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a line beautifully characteristic, is altogether neglected; but, to counterbalance these inaccuracies, Fairefax has inserted a line of his own, of singular deliciousness

“ The rose within herself her sweetnes clos’d;"

there is, however, nothing of the kind in the original. We shall
draw another parallel, in which we think Carew will not be
deemed inferior to his successor. It is the description of
Night, at the end of the second book-a description evidently
taken by Tasso from Virgil.
Fairefax. “Now spread the Night her spangled canopie,

And sommon'd every restlesse eie to sleepe:
On beds of tender grasse the beasts down lie,

The fishes slumb’red in the silent deep,
Unheard was serpents' hiss, and dragons' crie,

Birds left to sing, and Philomele to weepe,
Only that noise heav'ns rolling circles kest,

Sung lullabie, to bring the world to rest.*
Carew. Now was it night, when in deepe rest enrold,

Are waves and winds, and mute the world doth show,
Weari'd the beasts, and those that bottome hold

Of billow'd sea, and of moyst streames that flow,
And who are lodgde in cave, or pen'd in fold,

And painted Ayers in oblivion low,
Under their secret horrours silenced,
Stilled their cares, and their harts suppelled."

The following is the description, given by our translators, of the youthful Tancred preparing for the fight. Fairefax. “Mast-great the speare was which the gallant bore,

That in his war-like pride he made to shake,
As windes tall cedars tosse on mountaines hore.

The king, that wond’red at his brav’rie, spake
To her that neere him seated was before,

Who felt her hart with love's hot fever quake,
Well should'st thou know (quoth he) each Christian knight
By long acquaintance, though in armour dight.

* As a proof of the very unwarrantable alterations in the edition of Fairefax, published in 1749, we may observe that this line is given thus :

Sooth'd mortal cares, and lull'd the world to rest.”

Carew.

Say who is he showes so great worthinesse,

That rides so ranke, and bends his lance so fell?
To this the princesse said nor more nor lesse,

Her hart with sighes, her eies with teares did swell;
But sighes and teares she wisely could suppresse,

Her love and passion she dissembled well,
And strove her love and hot desires to cover,
'Till hart with sighs, and eyes with teares ron over.

Book III.
So strong great launce he beares, and in such guyse

This youth comes on, both fierce and faire in sight:
That king, who from aloft his port descryes,

Him deemes amongst the best a chosen knight,
And sayes to her, who in next seat him nyes,

And now her heart feels in a panting plight,
Through so long use you may to me declare
Ech Christen, though in armes they closed are.
What then is he that doth so seemely frame

Himselfe to just, and so fierce semblance beare?
Unto the ladie, for an answer came

On lips a sigh, and in her eyes a teare;
But breath and weeping backe she doth reclame,

Though so as yet they make some muster theare,
For her swolne eyes, a purple circle faire,
Tainted, and hoarse halfe sigh brake forth to aire.”

We may again remark the interpolation of a simile in the first book of these stanzas from Fairefax.

As windes tall cedars tosse on mountaines hore."

Carew's translation of the combat between Clorinda and Tancred is very spirited, though quaint.

“ Tancred's assault this while Clorinda plyes,

T'encounter, and in rest her launce bestowes ;
Ech t other's beaver hits, the splints to skyes .

Up start, and she in part disarmed showes :
For buckles broke, foorthwith the helmet flyes

From off her head, (a blow whence wonder growes,)
And golden lockes unto the wind display'd,
She midst the field appeares a youthly mayd.
Her eyes do flash, her lookes do lighten bright,

Sweet ev'n in wrath, in laughter then what grace

They hold ? Tancred, whereon think'st thou? thy sight

Where bend'st thou? know'st thou not this noble face?
This is that visage faire whence thou in light

Flames burn'st, thy hart (her picture's shrine) the case
Can show, this same is she whom quenching thirst
At solitarie spring thou sawest first.
He that of painted shield, and of her crest

