[105] These translations are to be found in the 12th volume, being placed after the versions of Ovid's "Epistles."
[106] I cannot find any such passages in Spenser as are here alluded to.
[107] Edward Fairfax, natural son of Sir Thomas Fairfax of Denton in Yorkshire, translated Tasso's celebrated poem, stanza for stanza, with equal elegance and fidelity. His version, entitled "Godfrey of Bulloigne, or the Recovery of Jerusalem," was first published in 1600. Collins has paid the original author and translator the following singular compliment:
"How have I sate, while piped the pensive wind,
To hear thy harp by British Fairfax strung;
Prevailing poet, whose undoubting mind
Believed the magic wonders that he sung."
Ode on Highland Superstitions.
[108] It would seem, from this respectful expression, that our author's feud with Rymer (See Vol. XI. p. 60. Vol. XII. p. 46.) was now composed.
[109] Jeremy Collier, whose diatribe against the theatre galled Dryden severely.
[110] See this version, Vol. XII. p. 357.
[111] The celebrated author of the "Leviathan." Burnet says, he was esteemed at court as a mathematician, though he had little talent that way.
[112] In this instance Dryden has inverted the fact. Boccacio tells the story of Griselda in his "Decameron," which was written about 1160, and Petrarch did not translate it till 1173, the year of his death, when he executed a Latin version of it. Even then, he mentions it as a traditional tale, which he had often heard with pleasure. The original edition of the story is difficult to discover. Noguier, in his "Histoire de Tholouse," affirms, that this mirror of female patience actually existed about the year 1103, and Le Grand lays claim to her history as originally a French fabliau. It seems certain, at least, that it was not invented by Petrarch, although Chaucer quotes his authority, probably that he might introduce a panegyric on his departed friend:
"I wol you tell a tale, which that I
Lerned at Padowe of a worthy clerk,
As proved by his wordes, and his werk:
He now is dede, and nailed in his cheste,
I pray to God so geve his soule reste.
Fraunceis Petrark, the laureate poete,
Highte this clerke, whose rhetorik swete
Enlumined all Itaille of poetrie."
Clerke's Prologue.