Dante. An essay. To which is added a translation of De Monarchia. — Dante Alighieri — John Shaqi
Dante. An essay. To which is added a translation of De Monarchia.
Dante Alighieri · en
Indeed the real never daunts him. It is his leading principle of
poetic composition, to draw out of things the poetry which is latent
in them, either essentially, or as they are portions, images, or
reflexes of something greater--not to invest them with a poetical
semblance, by means of words which bring with them poetical
associations, and have received a general poetical stamp. Dante has
few of those indirect charms which flow from the subtle structure and
refined graces of language--none of that exquisitely-fitted and
self-sustained mechanism of choice words of the Greeks--none of that
tempered and majestic amplitude of diction, which clothes, like the
folds of a royal robe, the thoughts of the Latins--none of that
abundant play of fancy and sentiment, soft or grand, in which the
later Italian poets delighted. Words with him are used sparingly,
never in play--never because they carry with them poetical
recollections--never for their own sake; but because they are
instruments which will give the deepest, clearest, sharpest stamp of
that image which the poet's mind, piercing to the very heart of his
subject, or seizing the characteristic feature which to other men's
eyes is confused and lost among others accidental and common, draws
forth in severe and living truth. Words will not always bend
themselves to his demands on them; they make him often uncouth,
abrupt, obscure. But he is too much in earnest to heed uncouthness;
and his power over language is too great to allow uncertainty as to
what he means, to be other than occasional. Nor is he a stranger to
the utmost sweetness and melody of language. But it appears, unsought
for and unlaboured, the spontaneous and inevitable obedience of the
tongue and pen to the impressions of the mind; as grace and beauty, of
themselves, "command and guide the eye" of the painter, who thinks not
of his hand but of them. All is in character with the absorbed and
serious earnestness which pervades the poem; there is no toying, no
ornament, that a man in earnest might not throw into his
words;--whether in single images, or in pictures, like that of the
Meadow of the Heroes (_Inf._ 4), or the angel appearing in hell to
guide the poet through the burning city (_Inf._ 9)--or in histories,
like those of Count Ugolino, or the life of S. Francis (_Parad._
11)--or in the dramatic scenes like the meeting of the poets Sordello
and Virgil (_Purgat._ 6), or that one, unequalled in beauty, where
Dante himself, after years of forgetfulness and sin, sees Beatrice in
glory, and hears his name, never but once pronounced during the
vision, from her lips.[149]
[Footnote 149: