"Il spirito usci dal fiume a un tratto,
E venne come Dio l'aveva fatto,
E presentando come un cortegiano
Alla donna gentil la destra mano,
'Scusate,' disse si io vengo avanti
E se vi do la mano sensa guanti."--_Paranti_.
The following, as a French book of fables says, is "a poem, or rather
prose rhymed:"
"Two pretty maids one morning sat by the rushing stream. It murmured
glittering in the sun; it seemed to sing as on it run, enchanting
while a wantoning, as in a merry dream.
"Said one unto the other: 'I wish, and all in truth, that the
glorious dancing river were as fine and brave a youth. Its voice is
like an angel's, its drops of light like eyes so bright are beautiful
I wis. Oh, ne'er before, on sea or shore, did I love aught like
this.'
"A voice came from the river: 'For a love thou hast chosen me;
henceforward, sweet, for ever thine own love I will be. Wherever
there is water, of Florence the fairest daughter, by night or day or
far away, thou'lt find me close by thee.'
"She saw bright eyes a shining in dewdrops on her path--she returned
unto the palace, she entered in a bath. 'How the water doth caress
me; 'tis embracing me, I vow! _M'abbracia_, _mi baccia_--my lover
has me now. Since fate has really willed it, then to my fate I bow.'
"Seven years have come and vanished, seven years of perfect bliss.
Whenever she washed in water, she felt her lover's kiss. She washed
full oft, I ween; 'twas plain to be seen there was no maid in
Florence who kept herself so clean.
"Little by little, as summer makes frogs croak in a ditch, there
spread about a rumour that the damsel was a witch. They showed her
scanty mercies; with cruelty extreme, with blows and bitter curses,
they cast her in the stream. 'If she be innocent, she'll sink, so
hurl her from the Arno's brink; if guilty, she will swim!'
"Up rose from the sparkling river a youth who was fair to see. 'I
have loved thee, and for ever thine own I'll truly be.' He took her
in his arms; she felt no more alarms. 'Farewell to you all!' sang
she; 'a fish cannot drown in the water; now I am a fish, you
know--the Arno's loving daughter. _Per sempre addio_!'"
The foregoing is not literal, nor do I know that it is strictly
"traditional;" it is a mere short tale or anecdote which I met with, and
put into irregular metre to suit the sound of a rushing stream. I take
the liberty of adding to it another water-poem of my own, which has
become, if not "popular," at least a halfpenny broadside sold at divers
street-stands by old women, the history whereof is as follows:--I had
written several ballads in Italian in imitation of the simplest
old-fashioned lyrics, and was anxious to know if I had really succeeded
in coming down to the level of the people, for this is a very difficult
thing to do in any language. When I showed them to Marietta Pery, she
expressed it as her candid opinion that they were really very nice
indeed, and that I ought for once in my life to come before the public as
a poet. And as I, fired by literary ambition, at last consented to
appear in this _role_, Marietta took a ballad, and going to E. Ducci, 32
Via Pilastri, who is the Catnach of Florence (I advise collectors of the
really curious to buy his _soldo_ publications), made an arrangement
whereby my song should appear as a broadside, the lady strictly
conditioning that from among his blocks Signore Ducci should find a ship
and a flying bird to grace the head and the end of the lyric. But as he
had no bird, she took great credit to herself that for five francs she
not only got a hundred copies, but also had specially engraved for the
work and inserted an object which appears as flying to the right hand of
the ship. The song was as follows:
LA BELLA STREGA.
_Nuova Canzonetta di_ CHARLES GODFREY LELAND.
Era una bella strega
Che si bagnava alla riva;
Vennero i pirati
Lei presero captiva.
Il vento era in poppa
Sull' onde la nave ballo
La donna lacrimante
Al capitan parlo.
"O Signor capitano!
O Capitano del mar!
Daro cento ducati,
Se tu mi lasci andar."
"Non prendero cento ducati,
Tu costi molto piu
Io ti vendro al Sultano,"
Disse il Capitano,
"Per mille zecchini d'oro
Vi stimi troppo giu."
"Non vuoi i cento ducati
Ebben tu non gli avrai,
Ho un' amante amato
Non mi abbandona mai."
Essa sede sul ponte
Principio a cantar,
"Vieni il mio amante,"
Da lontano il vento
Si mette a mugghiar.
Forte e piu forte
La tempesta ruggio,
Gridava il capitano:
"Io credo che il tuo amante
E il vento che corre innante,
Ovvero il diavolo."
Forte e piu forte
La procella urlo,
"Sono rocce davanti,
E il vento vien di dietro
Benvenuto sei tu mio amante!"
La bella donna canto.
[Picture: A sailing ship with flying bird]
"Vattene al tuo amante
All' inferno a cantar!"
Disse il Capitano
E getto la donna fuori,
Della nave nel mar.
Ma come un gabbiano
Sull' onde essa volo.
"O mio Capitano,
Non sarai appiccato,
Ma sarai annegato:
Per sempre addio!"
The Beautiful Witch.
