Vola, com' un falcone che ha seco il vento!

Merely to compare his mistress to a rose, would have been common-place.

She is a rose "unfolding her _paradise_ of leaves,"--a charming expression, which has been adopted, I think, by one of our living poets.

Mingled with the most rapturous praise of Alessandra's triumphant beauty, we have constantly the most delightful impression of her tenderness, her frank and courteous bearing, and the gladness which her presence diffuses through his heart, which, after the sentimental lamentations of former poets, are really a relief.

I can understand the self-congratulation, the secret enjoyment, with which Ariosto dwelt on the praises of Alessandra, celebrated her charms, and exulted in her love, while her name remained an impenetrable secret,

Nor pa.s.s'd his lips in holy silence seal'd!

But when once he had introduced her into the Orlando, he must have had a very modest idea of his own future renown, not to have antic.i.p.ated the consequences. A famous pa.s.sage in the 42d canto, is now universally admitted to be a description of Alessandra.[85] She is very strikingly introduced, and yet with the usual characteristic mystery; so that while nothing is omitted that can excite interest and curiosity, every means are taken to baffle and disappoint both. Rinaldo, while travelling in Italy, arrives at a splendid palace on the banks of the Po. It is minutely described, with all the prodigal magnificence of the Arabian Nights', and all the taste of an architect; and among other riches, is adorned with the statues of the most celebrated women of that age, all of whom are named at length; but among them stands the effigy of one so preminent in majesty, and beauty, and intellect, that though she is partly veiled, and habited in modest black, (alluding to her recent widowhood,) though she wears neither jewels nor chains of gold, she eclipses all the beauties around her, as the evening star outshines all others.

Che sotto puro velo, in nera gonna Senza oro e gemme, in un vestire schietto, Fra le pi adorne non parea men bella Che sia tra l'altre la ciprigna stella![86]

At her side stands the image of one, who in humble strains had dared to celebrate her virtues and her beauty (meaning himself). "But," adds the poet modestly, "I know not why he alone should be placed there, nor what he had done to be so honoured; of all the rest, the names were sculptured beneath; but of these two, the names remained unknown."--No, not so! for those whom Love and Fame have joined together, who shall henceforth sunder?

The Orlando Furioso was completed and published shortly after Ariosto's visit to Florence; and this pa.s.sage must have been written apparently not only before his marriage with Alessandra, but before he was even secure of her affection; perhaps he read it aloud to her, and while his stolen looks and faltering voice betrayed the true object of this most beautiful and refined homage, she must have felt the delicacy which had suppressed her name. In such a moment, how little could she have heeded or thought of the voice of future fame, while the accents of her lover thrilled through her heart!

Alessandra removed from Florence to Ferrara, about 1519, and inhabited the Casa Strozzi, in the street of Santa Maria in Vado. The residence of Ariosto was in the Via Mirasole, at some distance. Both houses are still standing. She died in 1552, having survived the poet about nineteen years; and she was buried in the church of San Rocco at Ferrara.

She bore no children to Ariosto; and her son, by her first marriage (Count Guido Strozzi), died before her.

Ariosto left two sons, whom he tenderly loved, and had educated with extreme care. The eldest, Virginio, was the son of a beautiful Contadinella, whose name was Orsolina; the mother of the youngest, Giovanbattista, was also a girl of inferior rank; her name was Maria.

Neither are once mentioned or alluded to by Ariosto; but the mischievous industry of the poet's commentators has immortalized their names and their frailty.

FOOTNOTES:

[75]

----Non ebbe unqua pastore Di me pi lieto, o pi felice amore!

See the canzone to Ginevra, quoted by Baruffaldi. Vita, p. 148.

[76] Monti. Poesie varie, p. 88.

[77] Translated by a friend.

[78] Sonnet 27.

[79] Stewart Rose's translation.

[80] The 26th, 27th, and 28th.

[81] Lycurgus, King of Thrace.

[82] Ariosto. Rime.

[83] The proofs may be consulted in Baruffaldi, "Vita di M. Ludovico Ariosto," published in 1807; and also in Frizzi, "Memorie della Famiglia Ariosto."

[84] Baruffaldi gives some family reasons, but they are far from being satisfactory.--See VITA, in p. 159.

[85] Ruscelli, Fabroni, Baruffaldi, and the late poet Monti, are all agreed on this point.

[86] Orlando Furioso, c. 42, st. 93.

CHAPTER XIV.

SPENSER'S ROSALIND AND SPENSER'S ELIZABETH.

