THE EARLY ITALIAN POETS.
The rights of translation and reproduction, as regards
all editorial parts
of this work, are reserved.
WHATEVER IS MINE IN THIS BOOK
IS INSCRIBED TO MY WIFE.
I need not dilate here on the characteristics of
the first
epoch of Italian Poetry; since the extent
of my translated selections is
sufficient to afford a
complete view of it. Its great beauties may
often
remain unapproached in the versions here attempted;
but, at the
same time, its imperfections are not all
to be charged to the translator.
Among these I may
refer to its limited range of subject and
continual
obscurity, as well as to its monotony in the use of
rhymes or
frequent substitution of assonances. But
to compensate for much that is
incomplete and in-
experienced, these poems possess, in their
degree,
beauties of a kind which can never again exist in art;
and
offer, besides, a treasure of grace and variety in
the formation of their
metres. Nothing but a strong
impression, first of their poetic value, and
next of
the biographical interest of some of them (chiefly
of those in
my second division), would have inclined
me to bestow the time and trouble
which have re-
sulted in this collection.
Much has been said, and in many respects justly,
against the value of
metrical translation. But I think
it would be admitted that the tributary
art might
find a not illegitimate use in the case of poems which
come down to us in such a form as do these early
Italian ones.
Struggling originally with corrupt
dialect and imperfect expression, and
hardly kept
alive through centuries of neglect, they have reached
that
last and worst state in which the
has almost been dealt them by clumsy transcription
and pedantic
superstructure. At this stage the task
of talking much more about them in
any language
is hardly to be entered upon; and a translation
(in-
volving, as it does, the necessity of settling many
points without
discussion,) remains perhaps the most
direct form of commentary.
The life-blood of rhymed translation is this,—that
a good poem shall
not be turned into a bad one.
The only true motive for putting poetry into a
fresh
language must be to endow a fresh nation, as far as
possible, with
one more possession of beauty. Poetry
not being an exact science, literality
of rendering is
altogether secondary to this chief aim. I say literality,
—not fidelity, which is by no means the same
thing.
When literality can be combined with what is thus
the primary
condition of success, the translator is
fortunate, and must strive his
utmost to unite them;
when such object can only be attained by
paraphrase,
that is his only path.
Any merit possessed by these translations is de-
rived from an effort
to follow this principle; and, in
some degree, from the fact that such
painstaking in
arrangement and descriptive heading as is
often
indispensable to old and especially to “occasional”
poetry, has here been bestowed on these poets for the
first time.
That there are many defects in these translations,
or that the above
merit is their defect, or that they have
no merits but only defects, are
discoveries so sure to be
made if necessary (or perhaps here and there in
any
case), that I may safely leave them in other hands.
The collection
has probably a wider scope than some
readers might look for, and includes
now and then
(though I believe in rare instances) matter which
may not
meet with universal approval; and whose
introduction, needed as it is by the
literary aim of
my work, is I know inconsistent with the principles
of
pretty bookmaking. My wish has been to give
a full and truthful view of
early Italian poetry;
not to make it appear to consist only of
certain
elements to the exclusion of others equally belonging
to it.
Of the difficulties I have had to encounter,—the
causes of
imperfections for which I have no other
excuse,—it is the reader's best
privilege to remain
ignorant; but I may perhaps be pardoned for
briefly
referring to such among these as concern the exi-
gencies of
translation. The task of the translator
(and with all humility be it spoken)
is one of some
self-denial. Often would he avail himself of any
special
grace of his own idiom and epoch, if only his
will belonged to him: often
would some cadence
serve him but for his author's structure—some
struc-
ture but for his author's cadence: often the beautiful
turn of a stanza must be weakened to adopt some
rhyme which will tally,
and he sees the poet revelling
in abundance of language where himself is
scantily
supplied. Now he would slight the matter for the
music, and now
the music for the matter; but no,
he must deal to each alike. Sometimes too
a flaw
in the work galls him, and he would fain remove it,
doing for the
poet that which his age denied him;
but no,—it is not in the bond. His path
is like that
of Aladdin through the enchanted vaults: many are
the
precious fruits and flowers which he must pass
by unheeded in search for the
lamp alone; happy
if at last, when brought to light, it does not
prove
that his old lamp has been exchanged for a new one,—
glittering
indeed to the eye, but scarcely of the same
virtue nor with the same genius
at its summons.
