Si nimium hic promitti tibi videtur, Lector bone, pro eo cui satisfaciendo libellus iste futurus fuerit; scias me in istis non ad haec modo spectare quae hic habes, sed ea etiam quae olim, haec interim fovendo, habere poteris. Nolui enim, si hactenus deesse amicis meis non potui, flagitantibus a me, etiam cum dispendii sui periculo, paterer eos experiri te in tantum favorem tuum, nolui, inquam, fastidio tuo indulgere. Satis hic habes quod vel releges ad ferulam suam, neque enim maturiores sibi annos ex his aliqua vendicant, vel ut pignus plurium adultiorumque in sinu tuo reponas. Elige tibi ex his utrumvis. Me interim quod attinet, finis meus non fefellit. Maximum meae ambitionis scopum jamdudum attigi: tunc nimirum cum quale-cunque hoc meum pene infantis Musae murmur ad aures istas non ingratum sonuit, quibus neque doctiores mihi de publico timere habeo, nec sperare clementiores; adeo ut de tuo jam plausu, dicam ingenue et breviter, neque securus sim ultra neque solicitus. Prius tui, quisquis es, Lector, apud me reverentia prohibet; de cujus judicio omnia possum magna sperare: posterius illorum reverentia non sinit, de quorum perspicacitate maxima omnia non possum mihi non persuadere. Quanquam Ô quam velim tanti me esse in quo patria mea morem istum suum deponere velit, genio suo tam non dignum; istum scilicet quo, suis omnibus fastiditis, ea exosculatur unice, quibus trajecisse Alpes et de transmarino esse, in pretium cessit! Sed relictis hisce, nimis improbae spei votis, convertam me ad magistros acygnianos; quos scio de novissimis meis verbis, quanquam neminem nominarim, iratos me reliquisse: bilem vero componant; et mihi se hoc debere, ambitioso juveni verbum tam magnum ignoscant—debere, inquam, fateantur: quod nimirum in tam nobili argumento, in quo neque ad foetida de suis sanctis figmenta, neque ad putidas de nostris calumnias opus habeant confugere, de tenui hoc meo dederim illorum magnitudini unde emineat. Emineat vero; serius dico, sciantque me semper se habituros esse sub ea, quam mihi eorum lux major affuderit, umbra, placidissime acquiescentem.

[TRANSLATION. Verse and Prose, G.]

To the Reader.

If it seem to you, good Reader, that I have promised overmuch on behalf of him to whom this tractate shall be pleasing, know that I do not look merely on those things which you possess here, but also on those which, by cherishing such as you now have, you may hereafter obtain; for I have been unwilling, if hitherto I have not been a-wanting to my friends earnestly entreating me that I should allow them, even at the risk of their own peril, to encroach on your good-will, however great—I have been unwilling, I say, to give myself up to your fastidious criticism. You have enough here either to hand over to the rod which it deserves (for none of these things ask or claim for themselves maturer years), or to lay it up in your bosom as a pledge of more and of advanced attempts. Choose for yourself an alternative. As for myself, my aim has not deceived me. I have already attained the utmost pinnacle of my ambition, at the time when this somewhat indifferent murmur of my almost-infantine Muse sounded not unmusically in those ears, than which from the world at large I have none more learned to fear, none more indulgent to hope for; so that, as regards your applause, I will speak candidly and at once: I am neither over-confident nor over-solicitous of it. Firstly, my respect for you, Reader, whoever you are, and of whose decision I can hope everything, restrains; and next, my respect for those of whose penetration I am unable not to persuade myself to hope the greatest things. Yet still, how I do wish that I were of service whenever my Country desires to cast aside its own particular custom, so unworthy its own worth—that custom particularly by which, all her own things being despised, she only prizes those things to which having crossed the Alps and lived over the sea has given a value! But these wishes of too rash hope being put aside, let me turn to the acygnian gentlemen, whom I know—although I shall name none personally—to have angrily abandoned me on account of some of my recent sayings. Still, let them compose their temper, and let them confess—may they pardon such a great saying from a forward young man!—I say, let them confess that they owe me this: that, in truth, in so grand an argument, in which they have not recourse to the stale untruths concerning their own services, nor to the nauseous calumnies concerning ours. With regard to this slight statement of mine, I have yielded to the importance of those from whence it springs. And let it spring, forsooth! I speak seriously—and let them know that they will always find me most tranquilly reposing under that shadow which their greater light has cast around me!