Chapter II: Book III: Canto VII

36.
A boon companion to increase this crew
By chance, a gentle Florentine, was led;
A Florentine, altho' the father who
Begot him, in the Casentine was bred;
Who nigh become a burgher of his new
Domicile, there was well content to wed;
And so in Bibbiena wived, which ranks
Among the pleasant towns on Arno's banks.

37.
At Lamporecchio, he of whom I write
Was born, for dumb Masetto* fam'd of yore,
Thence roam'd to Florence; and in piteous plight
There sojourned till nineteen, like pilgrim poor;
And shifted thence to Rome, with second flight
Hoping some succour from a kinsman's store;
A cardinal allied to him by blood.
And one that neither did him harm nor good.

* See Boccaccio.

38.
He to the nephew passed, this patron dead,
Who the same measure as his uncle meted;
And then again in search of better bread,
With empty bowels from his house retreated;
And hearing, for his name and fame were spread,
The praise of one who serv'd the pope repeated,
And in the Roman court Datario hight,
He hired himself to him to read and write.

39.
This trade the unhappy man believed he knew;
But this belief was, like the rest, a bubble,
Since he could never please the patron, who
Fed him, nor ever once was out of trouble.
The worse he did, the more he had to do,
And only made his pain and penance double:
And thus, with sleeves and bosom stuffed with papers,
Wasted his wits, and lived oppressed with vapours.

40.
Add for his mischief (whether 'twas his little
Merit, misfortune, or his want of skill)
Some cures he farmed produced him not a tittle,
And only were a source of plague and ill.
Fire, water, storm, or devil, sacked vines and victual,
Whether the luckless wretch would tythe or till.
Some pensions too, which he possessed, were nought,
And, like the rest, produced him not a groat.

41.
This notwithstanding, he his miseries slighted,
Like happy man, who not too deeply feels;
And all, but most the Roman lords, delighted,
Content in spite of tempests, writs, or seals.
And oftentimes, to make them mirth, recited
Strange chapters upon urinals and eels;*
And other mad vagaries would rehearse.
That he had hitched. Heaven help him! into verse.

* See his _Capitoli sugli Orinali, Sulle Anquille, etc._

42.
His mood was choleric, and his tongue was vicious,
But he was praised for singleness of heart;
Not taxed as avaricious or ambitious,
Affectionate, and frank, and void of art;
A lover of his friends, and unsuspicious;
But where he hated, knew no middle part;
And men his malice by his love might rate:
But then he was more prone to love than hate.

43.
To paint his person, this was thin and dry;
Well sorting it, his legs were spare and lean;
Broad was his visage, and his nose was high,
While narrow was the space that was between
His eye-brows sharp; and blue his hollow eye.
Which for his bushy beard had not been seen,
But that the master kept this thicket clear'd,
At mortal war with moustache and with beard.

44.
No one did ever servitude detest
Like him; though servitude was still his dole:
Since fortune or the devil did their best
To keep him evermore beneath controul.
While, whatsoever was his patron's hest,
To execute it went against his soul;
His service would he freely yield, unasked,
But lost all heart and hope, if he were tasked.

45.
Nor musick, hunting-match, nor mirthful measure,
Nor play, nor other pastime moved him aught;
And if 'twas true that horses gave him pleasure,
The simple sight of them was all he sought,
Too poor to purchase; and his only treasure
His naked bed: his pastime to do nought
But tumble there, and stretch his weary length,
And so recruit his spirits and his strength,

46.
Worn with the trade he long was used to slave in,
So heartless and so broken down was he;
He deemed he could not find a readier haven,
Or safer port from that tempestuous sea;
Nor better cordial to recruit his craven
And jaded spirit, when he once was free,
Than to betake himself to bed, and do
Nothing, and mind and matter so renew.

47.
On this as on an art, he would dilate.
In good set terms, and styled his bed a vest.
Which, as the wearer pleased, was small or great.
And of whatever fashion liked him best;
A simple mantle, or a robe of state;
With that a gown of comfort and of rest:
Since whosoever slipt his daily clothes
For this, put off with these all worldly woes.

48.
He by the noise and lights and music jaded
Of that long revel, and the tramp and tread,
(Since every guest in his desires was aided,
And knaves performed their will as soon as said,)
Found out a chamber which was uninvaded.
And bade those varlets there prepare a bed.
Garnished with bolsters and with pillows fair,
At its four borders, and exactly square.