Pa.s.s we from the Ariosto of Italy, to Spenser, our English Ariosto; the transition is natural:--they resemble each other certainly, but with a difference, and this difference reigns especially in their minor poems.

The tender heart and luxuriant fancy of Spenser have thrown round his attachments all the strong interest of reality and all the charm of romance and poetry; and since we know that the first developement of his genius was owing to female influence, his Rosalind ought to have been deified for what her beauty achieved, had she possessed sufficient soul to appreciate the l.u.s.tre of her conquest.

Immediately on leaving college, Spenser retired to the north of England, where he first became enamoured of the fair being to whom, according to the fashion of the day, he gave the fanciful appellation of Rosalind. We are told that the letters which form this word being "well ordered,"

(that is, _transposed_) comprehend her real name; but it has. .h.i.therto escaped the penetration of his biographers. Two of his friends were entrusted with the secret, and they, with a discretion more to be regretted than blamed, have kept it. One of these, who speaks from personal knowledge, tells us, in a note on the Eclogues, that she was the daughter of a widow; that she was a gentlewoman, and one "that for her rare and singular gifts of person and mind, Spenser need not have been ashamed to love." We can believe this of a poet, whose delicate perception of female worth breathes in almost every page of his works; but after having, as he hoped, made some progress in her heart, a rival stept in, whom Spenser accuses expressly of having supplanted him by treacherous arts;[87] and on this obscure and nameless wight, Rosalind bestowed the hand which had been coveted,--the charms which had been sung by Spenser! He suffered long and deeply, wounded both in his pride and in his love: but her beauty and virtue had made a stronger impression than her cruelty; and her lover, with a generous tenderness, not only pardoned, but found excuses for her disdain.

"I have often heard, Fair Rosalind of divers foully blam'd, For being to that swain too cruel hard; But who can tell what cause had that fair maid To use him so, that loved her so well?

Or who with blame can justly her upbraid, For loving not; for who can love compel?

And (sooth to say) it is full handy thing Rashly to censure creatures so divine; For demi-G.o.ds they be; and first did spring From heaven, though graft in frailness feminine."[88]

The exquisite sentiment of these lines is worthy of him who sung of "heavenly Una and her milk-white lamb."

To the memory of Rosalind,--to the long felt influence of this first pa.s.sion, and to the melancholy shade which his early disappointment cast over a mind naturally cheerful, we owe some of the most tender and beautiful pa.s.sages scattered through his later poems:--for instance--the bitter sense of recollected suffering, seems to have suggested that fine description of a lover's life, which may almost rank as a _pendant_ to the miseries of the courtier, so well known and often quoted.

Full little know'st thou that hast not tied, &c.

It occurs in the "Hymn to Love."

The gnawing envy, the heart-fretting fear, The vain surmises, the distrustful shows, The false reports that flying tales do bear, The doubts, the dangers, the delays, the woes, The feigned friends, the una.s.sured foes, With thousands more than any tongue can tell-- Do make a lover's life, a wretch's h.e.l.l!

And again in the Fairey Queen:--

What equal torment to the grief of mind.

And pining anguish, hid in gentle heart, That inly foods itself with thoughts unkind, And nourisheth its own consuming smart; And will to none its malady impart!

The effects produced in a n.o.ble and gentle spirit, by virtuous love for an exalted object, are not less elegantly described in another stanza of the Hymn to Love; and must have been read with rapture in that chivalrous age. The last line is particularly beautiful.

Then forth he casts in his unquiet thought, What he may do, her favour to obtain; What brave exploit, what peril hardly wrought, What puissant conquest, what adventurous pain, May please her best, and grace unto him gain; He dreads no danger, nor misfortune fears,-- His faith, his fortune, in his breast he bears!

And in what a fine spirit of poetry, as well as feeling, is that description of the power of true beauty, which forms part of his second Hymn! It is indeed imitated from the refined Platonics of the Italian school, which then prevailed in the court, the camp, the grove, and is a little diffuse in style, a little redundant; but how rich in poetry, and in the most luxuriant and graceful imagery!

How vainly then do idle wits invent, That beauty is nought else but mixture made Of colours fair, and goodly temperament Of pure complexions, that shall quickly fade And pa.s.s away, like to a summer's shade; Or that it is but comely composition Of parts well measured, with meet disposition!

Hath white and red in it such wondrous power, That it can pierce through th' eyes into the heart, And therein stir such rage and restless stowre, As nought but death can stint his dolor's smart?