departs from the sense of the author, while he echoes his very words. Take an instance. Ariosto has this line.
Dove presso à Bordea mette Caronna.
“where the Garonne disembogues itself near Bordeaux:” which Huggins has rendered,
Where to Bordea runs Caronna near.
The thing, perhaps, most worthy of remark in his book, is a passage of the preface, which throws a curious light upon the state of Italian literature in England at the period of its publication. “It may not be improper (says the author) to observe, that after this work was pretty far advanced, I was informed there had been a translation published in the reign of Elizabeth, and dedicated to that queen. Whereupon I requested a friend to obtain a sight of that book; for it is (it seems) very scarce, and the glorious original much more so in this country.”
A few years produced a singular revolution in this respect. Several editions of Ariosto have since that period been published in England; and Hoole’s
