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TRANSLATIONS FROM BOCCACE.

SIGISMONDA AND GUISCARDO.

WHILE Norman Tancred in Salerno reign'd,
The title of a gracious prince he gain'd;
Till turn'd a tyrant in his latter days,
He lost the lustre of his former praise ;
And, from the bright meridian where he stood
Descending, dipp'd his hands in lovers' blood.
This prince, of Fortune's favour long pos
sess'd,

Yet was with one fair daughter only bless'd;
And bless'd he might have been with her alone:
But oh! how much more happy had he none!
She was his care, his hope, and his delight,
Most in his thought, and ever in his sight:
Next, nay beyond his life, he held her dear;
She liv'd by him, and now he liv'd in her.
For this when ripe for marriage, he delay'd
Her nuptial bands, and kept her long a maid,
As envying any else should share a part
Of what was his, and claiming all her heart.
At length, as public decency requir'd,
And all his vassals eagerly desir'd,
With mind averse, he rather underwent
His people's will than gave his own consent.
So was she torn, as from a lover's side,
And made almost in his despite a bride.
Short were her marriage joys; for, in the
prime

space

Of youth, her lord expir'd before his time;
And to her father's court in little
Restor❜d anew, she held a higher place;
More lov'd, and more exalted into grace.
This princess, fresh and young, and fair and
wise,

The worshipp'd idol of her father's eyes,
Did all her sex in every grace exceed,
And had more wit beside than women need.
Youth, health, and ease, and most an amor-
ous mind,

To second nuptials had her thoughts inclin'd:
And former joys had left a secret sting behind.
But, prodigal in every other grant,
Her sire left unsupplied her only want;
And she, betwixt her modesty and pride,
Her wishes, which she could not help, would
hide.

Resolv'd at last to lose no longer time,
And yet to please herself without a crime,

She cast her eyes around the court, to find
A worthy subject suiting to her mind,
To him in holy nuptials to be tied,
A seeming widow, and a secret bride.
Among the train of courtiers, one she found
With all the gifts of bounteous nature crown'd,
Of gentle blood; but one whose niggard fate
Had set him far below her high estate;
Guiscard his name was call'd, of blooming age,
Now squire to Tancred, and before his page:
To him, the choice of all the shining crowd,
Her heart the noble Sigismonda vow'd.

Yet hitherto she kept her love conceal'd,
And with those graces every day beheld
The graceful youth; and every day increas'd
The raging fires that burn'd within her breast;
Some secret charm did all his acts attend,
And what his fortune wanted, hers could mend;
Till, as the fire will force its outward way,
Or in the prison pent, consume the prey;
So long her earnest eyes on his were set,
At length their twisted rays together met;
And he surpris'd with humble joy, survey'd
One sweet regard, shot by the royal maid:
Not well assur'd, while doubtful hopes he nurs'd,
A second glance came gliding like the first;
And he, who saw the sharpness of the dart,
Without defence receiv'd it in his heart.
In public, though their passion wanted speech,
Yet mutual looks interpreted for each;
Time, ways, and means of meeting were denied;
But all those wants ingenious love supplied.
The inventive god, who never fails his part,
Inspires the wit, when once he warms the
heart.

When Guiscard next was in the circle seen,
Where Sigismonda held the place of queen,
A hollow cane within her hand she brought,
But in the concave had enclos'd a note;
With this she seem'd to play, and, as in sport,
Toss'd to her love, in presence of the court;
Take it, she said; and when your needs re
quire

This little brand will serve to light your fire.
He took it with a bow, and soon divin'd
The seeming toy was not for nought design'd
But when retir'd, so long with curious eyes
He view'd his present, that he found the prize.
Much was in little writ; and all convey'd
With cautious care, for fear to be betray'd
By some false confidant, or favourite maid.
The time, the place, the manner how to meet,
Were all in punctual order plainly writ:
But since a trust must be, she thought it best
To put it out of laymen's power at least;
And for their solemn vows prepar'd a priest.

Guiscard (her secret purpose understood)
With joy prepar'd to meet the coming good;

Nor pains nor danger was resolv'd to spare,
But use the means appointed by the fair.

Next the proud palace of Salerno stood
A mount of rough ascent, and thick with wood.
Through this a cave was dug with vast ex-
pense:

The work it seem'd of some suspicious prince,
Who, when abusing power with lawless might,
From public justice would secure his flight.
The passage made by many a winding way,
Reach'd e'en the room in which the tyrant lay.
Fit for his purpose, on a lower floor,
He lodg'd, whose issue was an iron door;
From whence, by stairs descending to the
ground,

In the blind grot a safe retreat he found.
Its outlet ended in a brake o'ergrown
With brambles, chok'd by time, and now un-
known.
[height
A rift there was, which from the mountain's
Convey'd a glimmering and malignant light,
A breathing-place to draw the damps away,
A twilight of an intercepted day.

