e tunes
the soft idyllic harp and sings Endymion's love-tale in strains soft as
Marino's, sweet as Tasso's, outdoing Marino in delicacy, Tasso in
reserve. This episode moved rigid Alfieri to admiration. It remains
embedded in a burlesque poem, one of the most perfectly outlined
triumphs of refined Italian romantic art. Yet such was the strength of
the master's hand, so loyal was he to his principle of contrast, that he
cuts the melodious idyl short with a twang of the guitar-strings, and
strikes up a tavern ballad on Lucrezia. The irony which ruled his art
demanded this inversion of proprieties. Cynthia wooing Endymion shows us
woman in her frailty; Lucrece violated by Tarquin is woman in her
dignity. The ironical poet had to adorn the first story with his
choicest flowers of style and feeling, to burlesque the second with his
grossest realism.

This antithesis between sustained poetry and melodiously-worded slang,
between radiant forms of beauty and grotesque ugliness, penetrates the
_Secchia Rapita_ in every canto and in every detail. We pass from
battle-scenes worthy of Ariosto and Tasso at their best into ditches of
liquid dung. Ambassadors are introduced with touches that degrade them
to the rank of _commis voyageurs_. Before the senate the same men utter
orations in the style of Livy. The pomp of war is paraded, its machinery
of catapults is put in motion, to discharge a dead ass into a besieged
town; and when the beleagured garrison behold it flying through the air,
they do not take the donkey for a taunt, but for a heavenly portent. A
tournament is held and very brave in their attire are all the
combatants. But according to its rules the greatest sluggard wins the
crown of honor. Even in the similes, which formed so important an
element of epic decoration, the same principle of contrast is
maintained. Fine vignettes from nature in the style consecrated by
Ariosto and Tasso introduce ludicrous incidents. Vulgar details picked
up from the streets prepare us for touches of pathos or poetry.

Tassoni takes high rank as a literary artist for the firmness with which
he adhered to his principle of irony, and for the facility of vigor
which conceals all traces of effort in so difficult a task. I may be
thought to have pitched his praise too high. But those will forgive me
who enjoy the play of pure sharp-witted fancy, or who reflect upon the
sadness of the theme which occupies my pen in these two volumes.

Of the fou