The good Italian authors are, in my mind, but few; I mean, authors of invention; for there are, undoubtedly, very good historians and excellent translators.  The two poets worth your reading, and, I was going to say, the only two, are Tasso and Ariosto.  Tasso’s ‘Gierusalemme Liberata’ is altogether unquestionably a fine poem, though—­it has some low, and many false thoughts in it:  and Boileau very justly makes it the mark of a bad taste, to compare ‘le Clinquant Tasse a l’ Or de Virgile’.  The image, with which he adorns the introduction of his epic poem, is low and disgusting; it is that of a froward, sick, puking child, who is deceived into a dose of necessary physic by ‘du bon-bon’.  These verses are these: 

     “Cosi all’egro fanciul porgiamo aspersi
     Di soavi licor gli orli del vaso: 
     Succhi amari ingannato intanto ei beve,
     E dall’ inganno suo vita riceve.”

However, the poem, with all its faults about it, may justly be called a fine one.

If fancy, imagination, invention, description, etc., constitute a poet, Ariosto is, unquestionably, a great one.  His “Orlando,” it is true, is a medley of lies and truths—­sacred and profane—­wars, loves, enchantments, giants, madheroes, and adventurous damsels, but then, he gives it you very fairly for what it is, and does not pretend to put it upon you for the true ‘epopee’, or epic poem.  He says: 

     “Le Donne, i Cavalier, l’arme, gli amori
     Le cortesie, l’audaci imprese, io canto.”

The connections of his stories are admirable, his reflections just, his sneers and ironies incomparable, and his painting excellent.  When Angelica, after having wandered over half the world alone with Orlando, pretends, notwithstanding,

     “—–­ch’el fior virginal cosi avea salvo,
     Come selo porto dal matern’ alvo.”

The author adds, very gravely,—­

     “Forse era ver, ma non pero credibile
     A chi del senso suo fosse Signore.”

Astolpho’s being carried to the moon by St. John, in order to look for Orlando’s lost wits, at the end of the 34th book, and the many lost things that he finds there, is a most happy extravagancy, and contains, at the same time, a great deal of sense.  I would advise you to read this poem with attention.  It is, also, the source of half the tales, novels, and plays, that have been written since.

The ‘Pastor Fido’ of Guarini is so celebrated, that you should read it; but in reading it, you will judge of the great propriety of the characters.  A parcel of shepherds and shepherdesses, with the true pastoral’ simplicity, talk metaphysics, epigrams, ‘concetti’, and quibbles, by the hour to each other.

The Aminto del Tasso, is much more what it is intended to be, a pastoral:  the shepherds, indeed, have their ‘concetti’ and their antitheses; but are not quite so sublime and abstracted as those in Pastor Fido.  I think that you will like it much the best of the two.