mate understanding of his author. By the lion, in the above extract, the author intended to denote Ambition; by the wolf, Avarice, and by the panther, Pleasure.

One of the moft pathetic and beautiful parts of the Divina Commedia, is the tale of Francifca, in the fifth Canto, which Mr. Cary has thus rendered:

Bard! willingly

I would addrefs thofe two together coming,
Which feem fo light before the wind." He thus:
"Note thou, when nearer they to us approach.
Then by that love which carries them along
Entreat; and they will come." Soon as the wind
Sway'd them towards us, I thus fram'd my speech;
"O wearied fpirits! come, and hold difcourfe
With us, if by none else restrain’d.”
By fond defire invited, on wide wings

As doves

And firm, to their sweet neft returning home,
Cleave the air, wafted by their will along;

Thus iffu'd from that troop, where Dido ranks,
They through the ill air fpeeding; with fuch force
My cry prevail'd by ftrong affection urg'd.
"O gracious creature and benign! who go'st
Vifiting, through this element obfcure,

Us, who the world with bloody ftain imbru'd;
If for a friend the King of all we own'd,
Our pray'r to him fhould for thy peace arife,
Since thou haft pity on our evil plight.
Of whatfoe'er to hear or to difcourfe
It pleases thee, that will we hear, of that
Freely with thee difcourfe, while e'er the wind,
As now, is mute. The land, that gave me birth,
Is fituate on the coaft, where Po defcends
To reft in ocean with his fequent ftreams.
Love, that in gentle heart is quickly learn'd,
Entangled him by that fair form, from me
Ta'en in fuch cruel fort, as grieves me ftill:
Love, that denial takes from none belov'd,
Caught me with pleafing him fo paffing well,
That, as thou fee'ft, he yet deserts me not.
Love brought us to one death; Caina waits
The foul, who fpilt our life." Such were their words;
At hearing which downward I bent my looks,
And held them there fo long, that the bard cried :
"What art thou pond'ring?" I in answer thus:
"Alas! by what fweet thoughts, what fond defire
Muft they at length to that ill pafs have reach'd!"
Then turning I to them my fpeech addrefs'd,
And thus began: "Francefca! your fad fate

B 3

Even

Even to tears my grief and pity moves.
But tell me; in the time of your sweet fighs,
By what, and how love granted, that ye knew
Your yet uncertain wifhes ?" She replied:
"No greater grief than to remember days
Of joy, when mis'ry is at hand! That kens
Thy learn'd inftructor. Yet fo eagerly
If thou art bent to know the primal root,
From whence our love gat being, I will do,
As one who weeps and tells his tale. One day
For our delight we read of Lancelot,

How him love thrall'd, Alone we were, and no
Sufpicion near us. Ofttimes by that reading
Our eyes were drawn together, and the hue
Fled from our alter'd cheek. But at one point
Alone we fell. When of that fmile we read,
The wifhed fimile, fo rapturoufly kifs'd
By one fo deep in love, then he, who ne'er
From me fhall feparate, at once my lips

All trembling kifs'd. The book and writer both
Were love's purveyors.
In its leaves that day

We read no more.” While thus one fpirit fpake,
The other wail'd fo forely, that heart-ftruck

I through compaffion fainting, feem'd not far

From death, and like a corpfe fell to the ground." P. 77.

Brunetto, of Florence, was Dante's mafter, and the account of the poet's interview with him, is among the best imagined poetry of this work, and furnifhes Mr. Cary with an opportunity of exhibiting his extenfive acquaintance with Italian literature.

"But I remember'd him; and towards his face
My hand inclining, answer'd: "Sir! Brunetto!
And art thou here?" He thus to me: "My fon!
Oh let it not difplease thee, if Brunetto
Latini but a little space with thee

Turn back, and leave his fellows to proceed."
I thus to him replied: "Much as I can,
I thereto pray thee; and if thou be willing,
That I here feat me with thee, I confent;
His leave, with whom I journey, firft obtain'd."
"O fon!" faid he, "whoever of this throng
One inftant ftops, lies then a hundred years,
No fan to ventilate him, when the fire
Smites foreft, Pafs thou therefore on. I clofe
Will at thy garments walk, and then rejoin
My troop, who go mourning their endless doom."
I dar'd not from the path defcend to tread
On equal ground with him, but held my head

Bent

Bent down, as one who walks in reverent guise.
"What chance or deftiny," thus he began,
"Ere the laft day conducts thee here below?
And who is this, that fhows to thee the way?"
"There up aloft," I anfwer'd, "in the life
Serene, I wander'd in a valley loft,

Before mine age had to its fulness reach'd.
But yefter-morn I left it: then once more
Into that vale returning, him I met;

And by this path homeward he leads me back."
"If thou," he answer'd, "follow but thy ftar,
Thou canst not mifs at last a glorious haven;
Unless in fairer days my judgment err'd.
And if my fate fo early had not chanc'd,
Seeing the heav'ns thus bounteous to thee, I
Had gladly giv'n thee comfort in thy work.
But that ungrateful and malignant race,

Who in old times came down from Fefole,
Ay and ftill fmack of their rough mountain-flint,
Will for thy good deeds fhow thee enmity.
Nor wonder; for amongst ill-favour'd crabs
It fuits not the fweet fig-tree lay her fruit.
Old fame reports them in the world for blind,
Covetous, envious, proud. Look to it well:
Take heed thou cleanfe thee of their ways.
Thy fortune hath fuch honour in referve,
That thou by either party fhall be crav'd
With hunger keen: but be the fresh herb far
From the goat's tooth. The herd of Fefole
May of themfelves make litter, not touch the plant,
If any fuch yet fpring on their rank bed,