49.
This was six yards across by mensuration,
With sheets and curtains bleached by wave and breeze,
With a silk quilt for farther consolation.
And all things fitting else: tho' hard to please,
Six souls therein had found accommodation
But this man sighed for elbow-room and ease.
And here as in a sea was fain to swim.
Extending at his pleasure length and limb,

50.
By chance with him, to join the fairy's train,
A Frenchman and a cook was thither brought;
One that had served in court with little gain,
Though he with sovereign care and cunning wrought.
For him, prepared with sheet and counterpane.
Another bed was, like his fellow's, sought:
And 'twixt the two, sufficient space was seen
For a fair table to be placed between.

51.
Upon this table, for the pair to dine.
Were savoury viands piled, prepared with art;
All ordered by this master-cook divine;
Boiled, roast, ragouts and jellies, paste and tart:
But soups and syrups pleased the Florentine,
Who loathed fatigue like death, and for his part.
Brought neither teeth nor fingers into play;
But made two varlets feed him as he lay

52.
Here couchant, nothing but his head was spied,
Sheeted and quilted to the very chin;
And needful food a serving man supplied
Thro' pipe of silver, placed the mouth within.
Meantime the sluggard moved no part beside.
Holding all motion else were shame and sin;
And (so his spirits and his health were broke)
Not to fatigue this organ, seldom spoke.

53.
The cook was master Peter hight, and he
Had tales at will to while away the day;
To him the Florentine: "Those fools, pardie,
"Have little wit, who dance that endless Hay;"
And Peter in return, "I think with thee."
Then with some merry story backed the say;
Swallowed a mouthful and turned round in bed;
And so, by starts, talked, turned, and slept, and fed.

54.
And so the time these careless comrades cheated,
And still, without a change, ate, drank, and slept
Nor by the calendar their seasons meeted,
Nor register of days or sennights kept:
No dial told the passing hours, which fleeted,
Nor bell was heard; nor servant overstept
The threshold (so the pair proclaimed their will)
To bring them tale or tidings, good or ill.

55.
Above all other curses, pen and ink
Were by the Tuscan held in hate and scorn;
Who, worse than any loathsome sight or stink.
Detested pen and paper, ink and horn:
So deeply did a deadly venom sink.
So festered in his flesh a rankling thorn;
While, night and day, with heart and garments rent.
Seven weary years the wretch in writing spent.

56.
Of all their ways to baffle time and tide,
This seems the strangest of their waking dreams:
Couched on their back, the two the rafters eyed,
And taxed their drowsy wits to count the beams;
'Tis thus they mark at leisure, which is wide.
Which short, or which of due proportion seems;
And which worm-eaten are, and which are sound,
And if the total sum is odd or round.*

* I have already given a loose translation of this part of Berni's account of himself in the _Court of Beasts_.

Having in the preceding part of this introduction, given some account of the mode in which I have executed my task as a translator, it may be expected that I should give some information respecting my labours as an editor. To speak frankly, I have none to give: having annexed no commentary, or, at least, nothing worthy of being called a commentary, to this work. Some readers may, perhaps, think I have in this neglected my duty, and reproach me with not having pointed out the sources from which many of the fictions in the _Innamorato_ are borrowed, or at least the points of resemblance which may be found between many of these and other ancient stories. It appeared, however, to me, that my readers were as likely as myself to be conversant with incidents to be found in the _Spectator_, _Persian Tales_, _Arabian Nights_, and _Bibliothèque Orientale_. Others who will, perhaps, thank me for sparing them such a display of common-place knowledge may, however, think I have erred in having done nothing to illustrate the allegory of the _Innamorato_. If I have not, the omission has arisen from a conviction of the inutility of such an attempt. I have read much that has been written upon the allegory of the _Furioso_, yet never met with any explanation of it, which I considered as satisfactory to myself, though I was persuaded that the commentators were right. Holding obscurity to be one source of the sublime in this branch of imagination, though I will not venture to extend the position further, it appears to me that the reader always best fills up an indistinct outline, according to his own fancy, and is more likely to derive pleasure from doing so, than from a solution which usually presents him with something very different from what he had preconceived. It is this consideration which has restrained me from doing more than throwing out a few ideas which suggested themselves on some parts of Boiardo's allegory, and no wish to avoid any trouble which I might have thought satisfactorily bestowed on it. Still less have I been influenced by any fear of that ridicule which is so readily discharged upon Italian commentators, or those who report their lucubrations; for I can safely say, that I should have pursued the research to which I have alluded, if I had thought I could have done so with any satisfaction to myself, though I had met with no better recompence than that of being compared to the ass who carried off the dead body of the sphynx, after her enigma had been unriddled, and she herself slain by Œdipus.

THE ORLANDO INNAMORATO.