LXV. " And one of our apostles, Saul once named, The tun was on one shoulder, and there were Long persecuted sore the faith of Christ,

The hogs on t'other, and he brush'd apace Till one day by the Spirit being inflamed,

On to the abbey, though by no means near,
• Why dost thou persecute me thus ?' said Christ; Nor spilt one drop of water in his race.
And then from his offence he was reclaim'd, Orlando, seeing him so soon appear
And went for ever after preaching Christ;

With the dead boars, and with that brimful vase,
And of the faith became a trump, whose sounding Marvell?d to see his strength so very great ;-
O'er the whole earth is echoing and rebounding. So did the abbot, and set wide the gate.

LXVI. “So, my Morgante, you may do likewise ;

The monks, who saw the water fresh and good, He who repents,--thus writes the Evangelist,- Rejoiced, but much more to perceive the pork ; Occasions more rejoicing in the skies

All animals are glad at sight of food : Than nincty-nine of the celestial list.

They lay their breviaries to sleep, and work You may be sure, should each desire arise

With greedy pleasure, and in such a mood, With just zeal for the Lord, that you 'll exist That the flesh needs no salt beneath their fork; Among the happy saints for evermore;

of rankness and of rot there is no fear, But you were lost and damn’d to hell before !" For all the fasts are now left in arrear. LX.

LXVII. And thus great honour to Morgante paid

As though they wish'd to burst at once, they ate ; The abbot: many days they did repose.

And gorged so that, as if the bones had been One day, as with Orlando they both stray'd, In water, sorely grieved the dog and cat,

And saunter'd here and there, where'er they chose, Perceiving that they all were pick'd too clean. The abbot show'd a chamber where array'd The abbot, who to all did honour great,

Much armour was, and hung up certain bows; A few days after this convivial scene, And one of these Morgante for a whim

Gave to Morgante a fine horse well train'd,
Girt on, though useless, he believed, to him. Which he long time had for himself maintain'd.

There being a want of water in the place, The horse Morgante to a meadow led,
Orlando, like a worthy brother, said,

To'gallop, and to put him to the proof, “ Morgante, I could wish you in this case

Thinking that he a back of iron had, To go for water.” “You shall be obey'd

Or to skim eggs unbroke was light enough; In all commands” was the reply, "straightway." But the horse, sinking with the pain, fell dead, Upon his shoulder a great tub he laid,

And burst, while cold on earth lay head and hook And went out on his way unto a fountain,

Morgante said, “ Get up, thou sulky cur !" Where he was wont to drink below the mountain. And still continued pricking with the spur. LXII.

LXIX. Arrived there, a prodigious noise he hears,

But finally he thought fit to dismount, Which suddenly along the forest spread;

And said, “I am as light as any feather, Whereat from out his quiver he prepares

And he has burst-to this what say you, count ?" An arrow for his bow, and lifts his head;

Orlando answer'd, “Like a ship's mast rather And lo! a monstrous herd of swine appears, You seem to me, and with the truck for front:

And onward rushes with tempestuous tread, Let him go; fortune wills that we together And to the fountain's brink precisely pours, Should march, but you on foot, Morgante, still." So that the giant's join'd by all the boars.

To which the giant answer'd, “ So I will.

Morgante at a venture shot an arrow,

“When there shall be occasion, you shall see Which pierced a pig precisely in the ear,

How I approve my courage in the fight." And pass'd unto the other side quite through, Orlando said, " I really think you'll be,

So that the boar, defunct, lay tripp'd up near. If it should prove God's will, a goodly knight, Another, to revenge his fellow farrow,

Nor will you napping there discover me: Against the giant rush'd in fierce career,

But never mind your horse, though out of sigh: And reach'd the passage with so swift a foot, ’T were best to carry him into some wood, Morgante was not now in time to shoot.

If but the means or way I understood.”

Perceiving that the pig was on him close,

The giant said, “ Then carry him I will, He gave him such a punch upon the head'

Since that to carry me he was so slackAs floor’d him, so that he no more arose

To render, as the gods do, good for ill; Smashing the very bone; and he fell dead

But lend a hand to place him on my back." Next to the other. Having seen such blows, Orlando answer'd, “I my counsel still The other pigs along the valley fled;

May weigh, Morgante, do not undertake Morganto on his neck the bucket took,

To lift or carry this dead courser, who, Full from the spring which neither swerved nor shook. As you have done to him, will do to you.


