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Document Title: The Early Italian Poets From Ciullo D'Alcamo to Dante Alighieri (1100-1200-1300), Presentation Copy to Frederick Shields.
Author: Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Date of publication: 1861
Publisher: Smith, Elder, and Co.
Printer: J. Whittingham, Chiswick Press
Edition: 1

The full Rossetti Archive record for this transcribed document is available.

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Manuscript Addition: G.P. Boyce. / May 18 1[illegible]7[illegible]2
more about this work
THE EARLY ITALIAN POETS.
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THE EARLY ITALIAN POETS

FROM CIULLO D'ALCAMO TO

DANTE ALIGHIERI

(1100-1200-1300)

IN THE ORIGINAL METRES

TOGETHER WITH DANTE'S VITA NUOVA



TRANSLATED BY D. G. ROSSETTI

Part I. Poets chiefly before Dante

Part II. Dante and his Circle



LONDON:

SMITH, ELDER AND CO. 65, CORNHILL.

1861.

Transcribed Footnote (page [iii]):

The rights of translation and reproduction, as regards all editorial parts

of this work, are reserved.



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WHATEVER IS MINE IN THIS BOOK

IS INSCRIBED TO MY WIFE.
D. G. R.,1861.
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more about Preface to ‘The Early Italian Poets.’
PREFACE.
I need not dilate here on the characteristics of

the first epoch of Italian Poetry; since the extent

of my translated selections is sufficient to afford a

complete view of it. Its great beauties may often

remain unapproached in the versions here attempted;

but, at the same time, its imperfections are not all

to be charged to the translator. Among these I may

refer to its limited range of subject and continual

obscurity, as well as to its monotony in the use of

rhymes or frequent substitution of assonances. But

to compensate for much that is incomplete and in-

experienced, these poems possess, in their degree,

beauties of a kind which can never again exist in art;

and offer, besides, a treasure of grace and variety in

the formation of their metres. Nothing but a strong

impression, first of their poetic value, and next of

the biographical interest of some of them (chiefly

of those in my second division), would have inclined

me to bestow the time and trouble which have re-

sulted in this collection.
Much has been said, and in many respects justly,

against the value of metrical translation. But I think

it would be admitted that the tributary art might

find a not illegitimate use in the case of poems which
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come down to us in such a form as do these early

Italian ones. Struggling originally with corrupt

dialect and imperfect expression, and hardly kept

alive through centuries of neglect, they have reached

that last and worst state in which the coup-de-grace

has almost been dealt them by clumsy transcription

and pedantic superstructure. At this stage the task

of talking much more about them in any language

is hardly to be entered upon; and a translation (in-

volving, as it does, the necessity of settling many

points without discussion,) remains perhaps the most

direct form of commentary.
The life-blood of rhymed translation is this,—that

a good poem shall not be turned into a bad one.

The only true motive for putting poetry into a fresh

language must be to endow a fresh nation, as far as

possible, with one more possession of beauty. Poetry

not being an exact science, literality of rendering is

altogether secondary to this chief aim. I say literality,

—not fidelity, which is by no means the same thing.

When literality can be combined with what is thus

the primary condition of success, the translator is

fortunate, and must strive his utmost to unite them;

when such object can only be attained by paraphrase,

that is his only path.
Any merit possessed by these translations is de-

rived from an effort to follow this principle; and, in

some degree, from the fact that such painstaking in

arrangement and descriptive heading as is often

indispensable to old and especially to “occasional”
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poetry, has here been bestowed on these poets for the

first time.
That there are many defects in these translations,

or that the above merit is their defect, or that they have

no merits but only defects, are discoveries so sure to be

made if necessary (or perhaps here and there in any

case), that I may safely leave them in other hands.

