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"And one of our apostles, Saul once named, Long persecuted sore the faith of Christ, Till one day by the Spirit being inflamed,
Why dost thou persecute me thus ?' said Christ; And then from his offence he was reclaim'd,
And went for ever after preaching Christ;
"So, my Morgante, you may do likewise;
He who repents, thus writes the Evangelist,-
Than ninety-nine of the celestial list.
And thus great honour to Morgante paid
And saunter'd here and there, where'er they chose, The abbot show'd a chamber where array'd
Much armour was, and hung up certain bows;
There being a want of water in the place,
To go for water." "You shall be obey'd
Arrived there, a prodigious noise he hears,
An arrow for his bow, and lifts his head;
Morgante at a venture shot an arrow,
Which pierced a pig precisely in the ear, And pass'd unto the other side quite through, So that the boar, defunct, lay tripp'd up near. Another, to revenge his fellow farrow,
Against the giant rush'd in fierce career,
Perceiving that the pig was on him close,
The tun was on one shoulder, and there were
With the dead boars, and with that brimful vase,
The monks, who saw the water fresh and good, Rejoiced, but much more to perceive the pork; All animals are glad at sight of food:
They lay their breviaries to sleep, and work With greedy pleasure, and in such a mood, That the flesh needs no salt beneath their fork; Of rankness and of rot there is no fear, For all the fasts are now left in arrear.
As though they wish'd to burst at once, they ate;
A few days after this convivial scene,
The horse Morgante to a meadow led,
Or to skim eggs unbroke was light enough;
But finally he thought fit to dismount,
And said, "I am as light as any feather, And he has burst-to this what say you, count?"
Orlando answer'd, "Like a ship's mast rather You seem to me, and with the truck for front:Let him go; fortune wills that we together Should march, but you on foot, Morgante, still." To which the giant answer'd, "So I will.
"When there shall be occasion, you shall see How I approve my courage in the fight." Orlando said, "I really think you'll be,
If it should prove God's will, a goodly knight, Nor will you napping there discover me:
But never mind your horse, though out of sight 'T were best to carry him into some wood, If but the means or way I understood."
The giant said, "Then carry him I will,
But lend a hand to place him on my back."
Full from the spring which neither swerved nor shook. As you have done to him, will do to you,
"Take care he don't revenge himself, though dead, As Nessus did of old beyond all cure;
I don't know if the fact you've heard or read, But he will make you burst, you may be sure." "But help him on my back," Morgante said, "And your shall see what weight I can endure: In place, my gentle Roland, of this palfrey, With all the bells, I'd carry yonder belfry." LXXIII.
The abbot said, "The steeple may do well,
But, for the bells, you've broken them, I wot." Morgante answer'd, "Let them pay in hell
The penalty, who lie dead in yon grot:"
Morgante was like any mountain framed;
Because he was one of his family; And, fearing that he might be hurt or maim'd, Once more he bade him lay his burthen by: "Put down, nor bear him further the desert in." Morgante said, "I'll carry him for certain."
He did; and stow'd him in some nook away,
The honours they continued to receive
Perhaps exceeded what his merits claim'd: He said, "I mean, and quickly, to retrieve
The lost days of time past, which may be blamed; Some days ago I should have ask'd your leave, Kind father, but I really was ashamed, And know not how to show my sentiment, So much I see you with our stay content.
"But in my heart I bear through every clime,
Now when the abbot Count Orlando heard,
"We can indeed but honour you with masses, And sermons, thanksgivings, and pater-nosters, Hot suppers, dinners (fitting other places
In verity much rather than the cloisters); But such a love for you my heart embraces, For thousand virtues which your bosom fosters, That wheresoe'er you go, I too shall be,
| And, on the other part, you rest with me. LXXX.
"This may involve a seeming contradiction,
But you, I know, are sage, and feel, and taste, And understand my speech with full conviction. For your just pious deeds may you be graced With the Lord's great reward and benediction, By whom you were directed to this waste: To his high mercy is our freedom due, For which we render thanks to him and you.
Orlando answer'd, "If there should lie loose Some armour, ere our journey we begin, Which might be turn'd to my companion's use, The gift would be acceptable to me." The abbot said to him, "Come in and see." LXXXIV.
And in a certain closet, where the wall
Was cover'd with old armour like a crust, The abbot said to them, "I give you all."
Morgante rummaged piecemeal from the dust
'T was an immeasurable giant's, who
Who long had waged a war implacable:
Secing this history, Count Orlando said
So that he could not keep his visage dry,-
From evil keep you, the high King of Glory!
Note 1. Page 500, line 57.
He gave him such a punch upon the head. "Gli dette in sulla testa un gran punzone." It is strange that Pulci should have literally anticipated the technical terms of my old friend and master, Jackson, and the art which he has carried to its highest pitch. "A punch on the head," or, "a punch in the head," "un punzone in sulla testa," is the exact and frequent phrase of our best pugilists, who little dream that they are talking the purest Tuscan.
AN APOSTROPHIC HYMN.