LXXIX. "Take care he don't revenge himself, though dead, “We can indeed but honour you with masses, As Nessus did of old beyond all cure;

And sermons, thanksgivings, and pater-nosters, I don't know if the fact you've heard or read, Hot suppers, dinners (fitting other places

But he will make you burst, you may be sure.” In verity much rather than the cloisters); " But help him on my back," Morgante said, But such a love for you my heart embraces,

" And your shall see what weight I can endure: For thousand virtues which your bosom fosters, la place, my gentle Roland, of this palfrey,

That wheresoe'er you go, I too shall be,
With all the bells, I'd carry yonder belfry." Ard, on the other part, you rest with me.

The abbot said, “The steeple may do well, “ This may involve a sceming contradiction,

But, for the bells, you've broken them, I wot." But you, I know, are sage, and feel, and taste,
Morgante answer’d, “Let them pay in hell

And understand my speech with full conviction. The penalty, who lie dead in yon grot:"

For your just

, pious deeds may you be graced And hoisting up the horse from where he fell, With the Lord's great reward and benediction, He said, “Now look if I the gout have got,

By whom you were directed to this waste:
Orlando, in the legs-or if I have force;" — To his high mercy is our freedom due,
And then he made two gambols with the horse. For which we render thanks to him and you.

Morgante was like any mountain framed;

“You saved at once our life and soul: such fear So if he did this, 't is no prodigy ;

The giants caused us, that the way was lost But secretly himself Orlando blamed,

By which we could pursue a fit career Because he was one of his family;

In search of Jesus and the saintly host; And, fearing that he might be hurt or maim'd, And your departure breeds such sorrow here, Once more he bade him lay his burthen by:

That comfortless we all are to our cost; * Put down, nor bear him further the desert in." But months and years you could not stay in sloth, Morgante said, “I'll carry him for certain." Nor are you form’d to wear our sober cloth ; LXXV.

LXXXII. He did; and stow'd him in some nook away, “ But to bear arms and wield the lance; indeed, And to the abbey then return’d with speed.

With these as much is done as with this cowl, Orlando said, “Why longer do we stay;

In proof of which the scripture you may read. Morgante, here is nought to do indeed.”

This giant up to heaven may bear his soul The abbot by the hand he took one day,

By your compassion; now in peace proceed. And said with great respect, he had agreed

Your state and name I seek not to unroll, To leave his reverence; but for this decision But, if I'm ask'd, this answer shall be given, He wish'd to have his pardon and permission. That here an angel was sent down from heaven. LXXVI.

LXXXIII. The honours they continued to receive

“ If you want armour or aught else, go in, Perhaps exceeded what his merits claim'd:

Look o'er the wardrobe, and take what you choose ; He said, “I mean, and quickly, to retrieve

And cover with it o'er this giant's skin."
The lost days of time past, which may be blamed ; Orlando answer'd, “If there should lie loose
Some days ago I should have ask'd your leave, Some armour, cre our journey we begin,
Kind father, but I really was ashamed,

Which might be turn’d to my companion's use, And know not how to show my sentiment,

The gift would be acceptable to me.” So much I see you with our stay content.

| The abbot said to him, “Come in and see.” LXXVII.

LXXXIV. " But in my heart I bear through every clime, And in a certain closet, where the wall The abbot, abbey, and this solitude

Was cover'd with old armour like a crust, So much I love you in so short a time;

The abbot said to them, “I give you all."
For me, from heaven reward you with all good, Morgante rummaged piecemeal from the dust
The God so true, the eternal Lord sublime ! | The whole, which, save one cuirass, was too small,

Whose kingdom at the last hath open stood: And that too had the mail inlaid with rust.
Meanwhile we stand expectant of your blessing, They wonder'd how it fitted him exactly,
And recommend us to your prayers with pressing.” Which ne'er had swted others so compactly.

Now when the abbot Count Orlando heard,

”T was an immeasurable giant's, who His heart grew soft with inner tenderness,

By the great Milo of Argante fell Such fervour in his bosom bred each word;

Before the abbey many years ago. And, “ Cavalier," he said, “ if I have less

The story on the wall was ngured weil ;
Courteous and kind to your great worth appear'd, In the last moment of the abbey's foe,

Than fits me for such gentle blood to express, Who long had waged a war implacable:
I know I've done too little in this case;

Precisely as the war occurr'd they drew him,
Bat blame our ignorance, and this poor place. And there was Milo as he overthrew him.

Secing this history, Count Orlando said

In his own heart “Oh 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 1. Page 500, line 57. He gave him such a punch upon the head. “Gli dette in sulla 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 sulla testa," is the exact and frequent phrase of our best pugiiists, who little dream that they are talking the purest Tuscan.



