EPITAPHS TRANSLATED FROM CHIABRERA
Reading edition
[Those from Chiabrera were chiefly translated when Mr. Coleridge was writing his Friend, in which periodical my "Essay on Epitaphs," written about that time, was first published. For further notice of Chiabrera, in connection with his Epitaphs, see Musings near Aquapendente.—I. F.]
It is better to print all the Epitaphs from Chiabrera together, than to spread them out over the years when they were written or published. Some of them were certainly written in 1809, or at least before 1810; others at a later date. But it is impossible to say in what year those published after 1810 were composed. They are all to be found in the class of "Epitaphs and Elegiac Pieces."—Ed.
I
"WEEP NOT, BELOVÈD FRIENDS! NOR LET THE AIR"
Published 1837
Weep not, belovèd Friends! nor let the air For me with sighs be troubled. Not from life Have I been taken; this is genuine life And this alone—the life which now I live In peace eternal; where desire and joy 5 Together move in fellowship without end.— Francesco Ceni willed that, after death, His tombstone thus should speak for him.[1] And surely Small cause there is for that fond wish of ours Long to continue in this world; a world 10 That keeps not faith, nor yet can point a hope To good, whereof itself is destitute.
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II
"PERHAPS SOME NEEDFUL SERVICE OF THE STATE"
Published 1810[A]
Perhaps some needful service of the State Drew Titus from the depth of studious bowers, And doomed him to contend in faithless courts, Where gold determines between right and wrong. Yet did at length his loyalty of heart, 5 And his pure native genius, lead him back To wait upon the bright and gracious Muses, Whom he had early loved. And not in vain Such course he held! Bologna's learned schools Were gladdened by the Sage's voice, and hung 10 With fondness on those sweet Nestorian strains.[1] There pleasure crowned his days; and all his thoughts A roseate fragrance breathed.[2][B]—O human life, That never art secure from dolorous change! Behold a high injunction suddenly 15 To Arno's side hath brought him,[3] and he charmed A Tuscan audience: but full soon was called To the perpetual silence of the grave. Mourn, Italy, the loss of him who stood A Champion stedfast and invincible, 20 To quell the rage of literary War!
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III
"O THOU WHO MOVEST ONWARD WITH A MIND"
Published 1810[A]
O Thou who movest onward with a mind Intent upon thy way, pause, though in haste! 'Twill be no fruitless moment. I was born Within Savona's walls, of gentle blood. On Tiber's banks my youth was dedicate 5 To sacred studies; and the Roman Shepherd Gave to my charge Urbino's numerous flock. Well[1] did I watch, much laboured, nor had power To escape from many and strange indignities; Was smitten by the great ones of the world, 10 But did not fall; for Virtue braves all shocks, Upon herself resting immoveably. Me did a kindlier fortune then invite To serve the glorious Henry, King of France, And in his hands I saw a high reward 15 Stretched out for my acceptance,—but Death came. Now, Reader, learn from this my fate, how false, How treacherous to her promise, is the world; And trust in God—to whose eternal doom Must bend the sceptred Potentates of earth. 20
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IV
"THERE NEVER BREATHED A MAN WHO, WHEN HIS LIFE"
Published 1809[A]
There never breathed a man who, when his life Was closing, might not of that life relate Toils long and hard.—The warrior will report Of wounds, and bright swords flashing in the field, And blast of trumpets. He who hath been doomed 5 To bow his forehead in the courts of kings, Will tell of fraud and never-ceasing hate, Envy and heart-inquietude, derived From intricate cabals of treacherous friends. I, who on shipboard lived from earliest youth, 10 Could represent the countenance horrible Of the vexed waters, and the indignant rage Of Auster and Boötes. Fifty[1] years Over the well-steered galleys did I rule:— From huge Pelorus to the Atlantic pillars, 15 Rises no mountain to mine eyes unknown; And the broad gulfs I traversed oft and oft: Of every cloud which in the heavens might stir I knew the force; and hence the rough sea's pride Availed not to my Vessel's overthrow. 20 What noble pomp and frequent have not I On regal decks beheld! yet in the end I learned[2] that one poor moment can suffice To equalise the lofty and the low. We sail the sea of life—a Calm One finds, 25 And One a Tempest—and, the voyage o'er, Death is the quiet haven of us all. If more of my condition ye would know, Savona was my birth-place, and I sprang Of noble parents: seventy[3] years and three 30 Lived I—then yielded to a slow disease.
