Seven long years I served thee, fair one,
Seven long years my fee was scorn.
'But here, perhaps, the case is reversed. She may have feared a probation of seven years for herself; and not without reason. And what have I to expect if I let the four times seven days pass by? Why, then, I can read in her looks—and they are interpreted in the verses before me—I am assigned to repentance, without the hope of a third opportunity. She is not without a leaning towards Lord Curryfin.
Veggio 1' Italia tutta a fiamma e a foco,
Per questi Galli, che con gran furore
Vengon per disertar non so che loco.
Perô vi lascio in questo vano amore
Di Fiordespina ardente a poco a poco:
Un' altra fiata, se mi fia concesso,
Racconterovi il tutto per espresso.
Even while I sing, ah me, redeeming Heaven!
I see all Italy in fire and flame,
Raised by these Gauls, who, by great fury driven,
Come with destruction for their end and aim.
The maiden's heart, by vainest passion riven,
Not now the rudely-broken song may claim;
Some future day, if Fate auspicious prove,
Shall end the tale of Fiordespina's love.
The Milanese edition of 1539 was a reprint of that of 1513,
in which year the French, under Louis XII., had reconquered
Milan. The Milanese editions read valore for furore.
It was no doubt in deference to the conquerors that the
printer of 1513 made this substitution; but it utterly
perverts the whole force of the passage. The French, under
Charles VIII., invaded Italy in September 1494, and the
horror with which their devastations inspired Bojardo not
only stopped the progress of his poem, but brought his life
prematurely to a close. He died in December 1494. The
alteration of this single word changes almost into a
compliment an expression of cordial detestation.
She thinks he is passing from her, and on the twenty-ninth day, or perhaps in the meantime, she will try to regain him. Of course she will succeed. What rivalry could stand against her? If her power over him is lessened, it is that she has not chosen to exert it She has but to will it, and he is again her slave. Twenty-eight days! twenty-eight days of doubt and distraction.' And starting up, he walked out into the park, not choosing the swept path, but wading knee-deep in snow where it lay thickest in the glades. He was recalled to himself by sinking up to his shoulders in a hollow. He emerged with some difficulty, and retraced his steps to the house, thinking that, even in the midst of love's most dire perplexities, dry clothes and a good fire are better than a hole in the snow.
CHAPTER XXV
HARRY AND DOROTHY
(Greek passage)
Humerus in Odyssea.
The youthful suitors, playing each his part,
Stirred pleasing tumult in each fair one's heart.
—Adapted—not translated.