In relinquishing this work (which, small as it is,
is the only
contribution I expect to make to our
English knowledge of old Italy), I
feel, as it were,
divided from my youth. The first associations I
have
are connected with my father's devoted studies,
which, from his own point of
view, have done so
much towards the general investigation of
Dante's
writings. Thus, in those early days, all around me
partook of
the influence of the great Florentine; till,
from viewing it as a natural
element, I also, growing
older, was drawn within the circle. I trust
that
from this the reader may place more confidence in a
work not
carelessly undertaken, though produced in
the spare-time of other pursuits
more closely followed.
He should perhaps be told that it has occupied the
leisure moments of
not a few years; thus affording,
often at long intervals, every opportunity
for consi-
deration and revision; and that on the score of care,
at
least, he has no need to mistrust it.
Nevertheless, I know there is no great stir to
be made by launching
afresh, on high-seas busy
with new traffic, the ships which have been
long
outstripped and the ensigns which are grown strange.
The feeling of
self-doubt inseparable from such an
attempt has been admirably expressed by
a great
living poet, in words which may be applied exactly
to my humbler
position, though relating in his case
to a work all his own.
<xref doc="a.browning002.rad" link="dead">Sordello</xref>
, by
Robert Browning
B. i.)
It may be well to conclude this short preface with
a list of the works
which have chiefly contributed to
the materials of the present volume.
* This work contains, in its first and second volumes, by
far the best
edited collection I know of early Italian poetry.
Unfortunately it is
only a supplement to the previous ones,
giving poems till then
unpublished. A reprint of the whole
mass by the same editor, with such
revision and further
additions as he could give it, would be very
desirable.
Ciullo is a popular form of the name Vin-
cenzo, and Alcamo
an Arab fortress some miles
from Palermo. The Dialogue which is
the only
known production of this poet holds here the
place
generally accorded to it as the earliest Italian
poem
(exclusive of one or two dubious inscriptions)
which
has been preserved to our day. Arguments
have
sometimes been brought to prove that it must be
as-
signed to a later date than the poem by
Folcachiero,
which follows it in this volume; thus ascribing
the
first honours of Italian poetry to Tuscany, and not
to
Sicily, as is commonly supposed. Trucchi, how-
ever, (in the
preface to his valuable collection,)
states his belief that the
two poems are about con-
temporaneous, fixing the date of that
by Ciullo
between 1172 and 1178,—chiefly from the fact
that
the fame of Saladin, to whom this poet alludes,
was
most in men's mouths during that interval. At
first
sight, any casual reader of the original would
sup-
pose that this poem must be unquestionably the
earliest
of all, as its language is far the most un-
formed and
difficult; but much of this might, of course,
be dependent on the inferior dialect of Sicily,
mixed
however in this instance (as far as I can judge)
with
mere nondescript patois.
The above date has been assigned with probabi-
lity to
Folcachiero's Canzone, on account of its first
line where the
whole world is said to be “living
without war;” an assertion
which seems to refer
its production to the period of the
celebrated peace
concluded at Venice between Frederick
Barbarossa
and Pope Alexander III.
His baptismal name was Giovanni, and his father
was
Bernardone Moriconi, whose mercantile pur-
suits he shared till
the age of twenty-five; after
which his life underwent the
extraordinary change
which resulted in his canonization, by
Gregory IX.,
three years after his death, and in the formation
of
the Religious Order called Franciscans.