The tyrant's den, whose use, though lost to fame
Was now the apartment of the royal dame;
The cavern only to her father known,
By him was to his darling daughter shown.
Neglected long she let the secret rest,
Till love recall'd it to her labouring breast,
And hinted as the way by heaven design'd
The teacher, by the means he taught, to blind.
What will not women do, when need inspires
Their wit, or love their inclination fires!
Though jealousy of state the invention found,
Yet love refin'd upon the former ground.
That way the tyrant had reserv'd to fly [nigh
Pursuing hate, now serv'd to bring two lovers
The dame, who long in vain had kept the key,
Bold by desire, explor'd the secret way;
Now tried the stairs, and, wading through the
night,

Search'd all the deep recess, and issu'd into light.

All this her letter had so well explain'd,
The instructed youth might compass what re-
main'd;

The cavern's mouth alone was hard to find,
Because the path, disus'd, was out of mind:
But in what quarter of the copse it lay,
His eye by certain level could survey:
Yet (for the wood perplex'd with thorns he
knew)

A frock of leather o'er his limbs he drew;
And thus provided, search'd the brake around,
Till the chok'd entry of the cave he found.

Thus, all prepar'd, the promis'd hour arriv'd, So long expected, and so well contriv'd: With love to friend, the impatient lover went,

Fenc'd from the thorns, and trod the deep de

scent.

The conscious priest, who was suborn'd before,
Stood ready posted at the postern door;
The maids in distant rooms were sent to rest,
And nothing wanted but the invited guest.
He came, and knocking thrice, without delay,
The longing lady heard, and turn'd the key;
At once invaded him with all her charms,
And the first step he made was in her arms:
The leathern outside, boisterous as it was,
Gave way, and bent beneath her strict embrace :
On either side the kisses flew so thick,
That neither he nor she had breath to speak.
The holy man, amaz'd at what he saw,
Made haste to sanctify the bliss by law;
And mutter'd fast the matrimony o'er,
For fear committed sin should get before.
His work perform'd, he left the pair alone,
Because he knew he could not go too soon;
His presence odious, when his task was done.
What thoughts he had beseems me not to say;
Though some surmise he went to fast and pray,
And needed both to drive the tempting thoughts
away.

Thus were their loves auspiciously begun,
And thus with secret care were carried on.
The stealth itself did appetite restore,
And look'd so like a sin, it pleas'd the more.

The cave was now become a common way,
The wicket, often open'd, knew the key:
Love rioted secure, and long enjoy'd,
Was ever eager, and was never cloy'd.

But as extremes are short, of ill and good, And tides at highest mark regorge their flood; So fate, that could no more improve their joy, Took a malicious pleasure to destroy.

Tancred, who fondly lov'd, and whose de-
light

Was plac'd in his fair daughter's daily sight,
Of custom, when, his state affairs were done,
Would pass
s his pleasing hours with her alone,
And, as a father's privilege allow'd,
Without attendance of the officious crowd.

It happen'd once, that when in heat of day
He tried to sleep, as was his usual way,
The balmy slumber fled his wakeful eyes,
And forc'd him, in his own despite, to rise:
Of sleep forsaken, to relieve his care,
He sought the conversation of the fair;
But with her train of damsels she was gone,
In shady walks the scorching heat to shun:
He would not violate that sweet recess,
And found besides a welcome heaviness,

That seiz'd his eyes; and slumber, which forgot, When call'd before, to come, now came unsought.

From light retir'd, behind his daughter's bed,
He for approaching sleep compos'd his head;
A chair was ready, for that use design'd,
So quilted, that he lay at ease reclin'd;
The curtains closely drawn, the light to screen,
As if he had contriv'd to lie unseen :
Thus cover'd with an artificial night,
Sleep did his office soon, and seal'd his sight.
With heaven averse, in this ill-omen'd hour
Was Guiscard summon'd to the secret bower,
And the fair nymph, with expectation fir'd,
From her attending damsels was retir'd:
For, true to love, she measur'd time so right,
As not to miss one moment of delight.
The garden, seated on the level floor,
She left behind, and locking every door,
Thought all secure; but little did she know,
Blind to her fate, she had enclos'd her foe.
Attending Guiscard, in his leathern frock,
Stood ready, with his thrice-repeated knock
Thrice with a doleful sound the jarring grate
Rung deaf and hollow, and presag'd their fate.

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And methodize revenge: to death he griev'd;
And, but he saw the crime,had scarce believ'd.
The appointment for the ensuing night he heard;
And therefore in the cavern had prepar'd
Two brawny yeomen of his trusty guard.

