Volume II Part 7 (1/2)

Donna! caro mio pregio,--alta mercede-- Ben fu da te serbata; e ben si vede Che al commun' voler' sempre rispose, Del d ch' il ciel nel mio pensier' t' ascose, E quanto puote dar, tutto mi diede!

Ecco ch' io la t' invola--ecco ne spoglio Il freddo avorio che l' ornava; e vesto La mia, pi a.s.sai che la tua, mano esangue.

Dolce mio furto! finch vivo io voglio Che tu stia meco--ne le sia molesto Ch' or di pianto ti bagni,--e poi di sangue!

LITERAL TRANSLATION.

”This circlet of sculptured gold--this pledge which sacred affection placed on that fair hand--O Lady! dearest to me of all earthly things,--my sweet possession and my lovely prize,--well and faithfully didst thou preserve it! the bond of a mutual love and mutual faith, even from that hour when Heaven bestowed on me all it could bestow of bliss. Now then--O now do I take it from thee! and thus do I withdraw it from the cold ivory of that hand which so adorned and honoured it. I place it on mine own, now chill, and damp, and pale as thine.--O beloved theft!--While I live thou shall never part from me. Ah! be not offended if thus I stain thee with these tears,--and soon perhaps with life drops from my heart.”

Castiglione, besides being celebrated as the finest gentleman of his day, and the author of that code of all n.o.ble and knightly accomplishments, of perfect courtesy and gentle bearing--”Il Cortigiano,” must have a place among our conjugal poets. He had married in 1516, Hypolita di Torrello, whose accomplishments, beauty, and ill.u.s.trious birth, rendered her worthy of him. It appears, however, that her family, who were of Mantua, could not bear to part with her,[44] and that after her marriage, she remained in that city, while Castiglione was amba.s.sador at Rome. This separation gave rise to a very impa.s.sioned correspondence; and the tender regrets and remonstrances scattered through her letters, he transposed into a very beautiful poem, in the form of an epistle from his wife. It may be found in the appendix to Roscoe's Leo X. (No. 196.) Hypolita died in giving birth to a daughter, after a union of little more than three years, and left Castiglione for some time inconsolable. We are particularly told of the sympathy of the Pope and the Cardinals on this occasion, and that Leo condoled with him in a manner equally unusual and substantial, by bestowing on him immediately a pension of two hundred gold crowns.

FOOTNOTES:

[39] Zamboni.

[40] ”Molto vagamente spiegando i varj e differenti effetti che andavano cagionando nel di lei core, a misura che essi eran torbidi, o lieti, o sereni”--_See her Life by Zamboni._

[41] Sonnet 16.

[42] Ghiberto da Correggio died 1518.

[43] Constance; by his first wife, Violante di Mirandola.

[44] Sera.s.si.--Vita di Balda.s.sare Castiglione.

CHAPTER VII.

CONJUGAL POETRY CONTINUED.

STORY OF DR. DONNE AND HIS WIFE.

My next instance of conjugal poetry is taken from the literary history of our own country, and founded on as true and touching a piece of romance as ever was taken from the page of real life.

Dr. Donne, once so celebrated as a writer, now so neglected, is more interesting for his matrimonial history, and for one little poem addressed to his wife, than for all his learned, metaphysical, and theological productions. As a poet, it is probable that even readers of poetry know little of him, except from the lines at the bottom of the pages in Pope's version, or rather translation, of his Satires, the very recollection of which is enough to ”set one's ears on edge,” and verify Coleridge's witty and imitative couplet.--

Donne--whose muse on dromedary trots,-- Twists iron pokers into true love knots.

It is this inconceivable harshness of versification, which has caused Donne to be so little read, except by those who make our old poetry their study. One of these critics has truly observed, that ”there is scarce a writer in our language who has so thoroughly mixed up the good and the bad together.” What is good, is the result of truth, of pa.s.sion, of a strong mind, and a brilliant wit: what is bad, is the effect of a most perverse taste, and total want of harmony. No sooner has he kindled the fancy with a splendid thought, than it is as instantly quenched in a cloud of cold and obscure conceits: no sooner has he touched the heart with a feeling or sentiment, true to nature and powerfully expressed, than we are chilled or disgusted by pedantry or coa.r.s.eness.

The events of Donne's various life, and the romantic love he inspired and felt, make us recur to his works, with an interest and a curiosity, which while they give a value to every beauty we can discover, render his faults more glaring,--more provoking,--more intolerable.

In his youth he lavished a considerable fortune in dissipation, in travelling, and, it may be added, in the acquisition of great and various learning. He then entered the service of Lord Chancellor Ellesmere, as secretary. Under the same roof resided Lady Ellesmere's niece, Anne Moore, a lovely and amiable woman. She was about nineteen, and Donne was about thirty, handsome, lively, and polished by travel and study. They met constantly, and the result was a mutual attachment of the most ardent and romantic character. As they were continually together, and always in presence of watchful relations (”ambushed round with household spies,” as he expresses it,) it could not long be concealed. ”The friends of both parties,” says Walton, ”used much diligence and many arguments to kill or cool their affections for each other, but in vain:” and the lady's father, Sir George Moore, ”knowing prevention to be the best part of wisdom,” came up to town in all haste, and carried off his daughter into the country. But his preventive wisdom came too late: the lovers had been secretly married three weeks before.

This precipitate step was perhaps excusable, from the known violence and sternness of Sir George's character. His daughter was well aware that his consent would never be voluntary: she preferred marrying without it, to marrying against it; and trusted to obtain his forgiveness when there was no remedy:--a common mode of reasoning, I believe, in such cases.

Never perhaps was a youthful error of this description more bitterly punished--more deeply expiated--and so little repented of!

The Earl of Northumberland undertook to break the matter to Sir George, to reason with him on the subject; and to represent the excellent qualities of his son-in-law, and the duty of forgiveness, as a wise man, a father, and Christian. His intention was benevolent, and we have reason to regret that his speech or letter has not been preserved; for (such is human inconsistency!) this very Earl of Northumberland never could forgive his own daughter a similar disobedience,[45] but followed it with his curse, which he was with difficulty prevailed on to retract.

His mediation failed: Sir George, on learning that his precautions came too late, burst into a transport of rage, the effect of which resembled insanity. He had sufficient interest in the arbitrary court of James, to procure the imprisonment of Donne and the witnesses of his daughter's marriage; and he insisted that his brother-in-law should dismiss the young man from his office,--his only support. Lord Ellesmere yielded with extreme reluctance, saying, ”he parted with such a friend and such a secretary, as were a fitter servant for a King.” Donne, in sending this news to his wife, signs his name with the quaint oddity, which was so characteristic of his mind,--_John Donne, Anne Donne,--undone_: and _undone_ they truly were. As soon as he was released he claimed his wife; but it was many months before they were allowed to meet.

Have we for this kept guard, like spy o'er spy?

Had correspondence whilst the foe stood by?

Stolen (more to sweeten them) our many blisses Of meetings, conference, embracements, kisses?