TRANSLATIONS

FROM THE "MORGANTE MAGGIORE" OF

LUIGI PULCI.

THE following translated specimens formed part of a series of papers, under the title "Remarks on the Morgante Maggiore of Luigi Pulci," which made their appearance in several successive numbers of the Monthly Magazine, during the years 1806 and 1807; those contained in the last number of the series, viz. for June, 1807, being afterwards incorporated in the poem called "Orlando in Roncesvalles." The composition of the materials from which these papers were taken formed the writer's amusement during the long vacation preceding the publication of them, when it was his fortune first to fall in with the work of the Italian Poet; and they are inserted in the present collection, by way of Introduction to the Tale of which they subsequently formed the basis, chiefly as they may assist in the solution of the much-contested question whether the "Morgante Maggiore" ought to be regarded as a burlesque poem, and classed ac

cordingly-a question which is, perhaps, of little more than verbal importance, and represented as such by the writer in the Preface to his "Orlando in Roncesvalles," now reprinted. He has also to refer to Mr. Panizzi's "Essay on the Romantic Narrative Poetry of the Italians," to an article in the twenty-first volume of the "Quarterly Review," on the same subject, and lastly to Mr. Hallam's first volume of an "Introduction to the Literature of Europe," in each of which the topic above adverted to has again been made the ground of discussion; but, in the latter work, more especially, has been perhaps somewhat too arbitrarily disposed of. It seems at least to the present writer rather nearer the truth of the matter to affirm that the author of the "Morgante," whether the inclination to ridicule be, or be not, considered as the predominant characteristic of his genius, belongs to the same class of poets as Boyardo and Ariosto, and is to be treated accordingly. To represent him as a mere buffoon would be to confound his work with a very different and not less numerous class of compositions, properly designated by the term "mock heroic,' such as the "Secchia Rapita," and the "Ricciardetto;" the injustice of which will be obvious even to the mere English reader who takes the trouble to compare the ensuing Specimens" with two cantos of the poem of Fortiguerra, in the dress in which they are presented to him in a succeeding part of

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this volume. The writer thinks it material only further to notice that the translation by Lord Byron of the first canto of the "Morgante Maggiore," and that by Lord Glenbervie of the "Ricciardetto," were each of them published subsequently to the first appearance of the respective versions contained in this volume.

[The pious and peaceful inhabitants of a monastery situate somewhere on the confines of Pagandom had long been disturbed by unpleasant neighbours. Three brothers (heathen giants) had taken up their abode on a hill which overlooked the sacred edifice, and from that hill's top they pursued the wanton amusement of hurling huge stones on the heads of the defenceless monks, whenever they sallied forth in quest of water or provisions. Their deplorable condition being represented to the Paladin Orlando, he, like a true errant knight, undertook the task of redressing their grievance. He has already rendered two of the three brother giants incapable of continuing their barbarous pastime, and is now on a domiciliary visit to the last survivor.]

Morgante had a rustic palace made

Of sticks, earth, leaves, in his own barbarous way, And here at ease his mighty members laid, Securely guarded, at the close of day.

Orlando knock'd-the giant, all dismay'd,

Waked sudden from his slumbers where he lay, And, upright starting, like a thing astound, Scared by a frightful dream, he gazed around.

Him seem'd some furious serpent had assail'd him, And, when to Mahound for relief he pray'd, That nought his pagan deities avail’d him;

But when Christ's holy name he call'd in aid, Straightway the Serpent's wonted fury fail'd him : Waked from this dream, towards the door he made; "Who knocks?" with muttering voice the giant cried :

"Thou soon shalt feel," the Paladin replied.

"I come to make thee, as I have before Thy brethren, for thy sins do penitence, Sent by those monks, so miserably poor,

And guided by celestial Providence.

Your impious hands have long oppress'd them sore,
And now Heaven's justice waits on your offence.
Know that, already, as mute marble cold,
Lie Passamont and Alabaster bold."

"O Knight!" Morgante said, "O gentle Knight!
By thine own God, I charge thee, speak me fair:
Rede me, in courtesy, thy name aright,
And, if a Christian, oh the truth declare!"
Orlando answer'd, " By this holy light,

And by my faith-a solemn oath—I swear,