Qualis in Eurotæ ripis, aut per juga Cynthi,
Exercet Diana choros.

Such on Eurota's banks, or Cynthia's height,
Diana scems: and so she charms the sight,
When in the dance the graceful goddess leads
The quire of nymphs, and overtops their heads.


[ocr errors]

| saw up and down sort of tune, that reminded me of TO THE PUBLISHER.

the “black joke,” only more "affeltuoso," till it made me quite giddy with wondering they were not so. By

and by they stopped a bit, and I thought they would SIR,

sit or fall down :--but, no ; with Mrs. H.'s hand on his I am a country gentleman of a midland county. I shoulder, “quam familiariler"? (as Terence said when •mght have been a parliament-man for a certain bo- I was at school), they walked about a minute, and then rough, having had the offer of as many votes as at it again, like two cock-chafers spitted on the same General T. at the general election in 1812.· But I bodkin. I asked what all this meant, when, with a was all for domestic happiness ; as, fifteen years ago,

loud laugh, a child no older than our Wilhelmina (a on a visit to London, I married a middle-aged maid name I never heard but in the Vicar of Wakefield, of honour. We lived happily at Hornem Hall till though her mother would call her after the Princess last season, when my wife and I were invited by the of Swapperbach), said, “ Lord, Mr. Hornem, can't you Countess of Waltzaway (a distant relation of my spouse)

sec they are valtzing," or waltzing (I forget which); and 10 pass the winter in town. Thinking no harm, and then up she got, and her mother and sister, and away vur girls being come to a marriageable (or as they call they went, and round-abouted it till supper-time. Nos i, marketable) age, and having besides a chancery suit that I know what it is, I like it of all things, and so inveterately entailed upon the family estate, we came

does Mrs. H. (though I have broken my shins, and four up in our old chariot, of which, by the by, my wife times overturned Mrs. Hornem's maid in practising the grew so much ashamed in less than a week, that I was

preliminary steps in the morning). Indeed, so much do obliged to buy a second-hand barouche, of which 1 I like it, that having a turn for rhyme, tastily displayed might mount the box, Mrs. H. says, if I could drive, in some election ballads, and songs in honour of all the but never see the inside—that place being reserved victories (but till lately I have had little practice in tha! for the Honourable Augustus Tiptoe, her partner- way), I sat down, and with the aid of W.F. Esq., and general and opera-knight. Hearing great praises of a few hints from Dr. B. (whose recitations I attend, and Mrs. H.'s dancing (she was famous for birth-night min- am monstrous fond of Master B.'s manner of delivering uets in the latter end of the last century), I unbooted, his father's late successful D. L. address), I composed and went to a ball at the Countess's, expecting to see

the following hymn, wherewithal to make my sentsa country dance, or, at most, cotillons, reels, and all ments known to the public, whom, nevertheless, I the old paces to the newest tunes. But, judge of my heartily despise as well as the critics. surprise, on arriving, to see poor dear Mrs. Hornem with her arms hal round the loins of a huge hussar

I am, Sir, yours, etc., etc. looking genuieman I never set eyes on before ; and his, to say trutn, rather more than half round her waist, urning round, and round, and round, to add see



Borne on the breath of hyperborean gales,

From Hamburg's port (while llamburg yet had mails)

Ere yet unlucky fame-compell’d to creep Muse of the many-twinkling feer !3 whose charms

To snowy Gottenburg—was chill'd to sleep ; Are now extended up from legs to arms;

Or, starting from her slumbers, deign'd arise, TerpsiCHORE!-too long misdeem'd a maid

Heligoland! to stock thy mart with lies; Reproachful term-bestow'd but to upbraid

While unburnt Moscow yet had news to send, llenceforth in all the bronze of brighiness shine,

Nor owed her fiery exit to a friend, The least a vestal of the virgin Nine.

She came-Walız came—and with her certain sets Far be from thee and thine the name of prude;

Of true despatches, and as true gazettes ;

Then flamed of Austerlitz the blest despatch,
Mock’d, yet triumphant; sneer'd at, unsubdued;
Thy legs must move to conquer as they fiy,

Which Moniteur nor Morning Post can match;

And almost crush'd beneath the glorious news If but thy coats are reasonably high; Thy breast—is bare enough-requires no shield;

Ten plays, and forty tales of Kotzebue's;

One envoy's letters, six composers' airs, Dance forth-sans armour thou shalt take the field,

And loads from Frankfort and from Leipsic fairs ; And own-impregnable to most assaults,

Meiner's four volumes upon womankind, Thy not too lawfully begotten “Waltz.”