For thee

In which the holy feed revives, tranfmitted
From thofe true Romans, who still there remain'd,
When it was made the neft of fo much ill."
"Were all my wifh fulfill'd," I ftraight replied,
Thou from the confines of man's nature yet
Hadft not been driven forth; for in my mind
Is fix'd, and now ftrikes full upon my heart
The dear, benign, paternal image, fuch

As thine was, when fo lately thou didst teach me
The way for man to win eternity:

And how I priz'd the leffon, it behoves,

That, long as life endures, my tongue should speak." P. 239. When Brunetto takes leave of his friend and pupil, he recommends his " Treasure" to him, which would to moft

*So well. thy words become thee as thy wounds. They Smack of honour both. Shakespeare, Mackbeth, A. 1. S. ii.

B 4

readers

readers be unintelligible, but for the following note by Mr. Cary.

"Ser Brunetto, a Florentine, the fecretary or chancellor of the city, and Dante's preceptor, hath left us a work fo little read, that both the fubject of it and the language of it have been mistaken. It is in the French fpoken in the reign of St. Louis, under the title of Trefor, and contains a fpecies of philofophical courfe of lectures divided into theory and practice, or, as he expreffes it, un enchauffement des chofes divines et humaines,' &c. Sir R. Clayton's Tranflation of Tenhove's Memoirs of the Medici, v. i. ch. ii. p. 104. The TRESOR has never, I believe, been printed. There is a fine manufcript of it in the British Museum, with an illuminated portrait of Brunetto in his ftudy prefixed. Mus. Brit. M.S.S. 17. E. 1. Tefor. It is divided into four books; the first on Cofmogony and Theology; the fecond, a tranflation of Ariftotle's Ethics; the third on Virtues and Vices; the fourth on Rhetoric. For an interefting memoir relating to this work by M. Falconet, fee Hift. de l'Acad. des Inferiptions, tem. vii. 96.

"His Teforetto, one of the earliest productions of Italian poetry, is a curious work, not unlike the writings of Chaucer in ftyle and numbers. As it is but little known, I will add a flight fketch of it. He defcribes himself as returning from an embaffy to the king of Spain, on which he had been fent by the Guelph party from Florence. On the plain of Roncifvalle he meets a cholar on a bay niule,

un fcholaio

Sur un muletto baio,

who tells him that the Guelfi are driven out of the city with great lofs. Struck with grief at thefe mournful tidings, and mufing with his head bent downwards, he lofes his road, and wanders into a wood. Here Nature, whofe figure is described with sublimity, appears, and discloses to him the fecrets of her operations. After this he wanders into a defert.

Deh che paese fiero
Trovai in quella parte.
Che f'io fapeffi d'arte
Quivi mi bifognava.

Che quanto piu mirava
Piu mi parea felvaggio.
Quivi non a viaggio,
Quivi non a perfone,

Quivi non a magione,
Non beftia non uccello,

Non fiume non rufcello,
Non formica, non mofca,
Non cofa ch' io conofca.
Ed io penfando forte

Dottai ben della morte.

E non é maraviglia,

Che ben trecento miglia

Durava d'ogni lato

Quel paefe fmagato,

He proceeds protected by a banner, with which Nature had fur nifhed him, till on the third day he finds himself in a large pleafant plain,

Un gran piano giocondo,

Lo più gajo del mondo,
E lo più degnitofo.

On this plain there are affembled many emperors, kings, and fages. It is the habitation of Virtue and her daughters, the four Cardinal Virtues. Here Brunetto fees alfo Courtefy, Bounty, Loyalty, and Prowefs, and hears the inftructions they give to a knight, which occupy about a fourth part of the poem. Leaving this territory, he paffes over vallies, mountains, woods, forefts, and bridges, till he arrives in a beautiful valley covered with flowers on all fides, and the richeft in the world; but which was continually fhifting its appearance from a round figure to a fquare, from obfcurity to light, and from populoufness to folitude. This is the region of Pleafure, or Cupid, who is accompanied by four ladies, Love, Hope, Fear, and Defire. In one part of it he meets with Ovid, and is inftructed by him how to conquer the paffion of love, and to efcape from that place. After his escape he makes his confeffion to a friar, and then returns to the foreft of vifions; and afcending a mountain, meets with Ptolemy, a venerable old man. Here the narrative breaks off. The poem ends as it began, with an address to Ruftico di Filippo, on whom he lavishes every fort of praife.

"It has been obferved, that Dante derived the idea of opening his poem, by defcribing himself as loft in a wood, from the Teforetto of Brunetto, which opens in the fame manner. I know not whether it has been remarked, that the crime of ufury is branded by both these poets as offenfive to God and Nature: "Un altro, che non cura

Di Dio ne di Natura,

Si diventa ufuriere.

The fin for which Brunetto is condemned to the Inferno by his pupil, is mentioned in the Teforetto with great horror. He died in 1295.” P. 250.

When we remind the reader that Mr. Cary's profeffed object was to exhibit a literal tranflation of his author, and when it is remembered that Dante himfelf is frequently coarfe, and rugged, and inelegant, it feems very uncandid to point out a few incorrect words, faulty lines, or unpoetical expreffions. As a whole, it is an able comment

on