyme for rhyme, to try
the possibility. You had best append it to the poems already sent by
last three posts."

In the matter of the "British Blackguard," that is, the general reader,
Byron spoke by the card. Hayley's excellent translation of the three
first cantos of the _Inferno_ (_vide ante_, "Introduction to the
_Prophecy of Dante_," p. 237), which must have been known to a previous
generation, was forgotten, and with earlier experiments in _terza rima_,
by Chaucer and the sixteenth and seventeenth century poets, neither
Byron nor the British public had any familiar or definite acquaintance.
But of late some interest had been awakened or revived in Dante and the
_Divina Commedia_.

Cary's translation--begun in 1796, but not published as a whole till
1814--had met with a sudden and remarkable success. "The work, which had
been published four years, but had remained in utter obscurity, was at
once eagerly sought after. About a thousand copies of the first edition,
that remained on hand, were immediately disposed of; in less than three
months a new edition was called for." Moreover, the _Quarterly_ and
_Edinburgh Reviews_ were loud in its praises (_Memoir of H. F. Cary_,
1847, ii. 28). Byron seems to have thought that a fragment of the
_Inferno_, "versed like the original," would challenge comparison with
Cary's rendering in blank verse, and would lend an additional interest
to the "Pulci Translations, and the Dante Imitation." _Dis aliter
visum_, and Byron's translation of the episode of _Francesca of Rimini_,
remained unpublished till it appeared in the pages of _The Letters and
Journals of Lord Byron_, 1830, ii. 309-311. (For separate translations
of the episode, see _Stories of the Italian Poets_, by Leigh Hunt, 1846,
i. 393-395, and for a rendering in blank verse by Lord [John] Russell,
see _Literary Souvenir_, 1830, pp. 285-287.)

FRANCESCA DA RIMINI.

FRANCESCA OF RIMINI[348]

FROM THE INFERNO OF DANTE.

CANTO THE FIFTH.

"The Land where I was born[349] sits by the Seas
Upon that shore to which the Po descends,
With all his followers, in search of peace.
Love, which the gentle heart soon apprehends,
Seized him for the fair person which was ta'en
From me[350], and me even yet the mode offends.
Love, who to none beloved to love again
Remits, seized me with wish to please, so strong[351],
That, as thou see'st, yet, yet it doth remain.
Love to one death conducted us along, 10
But Caina[352] waits for him our life who ended:"
These were the accents uttered by her tongue.--
Since I first listened to these Souls offended,
I bowed my visage, and so kept it till--
'What think'st thou?' said the bard[353]; when I unbended,
And recommenced: 'Alas! unto such ill
How many sweet thoughts, what strong ecstacies,
Led these their evil fortune to fulfill!'
And then I turned unto their side my eyes,
And said, 'Francesca, thy sad destinies 20
Have made me sorrow till the tears arise.
But tell me, in the Season of sweet sighs,
By what and how thy Love to Passion rose,
So as his dim desires to recognize?'
Then she to me: 'The greatest of all woes
Is to remind us of our happy days[co][354]
In misery, and that thy teacher knows.
But if to learn our Passion's first root preys
Upon thy spirit with such Sympathy,
I will do even as he who weeps and says.[cp][355] 30
We read one day for pastime, seated nigh,
Of Lancilot, how Love enchained him too.
We were alone, quite unsuspiciously.
But oft our eyes met, and our Cheeks in hue
All o'er discoloured by that reading were;
But one point only wholly us o'erthrew;[cq]
When we read the long-sighed-for smile of her,[cr]
To be thus kissed by such devoted lover,[cs]
He, who from me can be divided ne'er,
Kissed my mouth, trembling in the act all over: 40
Accursed was the book and he who wrote![356]
That day no further leaf we did uncover.'
While thus one Spirit told us of their lot,
The other wept, so that with Pity's thralls
I swooned, as if by Death I had been smote,[357]
And fell down even as a dead body falls."[358]