Like Lapland witches to insure a wind; Hail, nimble nymph! to whom the young hussar,

Brunck's heaviest tome for ballast, and to back it, The whisker'd votary of waltz and war

Of Heyné, such as should not sink the packet. His night devotes, despite of spur and boots,

Fraught with this cargo—and her fairest freight, A sight unmatch'd since Orpheus and his brutes :

Delightful Walız, on tiptoe for a mate,

The welcome vessel reach'd the genial strand,
Hail, spirit-stirring Waltz!-beneath whose banners
A modern hero fought for modish manners;

And round her flock'd the daughters of the land.
On Hounslow's heath to rival Wellesley's 4 fame,

Not decent David, when, before the ark, Cock’d-fired—and miss’d his man-bui gain’d his aim: His grand pas-seul excited some remark, Mail, moving muse! to whom the fair one's breast

Not love-lorn Quixote, when his Sancho thought Gives all it can, and bids us take the rest.

The knight's fandango friskier than it ought; Oh! for the flow of Busby, or of Fitz,

Not soft Herodias, when with winning tread The latter's loyalty, the former's wits,

Her nimble feet danced off another's head; To "energize the object I pursue,"

Not Cleopatra on her galley's deck, And give both Belial and his dance their due!

Display'd so much of leg, or more of neck,

Than thou, ambrosial Waltz, when first the moon Imperial Waltz! imported from the Rhine

Beheld thee twirling to a Saxon tune! (Famed for the growth of pedigrees and wwe),

To you—ye husbands of ten years! whose brows Long be thine import from all duty free,

Ache with the annual tributes of a spouse; And hock itself be less esteem'd than thee;

Το you of nine years less-who only bear In some few qualities alike-for hock

The budding sprouts of those that you shall wear, Improves our cellar-thou our living stock.

With added ornaments around them roll'd, The head to hock belongs—thy subtler art

of native brass, or law-awarded gold; Intoxicates alone the heedless heart :

To you, ye matrons, ever on the watch Through the full veins thy gentler poison swims,

To mar a son's, or make a daughter's match! And wakes to wantonness the willing limbs.

To you, ye children of-whom chance accords

Always the ladies, and sometimes their lords;
Oh, Germany! how much to thee we owe, To you—ye single gentlemen; who seek
As heaven-born Pitt can testify below;

Torments for life, or pleasures for a week;
Ere cursed confederation made thee France's,

As Love or Hymen your endeavours guide, And only left us thy d-d debts and dances; To gain your own, or snatch another's bride; Of subsidies and Hanover bereit,

To one and all the lovely stranger came, We bless thee still—for George the Third is left!

And every

ball-room echoes with her name. Of kings the best—and last, not least in worth, For graciously begetting George the Fourth.

Endearing Waltz--to thy more melting tune To Germany, and highnesses serene,

Bow, Irish jig, and ancient rigadoon; Who cwe us millions—don't we owe the queen ?

Scotch reels, avaunt! and country-dance, foregu To Germany, what owe we not besides ?

Your future claims to each fantastic toe; So oft bestowing Brunswickers and brides;

Waltz-Waltz alone—both legs and arms demands, Who paid for vulgar, with her royal blood,

Liberal of feet, and lavish or her hands; Drawn from the stem of each Teutonic stud: Hands which may freely range in public sight Who sent us-so be pardon'd all her faults- Where ne'er before-but-pray “put out the light." A dozen dukes-some kings—a queen--and Waltz. Methinks the glare of yonder chandelier

Shines much too far—or I am much too near; But peace to her-her emperor and diel,

And true, though strange-Waltz whispers this remat Though now transferr’d to Buonaparte's "fat;" “My slippery steps are safest in the dark !" Back to my theme-O Muse of motion! say, But here the muse with due decorum halls, How first to Allion found thy Waltz her way? And lends her longest pellicoat to Waltz.

Observant travellers ! of every time;

The ball begins--the honours of the house Ye quartos ! publish'd upon every cline;

First duly done by daughter or by spouse, () say, shall dull Romaika's heavy round,

Some potentate-or royal or sereneFandango's wriggle, or Bolero's bound;

With K—t's gay grace, or sapient G-st--r's mien, Can Egypt's Almas —tantalizing group

Leads forth the ready dame, whose rising flush Columbia's caperers to the warlike whoop

Might once have been mis aken for a blush. Can aught from cold Kamtschalka to Cape Horn From where the garb just leaves the bosom free, With Waltz compare, or after Waltz be borne ? That spot where hearts 12 were once supposed to be ; Ah, no! from Morier's pages down to Galt's,

Round all the confines of the yielded waist, Each tourist pens a paragraph for "Waltz.” The strangest hand may wander undisplaced;

The lady's in return may grasp as much Shades of those belles, whose reign began of yore, As princely paunches ofler to her touch. With George the Third's—and ended long before- Pleased round the chalky floor how well they trip, Though in your daughters' daughters yet you thrive,

One hand reposing on the royal hip; Burst from your lead, and be yourselves alive!