The life of Frederick II., and his excommunica-
tion and
deposition from the Empire by Innocent
IV., to whom, however, he
did not succumb, are
matters of history which need no
repetition. In-
tellectually, he was in all ways a highly-gifted
and
accomplished prince; and lovingly cultivated the
Italian
language, in preference to the many others
with which he was familiar. The poem of his which
I give
has great passionate beauty; yet I believe
that an allegorical
interpretation may here probably
be admissible; and that the
lady of the poem may
be the Empire, or perhaps the Church
herself, held
in bondage by the Pope.
The unfortunate Enzo was a natural son of Fre-
derick II.,
and was born at Palermo. By his own
warlike enterprise, at an
early age (it is said at
fifteen!) he subjugated the Island of
Sardinia, and
was made King of it by his father. Afterwards
he
joined Frederick in his war against the Church,
and
displayed the highest promise as a leader; but
at the age of
twenty-five was taken prisoner by the
Bolognese, whom no threats
or promises from the
Emperor could induce to set him at liberty.
He
died in prison at Bologna, after a confinement of
nearly
twenty-three years. A hard fate indeed for
one who, while moving
among men, excited their
hopes and homage, still on record, by
his great mili-
tary genius and brilliant gifts of mind and
person.
This poet, certainly the greatest of his time, be-
longed
to a noble and even princely Bolognese family.
Nothing seems
known of his life, except that he was
married to a lady named
Beatrice, and that in 1274,
having adhered to the imperial
cause, he was sent
into exile, but whither cannot be learned. He
died
two years afterwards. The highest praise has
been
bestowed by Dante on Guinicelli, in the
<xref doc="a.dante002.rad" link="dead">Commedia</xref>
,
(Purg. C. xxvi.) in the
<xref doc="a.dante001.rad" link="dead">Convito</xref>
, and in the
I have placed this poet, belonging to a Neapoli-
tan
family, under the date usually assigned to him;
but Trucchi
states his belief that he flourished much
earlier, and was a
contemporary of Folcachiero;
partly on account of two lines in
one of his poems
which say,—
If so, the mistake would be easily accounted for, as
there
seem to have been various members of the
family named Rinaldo,
at different dates.
This Sicilian poet is generally called “the No-
tary of
Lentino.” The low estimate expressed of him,
as well as of
Bonaggiunta and Guittone, by Dante
(
“Io mi son un che quando Amor mi spira, noto, e in quel modo Ch'ei detta dentro, vo significando.”
Of this poet there seems nothing to be learnt;
but he
deserves special notice as possessing rather
more poetic
individuality than usual, and also as
furnishing the only
instance, among Dante's prede-
cessors, of a poem (and a very
beautiful one) writ-
ten on a lady's death.
Guittone was not a monk, but derived the prefix
to his
name from the fact of his belonging to the
religious and
military order of Cavalieri Gau-
denti
reputation than almost any writer of his day;
but
certainly his poems, of which many have been
preserved,
cannot be said to possess merit of a pro-
minent kind; and Dante
shows by various allusions
that he considered them much over-rated. The sonnet
I have
given is somewhat remarkable, from Petrarch's
having
transplanted its last line into his
Onesto was a doctor of laws, and an early friend
of Cino
da Pistoia. He was living as late as 1301,
though his career as
a poet may be fixed somewhat
further back.
This Sicilian poet has few equals among his
con-
temporaries, and is ranked high by Dante in
his
treatise
<xref doc="a.dante006.rad" link="dead">De Vulgari
Eloquio</xref>
. He visited England
and wrote in Latin a
Prinzivalle commenced by writing Italian poetry,
but
afterwards composed verses entirely in Provençal,
for the love
of Beatrice, Countess of Provence. He
wrote also, in Provençal
prose, a treatise “
The writings of this Tuscan poet (called also
Rustico
Barbuto) show signs of more vigour and
versatility than was
common in his day, and he pro-
bably began writing in Italian
verse even before
many of those already mentioned. In his old
age,
he, though a Ghibelline, received the dedication of
the
<xref doc="a.latini001.rad" link="dead">Tesoretto</xref>
from the Guelf Brunetto Latini, who
there pays him
unqualified homage for surpassing
worth in peace and war. It is strange that more
should not
be known regarding this doubtless re-
markable man. His
compositions have sometimes
much humour, and on the whole convey
the im-
pression of an active and energetic nature.