Tooke earst no keepe, now seeing her doth grow
A stone, she bared head covers, as best

She may, and him assayles, he gets her fro,
And fell blade whirling, makes against the rest,

Yet at her hand peace cannot purchase so; ·
But threatfull him pursewes; and turne, she cries,
And to deathes twaine at once she him defies.
Stroken this knight, no strokes againe replyes,

Nor so from sword himselfe to guard attends,
As to regard her cheekes and fairest eyes,

From whence his bow Love uneschewed bends;
T'himselfe he sayes, ech blow unharmefull dyes,

Which force of her right hand (though armed) lends,
But never blow from her faire naked face

Falles vaine, but in my heart findes lighting place.” The description of Armida in the following stanza, though fantastic, is exceedingly beautiful—the four last lines are quite singular for the minute accuracy, yet happy elegance, of the translation.--Had it been possible that the whole Poem could have been so perfectly transmuted into English, we might, indeed, believe that we were reading Tasso.—The copy is absolutely verbatim.

“ The winde new crisples makes in her loose haire,

Which nature selfe to waves re-crispelled,
Her sparing lookes a coy regard doth beare,

And love's treasures and hers up wympelled, *
Sweete roses colour in that visage faire

With yvorie is spirst and mingelled,
But in her mouth whence breath of love outgoes,

Ruddy alone and single blooms the rose.”
The four last lines in Tasso run thus : ..
“Dolce color di rosse in quel bel volto

Fra l'avorie si sparge, e si confonde:

* Concealed.-A wimple is a covering for the neck.

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;
Her lips, where blooms nought but the single rose,
Still blush, for still they kisse while still they close.”

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,

Royall and noble, flamed in her face:
Then turning steps, she showes to part againe

With port all framde to sad despiteous grace;
Her ceaselesse mone in such a tune doth plaine,

As is begot when wrath and woe embrace,
And her new-borne teares for they to see,
'Gainst sunny rayes, christall and pearle bee.
Her cheekes with those life humours sprinckelled,

Which trickling dropt down on her vesture's hem,
Seem'd entermingled roses white and red;

If so a dewy cloud do water them,
When to calme breath their closed lap they spred,

What time first peered dawning takes his stemme,
And morn, which them beholds and in them joyes,
Proud with their ornament her lockes accoyes."

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,

In which, 'twixt laughter, flashed a disdaine,
Let him (quoth he) in bonds goe plead his cace,

That’s bond, and fit for bondage hath a graine;
I free was borne and live, and free in place

Will die, 'ere base cord, hand or foot astraine:
Used to my sword, and used palmes to beare,
Is this right hand, and scornes vile gyves to weare.
But if for my deserts such recompense

Godfrey will yeeld, and me in prison cast,
As I of vulgar were, and beare pretence

In common fetters to uptie me fast,
Then let him come or send, I will not hence:

'Twixt us shall chance and armes be judges plast,
I'le of a dismall tragedy the shoe
Present for pastime to our forraine foe.
This said, he cals for armes, and head and brest

In steele of finest choice most seemely shrines,
And with his waighty shield his arme he prest,

And fatall blade vnto his side combines,
And with a semblant brave and nobellest

(As lightning wonts) he in his armour shines :
Mars, he resembles thee, when from fift heav'n
Thou coms't down guirt with ire and ghastly leav'n.
Tancred this while his fierce sprites doth procure,

And hart upswolne with pride to mollifie;
Invict young man, (he says) to your valure,

I know, ech hard and tough attempt will plie:
With ease, I know, that ever most secure

Midst armes and terrour stands your vertue hie:
But God forbid you make it such appeere,
So cruelly to our annoyance heere.
Tell me what meane you do? will you go staine ,

Your yet cleane hands in bloud of civill warre?
And with Christen's vnworthy wounds, againe

Peirce Christ, of whom we part and members are ?

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