The collection has probably a wider scope than some

readers might look for, and includes now and then

(though I believe in rare instances) matter which

may not meet with universal approval; and whose

introduction, needed as it is by the literary aim of

my work, is I know inconsistent with the principles

of pretty bookmaking. My wish has been to give

a full and truthful view of early Italian poetry;

not to make it appear to consist only of certain

elements to the exclusion of others equally belonging

to it.
Of the difficulties I have had to encounter,—the

causes of imperfections for which I have no other

excuse,—it is the reader's best privilege to remain

ignorant; but I may perhaps be pardoned for briefly

referring to such among these as concern the exi-

gencies of translation. The task of the translator

(and with all humility be it spoken) is one of some

self-denial. Often would he avail himself of any

special grace of his own idiom and epoch, if only his

will belonged to him: often would some cadence

serve him but for his author's structure—some struc-

ture but for his author's cadence: often the beautiful
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turn of a stanza must be weakened to adopt some

rhyme which will tally, and he sees the poet revelling

in abundance of language where himself is scantily

supplied. Now he would slight the matter for the

music, and now the music for the matter; but no,

he must deal to each alike. Sometimes too a flaw

in the work galls him, and he would fain remove it,

doing for the poet that which his age denied him;

but no,—it is not in the bond. His path is like that

of Aladdin through the enchanted vaults: many are

the precious fruits and flowers which he must pass

by unheeded in search for the lamp alone; happy

if at last, when brought to light, it does not prove

that his old lamp has been exchanged for a new one,—

glittering indeed to the eye, but scarcely of the same

virtue nor with the same genius at its summons.
In relinquishing this work (which, small as it is,

is the only contribution I expect to make to our

English knowledge of old Italy), I feel, as it were,

divided from my youth. The first associations I

have are connected with my father's devoted studies,

which, from his own point of view, have done so

much towards the general investigation of Dante's

writings. Thus, in those early days, all around me

partook of the influence of the great Florentine; till,

from viewing it as a natural element, I also, growing

older, was drawn within the circle. I trust that

from this the reader may place more confidence in a

work not carelessly undertaken, though produced in

the spare-time of other pursuits more closely followed.
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He should perhaps be told that it has occupied the

leisure moments of not a few years; thus affording,

often at long intervals, every opportunity for consi-

deration and revision; and that on the score of care,

at least, he has no need to mistrust it.
Nevertheless, I know there is no great stir to

be made by launching afresh, on high-seas busy

with new traffic, the ships which have been long

outstripped and the ensigns which are grown strange.

The feeling of self-doubt inseparable from such an

attempt has been admirably expressed by a great

living poet, in words which may be applied exactly

to my humbler position, though relating in his case

to a work all his own.
  • “Still, what if I approach the august sphere
  • Named now with only one name,—disentwine
  • That under current soft and argentine
  • From its fierce mate in the majestic mass
  • Leaven'd as the sea whose fire was mix'd with glass
  • In John's transcendent vision,—launch once more
  • That lustre? Dante, pacer of the shore
  • Where glutted Hell disgorges filthiest gloom,
  • Unbitten by its whirring sulphur-spume—
  • Or whence the grieved and obscure waters slope
  • Into a darkness quieted by hope—
  • Plucker of amaranths grown beneath God's eye
  • In gracious twilights where His chosen lie,—
  • I would do this! If I should falter now!....”
( Sordello, byRobert Browning, B. i.)
It may be well to conclude this short preface with

a list of the works which have chiefly contributed to

the materials of the present volume.
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  • I. Poeti del primo secolo della Lingua Ita-

    liana. 2 vol. (Firenze. 1816.)
  • II. Raccolta di Rime antiche Toscane. 4 vol.

    (Palermo. 1817.)
  • III. Manuale della Letteratura del primo Secolo.

    del Prof. V. Nannucci. 3 vol. (Firenze. 1843.)
  • IV. Poesie Italiane inedite di dugento autori:

    raccolte da Francesco Trucchi. 4 vol. (Prato.

    1846.)*
  • V. Opere Minori di Dante. Edizione di P. I.

    Fraticelli. (Firenze. 1843, &c.)
  • VI. Rime di Guido Cavalcanti; raccolte da A.

    Cicciaporci. (Firenze. 1813.)
  • VII. Vita e Poesie di Messer Cino da Pistoia.

    Edizione di S. Ciampi. (Pisa. 1813.)
  • VIII. Documenti d'Amore; di Francesco da

    Barberino. Annotati da F. Ubaldini. (Roma.

    1640.)
  • IX. Del Reggimento e dei Costumi delle Donne;

    di Francesco da Barberino. (Roma. 1815.)
  • X. Il Dittamondo di Fazio degli Uberti. (Milano.

