Much has been said, and in many respects justly,against the value of metrical translation. But I thinkit would be admitted that the tributary art might finda not illegitimate use in the case of poems which comedown to us in such a form as do these early Italianones. Struggling originally with corrupt dialect andimperfect expression, and hardly kept alive throughcenturies of neglect, they have reached that last andworst state in which the coup-de-grace has almost beendealt them by clumsy transcription and pedantic super-structure. At this stage the task of talking much moreabout them in any language is hardly to be enteredupon; and a translation (involving, as it does, thenecessity 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 turnedinto a bad one. The only true motive for puttingpoetry into a fresh language must be to endow a freshnation, as far as possible, with one more possessionof beauty. Poetry not being an exact science, liter-ality of rendering is altogether secondary to this chieflaw. I say literality,—not fidelity, which is by nomeans 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 utmostto unite them; when such object can only be attainedby paraphrase, that is his only path.

Any merit possessed by these translations is derivedfrom 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 indispensableto old and especially to ‘occasional’ poetry, has herebeen 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 ithas no merits but only defects, are discoveries sosure to be made if necessary (or perhaps here andthere in any case), that I may safely leave them inother hands. The series has probably a wider scopethan some readers might look for, and includes nowand then (though I believe in rare instances) matterwhich may not meet with universal approval; and whoseintroduction, needed as it is by the literary aim of mywork, is I know inconsistent with the principles ofpretty bookmaking. My wish has been to give a fulland truthful view of early Italian poetry; not to makeit appear to consist only of certain elements to theexclusion of others equally belonging to it.

Of the difficulties I have had to encounter,—thecauses of imperfections for which I have no otherexcuse,—it is the reader's best privilege to remainignorant; but I may perhaps be pardoned for brieflyreferring to such among these as concern the exigenciesof translation. The task of the translator (and withall humility be it spoken) is one of some self-denial.Often would he avail himself of any special grace ofhis own idiom and epoch, if only his will belongedto him: often would some cadence serve him but forhis author's structure—some structure but for his author's cadence: often the beautiful turn of a stanza must beweakened to adopt some rhyme which will tally, andhe sees the poet revelling in abundance of languagewhere himself is scantily supplied. Now he wouldslight the matter for the music, and now the music forthe matter; but no, he must deal to each alike. Some-times too a flaw in the work galls him, and he wouldfain remove it, doing for the poet that which his agedenied him; but no,—it is not in the bond. His pathis like that of Aladdin through the enchanted vaults:many are the precious fruits and flowers which he mustpass by unheeded in search for the lamp alone; happyif at last, when brought to light, it does not provethat his old lamp has been exchanged for a new one,—glittering indeed to the eye, but scarcely of the samevirtue nor with the same genius at its summons.

In relinquishing this work (which, small as it is, isthe only contribution I expect to make to our Englishknowledge of old Italy), I feel, as it were, divided frommy youth. The first associations I have are connectedwith my father's devoted studies, which, from his ownpoint of view, have done so much towards the generalinvestigation of Dante's writings. Thus, in those earlydays, all around me partook of the influence of thegreat Florentine; till, from viewing it as a naturalelement, I also, growing older, was drawn within thecircle. I trust that from this the reader may placemore confidence in a work not carelessly undertaken,though produced in the spare-time of other pursuitsmore closely followed. He should perhaps be told that it has occupied the leisure moments of not a fewyears; thus affording, often at long intervals, everyopportunity for consideration and revision; and that onthe score of care, at least, he has no need to mistrustit. Nevertheless, I know there is no great stir to bemade by launching afresh, on high-seas busy with newtraffic, the ships which have been long outstripped andthe ensigns which are grown strange.

It may be well to conclude this short preface witha list of the works which have chiefly contributed tothe materials of the present volume. An array ofmodern editions hardly looks so imposing as might areference to Allacci, Crescimbini, &c.; but these oldercollections would be found less accessible, and all theycontain has been reprinted.