As in enclosure of chaste garden ground, The floweret grows--where nor unseemly tread Of flocks or ploughshares bruise its tender head-- There soft airs soothe it with their gentle sound; Suns give it strength, and nurturing showers abound, And raise its tall stem from its sheltered bed; And many a youth and maiden, passion-led, With longing eyes admiring walk around: Pluck'd from the stem that its pure grace supplied, Nor youths nor maidens love it as before. So the sweet maiden, in the queenly pride Of her chaste beauty, many hearts adore; But that her virgin charter laid aside, Who lov'd, who cherish'd, cherish, love no more. CURATE.--I remember Ariosto's translation--for translation it is; and though you know it, I will repeat it, and, by Gratian's favour, let it pass for my version. For once, borrowed plumes,--and I shall not be the worse bird--though birds of richer plumage have no song. "La verginella e simile alla rosa, Chi'n bel giardin su la nativa spina, Mentre sola, e sicura si riposa, Ne gregge, ne pastor sele avvicina; L'aura soave, e l'alba rugidosa L'acqua, la terra al suo favor s'inch a: Giovani vaghi, e donne innamorate, Amano averne e seni, e tempre ornate. Ma non si tosto dal materno stelo, Remossa viene, e dal suo ceppo verde, Che, quanto avea dagli uomini, e dal cielo, Favor, grazia, ebellezza, tutto perde." GRATIAN.--Let us examine the alterations made by one genius, in transferring to his own language the ideas of another genius of another country. Catullus says "the floweret,"--_flosculus_: Ariosto particularises the rose,--the _bel giardin_, "the beautiful garden," stands for _septis in hortis_, the enclosed. Then he has given the idea of _secretus_, which is certainly "separated," "set apart," by the words _sola e sicura_, "alone and safe"--is it so good? but he gives that a grace, a beauty, the original perhaps has not, _riposa_--the floweret enjoys its secret repose. The cutting down the flower by the plough was unnecessary, after telling us of the enclosure; we scarcely like to be brought suddenly into the ploughed field. Here Ariosto is better--"nor shepherd nor flock come near it." That enough confirms the idea of its being fenced off, and they wander in their idleness, or, but for the fence, might have reached it; the plough and the team are a heavy apparatus, and would be a most unexpected intrusion,--so I like the Italian here better. Then, _su la nativa spina_ is good: you see the beautiful creature on its native stem or thorn. Then for the enumeration of the airs, the sun, and the shower, the Italian, in his beautiful language, softens the very air, and gives it a sweetness, _l'aura soave_, and ushers in "the dewy morn:" then, expanding to the glory of the full reverence of nature to this emblem of purity, he makes all bend and bow before it, as before the very queen of the earth.