    1826.)
Transcribed Footnote (page xii):

* This work contains, in its first and second volumes, by

far the best edited collection I know of early Italian poetry.

Unfortunately it is only a supplement to the previous ones,

giving poems till then unpublished. A reprint of the whole

mass by the same editor, with such revision and further

additions as he could give it, would be very desirable.

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CONTENTS.
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more about Poets Chiefly Before Dante.
PART I.

POETS CHIEFLY BEFORE DANTE.
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more about Table of Poets in Part I.
TABLE OF POETS IN PART I.
    I.

    CIULLO D'ALCAMO, 1172-78.

  • Ciullo is a popular form of the name Vin-

    cenzo, and Alcamo an Arab fortress some miles

    from Palermo. The Dialogue which is the only

    known production of this poet holds here the place

    generally accorded to it as the earliest Italian poem

    (exclusive of one or two dubious inscriptions) which

    has been preserved to our day. Arguments have

    sometimes been brought to prove that it must be as-

    signed to a later date than the poem by Folcachiero,

    which follows it in this volume; thus ascribing the

    first honours of Italian poetry to Tuscany, and not

    to Sicily, as is commonly supposed. Trucchi, how-

    ever, (in the preface to his valuable collection,)

    states his belief that the two poems are about con-

    temporaneous, fixing the date of that by Ciullo

    between 1172 and 1178,—chiefly from the fact that

    the fame of Saladin, to whom this poet alludes, was

    most in men's mouths during that interval. At first

    sight, any casual reader of the original would sup-

    pose that this poem must be unquestionably the

    earliest of all, as its language is far the most un-

    formed and difficult; but much of this might, of course,

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    be dependent on the inferior dialect of Sicily, mixed

    however in this instance (as far as I can judge)

    with mere nondescript patois.

    • II. Folcachiero de' Folcachieri, Knight of

    Siena, 1177.

  • The above date has been assigned with probabi-

    lity to Folcachiero's Canzone, on account of its first

    line where the whole world is said to be “living

    without war;” an assertion which seems to refer

    its production to the period of the celebrated peace

    concluded at Venice between Frederick Barbarossa

    and Pope Alexander III.

    • III. Lodovico della Vernaccia, 1200.IV. Saint Francis of Assisi; born, 1182, died,

    1226.

  • His baptismal name was Giovanni, and his father

    was Bernardone Moriconi, whose mercantile pur-

    suits he shared till the age of twenty-five; after

    which his life underwent the extraordinary change

    which resulted in his canonization, by Gregory IX.,

    three years after his death, and in the formation of

    the Religious Order called Franciscans.

    • V. Frederick II., Emperor; born, 1194,

    died, 1250.

  • The life of Frederick II., and his excommunica-

    tion and deposition from the Empire by Innocent

    IV., to whom, however, he did not succumb, are

    matters of history which need no repetition. In-

    tellectually, he was in all ways a highly-gifted and

    accomplished prince; and lovingly cultivated the

    Italian language, in preference to the many others

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    with which he was familiar. The poem of his which

    I give has great passionate beauty; yet I believe

    that an allegorical interpretation may here probably

    be admissible; and that the lady of the poem may

    be the Empire, or perhaps the Church herself, held

    in bondage by the Pope.

    • VI. Enzo, King of Sardinia; born, 1225,

    died, 1272.

  • The unfortunate Enzo was a natural son of Fre-

    derick II., and was born at Palermo. By his own

    warlike enterprise, at an early age (it is said at

    fifteen!) he subjugated the Island of Sardinia, and

    was made King of it by his father. Afterwards he

    joined Frederick in his war against the Church,

    and displayed the highest promise as a leader; but

    at the age of twenty-five was taken prisoner by the

    Bolognese, whom no threats or promises from the

    Emperor could induce to set him at liberty. He

    died in prison at Bologna, after a confinement of

    nearly twenty-three years. A hard fate indeed for

    one who, while moving among men, excited their

    hopes and homage, still on record, by his great mili-

    tary genius and brilliant gifts of mind and person.

    • VII. Guido Guinicelli, 1220.

  • This poet, certainly the greatest of his time, be-

    longed to a noble and even princely Bolognese family.

