Ma nella bocca, ond' esce aura amorosa, Sola rosseggia, e semplice la rosa." How very different is Fairefax's translation—it is beautiful, but it is not the beauty of Tasso. "The rose, the lily on her cheeke, assaies To paint true fairenesse out in bravest sort; The turn, or rather the conceit, in the last line, is entirely Fairefax's own property. The following is the description of Armida when she had concluded her appeal. "There silenc'd she, and seemed a disdaine, If so a dewy cloud do water them, When to calme breath their closed lap they spred, The conquering beauty and guile of Armida is finely told, and the version of it is by no means bad. "But whiles she sweetly speakes, and laughes sweetly, And with this two-fold sweetnes luls the sense, Well neere she makes the soule from bodie fly, As 'gainst so rare delites voyde of defence. Ah, cruel love! that slay'th us equally Where wormewood thou or hony do dispence, And equal deadly at all seasons bee Mischiefes and medicines, which proceede of thee." Fairefax, according to his custom, has forced two similies into this stanza; we have "Cupid's deepe rivers have their shallow fordes." And again: "Achilles' lance, that woundes and heales againe." There is much spirit in the following version.-Rinaldo is indignant at his threatened punishment. "Rinaldo somewhat smilde, and with a face, Will die, 'ere base cord, hand or foot astraine : But if for my deserts such recompense Godfrey will yeeld, and me in prison cast, Then let him come or send, I will not hence: Present for pastime to our forraine foe. This said, he cals for armes, and head and brest (As lightning wonts) he in his armour shines: Tancred this while his fierce sprites doth procure, I know, ech hard and tough attempt will plie: Midst armes and terrour stands your vertue hie: So cruelly to our annoyance heere. Tell me what meane you do? will you go staine And with Christen's vnworthy wounds, againe And shall respects of fading honour vaine, (Which like sea waves soone flow, and ebbe as farre ;) Worke more with you than either faith or zeale, Which glory bring of heav'n's endlesse weale! Ah! no, (for God) conquer yourself, and kill For palme is to your giving place assignde, To their advises the disdaineful hart Of this audacious youth beturning plies, He parts, and of high glory a large bent Doth none but workes of rarest price endite, But Guelfe, when as the fierce young man thus wise, There brookes no longer stay, but speedy hies, Where guesse might Godfrey soonest yeeld to vew, And sent but late to sundry wheres about Then makes all els withdraw, and turning low, Your nephew verily (my friend Guelpho) To headlong runnes, where heats his courage drive, And of his deede (I deeme) can hardly showe Come he to his restraint in liberty, What may be to his merits I consent; And of his lawes, as reason doth require.” We shall close our extracts with the address to the soldiers, from the conclusion of the fifth book. "Oh you that with me past have here and there Even from your birth, deere Christians he chose, Can then the Lord, who you doth stirre and guide, Not now assure you? as if turn'd aside His hand of mercy were, or holy face? One day 'twill joy to thinke what harmes betide With these words he their minds, to fore dismaide, But yet amid his brest, in heapes uplaide, A thousand sad sharp cares their lodging tooke, How he so many men may feede and aide; "Twixt want and dearth his thoughtfull minde it shooke, How he may fleete at sea withstand, and how Th' Arabian robbers he may breake or bow." From the few instances in which we have compared Carew with his more successful follower, it will be immediately perceived, that the superiority of the latter principally consists in a greater ease and freedom of style, and gracefulness of expression. The collocation of Carew's sentences frequently renders them harsh and untuneable, an evil which he has preferred even to the slightest deviation from the sense of his author. Could he have possessed Fairefax's power and sweetness of versification, and yet have retained his own scrupulous accuracy, then indeed might we have had a translation worthy of the original. As it is, this is yet a desideratum. Of the many translators of the Jerusalem, Fairefax may perhaps be said to approach nearest to the spirit of the original, and yet we have seen how frequently he ventures to combine his own imaginations with the loftier inspirations of Tasso. More than half the similies in his translation never entered into the mind of Tasso; sometimes they are fortunate and add effect to the stanza, sometimes they weaken it, and occasionally they destroy the beauty of it altogether. Fairefax seems to have caught the idea, and to have elaborated it according to the conceptions of his own fancy, while Carew on the contrary thought and felt with the mind and heart of Tasso, though unfortunately his hand was incapable of sounding the chords of the poet's lyre. Sometimes indeed, as we think our extracts fully prove, he is singularly successful, but he soon reverts to a harsh and unmusical strain. We have not thought it worth while to institute any comparison between this antique version, and the more modern attempts either of Hoole, or still more lately of the Rev. Mr. Hunt. As for the translations of Mr. Brooke and Mr. Doyne, they are, we believe, little known and less regarded. It was the intention of Gray to have attempted a version of this great poem, and he had made some progress in the translation of the fourth canto. From the pen of this highly polished poet we might have expected a correct and spirited translation, but we doubt whether he was sufficiently acquainted with the peculiar character of Italian poetry to have executed such a task with complete success. It is singular that Fairefax should have been ignorant of Carew's translation, and yet on a comparison of the two works we are persuaded that this must have been the case. In no instance either in style or substance does he appear to have been indebted to his predecessor. Had he been familiar with the work, he would undoubtedly not have fallen into some errors from which Carew's version is entirely free. It is impossible that Fairefax could have had access to it, else he could never have given the very extraordinary translation of the fiftyfifth stanza in the second book, which it has required all the skill of his editors to render intelligible. A more striking proof of this fact, however, is the translation of the fortieth stanza of the same book, which, though rather rude, is correct in Carew, while the meaning has been perfectly misunderstood by Fairefax. |