Scarce had unwary Guiscard set his foot
Within the foremost entrance of the grot,
When these in secret ambush ready lay,
And rushing on the sudden seiz'd the prey:
Encumber'd with his frock, without defence,
An easy prize, they led the prisoner thence,
And, as commanded, brought before the prince.
The gloomy sire, too sensible of wrong,
To vent his rage in words, restrain'd his tongue,
And only said, Thus servants are preferr'd,
And, trusted, thus their sovereigns they reward.
Had I not seen, had not these eyes receiv'd
Too clear a proof, I could not have believ'd.

He paus'd and chok'd the rest. The youth,

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crime,

No vain defence prepar'd; but thus replied:
The faults of love by love are justified:
With unresisted might the monarch reigns,
He levels mountains, and he raises plains;
And, not regarding difference of degree,
Abas'd your daughter, and exalted me.
This bold return with seeming patience heard
The prisoner was remitted to the guard.
The sullen tyrant slept not all the night,
But, lonely walking by a winking light,
Sobb'd, wept,and groan'd, and beat his wither'd
breast,

But would not violate his daughter's rest;
Who long expecting lay, for bliss prepar'd,
List'ning for noise, and griev'd that none she
hear'd;

rose,

Oft and oft in vain employ'd the key,
And oft accus'd her lover of delay;
And pass'd the tedious hours in anxious thoughts

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Thy virtue, birth, and breeding were above
A mean desire, and vulgar sense of love:
Nor less than sight and hearing could convince
So fond a father, and so just a prince,
Of such an unforeseen, and unbeliev'd offence.
Then what indignant sorrow must I have,
To see thee lie subjected to my slave!
A man so smelling of the people's lee,
The court receiv'd him first for charity;
And since with no degree of honour grac'd,
But only suffer'd, where he first was plac'd.
A grovelling insect still; and so design'd
By nature's hand, nor born of noble kind :
A thing, by neither man nor woman priz'd,
And scarcely known enough to be despis❜d.
To what has heaven reserv'd my age? Ah
why
[die,

Should man, when nature calls, not choose to
Rather than stretch the span of life, to find
Such ills as fate has wisely cast behind,
For those to feel, whom fond desire to live
Makes covetous of more than life can give!
Each has his share of good; and when 't is gone,
The guest, though hungry, cannot rise too soon.
But I, expecting more, in my own wrong
Protracting life, have liv'd a day too long.
If yesterday could be recall'd again,
E'en now would I conclude my happy reign;
But 't is too late, my glorious race is run,
And a dark cloud o'ertakes my setting sun.
Hadst thou not lov'd, or loving sav'd the shame,
If not the sin, by some illustrious name,
This little comfort had reliev'd my mind,
'T was frailty, not unusual to thy kind:
But thy low fall beneath thy royal blood,
Shows downward appetite to mix with mud ;
Thus not the least excuse is left for thee,
Nor the least refuge for unhappy me.
For him I have resolv'd: whom by surprise
I took, and scarce can call it, in disguise ;
For such was his attire, as, with intent
Of nature, suited to his mean descent:
The harder question yet remains behind,
What pains a parent and a prince can find
To punish an offence of this degenerate kind.
As I have lov'd, and yet I love thee, moro
Than ever father lov'd a child before;
So that indulgence draws me to forgive: [live.
Nature, that gave thee life, would have thee
But, as a public parent of the state,
My justice, and thy crime, requires thy fate.
Fain would I choose a middle course to steer :
Nature's too kind, and justice too severe :
Speak for us both, and to the balance bring
On either side the father and the king.
Heaven knows, my heart is bent to favour thee;
Make it but scanty weight, and leave the rest

to me.

Here stopping with a sigh, he pour'da flood
Of tears, to make his last expression good.
She, who had heard him speak, nor saw alone
The secret conduct of her love was known,
But he was taken who her soul possess'd,
Felt all the pangs of sorrow in her breast:
And little wanted, but a woman's heart,
With cries and tears, had testified her smart;
But inborn worth, that fortune can control,
New strung, and stiffer bent her softer soul;
The heroine assum'd the woman's place,
Confirm'd her mind, and fortified her face:
Why should she beg, or what could she pretend,
When her stern father had condemn'd her
friend?