    Nothing seems known of his life, except that he was

    married to a lady named Beatrice, and that in 1274,

    having adhered to the imperial cause, he was sent

    into exile, but whither cannot be learned. He died

    two years afterwards. The highest praise has been

    bestowed by Dante on Guinicelli, in the Commedia,

    (Purg. C. xxvi.) in the Convito, and in the De

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    Vulgari Eloquio; and many instances might be

    cited in which the works of the great Florentine

    contain reminiscences of his Bolognese predecessor;

    especially the third canzone of Dante's Convito may

    be compared with Guido's most famous one “On the

    Gentle Heart.”

    • VIII. Guerzo di Montecanti, 1220.IX. Inghilfredi, Siciliano, 1220.X. Rinaldo d'Aquino, 1250.

  • I have placed this poet, belonging to a Neapoli-

    tan family, under the date usually assigned to him;

    but Trucchi states his belief that he flourished much

    earlier, and was a contemporary of Folcachiero;

    partly on account of two lines in one of his poems

    which say,—

    • “Lo Imperadore con pace
    • Tutto il mondo mantene.”


    If so, the mistake would be easily accounted for, as

    there seem to have been various members of the

    family named Rinaldo, at different dates.

    • XI. Jacopo da Lentino, 1250.

  • This Sicilian poet is generally called “the No-

    tary of Lentino.” The low estimate expressed of him,

    as well as of Bonaggiunta and Guittone, by Dante

    (Purg. C. xxiv.), must be understood as referring in

    great measure to their want of grammatical purity

    and nobility of style, as we may judge when this

    passage is taken in conjunction with the principles

    of the De Vulgari Eloquio. However, Dante also

    attributes his own superiority to the fact of his writing

    only when love (or natural impulse) really prompted

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    him,—the highest certainly of all laws relating to

    art:—
    • “Io mi son un che quando
    • Amor mi spira, noto, e in quel modo
    • Ch'ei detta dentro, vo significando.”


    A translation does not suffer from such offences of

    dialect as may exist in its original; and I think

    my readers will agree that, chargeable as he is with

    some conventionality of sentiment, the Notary of

    Lentino is often not without his claims to beauty

    and feeling. There is a peculiar charm in the son-

    net which stands first among my specimens.

    • XII. Mazzeo di Ricco, da Messina, 1250.XIII. Pannuccio dal Bagno, Pisano, 1250.XIV. Giacomino Pugliesi, Knight of Prato,

    1250.

  • Of this poet there seems nothing to be learnt;

    but he deserves special notice as possessing rather

    more poetic individuality than usual, and also as

    furnishing the only instance, among Dante's prede-

    cessors, of a poem (and a very beautiful one) writ-

    ten on a lady's death.

    • XV. Fra Guittone d'Arezzo, 1250.

  • Guittone was not a monk, but derived the prefix

    to his name from the fact of his belonging to the

    religious and military order of Cavalieri Gau-

    denti. He seems to have enjoyed a greater literary

    reputation than almost any writer of his day; but

    certainly his poems, of which many have been

    preserved, cannot be said to possess merit of a pro-

    minent kind; and Dante shows by various allusions

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    that he considered them much over-rated. The sonnet

    I have given is somewhat remarkable, from Petrarch's

    having transplanted its last line into his Trionfi

    d'Amore (cap. III). Guittone is the author of a

    series of Italian letters to various eminent persons,

    which are the earliest known epistolary writings in

    the language.

    • XVI. Bartolomeo di Sant' Angelo, 1250.XVII. Saladino da Pavia, 1250.XVIII. Bonaggiunta Urbiciani, da Lucca,

    1250.XIX. Meo Abbracciavacca, da Pistoia,

    1250.XX. Ubaldo di Marco, 1250.XXI. Simbuono Giudice, 1250.XXII. Masolino da Todi, 1250.XXIII. Onesto di Boncima, Bolognese,

    1250.

  • Onesto was a doctor of laws, and an early friend

    of Cino da Pistoia. He was living as late as 1301,

    though his career as a poet may be fixed somewhat

    further back.

    • XXIV. Terino da Castel Fiorentino, 1250.XXV. Maestro Migliore, da Fiorenza,

    1250.XXVI. Dello da Signa, 1250.XXVII. Folgore da San Geminiano, 1260.
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    XXVIII. Guido delle Colonne, 1250.

  • This Sicilian poet has few equals among his con-

    temporaries, and is ranked high by Dante in his

    treatise De Vulgari Eloquio. He visited England

    and wrote in Latin a Historia de regibus et rebus

    Angliæ, as well as a Historia destructionis Trojæ.

    • XXIX. Pier Moronelli, di Fiorenza, 1250.XXX. Ciuncio Fiorentino, 1250.XXXI. Ruggieri di Amici, Siciliano, 1250.XXXII. Carnino Ghiberti, da Fiorenza,

    1250.XXXIII. Prinzivalle Doria, 1250.

  • Prinzivalle commenced by writing Italian poetry,

    but afterwards composed verses entirely in Provençal,

    for the love of Beatrice, Countess of Provence. He

    wrote also, in Provençal prose, a treatise “On the

    dainty madness of Love,” and another “On the

    War of Charles, King of Naples, against the tyrant

    Manfredi.” He held various high offices, and died

    at Naples in 1276.

    • XXXIV. Rustico di Filippo; born about

    1200, died, 1270.

  • The writings of this Tuscan poet (called also

    Rustico Barbuto) show signs of more vigour and

    versatility than was common in his day, and he pro-

    bably began writing in Italian verse even before

    many of those already mentioned. In his old age,

    he, though a Ghibelline, received the dedication of

    the Tesoretto from the Guelf Brunetto Latini, who

    there pays him unqualified homage for surpassing

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    worth in peace and war. It is strange that more

    should not be known regarding this doubtless re-

    markable man. His compositions have sometimes

    much humour, and on the whole convey the im-

    pression of an active and energetic nature. More-

    over, Trucchi pronounces some of them to be as pure

    in language as the poems of Dante or Guido Caval-

    canti, though written thirty or forty years earlier.

    • XXXV. Pucciarello di Fiorenza, 1260.XXXVI. Albertuccio della Viola, 1260.XXXVII. Tommaso Buzzuola, da Faenza, 1280.XXXVIII. Noffo Bonaguida, 1280.XXXIX. Lippo Paschi de' Bardi, 1280.XL. Ser Pace, Notaio da Fiorenza, 1280.XLI. Niccolò degli Albizzi, 1300.

  • The noble Florentine family of Albizzi produced

    writers of poetry in more than one generation. The

    vivid and admirable sonnet which I have translated

    is the only one I have met with by Niccolò. I must

    confess my inability to trace the circumstances which

    gave rise to it.

    • XLII. Francesco da Barberino; born,

    1264, died, 1348.

  • With the exception of Brunetto Latini, (whose

    poems are neither very poetical nor well adapted for

    extract,) Francesco da Barberino shows by far the

    most sustained productiveness among the poets who

    preceded Dante, or were contemporaries of his youth.

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    Though born only one year in advance of Dante,

    Barberino seems to have undertaken, if not com-

    pleted, his two long poetic treatises, some years be-

    fore the commencement of the Commedia.

    This poet was born at Barberino di Valdelsa, of a

    noble family, his father being Neri di Rinuccio da

    Barberino. Up to the year of his father's death,

    1296, he pursued the study of law chiefly in Bologna

    and Padua; but afterwards removed to Florence for

    the same purpose, and became one of the many

    distinguished disciples of Brunetto Latini, who pro-

    bably had more influence than any other one man in

    forming the youth of his time to the great things

    they accomplished. After this he travelled in France

    and elsewhere; and on his return to Italy in 1313,

    was the first who, by special favour of Pope Clement

    V., received the grade of Doctor of Laws in Florence.

    Both as lawyer and as citizen, he held great trusts

    and discharged them honourably. He was twice

    married, the name of his second wife being Barna

    di Tano, and had several children. At the age of

    eighty-four he died in the great Plague of Florence.

    Of the two works which Barberino has left, one

    bears the title of Documenti d'Amore, literally “Do-

    cuments of Love,” but perhaps more properly ren-

    dered as “Laws of Courtesy;” while the other is

    called Del Reggimento e dei Costumi delle Donne,

    “Of the Government and Conduct of Women.”