More-
over, Trucchi pronounces some of them to be as pure
in
language as the poems of Dante or Guido Caval-
canti, though
written thirty or forty years earlier.
The noble Florentine family of Albizzi produced
writers of
poetry in more than one generation. The
vivid and admirable
sonnet which I have translated
is the only one I have met with
by Niccolò. I must
confess my inability to trace the
circumstances which
gave rise to it.
With the exception of Brunetto Latini, (whose
poems are
neither very poetical nor well adapted for
extract,) Francesco
da Barberino shows by far the
most sustained productiveness
among the poets who
preceded Dante, or were contemporaries of
his youth.
Though born only one year in advance of Dante,
Barberino
seems to have undertaken, if not com-
pleted, his two long
poetic treatises, some years be-
fore the commencement of the
<xref doc="a.dante002.rad" link="dead">Commedia</xref>
.
This poet was born at Barberino di Valdelsa, of a
noble
family, his father being Neri di Rinuccio da
Barberino. Up to
the year of his father's death,
1296, he pursued the study of
law chiefly in Bologna
and Padua; but afterwards removed to
Florence for
the same purpose, and became one of the
many
distinguished disciples of Brunetto Latini, who
pro-
bably had more influence than any other one man
in
forming the youth of his time to the great things
they
accomplished. After this he travelled in France
and elsewhere;
and on his return to Italy in 1313,
was the first who, by
special favour of Pope Clement
V., received the grade of Doctor
of Laws in Florence.
Both as lawyer and as citizen, he held
great trusts
and discharged them honourably. He was
twice
married, the name of his second wife being Barna
di
Tano, and had several children. At the age of
eighty-four he
died in the great Plague of Florence.
Of the two works which
Barberino has left, one
bears the title of
Documenti d'Amore
, literally “Do-
cuments of Love,” but perhaps more
properly ren-
dered as “Laws of Courtesy;” while the other
is
called
Barberino never appears to have taken a very
active part
in politics, but he inclined to the Imperial
and Ghibelline
party. This contributes with other
things to render it rather
singular that we find no
poetic correspondence or apparent
communication of
any kind between him and his many great
countrymen,
contemporaries of his long life, and with whom
he
had more than one bond of sympathy. His career
stretched
from Dante, Guido Cavalcanti, and Cino
da Pistoia, to Petrarca
and Boccaccio; yet only in
one respectful but not enthusiastic
notice of him by
the last-named writer (
<xref doc="a.boccaccio005.rad" link="dead">Genealogia degli
Dei</xref>
), do we
ever meet with an allusion to him by any of
the
greatest men of his time. Nor in his own writings,
as
far as I remember, are they ever referred to.
His epitaph is
said to have been written by Boccaccio,
but this is doubtful. On
reviewing the present series,
I am sorry, on the whole, not to
have included more
specimens of Barberino, whose writings,
though not
very easy to tackle in the mass, would afford
an
excellent field for selection and summary.
The dates of this poet's birth and death are
not
ascertainable, but I have set against his name two
dates
which result from his writings as belonging to
his lifetime. He
was a member of that great house
of the Uberti, which was driven
from Florence on
the expulsion of the Ghibellines in 1267, and
which
was ever afterwards specially excluded by name
from
the various amnesties offered from time to time to
the
exiled Florentines. His grandfather was Farinata
degli Uberti,
whose stern nature, unyielding even
amid penal fires, has been
recorded by Dante in the
tenth canto of the
<xref doc="a.dante002.1.rad" link="dead">Inferno</xref>
. Farinata's son Lapo,
himself a poet, was the father of
Fazio (i.e. Boni-
fazio), who was no doubt
born in the lifetime of Dante,
and in some place of exile, but
where is not known.
