The Poems of Giacomo Leopardi

A free download from www.dertz.in

Project Gutenberg's The Poems of Giacomo Leopardi, by Giacomo
Leopardi
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: The Poems of Giacomo Leopardi
Author: Giacomo Leopardi
Translator: Frederick Townsend
Release Date: September 19, 2006 [EBook #19315]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
0. START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POEMS
OF GIACOMO LEOPARDI ***
Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier, Daniel Emerson
Griffith
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at

http://www.pgdp.net
THE POEMS OF
GIACOMO LEOPARDI
TRANSLATED BY
FREDERICK TOWNSEND
NEW YORK AND LONDON
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
The
Knickerbocker Press
1887
COPYRIGHT BY
R. T. TOWNSEND
1887

Press of
G. P. Putnam's Sons
New York
TO M. N. M.
SISTER OF THE TRANSLATOR
THESE
POEMS
ARE AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED
BY THE
EDITOR
PREFACE.
Giacomo Leopardi is a great name in Italy among philosophers and
poets, but is quite unknown in this country, and Mr. Townsend has the
honor of introducing him, in the most captivating
way, to his
countrymen. In Germany and France he has excited attention.
Translations have been made of his works; essays have been written on
his ideas. But in England his name is all but unheard of. Six or seven
years ago Mr. Charles Edwards published a translation of the essays
and dialogues, but no version of the poems has appeared, so far as I
know. Leopardi was substantially a poet,--that is to say, he had
imagination, sentiment, passion, an intense love of beauty, a powerful
impulse towards things ideal. The sad tone of his speculations about the
universe and human destiny gave an impression of mournfulness to his
lines, but this rather deepened the pathos of his work. In the same
breath he sang of love and the grave, and the love was the more eager
for its brevity. He had the poetic temperament--sensitive, ardent,
aspiring. He possessed the poetic aspect--the broad white brow, the
large blue eyes. Some compared him to Byron, but the resemblance
was external merely. In ideas, purpose, feeling, he was entirely unlike
the Englishman; in the energy and fire of his style only did he
somewhat resemble him. Worshippers have even ventured to class him
with Dante, a comparison which shows, at least, in what estimation the
poet could be held at home, and how largely the patriotic sentiment
entered into the conception of poetical compositions, how necessary it
was that the singer should be a bard. His verses ranged over a large
field. They were philosophic, patriotic, amorous. There are odes, lyrics,
satires, songs; many very beautiful and feeling; all noble and earnest.
His three poems, "All' Italia," "Sopra il Monumento di Dante," "A
Angelo Mai," gave him a national reputation. They touch the chords to
which he always responded--patriotism, poetry, learning, a national

idealism bearing aloft an enormous weight of erudition and thought.
Leopardi was born at Recanati, a small town about fifteen miles from
Ancona, in 1798. He was of noble parentage, though not rich. His early
disposition was joyous, but with the feverish joy of a highly-strung,
nervous organization. He was a great student from boyhood; and severe
application undermined a system that was never robust, and that soon
became hopelessly diseased. Illness, accompanied with sharp pain,
clipped the wings of his ambition, obliged him to forego preferment,
and deepened the hopelessness that hung over his expectations. His
hunger for love could
not be satisfied, for his physical infirmity
rendered a union undesirable, even if possible, while a craving ideality
soon transcended any visible object of affection. He had warm friends
of his own sex, one of whom, Antonio Ranieri, stayed by him in all
vicissitudes, took him to Naples, and closed his eyes, June 14, 1837.
To this acute sensibility of frame must be added the torture of the heart
arising from a difference with his father, who, as a Catholic, was
disturbed by the skeptical tendencies of his son, and the perpetual
irritation of a conflict with the large majority of even philosophical
minds. An early death might have been anticipated. No amount of
hopefulness, of zest for life, of thirst for opportunity, of genius for
intellectual productiveness will counteract such predisposition to decay.
The death of
the body, however, has but ensured a speedier
immortality of the soul; for many a thinker has since been busy in
gathering up the fragments of his mind and keeping his memory fresh.
His immense learning has been forgotten. His archæological
knowledge, which fascinated Niebuhr, is of small account to-day. But
his speculative and poetical genius is a permanent illumination.
Mr. Townsend, the translator, well known in New York, where he was
born, lived ten years in