    They may be described, in the main, as manuals of

    good breeding, or social chivalry, the one for men

    and the other for women. Mixed with vagueness,

    tediousness, and not seldom with artless absurdity,

    they contain much simple wisdom, much curious re-

    cord of manners, and (as my specimens show) occa-

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    Transcribed Note (page xxxii):
    Note: In line 11, the word "anecdotes" is misspelled.


    sional poetic sweetness or power, though these last

    are far from being their most prominent merits.

    The first-named treatise, however, has much more

    of such qualities than the second; and contains,

    moreover, passages of homely humour which startle

    by their truth as if written yesterday. At the same

    time, the second book is quite as well worth reading,

    for the sake of its authoritative minuteness in mat-

    ters which ladies, now-a-days, would probably con-

    sider their own undisputed region; and also for the

    quaint gravity of certain surprising prose ancedotes

    of real life, with which it is interspersed. Both

    these works remained long unprinted, the first edi-

    tion of the Documenti d'Amore being that edited

    by Ubaldini in 1640, at which time he reports the

    Reggimento, &c. , to be only possessed by his

    age “in name and in desire.” This treatise was

    afterwards brought to light, but never printed till

    1815. I should not forget to state that Barberino

    attained some knowledge of drawing, and that

    Ubaldini had seen his original MS. of the Docu-

    menti, containing, as he says, skilful miniatures by

    the author.

    Barberino never appears to have taken a very

    active part in politics, but he inclined to the Imperial

    and Ghibelline party. This contributes with other

    things to render it rather singular that we find no

    poetic correspondence or apparent communication of

    any kind between him and his many great countrymen,

    contemporaries of his long life, and with whom he

    had more than one bond of sympathy. His career

    stretched from Dante, Guido Cavalcanti, and Cino

    da Pistoia, to Petrarca and Boccaccio; yet only in

    one respectful but not enthusiastic notice of him by

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    the last-named writer ( Genealogia degli Dei), do we

    ever meet with an allusion to him by any of the

    greatest men of his time. Nor in his own writings,

    as far as I remember, are they ever referred to.

    His epitaph is said to have been written by Boccaccio,

    but this is doubtful. On reviewing the present series,

    I am sorry, on the whole, not to have included more

    specimens of Barberino, whose writings, though not

    very easy to tackle in the mass, would afford an

    excellent field for selection and summary.

    • XLIII. Fazio Degli Uberti, 1326-60.

  • The dates of this poet's birth and death are not

    ascertainable, but I have set against his name two

    dates which result from his writings as belonging to

    his lifetime. He was a member of that great house

    of the Uberti, which was driven from Florence on

    the expulsion of the Ghibellines in 1267, and which

    was ever afterwards specially excluded by name from

    the various amnesties offered from time to time to

    the exiled Florentines. His grandfather was Farinata

    degli Uberti, whose stern nature, unyielding even

    amid penal fires, has been recorded by Dante in the

    tenth canto of the Inferno. Farinata's son Lapo,

    himself a poet, was the father of Fazio ( i.e. Boni-

    fazio), who was no doubt born in the lifetime of Dante,

    and in some place of exile, but where is not known.

    In his youth he was enamoured of a certain Vero-

    nese lady named Angiola, and was afterwards

    married, but whether to her or not is again among

    the uncertainties. Certain it is that he had a son

    named Leopardo, who, after his father's death at

    Verona, settled in Venice, where his descendants

    maintained an honourable rank for the space of two

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    succeeding centuries. Though Fazio appears to have

    suffered sometimes from poverty, he enjoyed high

    reputation as a poet, and is even said, on the autho-

    rity of various early writers, to have publicly received

    the laurel crown; but in what city of Italy this took

    place, we do not learn.

    There is much beauty in several of Fazio's lyrical

    poems, of which, however, no great number have

    been preserved. The finest of all is the Canzone

    which I have translated; whose excellence is such

    as to have procured it the high honour of being at-

    tributed to Dante, so that it is to be found in most

    editions of the Canzoniere; and as far as poetic

    beauty is concerned, it must be allowed to hold

    even there an eminent place. Its style, however,

    (as Monti was the first to point out) is more par-

    ticularizing than accords with the practice of Dante;

    while, though certainly more perfect than any other

    poem by Fazio, its manner is quite his; bearing

    especially a strong resemblance throughout in struc-

    ture to one canzone, where he speaks of his love

    with minute reference to the seasons of the year.