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V
"TRUE IS IT THAT AMBROSIO SALINERO"
Published 1837
True is it that Ambrosio Salinero With an untoward fate was long involved In odious litigation; and full long, Fate harder still! had he to endure assaults Of racking malady. And true it is 5 That not the less a frank courageous heart And buoyant spirit triumphed over pain; And he was strong to follow in the steps Of the fair Muses. Not a covert path Leads to the dear Parnassian forest's shade, 10 That might from him be hidden; not a track Mounts to pellucid Hippocrene, but he Had traced its windings.—This Savona knows, Yet no sepulchral honours to her Son She paid, for in our age the heart is ruled 15 Only by gold. And now a simple stone Inscribed with this memorial here is raised By his bereft, his lonely, Chiabrera. Think not, O Passenger! who read'st the lines That an exceeding love hath dazzled me; 20 No—he was One whose memory ought to spread Where'er Permessus bears an honoured name, And live as long as its pure stream shall flow.[A]
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VI
"DESTINED TO WAR FROM VERY INFANCY"
Published 1809[A]
Destined to war from very infancy Was I, Roberto Dati, and I took In Malta the white symbol of the Cross: Nor in life's vigorous season did I shun Hazard or toil; among the sands was seen 5 Of Libya; and not seldom, on the banks Of wide Hungarian Danube, 'twas my lot To hear the sanguinary trumpet sounded. So lived I, and repined not at such fate: This only grieves me, for it seems a wrong, 10 That stripped of arms I to my end am brought On the soft down of my paternal home. Yet haply Arno shall be spared all cause To blush for me. Thou, loiter not nor halt In thy appointed way, and bear in mind 15 How fleeting and how frail is human life!
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VII
"O FLOWER OF ALL THAT SPRINGS FROM GENTLE BLOOD"
Published 1837
O flower of all that springs from gentle blood, And all that generous nurture breeds to make Youth amiable; O friend so true of soul To fair Aglaia; by what envy moved, Lelius! has death cut short thy brilliant day 5 In its sweet opening? and what dire mishap Has from Savona torn her best delight? For thee she mourns, nor e'er will cease to mourn; And, should the out-pourings of her eyes suffice not For her heart's grief, she will entreat Sebeto 10 Not to withhold his bounteous aid, Sebeto Who saw thee, on his margin, yield to death, In the chaste arms of thy belovèd Love! What profit riches? what does youth avail? Dust are our hopes;—I, weeping bitterly, 15 Penned these sad lines, nor can forbear to pray That every gentle Spirit hither led May read them not without some bitter tears.
VIII
"NOT WITHOUT HEAVY GRIEF OF HEART DID HE"
Published 1810[A]
Not without heavy grief of heart did He On whom the duty fell (for at that time The father sojourned in a distant land) Deposit in the hollow of this tomb A brother's Child, most tenderly beloved! 5 Francesco was the name the Youth had borne, Pozzobonnelli his illustrious house; And, when beneath this stone the Corse was laid, The eyes of all Savona streamed with tears. Alas! the twentieth April of his life 10 Had scarcely flowered: and at this early time, By genuine virtue he inspired a hope That greatly cheered his country: to his kin He promised comfort; and the flattering thoughts His friends had in their fondness entertained,[B] 15 He suffered not to languish or decay. Now is there not good reason to break forth Into a passionate lament?—O Soul! Short while a Pilgrim in our nether world, Do thou enjoy the calm empyreal air; 20 And round this earthly tomb let roses rise, An everlasting spring! in memory Of that delightful fragrance which was once From thy mild manners quietly exhaled.