'The other to the shoulder no less roval Back to the ball-room speed your spectred host :

Ascending with affection truly loyal : Fool's Paradise is dull to that you lost.

Thus front lo front the partners move or stand, No treacherous powder bids conjecture quake;

The foot may rest, but none withdraw the hand; No stiff starch'd stays make meddling fingers ache;

And all in turn may follow in their rank, (Transferr'd to those ambiguous things that ape

The Earl of Asterisk—and Lady-Blank; Goats in their visage, women in shape);

Sir-such a one-with those of fashion's host, No damsel saints when rather closely pressid,

For whose blest surnames-vide “ Morning Post;" But more caressing seems when most caress'd; (Or is for that impartial print too late, Superfluous liartshorn, and reviving salts,

Search Doctors' Commons six months from

my dat: Both banish'd by the sovereign cordial “Waltz."

Thus all and each, in movement swift or slow,
The genial contact gently undergo;

Tiil somne might marvel, with the modest Turk, Scductive Waltz!-though on thy native shore

If “nothing follows all this palming work ?"13 Even Werter's self proclaim'd thee half a whore;

True, honest Mirza--you may trust my rhymeWerter-lo decent vice though much inclined,

Something does follow at a fitter time; Yet warm, not wanton; dazzled, but not blind

The breast thus publicly resign’d to man,
Though gentle Genlis, in her strife with Stael,

In private may resist him—if it can.
Would even proscribe thee from a Paris ball;
The fashion hails—from countesses to queens,

O ye! who loved our grandmothers of yore,
And maids and valets waltz behind the scenes;

F-tz-1_k, Sh-r-d-n, and many more! Wide and more wide thy witching circle spreads,

And thou, my prince, whose sovereign laste and will And turns-if nothing else—at least our heads;

It is to love the lovely beldames still; With thee even clumsy cits attempt to bounce

Thou, ghost of Q- ! whose judging sprite And cockneys practise what they can't pronounce.

Satan may spare to peep a single night, Gods! how the glorious theme my strain exalts,

Pronounce—if ever in your days of blissAnd rh,ine finds partner rhyme in praise of “Waltz.”

Asmodeus struck so bright a stroke as this;

To teach the young ideas how to rise, Bloet was the time Waltz chose for her début ; Flush in the cheek and languish in the eyes; The court, the R-t, like herself, were new;8 Rush to the heart and lighten through the frame, New face for friends, for foes some new rewards, With half-told wish and ill-dissembled flame; New ornaments for black and royal guards ;

For prurient nature still will storm the breasiNew laws to hang the rogues that roard for bread; Who, tempted thus, can answer for the rest ? New coins (most new) to follow those that fled; New victories--nor can we prize them less,

But ye-who never felt a single thought Though Jenký wonders at his own success; For what our morals are to be, or ought; New wars, because the old succeed so weil, Who wisely wish the charms you view to reap, That most survivors envy those who fell;

Say-would you make those beauties quite so cheap? New mistresses--no-old-and vet 't is true,

Hot from the hands promiscuously applied, Though they be old, the thing is something new; Round the slight waist; or down the glowing side; Each new, quite new-(except some ancient tricks 10), Where were the rapture then to clasp the form, New white-sticks, gold-sticks, broom-sticks, all new From this lewd grasp, and lawless contact warm? sticks!

At once love's most endearing thought resign, With vests or ribands-deck'd alike in hue,


press the hand so press'd by none but thine ; New troopers strut, new turncoats blush in blue : To gaze upon that eye which never met So saith the muse-my-", what say you?

Another's ardent look without regret
Such was the time when Waltz might best maintain Approach the lip which ail, without restraint,
Her new preferments in this novel reign;

Come near enough—if not to touch— taint; Such was the time, nor ever yet was such,

If such thou lovest—love her then no more, floops are no more, and petticoats not much; Or give-like her-caresses to a score ; Morals and minuets, virtue and her stays,

Her mind with these is gone, and with it go And tell-tale powder-all have had their days. The little left behind it to bestow.

« 前へ次へ »