LONDON:

Printed by John Strangeways,

Castle St. Leicester Sq.

TO MY MOTHER

I DEDICATE THIS NEW EDITION

OF A BOOK PRIZED BY HER LOVE.

In re-entitling and re-arranging this book (originally

published in 1861 as The Early Italian Poets ,) my

object has been to make more evident at a first glance

its important relation to Dante. The Vita Nuova,

together with the many among Dante's lyrics and those

of his contemporaries which elucidate their personal

intercourse, are here assembled, and brought to my

best ability into clear connection, in a manner not

elsewhere attempted even by Italian or German

editors.

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 un-

approached 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 inexperienced, 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 first division),

would have inclined me to bestow the time and trouble

which have resulted 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 coup-de-grace has almost been

dealt them by clumsy transcription and pedantic super-

structure. At this stage the task of talking much more

about them in any language is hardly to be entered

upon; and a translation (involving, 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 com-

mandment,—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, liter-

ality of rendering is altogether secondary to this chief

law. I say literality,—not fidelity, which is by no

means the same thing. When literality can be com-

bined 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 derived

from an effort to follow this principle; and, in some degree, from the fact that such painstaking in arrange-

ment 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 this collection,

or that the above merit is its defect, or that it

has 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 series 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 exigencies

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 structure 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. Some-

times 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 consideration 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.

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. An array of

modern editions hardly looks so imposing as might a

reference to Allacci, Crescimbini, &c.; but these older

collections would be found less accessible, and all they

contain has been reprinted.