A pretty witch was bathing
In the sea one summer day;
There came a ship with pirates,
Who carried her away.
The ship due course was keeping
On the waves as they rose and broke;
The lovely lady, weeping,
Thus to the captain spoke:
"O Signor Capitano!
O captain of the sea!
I'll give you a hundred ducats
If you will set me free."
"I will not take a hundred,
You're worth much more, you know;
I will sell you to the Sultan
For a hundred gold sequins;
You set yourself far too low."
"You will not take a hundred--
Oh well! then let them be,
But I have a faithful lover,
Who, as you may discover,
Will never abandon me."
Upon the windlass sitting,
The lady began to sing:
"Oh, come to me, my lover!"
From afar a breeze just rising
In the rigging began to ring.
Louder and ever louder
The wind began to blow:
Said the captain, "I think your lover
Is the squall which is coming over,
Or the devil who has us in tow."
Stronger and ever stronger
The tempest roared and rang,
"There are rocks ahead and the wind dead aft,
Thank you, my love," the lady laughed;
And loud to the wind she sang.
"Oh, go with your cursed lover,
To the devil to sing for me!"
Thus cried the angry rover,
And threw the lady over
Into the raging sea.
But changing to a seagull,
Over the waves she flew:
"Oh captain, captain mine," sung she,
"You will not swing on the gallows-tree,
For you shall drown in the foaming sea--
Oh captain, for ever adieu!"
I must in honesty admit that this my _debut_ as an Italian poet was not
noticed in any of the reviews--possibly because I did not send it to
them--and there were no indications that anybody considered that a new
Dante had arisen in the land. It is true, as Marietta told me with much
delight, that the printer, or his foreman, had declared it was a very
good song indeed; but then he was an interested party. And Marietta also
kindly praised it to the skies (after she had corrected it); but then
Marietta was herself a far better poet than I can ever hope to be, and
could afford to be generous.
The reader will pardon me if I avail myself of the opportunity to give
another Italian ballad which I wrote on a theme which I also picked up in
Florence.
Il Giardino d'Amore, o La Figlia del Re, e il Contino Stregone.
Era un giovine Contino,
Di tutto il paese il fior,
Aveva un bel giardino,
Il bel giardin d'amor.
"Chi batte alla mia porta?"
Domanda il bel Contin'.
"Son la figlia del re,
Vo vedere il tuo giardin'?"
"Entra pur nel mio giardino,
O bella figlia del re,
Purche tu non tocchi niente,
A cio che dentro v'e!"
Entrata nel giardino,
La bella figlia del re,
Non vidde cola niente,
Che fiori e foglie.
Le foglie eran d'argento,
Di oro ogni fior,
I frutti eran' gemmi,
Nel bel giardin d'amor.
Sedi sulla panchetta,
Sotto il frascame la;
Che vissi nel sentiero?
Un bell' anello c'era.
Non seppe che il Contino,
Fu stregone appostator;
Non seppe che l'anello,
Era lo stesso signor.
Ella ando nel suo letto,
Con l'anello nella man',
Non 'n sospetto che la trasse
Sul dito un giovan.
Svegliato da un bacino,
Tra la mezzanotte e tre;
Si trovo il bel Contino
Accanto alla figlia del re.
Credo che fu ben contenta
Con la cosa come era;
Come molte donne sarebbero
Con tal stregoneria.
Portar dei gioielli,
A de' sposi il fior;
Il di un di-amante,
La notte un bel signor.
D'avere un bel diamante
Piace ognuno, si;
Ma meglio e un amante
Quando non ha piu il _di_.
Chi scrisse questa canzone
Un gran Contino e,
Anch 'egli il stregone
Ch' amava la figlia del re.
The Garden of Love, or The King's Daughter and the Wizard Count.
There was a Count of high degree,
All others far above;
He had a garden fair to see,
'Twas called the Garden of Love.
"Now who is knocking at my gate?
Who is it that makes so free?"
"Oh, I am the daughter of the king,
And your garden I would see!"
"Oh, come into my garden,
Fair daughter of the king!
Look well at all that's growing,
But touch not anything!"
She entered in the garden,
The princess young and fair,
She looked it all well over,
Yet nothing but trees were there.
But every leaf was of silver,
The flowers of gold; in the grove
The fruits were gems and jewels
In the beautiful Garden of Love.
She sat beneath the foliage,
The daughter of the king;
What shone in the path before her?
A beautiful diamond ring!
She knew not that the County
Was a wizard wondrous wise;
She did not know that the diamond
Was the wizard in disguise.
And when at night, fast sleeping,
The diamond ring she wore,
She never dreamed that her finger
Was bearing a young signor.
Awakened by his kisses
As she heard the midnight ring,
There was the handsome wizard
By the daughter of the king.
I ween she was well contented,
As many dames would be,
If they could be enchanted
With just such sorcery.
To have not only a jewel,
But a husband, which is more,
All day a dazzling diamond,
And by night a bright signor!
Who was it wrote this ballad
About this loving pair?
He was the Count and wizard
Who won the princess fair.