Qualis in Eurotæ ripis, aut per juga Cynthi,
Such on Eurota's banks, or Cynthia's height,
TO THE PUBLISHER.
saw up and down sort of tune, that reminded me of the "black joke," only more "affettuoso,” till it made me quite giddy with wondering they were not so. By and by they stopped a bit, and I thought they would sit or fall down:-but, no; with Mrs. H.'s hand on his I AM a country gentleman of a midland county. shoulder, "quam familiariter" (as Terence said when might have been a parliament-man for a certain bo-I was at school), they walked about a minute, and then rough, having had the offer of as many votes as at it again, like two cock-chafers spitted on the same General T. at the general election in 1812. But I bodkin. I asked what all this meant, when, with a was all for domestic happiness; as, fifteen years ago, on a visit to London, I married a middle-aged maid of honour. We lived happily at Hornem Hall till last season, when wife and I were invited by the Countess of Waltzaway (a distant relation of my spouse) to pass the winter in town. Thinking no harm, and our girls being come to a marriageable (or as they call it, marketable) age, and having besides a chancery suit inveterately entailed upon the family estate, we came up in our old chariot, of which, by the by, my wife grew so much ashamed in less than a week, that I was
loud laugh, a child no older than our Wilhelmina (a name I never heard but in the Vicar of Wakefield, though her mother would call her after the Princess of Swappenbach), said, "Lord, Mr. Hornem, can't you see they are valtzing," or waltzing (I forget which); and then up she got, and her mother and sister, and away they went, and round-abouted it till supper-time. Now that I know what it is, I like it of all things, and so does Mrs. H. (though I have broken my shins, and four times overturned Mrs. Hornem's maid in practising the preliminary steps in the morning). Indeed, so much do obliged to buy a second-hand barouche, of which 1 I like it, that having a turn for rhyme, tastily displayed might mount the box, Mrs. H. says, if I could drive, in some election ballads, and songs in honour of all the but never see the inside that place being reserved victories (but till lately I have had little practice in that for the Honourable Augustus Tiptoe, her partner- way), I sat down, and with the aid of W. F. Esq., and general and opera-knight. Hearing great praises of a few hints from Dr. B. (whose recitations I attend, and Mrs. H.'s dancing (she was famous for birth-night min-am monstrous fond of Master B.'s manner of delivering uets in the latter end of the last century), I unbooted, his father's late successful D. L. address), I composed and went to a ball at the Countess's, expecting to see the following hymn, wherewithal to make my senta country dance, or, at most, cotillons, reels, and all ments known to the public, whom, nevertheless, I the old paces to the newest tunes. But, judge of heartily despise as well as the critics. my surprise, on arriving, to see poor dear Mrs. Hornem with her arms half round the loins of a huge hussarlooking gentleman I never set eyes on before; and his, to say trutn, rather more than half round her waist, urning round, and round, and round, to a d―d see
I am, Sir, yours, etc., etc.
MUSE of the many-twinkling feet!3 whose charms
Far be from thee and thine the name of prude;
Hail, nimble nymph! to whom the young hussar, The whisker'd votary of waltz and warHis night devotes, despite of spur and boots, A sight unmatch'd since Orpheus and his brutes: Hail, spirit-stirring Waltz!-beneath whose banners A modern hero fought for modish manners; On Hounslow's heath to rival Wellesley's fame, Cock'd-fired—and miss'd his man—but gain'd his aim: Hail, moving muse! to whom the fair one's breast Gives all it can, and bids us take the rest. Oh! for the flow of Busby, or of Fitz, The latter's loyalty, the former's wits, To" energize the object I pursue,"
And give both Belial and his dance their due!—
Imperial Waltz! imported from the Rhine
Oh, Germany! how much to thee we owe,
We bless thee still-for George the Third is left!
But peace to her-her emperor and diet, Though now transferr'd to Buonaparte's "fiat;" Back to my theme-O Muse of motion! say, How first to Albion found thy Waltz her way?
Borne on the breath of hyperborean gales,
She came-Waltz came-and with her certain sets
To you-ye husbands of ten years! whose brows
you, ye matrons, ever on the watch To mar a son's, or make a daughter's match! To you, ye children of whom chance accordsAlways the ladies, and sometimes their lords; To you-ye single gentlemen; who seek Torments for life, or pleasures for a week; As Love or Hymen your endeavours guide, To gain your own, or snatch another's bride; To one and all the lovely stranger came, And every ball-room echoes with her name.
Endearing Waltz-to thy more melting tune Bow, Irish jig, and ancient rigadoon; Scotch reels, avaunt! and country-dance, foregu Your future claims to each fantastic toe; Waltz-Waltz alone-both legs and arms demands. Liberal of feet, and lavish of her hands; Hands which may freely range in public sight Where ne'er before-but-pray "put out the light." Methinks the glare of yonder chandelier Shines much too far-or I am much too near; And true, though strange-Waltz whispers this remar "My slippery steps are safest in the dark!" But here the muse with due decorum halts, And lends her longest petticoat to Waltz.
Shades of those belles, whose reign began of yore,
Seductive Waltz!-though on thy native shore
Blest was the time Waltz chose for her début;
With vests or ribands-deck'd alike in hue,
New troopers strut, new turncoats blush in blue:
The ball begins-the honours of the house
With K-t's gay grace, or sapient G-st-r's mien,
whose judging sprite
O ye! who loved our grandmothers of yore,
Flush in the cheek and languish in the eyes;
But ye--who never felt a single thought