Poems By Thomas Carew |
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To my much honoured friend, Henry Lord Cary of Lepington,
upon his translation of Malvezzi.
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To my much honoured friend, Henry Lord Cary of Lepington, upon his translation of Malvezzi.
My Lord,
In every triviall worke 'tis knowneTranslators must be masters of their owne,
And of their Authors language, but your taske
A greater latitude of skill did aske.
For your Malvezzi first requir'd a man
To teach him speake vulgar Italian:
His matter's so sublime, so now his phrase,
So farre above the stile of Bemboe's dayes;
Old Varchies rules, or what the Grusca yet
For currant Tuscan mintage will admit,
As I beleeve your Marquesse, by a good
Part of his Natives hardly understood.
You must expect no happier fate, tis true
He is of noble birth, of nobler you:
So nor your thoughts, nor words fit common eares,
He writes, and you translate, both to your Peeres.
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