In his youth he was enamoured of a certain
Vero-
nese lady named Angiola, and was afterwards
married,
but whether to her or not is again among
the uncertainties.
Certain it is that he had a son
named Leopardo, who, after his
father's death at
Verona, settled in Venice, where his
descendants
maintained an honourable rank for the space of two
succeeding centuries. Though Fazio appears to have
suffered
sometimes from poverty, he enjoyed high
reputation as a poet,
and is even said, on the autho-
rity of various early writers,
to have publicly received
the laurel crown; but in what city of
Italy this took
place, we do not learn.
There is much beauty in several of Fazio's lyrical
poems,
of which, however, no great number have
been preserved. The
finest of all is the Canzone
which I have translated; whose
excellence is such
as to have procured it the high honour of
being at-
tributed to Dante, so that it is to be found in
most
editions of the
<xref doc="a.dante008.rad" link="dead">Canzoniere</xref>
; and as far as poetic
beauty is concerned, it
must be allowed to hold
even there an eminent place. Its style,
however,
(as Monti was the first to point out) is more
par-
ticularizing than accords with the practice of
Dante;
while, though certainly more perfect than any
other
poem by Fazio, its manner is quite his;
bearing
especially a strong resemblance throughout in
struc-
ture to one canzone, where he speaks of his love
with
minute reference to the seasons of the year.
Moreover,
Fraticelli tells us that it is not attributed
to Dante in any
one of the many ancient MSS. he had
seen, but has been fathered
on him solely on the autho-
rity of a printed collection of
1518. This contested
Canzone is well worth fighting for; and the
victor
would deserve to receive his prize at the hands of
a
peerless Queen of Beauty, for never was beauty
better
described. I believe we may decide that
the triumph belongs by
right to Fazio.
An exile by inheritance, Fazio seems to have
acquired
restless tastes; and in the latter years of
his life (which was
prolonged to old age), he tra-
velled over a great part of Europe, and composed
his long
poem entitled
Il Dittamondo
,—“The Song
of the World,” or, more exactly, “Words of
the
World.” This work, though by no means con-
temptible in
point of execution, certainly falls far
short of its conception,
which is a grand one; the
topics of which it treats in great
measure,—geogra-
phy and natural history,—rendering it in those
days
the native home of all credulities and
monstrosities.
In scheme it was intended as an earthly parallel
to
Dante's Sacred Poem, doing for this world what
he did for
the other. At Fazio's death it remained
unfinished, but I should
think by very little; the
plan of the work seeming in the main
accomplished.
The whole earth (or rather all that was then
known
of it) is traversed,—its surface and its
history,—end-
ing with the Holy Land, and thus bringing
Man's
world as near as may be to God's; that is, to
the
point at which Dante's office begins. No
conception
could well be nobler, or worthier even now of
being
dealt with by a great master. To the work of such
a
man, Fazio's work might afford such first materials
as
have usually been furnished beforehand to the
greatest
poets by some unconscious steward.
This excellent writer is the only member of my
gathering
who was born after the death of Dante,
which event (in 1321)
preceded Franco's birth by
some fourteen years. I have
introduced a few
specimens of his poetry, partly because their
attrac-
tion was irresistible, but also because he is the
earliest
Italian poet with whom playfulness is the chief
characteristic; for even with Boccaccio, in his
poetry,
this is hardly the case. However, Franco
Sacchetti
wrote poems also on political subjects; and had
he
belonged more strictly to the period of which I
treat,
there is no one who would better have
deserved
abundant selection. Besides his poetry, he is
the
author of a well-known series of three hundred
stories;
and Trucchi gives a list of prose works by
him which are still
in MS., and whose subjects are
genealogical, historical,
natural-historical, and even
theological. He was a prolific
writer, and one who
well merits complete and careful
publication. The
pieces which I have translated, like many
others of
his, are written for music.