    Moreover, Fraticelli tells us that it is not attributed

    to Dante in any one of the many ancient MSS. he had

    seen, but has been fathered on him solely on the autho-

    rity of a printed collection of 1518. This contested

    Canzone is well worth fighting for; and the victor

    would deserve to receive his prize at the hands of a

    peerless Queen of Beauty, for never was beauty

    better described. I believe we may decide that

    the triumph belongs by right to Fazio.

    An exile by inheritance, Fazio seems to have

    acquired restless tastes; and in the latter years of

    his life (which was prolonged to old age), he tra-

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    velled over a great part of Europe, and composed

    his long poem entitled Il Dittamondo,—“The Song

    of the World,” or, more exactly, “Words of the

    World.” This work, though by no means con-

    temptible in point of execution, certainly falls far

    short of its conception, which is a grand one; the

    topics of which it treats in great measure,—geogra-

    phy and natural history,—rendering it in those days

    the native home of all credulities and monstrosities.

    In scheme it was intended as an earthly parallel to

    Dante's Sacred Poem, doing for this world what

    he did for the other. At Fazio's death it remained

    unfinished, but I should think by very little; the

    plan of the work seeming in the main accomplished.

    The whole earth (or rather all that was then known

    of it) is traversed,—its surface and its history,—end-

    ing with the Holy Land, and thus bringing Man's

    world as near as may be to God's; that is, to the

    point at which Dante's office begins. No conception

    could well be nobler, or worthier even now of being

    dealt with by a great master. To the work of such a

    man, Fazio's work might afford such first materials as

    have usually been furnished beforehand to the

    greatest poets by some unconscious steward.

    • XLIV. Franco Sacchetti; born, 1335, died

    shortly after 1400.

  • This excellent writer is the only member of my

    gathering who was born after the death of Dante,

    which event (in 1321) preceded Franco's birth by

    some fourteen years. I have introduced a few

    specimens of his poetry, partly because their attrac-

    tion was irresistible, but also because he is the earliest

    Italian poet with whom playfulness is the chief

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    characteristic; for even with Boccaccio, in his poetry,

    this is hardly the case. However, Franco Sacchetti

    wrote poems also on political subjects; and had he

    belonged more strictly to the period of which I treat,

    there is no one who would better have deserved

    abundant selection. Besides his poetry, he is the

    author of a well-known series of three hundred

    stories; and Trucchi gives a list of prose works by

    him which are still in MS., and whose subjects are

    genealogical, historical, natural-historical, and even

    theological. He was a prolific writer, and one who

    well merits complete and careful publication. The

    pieces which I have translated, like many others of

    his, are written for music.

    Franco Sacchetti was a Florentine noble by birth,

    and was the son of Benci di Uguccione Sacchetti.

    Between this family and the Alighieri there had

    been a vendetta of long standing (spoken of here in

    the Appendix to Part II .), but which was probably

    set at rest before Franco's time, by the deaths of at

    least one Alighieri and two Sacchetti. After some

    years passed in study, Franco devoted himself to

    commerce, like many nobles of the republic, and for

    that purpose spent some time in Sclavonia, whose

    uncongenial influences he has recorded in an amusing

    poem. As his literary fame increased, he was

    called to many important offices, was one of the

    Priori in 1383, and for some time was deputed to

    the government of Faenza, in the absence of its

    lord, Astorre Manfredi. He was three times mar-

    ried; to Felice degli Strozzi, to Ghita Gherardini,

    and to Nannina di Santi Bruni.

    • XLV. Anonymous Poems.
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Sig. B
CIULLO D'ALCAMO.
more about DIALOGUE. Lover and Lady.
Dialogue.

