The Complete Works of Richard Crashaw Volume II Part 5

Thus high, thus low, _as if her silver throat Would reach the brazen voyce of War's h.o.a.rce bird_.

... his hands sprightly as fire, he flings And with _a quavering coynesse tasts the strings_.

The sweet-lip't sisters, musically frighted, Singing their feares, are fearefully delighted, _Trembling as when Appolo's golden haires Are fan'd and frizled, in the wanton ayres Of his own breath: which marryed to his lyre_ Doth tune the spheares.

with nectar drop, _Softer than that which pants in Hebe's cup_.

_The lute's light genius now does proudly rise, Heav'd on the surges of swolne rapsodyes,_ . . . . .

_Creeps on the soft touch of a tender tone_.'

In the words of Willmott (as before), 'We shall seek in vain in the Latin text for the vigour, the fancy, and the grandeur of these lines.

These remain with Crashaw, of whose obligations to Strada we may say, as Hayley [stupidly, if picturesquely] remarked of Pope's debt to Crashaw, that if he borrowed anything from him in this article, it was only as the sun borrows from the earth, when, drawing from thence a mere vapour, he makes it the delight of every eye, by giving it all the tender and gorgeous colouring of heaven' (vol. i. p. 323). The richness and fulness of our Poet as a Translator becomes the more clear when we place beside his interpretation of Strada the 'translations' of others, as given in the places (vol. i. pp. 203-6). A third (anonymous) version we discovered among the Lansdowne MSS. 3910, pt. lxvi., from which we take a specimen:

'Now the declininge sunn 'gan downward bende From higher heauene, and from his locks did sende A milder flame; when neere to Tyber's flowe A Lutaniste allayde his carefull woe, With sondinge charmes, and in a greeny seate Of shady oake, toke shelter from the heate.

A nitingale ore-hard hym that did use To soiourne in y^e neighbour groues, the Muse That files the place, the syren of the wood: Poore harmeles Syren, steling neere she stood Close lurkinge in the leaues attentiuely: Recordinge that vnwonted mellodye, She condt it to herselfe, and every straine His fingers playde, her throat return'd againe.'

And so to the end (MS. 3910, pp. 114-17). We have reserved until now incomparably the second, but only a far-off second, to Crashaw's, from John Ford's 'Lover's Melancholy' (1629); which probably was our Poet's guide to Strada. Here is the substance of the fine reminiscent version, from act i. scene 1:

_Menaphon._ A sound of music touched mine ears, or rather, Indeed, entranced my soul. As I stole nearer, Invited by the melody, I saw This youth, this fair-faced youth, upon his lute, With strains of strange variety and harmony, Proclaiming, as it seemed, so bold a challenge To the clear choristers of the wood, the birds, That as they flocked about him all stood silent, Wondering at what they heard. I wondered too.

_Amethus._ And do so I: good, on.

_Men._ A nightingale, Nature's best-skilled musician, undertakes The challenge, and for every several strain The well-shaped youth could touch, she sung her own: He could not run division with more art Vpon his quaking instrument than she The nightingale did with her various notes Reply to: for a voice and for a sound, Amethus, 'tis much easier to believe That such they were, than hope to hear again.

_Ameth._ How did the rivals part?

_Men._ You term them rightly.

For they were rivals, and their mistress, Harmony.

Some time thus spent, the young man grew at last Into a pretty anger, that a bird, Whom art had never taught cliffs, moods, or notes, Should vie with him for mastery, whose study Had busied many hours to perfect practice.

To end the controversy, in a rapture, Vpon his instrument he plays so swiftly So many voluntaries, and so quick, That there was curiosity and cunning, Concord in discord, lines of differing method Meeting in one full centre of delight.

_Ameth._ Now for the bird.

_Men._ The bird, ordained to be Music's first master, strove to imitate These several sounds; which when her warbling throat Failed in, for grief down dropped she on his lute, And brake her heart. It was the quaintest sadness, To see the conqueror upon her hea.r.s.e To weep.[37]

Comment is needless on such pale, empty literality, as compared with the vitality and _elan_ of Crashaw, in all but Ford's; while even Ford's is surpa.s.sed in every way by the 'Musick's Duell.'

The 'Suspicion of Herod,' by Marino (c. i.), is a grand poem in the original. Milton knew it, and was taken by it. Our Poet had glorious materials whereon to work, accordingly, when he turned Translator of this all-too-little known Singer of Italy. But Crashaw's soul was more s.p.a.cious, his imagination more imperial, his vocabulary wealthier, than even Marino's. The greatness and grandeur and force of the Italian roused the Englishman to emulation. Willmott (as before) has placed the original Italian beside Crashaw's interpretation, and the advance in the Translator on his original is almost startling. We prefer adducing Crashaw, and then giving a close rendering of the original: _e.g._

'He saw Heav'n blossome with a new-borne light, _On which, as on a glorious stranger, gaz'd The golden eyes of Night_.' (st. xvii.)

literally in Marino:

'_He sees also shining from heaven, With beauteous ray, the wondrous star_, Which, brilliant and beautiful, goes Pointing the way straight towards Bethlehem.'

Again:

'He saw how in that blest Day-bearing Night, The Heav'n-rebuked shades made hast away; _How bright a dawne of angels with new light Amaz'd the midnight world, and made a Day Of which the Morning knew not_.' (st. xv.)

literally in Marino:

'He sees the quiet shades and the dark Horrors of the happy, holy Night Smitten and routed by heavenly voices, And vanquished by angelic splendours.'

Once more: when Alecto, the most terrible of the infernal sisters, ascends to Earth at the command of Satan:

'Heav'n saw her rise, and saw h.e.l.l in the sight: The fields' faire eyes saw her, and saw no more, But shut their flowry lids for ever;' (st. xlviii.)

for

'Parvero i fiori intorno e la verdura Sentir forza di peste, ira di verno;'

literally:

'soon as h.e.l.l had vomited out This monster from the dark abyss, _The flowers all around and the verdure appeared To feel the strength of the plague, the fury of winter_.'

This naked simplicity of wording is very fine: yet do Crashaw's adornments bring new charm to Marino. The soliloquy of Satan, though close as the skin to the body, has a ruddiness (so-to-say) from Crashaw. Nothing in Milton is grander than st. xxv. to x.x.x.; and in all there are touches from the cunning hand of Crashaw: _e.g._

'_And for the never-fading fields of light;_' (st. xxvii.)

for Marino's

'Che piu pu farmi omai chi la celeste _Reggia mi tolse, e i regni i miei lucenti_?'

literally:

'What more can He now do to me, Who took _From me the heavenly palace and my bright realms_?'

Again:

'_Bow our bright heads before a king of clay;_' (st. xxviii.)

for Marino's

'Volle alle forme sue semplici e prime, Natura sovralzar corporea e ba.s.sa, E de' membri del ciel capo sublime Far di limo terrestre eterna ma.s.sa;'

literally:

'He turns to his simple primitive forms, To raise Nature above the corporeal and low, And to make an unworthy ma.s.s of earthly clay The sublime head of the heavenly members.'

Compare also st. x. in Crashaw with the original as literally rendered:

'Disdainefull wretch, how hath one bold sinne cost Thee all the beauties of thy once bright eyes!

How hath _one black eclipse cancell'd and crost The glories that did gild thee in thy rise!

Proud morning of a perverse day_, how lost Art thou unto thy selfe, thou too selfe-wise Narcissus! foolish Phaeton, who for all Thy _high-aym'd hopes, gaind'st but a flaming fall_.'

Literally in Marino:

'O wretched Angel, once fairer than light, How thou hast lost thy primeval splendour!