Franco Sacchetti was a Florentine noble by birth,
and was
the son of Benci di Uguccione Sacchetti.
Between this family and
the Alighieri there had
been a vendetta of
long standing (spoken of here in
the
Appendix to Part II
.), but which was probably
set at rest before Franco's
time, by the deaths of at
least one Alighieri and two Sacchetti.
After some
years passed in study, Franco devoted himself
to
commerce, like many nobles of the republic, and for
that
purpose spent some time in Sclavonia, whose
uncongenial
influences he has recorded in an amusing
poem. As his literary
fame increased, he was
called to many important offices, was one
of the
Priori
the
government of Faenza, in the absence of its
lord, Astorre
Manfredi. He was three times mar-
ried; to Felice degli Strozzi,
to Ghita Gherardini,
and to Nannina di Santi Bruni.
* This speech occurs in a long poem on Divine Love,
half
ecstatic, half scholastic, and hardly appreciable now.
The
passage stands well by itself, and is the only one
spoken by
our Lord.
* Madonna mia.
* The lady was probably called Diamante, Margherita, or
some
similar name.
The indentation of line 15 has errantly slid to the right.
* See what is said in allusion to his government of
Florence by
Dante, (
<xref doc="a.dante002.2.rad" link="dead">Parad</xref>
. C.viii.)
* The battle of Monte Catini was fought and won by the
Ghibelline
leader Uguccione della Faggiola against the
Florentines; August
29, 1315.
* This fellowship or club (Brigata), so
highly approved
and encouraged by our Folgore, is
the same to which, and to
some of its members by
name, scornful allusion is made by
Dante (
<xref doc="a.dante002.1.rad" link="dead">Inferno</xref>
, C. xxix. l. 130), where he
speaks of the
hair-brained character of the Sienese.
Mr. Cayley, in his
valuable notes on Dante, says of
it: “A dozen extravagant
youths of Siena had
put together by equal contributions
216,000
florins to spend in pleasuring; they were reduced
in
about a twelvemonth to the extremes of
poverty. It was
their practice to give mutual
entertainments twice a month;
at each of which,
three tables having been sumptuously
covered,
they would feast at one, wash their hands
on
another, and throw the last out of
window.”
There exists a second curious series of sonnets for
the
months, addressed also to this club, by Cene
della Chitarra
d'Arezzo. Here, however, all sorts of
disasters and discom-
forts, in the same pursuits of which Folgore
treats, are
imagined for the prodigals; each sonnet,
too, being composed
with the same terminations in
its rhymes as the correspond-
ing one among his.
They would seem to have been written
after the ruin
of the club, as a satirical prophecy of the year
to
succeed the golden one. But this second series,
though
sometimes laughable, not having the poetical
merit of the
first, I have not included it.
My translations of Folgore's sonnets were made from
the
versions given in the forlorn Florentine
collection of 1816,
where editorial incompetence
walks naked and not ashamed,
indulging indeed in
gambols as of Punch, and words which
no voice but
his could utter. Not till my book was in
the
printer's hands, did I meet with
of lights cast
here and there by him on dark passages through
which
I had groped as I could. Nor is it only in these
son-
nets that his suggestions might have done me
service, though
fortunately the instances are never
of much importance.
* That is, according to early Tuscan nomenclature; Carlo,
the son of Messer Guerra Cavicciuoli.
* Alluding to the Syrian tribe of Assassins, whose
chief
was the Old Man of the Mountain.
* I have not been able to trace the Fazio to whom this
sonnet
refers.
* The character here drawn certainly suggests Count
Ugolino
de'Gherardeschi, though it would seem that Rustico
died nearly
twenty years before the tragedy of the Tower of
Famine.