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IX
"PAUSE, COURTEOUS SPIRIT!—BALBI SUPPLICATES"[A]
Published 1810[B]
Pause, courteous Spirit!—Balbi supplicates That Thou, with no reluctant voice, for him Here laid in mortal darkness, wouldst prefer A prayer to the Redeemer of the world. This to the dead by sacred right belongs; 5 All else is nothing.—Did occasion suit To tell his worth, the marble of this tomb Would ill suffice: for Plato's lore sublime, And all the wisdom of the Stagyrite, Enriched and beautified his studious mind: 10 With Archimedes also he conversed As with a chosen friend; nor did he leave Those laureat wreaths ungathered which the Nymphs Twine near their loved Permessus.[1]—Finally, Himself above each lower thought uplifting, 15 His ears he closed to listen to the songs[2] Which Sion's Kings did consecrate of old; And his Permessus found on Lebanon.[3] A blessèd Man! who of protracted days Made not, as thousands do, a vulgar sleep; 20 But truly did He live his life. Urbino, Take pride in him!—O Passenger, farewell!
I have been unable to obtain any definite information in reference to the persons commemorated in these epitaphs by Chiabrera: Francesco Ceni, Titus, Ambrosio Salinero, Roberto Dati, Lelius, Francesco Pozzobonnelli, and Balbi. Mr. W. M. Rossetti writes to me that he "supposes all the men named by Chiabrera to be such as enjoyed a certain local and temporary reputation, which has hardly passed down to any sort of posterity, and certainly not to the ordinary English reader."
Chiabrera was born at Savona on the 8th of June 1552, and educated at Rome. He entered the service of Cardinal Cornaro, married in his 50th year, lived to the age of 85, and died October 14, 1637. His poetical faculty showed itself late. "Having commenced to read the Greek writers at home, he conceived a great admiration for Pindar, and strove successfully to imitate him. He was not less happy in catching the naïve and pleasant spirit of Anacreon; his canzonetti being distinguished for their ease and elegance, while his Lettere Famigliari was the first attempt to introduce the poetical epistle into Italian Literature. He wrote also several epics, bucolics, and dramatic poems. His Opere appeared at Venice, in 6 vols., in 1768."
Wordsworth says of him, in his Essay on Epitaphs, where translations of two of those Epitaphs of Chiabrera first appeared (see The Friend, February 22, 1810, and notes to The Excursion)—"His life was long, and every part of it bore appropriate fruits. Urbino, his birth-place, might be proud of him, and the passenger who was entreated to pray for his soul has a wish breathed for his welfare.... The Epitaphs of Chiabrera are twenty-nine in number, and all of them, save two, upon men probably little known at this day in their own country, and scarcely at all beyond the limits of it; and the reader is generally made acquainted with the moral and intellectual excellence which distinguished them by a brief history of the course of their lives, or a selection of events and circumstances, and thus they are individualized; but in the two other instances, namely, in those of Tasso and Raphael, he enters into no particulars, but contents himself with four lines expressing one sentiment, upon the principle laid down in the former part of this discourse, when the subject of the epitaph is a man of prime note...."
Compare the poem Musings near Aquapendente. In reference to the places referred to in these Epitaphs of Chiabrera, it may be mentioned that Savona (Epitaphs III., IV., V., VII., VIII.) is a town in the Genovese territory; Permessus (Epitaphs V. and IX.) a river of Bœotia, rising in Mount Helicon and flowing round it, hence sacred to the Muses; and that the fountain of Hippocrene—also referred to in Epitaph V.—was not far distant. Sebeto (Epitaph VII.), now cape Faro, is a Sicilian promontory.—Ed.
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