Produces mines in rich variety:
And those who human nature wisely scan
May this discern peculiarly in man.
5.
Who would believe that various minerals grew,
And many metals, in our rugged mind;
From gold to nitre? Yet the thing is true;
But, out, alas! the rub is how to find
This ore. Some letters and some wealth pursue,
Some fancy steeds, some dream, at ease reclined;
These song delights, and those the cittern's sound,
Such are the mines which in our world abound.
6.
As these are worthier, more or less, so they
Abound with lead or gold; and practised wight,
The various soil accustomed to survey,
Is fitted best to find the substance bright.
And such in our Apulia is the way
They heal those suffering from the spider's bite;
Who strange vagaries play, like men possessed;
Tarantulated*, as 'tis there express'd.
* The Tarantula is now known to be harmless. The cause of its supposed mischievous effects, and the efficacy of the mode of curing them are perhaps easily explained. People are in all countries (though they are imagined to be peculiarly so in England) exposed to attacks of melancholy, which arise out of some physical cause, whether indigestion, or other bodily complaint. The doctors of Calabria attributed this to the sting of the tarantula, which is assuredly not more extravagant than a popular English medical author's ascribing jaundice to the bite of a mad dog. The patient, delighted to find a cause for his complaint, was easily, by leading questions, brought to recollect that he had, at some time or other, felt a prick, which probably proceeded from the sting of a tarantula. Dancing was the remedy prescribed; and this, as exciting the animal spirits, &c. may very well have operated a cure of the real disease. The patients were to be played to, as Berni states, till a tune was struck which pleased their fancy, and animated them to exertion. The Tarantella, an air supposed to be particularly stimulating in such a case, is still a popular dance in the south of Italy. Modern philosophers have found out that the tarantula has no venom.
7.
For this, 'tis needful, touching sharp or flat.
To seek a sound which may the patients please;
Who, when they find the merry music pat.
Dance till they sweat away the foul disease.
And thus who should allure this man or that, And still with various offer tempt and tease, I wot, in little time, would ascertain And sound each different mortal's mine and vein.
8.
'Twas so Brunello with Rogero wrought,
Who offered him the armour and the steed.
Thus by the cunning Greek his aid was bought, Who laid fair Ilion smoking on the mead. Which was of yore in clearer numbers taught; Nor shall I now repeat upon my reed, Who from the furrow let my plough-share stray, Unheeding how the moments glide away.
9.
As the first pilot by the shore did creep,
Who launched his boat upon the billows dark,
And where the liquid ocean was least deep,
And without sails impelled his humble barque;
But seaward next, where foaming waters leap.
By little and by little steered his ark,
With nothing but the wind and stars to guide,
And round about him glorious wonders spied.
10.
Thus I, who still have sung a humble strain,
And kept my little barque within its bounds,
Now find it fit to launch into the main,
And sing the fearful warfare, which resounds
Where Africa pours out her swarthy train,
And the wide world with mustered troops abounds;
And, fanning fire and forge, each land and nation
Sends forth the dreadful note of preparation.
The next extract I shall give, though it commences with his favourite figure of the barque, will serve as a specimen of a different style. It forms the opening of the second book. The two first lines the reader will trace to Dante, and will find in the remainder a translation of the Æneadum Genetrix of Lucretius.
1.
Launched on a deeper sea, my pinnace, rear
Thy sail, prepared to plough the billows dark:
And you, ye lucid stars, by whom I steer
My feeble vessel to its destined mark,
Shine forth upon her course benign and clear.
And beam propitious on the daring barque
About to stem an ocean so profound:
While I your praises and your works resound.
2.
O, holy mother of Æneas! O,
Daughter of Jove! thou bliss of gods above
And men beneath; VENUS, who makest grow
Green herb and plant, and fillest all with love;
Thou creatures that would else be cold and slow.
Dost with thy sovereign instinct warm and move,
Thou dost all jarring things in peace unite—
The world's eternal spirit, life and light,
3.
At thine appearance storm and rain have ceased,
And zephyr has unlocked the genial ground;
Leap the wild herds;—'tis wanton nature's feast—
And the green woods with singing birds resound;
While by strange pleasure stung, the savage beast
Lives but for love; what time their greenwood round
All creatures rove, or couch upon the sward.
Discord and hate forgot, in sweet accord.
4.
Thee, kind and gentle star! thy suppliant prays;
To thee I sue by every bolt which flies
Thro' the fifth planet*, melting with thy rays.
When panting on thy lap the godhead lies.
And lock'd within thine arms, with upward gaze.
Feeds on thy visage his desiring eyes:
That thou wilt gain for me his grace, and grown
Propitious, with his grace accord thine own.
* Mars.
5.
Since 'tis of thee I sing, as I have said,
And only of thy praise and pleasures dream;
Well pleased I to this fruitful field was led,
And sure I could not choose a sweeter theme.
Thou too, that down thy clear and ample bed
Dost run with grateful murmur, RAPID STREAM.
Awhile from thine impetuous course refrain,
While on thy banks I tune my mingled strain.
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