Her life she might have had; but her despair
Of saving his had put it past her care;
Resolv'd on fate, she would not lose her breath,
But, rather than not die, solicit death,
Fix'd on this thought, she not, as women use,
Her fault by common frailty would excuse;
But boldly justified her innocence,
And, while the fact was own'd, denied the of-
Then with dry eyes, and with an open look,
She met his glance midway, and thus undaunted
spoke :

[fence:

Tancred, I neither am dispos'd to make Request for life, nor offer'd life to take; Much less deny the deed; but least of all Beneath pretended justice weakly fall. My words to sacred truth shall be confin'd, My deeds shall show the greatness of my mind. That I have lov'd, I own; that still I love I call to witness all the powers above: Yet more I own: to Guiscard's love I give The small remaining time I have to live; And if beyond this life desire can be, Not fate itself shall set my passion free. This first avow'd; nor folly warp'd my mind, Nor the frail texture of the female kind Betray'd my virtue: for, too well I knew What honour was, and honour had his due: Before the holy priest my vows were tied, So came I not a strumpet, but a bride. This for my fame, and for the public voice: Yet more, his merits justified my choice: Which had they not, the first election thine, That bond dissolv'd, the next is freely mine, Or grant I err'd, (which yet I must deny,) Had parents power e'en second vows to tie, Thy little care to mend my widow'd nights Has forc'd me to recourse of marriage rites, To fill an empty side, and follow known delights. What have I done in this, deserving blame? State-laws may alter-nature's are the same; Those are usurp'd on helpless woman-kind, Made without our consent, and wanting power to bind.

Thou, Tancred, better shouldst have under- Had he been born like me, like me his love

stood,

That as thy father gave thee flesh and blood,
So gav'st thou me: not from the quarry hew'd,
But of a softer mould, with sense endu'd;
E'en softer than thy own, of suppler kind,
More exquisite of taste, and more than man
refin'd.

Nor need'st thou by thy daughter to be told,
Though now thy sprightly blood with age be
cold,
[still,
Thou hast been young; and canst remember
That when thou hadst the power, thou hadst the
will;

And from the past experience of thy fires, Canst tell with what a tide our strong desires Come rushing on in youth, and what their rage requires.

And grant thy youth was exercis'd in arms, When love no leisure found for softer charms, My tender age in luxury was train'd, With idle ease and pageants entertain'd; My hours my own, my pleasures unrestrain❜d. So bred, no wonder if I took the bent That seem'd e'en warranted by thy consent, For, when the father is too fondly kind, Such seed he sows, such harvest shall he find. Blame then thyself, as reason's law requires, (Since nature gave, and thou foment'st my

fires ;)

If still those appetites continue strong,
Thou may'st consider I am yet but young:
Consider too, that, having been a wife,
I must have tasted of a better life,
And am not to be blam'd, if I renew
By lawful means the joys which then I knew.
Where was the crime, if pleasure I procur'd,
Young, and a woman, and to bliss inur'd!
That was my case, and this is my defence:
I pleas'd myself, I shunn'd incontinence,
And, urg'd by strong desires, indulg'd my sense.
Left to myself, I must avow, I strove
From public shame to screen my secret love,
And, well acquainted with thy native pride,
Endeavour'd, what I could not help, to hide;
For which a woman's wit an easy way supplied.
How this, so well contriv'd, so closely laid,
Was known to thee, or by what chance betray'd,
Is not my care; to please thy pride alone,
I could have wish'd it had been still unknown.
Nor took I Guiscard by blind fancy led,
Or hasty choice, as many women wed;
But with deliberate care, and ripen'd thought,
At leisure. first design'd, before I wrought:
On him I rested, after long debate,
And not without considering, fix'd my fate:
His flame was equal, though by mine inspir'd;
(For so the difference of our birth requir'd ;)

Had first begun, what mine was forc'd to move:
But thus beginning, thus we persevere;
Our passions yet continue what they were,
Nor length of trial makes our joys the less sin-

cere.

At this my choice, though not by thine allow'd, (Thy judgment herding with the common crowd)

Thou tak'st unjust offence; and, led by them,
Dost less the merit, than the man esteem.
Too sharply, Tancred, by thy pride betray'd,
Hast thou against the laws of kind inveigh'd:
For all the offence is in opinion plac'd,
Which deems high birth by lowly choice debas'd.
This thought alone with fury fires thy breast,
(For holy marriage justifies the rest,)
That I have sunk the glories of the state,
And mix'd my blood with a plebeian mate;
In which I wonder thou shouldst oversee
Superior causes, or impute to me

The fault of fortune, or the fates' decree.
Or call it heaven's imperial power alone,
Which moves on springs of justice, though un-
known.

Yet this we see, though order'd for the best,
The bad exalted, and the good oppress'd;
Permitted laurels grace the lawless brow,
The unworthy rais'd, the worthy cast below.

But leaving that: search we the sacred
springs,

And backward trace the principles of things;
There shall we find, that when the world began,
One common mass compos'd the mould of man;
One paste of flesh on all degrees bestow'd,
And kneaded up alike with moist'ning blood.
The same Almighty power inspir'd the frame
With kindled life, and form'd the souls the same:
The faculties of intellect and will
Dispens'd with equal hand, dispos'd with equal
Like liberty indulg'd, with choice of good or ill:
Thus born alike, from virtue first began
The difference that distinguish'd man from

man:

[skill;

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