inal metre peculiar to our literature; though it is
possible that but for the complex structures of Italian lyric verse,
it might not have been fashioned for the 'Faery Queen.' Lastly, the
so-called heroic couplet is native to England; at any rate, it is in
no way related to Italian metre. Therefore the only true Italian
exotic adopted without modification into our literature is the sonnet.

In the next place, we owe to the Italians the subject-matter of many
of our most famous dramas and our most delightful tales in verse. But
the English treatment of these histories and fables has been uniformly
independent and original. Comparing Shakspere's 'Romeo and Juliet'
with Bandello's tale, Webster's 'Duchess of Malfy' with the version
given from the Italian in Painter's 'Palace of Pleasure,' and
Chaucer's Knight's Tale with the 'Teseide' of Boccaccio, we perceive
at once that the English poets have used their Italian models merely
as outlines to be filled in with freedom, as the canvas to be
embroidered with a tapestry of vivid groups. Nothing is more manifest
than the superiority of the English genius over the Italian in all
dramatic qualities of intense passion, profound analysis, and living
portrayal of character in action. The mere rough detail of Shakspere's
'Othello' is to be found in Cinthio's Collection of Novelle; but let
an unprejudiced reader peruse the original, and he will be no more
deeply affected by it than by any touching story of treachery,
jealousy, and hapless innocence. The wily subtleties of Iago, the
soldierly frankness of Cassio, the turbulent and volcanic passions of
Othello, the charm of Desdemona, and the whole tissue of vivid
incidents which make 'Othello' one of the most tremendous extant
tragedies of characters in combat, are Shakspere's, and only
Shakspere's. This instance, indeed, enables us exactly to indicate
what the English owed to Italy and what was essentially their own.
From that Southern land of Circe about which they dreamed, and which
now and then they visited, came to their imaginations a
spirit-stirring breath of inspiration. It was to them the country of
marvels, of mysterious crimes, of luxurious gardens and splendid
skies, where love was more passionate and life more picturesque, and
hate more bloody and treachery more black, than in our Northern
climes. Italy was a spacious grove of wizardry, which mighty poets, on
the quest of fanciful adventure, trod with fascinated senses an