* Mars.
5.
Since 'tis of thee I sing, as I have said,
And only of thy praise and pleasures dream;
Well pleased I to this fruitful field was led,
And sure I could not choose a sweeter theme.
Thou too, that down thy clear and ample bed
Dost run with grateful murmur, RAPID STREAM.
Awhile from thine impetuous course refrain,
While on thy banks I tune my mingled strain.
In the concluding address to the river, he apostrophizes the Adige, on whose banks he might be said to be writing, as he was then living in the town of Verona, which is watered by it, in the service of the Cardinal di Bibbiena.
One more specimen of his poetical prefaces, and I have done. It is the introduction to his third book; and in this too the reader, who will recognize a passage of the ars poetica of Horace, may observe how well Berni translates and applies his classical recollections.
1.
As they, who their unhappy task fulfil
In mines of England, Hungary, and Spain,
The deeper that they dig the mountain, still
Find richer treasure and securer gain;
And as wayfaring man who climbs a hill.
Surveys, as he ascends, a wider plain,
And shores and oceans open on his eye,
Exalted nearer to the starry sky:
2.
So in this book, indited for your pleasure,
If you believe and listen to my lore.
You, in advancing, shall discern new treasure,
And catch new lights and landscapes evermore.
Then by no former scale my promise measure,
Nor judge this strain by that which went before:
Since still my caves and rugged rocks unfold
A richer vein of jewels, pearls, and gold.
3.
And he who winds about my mountain's side,
Still spies new lands and seas, a glorious sight.
If patient industry and courage guide
Him from the valley to the frowning height.
Like prospect was the poet's who supplied
Flame out of smoke, instead of smoke from light;
With wise Ulysses' acts to fill our ears.
To the more wonderment of him who hears.
So much for the poetry of Berni. His life was not such as reflected any lustre on his works. This, if we reject some foul imputations cast upon him, was, to say the least of it, disreputable. It is, however, certain, that being at last established in a canonry at Florence, he lived there in high and accomplished society. This fact, however, in a profligate age, like that in which he flourished, proves nothing in his favour; and, if we listened to the stories of his biographers, we might suppose him even to have been courted for some of his vicious propensities: for one of these writers tells us he was excited by the cardinal Ippolito de' Medici to poison the duke Alexander, against whom he had a private pique; another, would have us believe that he was tempted by the duke to poison the cardinal; and (to complicate the matter yet more) that the cardinal or the duke, or both, had poison administered to Berni himself, upon his refusal. The dates, however, of their respective deaths, are at variance with these strange assertions; and if such certain means of contradiction were wanting, the internal evidence of Berni's character, however vicious, might be almost sufficient to refute such improbable calumnies. It may be said, indeed, that perhaps no one was ever selected as a probable agent of guilt, who seems to have been so little capable of engaging in the sort of crimes which were expected of him.
As a proof of this we might almost refer to the picture which he has given of himself, and which carries with it every warrant of resemblance. In one of the cantos of the last book of the Innamorato, he describes a number of persons as having become the victims of a fairy, of whom they afterwards remain the voluntary prisoners. Among these he has, in imitation of certain painters, introduced himself with another known character of the day: a circumstance which, together with the nature of the episode, might lead one to suspect that Thomson was indebted to this fiction for his Castle of Indolence. He has, however, given the tenants of his "bowers of ease," a character so much more intellectual than that of Berni's actors, that he may very fairly pretend to the praise of original composition, even if his work be an imitation instead of a mere accidental coincidence; which I am more tempted to believe.* But I draw the curtain of Berni's picture.
* I do not recollect any authority for Thomson's having been conversant with Italian poetry; and I think that a view of his works would lead to a contrary supposition. Thus I should say that though no man could copy what he actually saw with a nicer hand or eye, no man had more need of study in the Italian school of ideal picture than this English poet. In his drawings from nature his colouring is as inimitable as his design; and his bird, who