Lover and Lady.
  • He.
  • Thou sweetly-smelling fresh red rose
  • That near thy summer art,
  • Of whom each damsel and each dame
  • Would fain be counterpart;
  • Oh! from this fire to draw me forth
  • Be it in thy good heart:
  • For night or day there is no rest with me,
  • Thinking of none, my lady, but of thee.
  • She.
  • If thou hast set thy thoughts on me,
  • 10 Thou hast done a foolish thing.
  • Yea, all the pine-wood of this world
  • Together might'st thou bring,
    Image of page 2 page: 2
  • And make thee ships, and plough the sea
  • Therewith for corn-sowing,
  • Ere any way to win me could be found:
  • For I am going to shear my locks all round.
  • He.
  • Lady, before thou shear thy locks
  • I hope I may be dead:
  • For I should lose such joy thereby
  • 20 And gain such grief instead.
  • Merely to pass and look at thee,
  • Rose of the garden-bed,
  • Has comforted me much, once and again.
  • Oh! if thou wouldst but love, what were it then!
  • She.
  • Nay, though my heart were prone to love,
  • I would not grant it leave.
  • Hark! should my father or his kin
  • But find thee here this eve,
  • Thy loving body and lost breath
  • 30 Our moat may well receive.
  • Whatever path to come here thou dost know,
  • By the same path I counsel thee to go.
  • He.
  • And if thy kinsfolk find me here,
  • Shall I be drown'd then? Marry,
  • I'll set, for price against my head,
  • Two thousand agostari.
    Image of page 3 page: 3
  • I think thy father would not do't
  • For all his lands in Bari.
  • Long life to the Emperor! Be God's the praise!
  • 40Thou hear'st, my beauty, what thy servant says.
  • She.
  • And am I then to have no peace
  • Morning or evening?
  • I have strong coffers of my own
  • And much good gold therein;
  • So that if thou couldst offer me
  • The wealth of Saladin,
  • And add to that the Soldan's money-hoard,
  • Thy suit would not be anything toward.
  • He.
  • I have known many women, love,
  • 50 Whose thoughts were high and proud,
  • And yet have been made gentle by
  • Man's speech not over loud.
  • If we but press ye long enough,
  • At length ye will be bow'd;
  • For still a woman's weaker than a man.
  • When the end comes, recall how this began.
  • She.
  • God grant that I may die before
  • Any such end do come,—
  • Before the sight of a chaste maid
  • 60 Seem to be troublesome!
    Image of page 4 page: 4
  • I mark'd thee here all yestereve
  • Lurking about my home,
  • And now I say, Leave climbing, lest thou fall,
  • For these thy words delight me not at all.
  • He.
  • How many are the cunning chains
  • Thou hast wound round my heart!
  • Only to think upon thy voice
  • Sometimes I groan apart.
  • For I did never love a maid
  • 70 Of this world, as thou art,
  • So much as I love thee, thou crimson rose.
  • Thou wilt be mine at last: this my soul knows.
  • She.
  • If I could think it would be so,
  • Small pride it were of mine
  • That all my beauty should be meant
  • But to make thee to shine.
  • Sooner than stoop to that I'd shear
  • These golden tresses fine,
  • And make one of some holy sisterhood;
  • 80Escaping so thy love, which is not good.
  • He.
  • If thou unto the cloister fly,
  • Thou cruel lady and cold,
  • Unto the cloister I will come
  • And by the cloister hold;
    Image of page 5 page: 5
  • For such a conquest liketh me
  • Much better than much gold;
  • At matins and at vespers I shall be
  • Still where thou art. Have I not conquer'd thee?
  • She.
  • Out and alack! wherefore am I
  • 90 Tormented in suchwise?
  • Lord Jesus Christ the Saviour,
  • In whom my best hope lies,
  • O give me strength that I may hush
  • This vain man's blasphemies!
  • Let him seek through the earth; 'tis long and broad:
  • He will find fairer damsels, O my God!
  • He.
  • I have sought through Calabria,
  • Lombardy, and Tuscany,
  • Rome, Pisa, Lucca, Genoa,
  • 100 All between sea and sea:
  • Yea, even to Babylon I went
  • And distant Barbary:
  • But not a woman found I anywhere
  • Equal to thee, who art indeed most fair.
  • She.
  • If thou have all this love for me,
  • Thou canst no better do
  • Than ask me of my father dear
  • And my dear mother too:
    Image of page 6 page: 6
  • They willing, to the abbey-church
  • 110 We will together go,
  • And, before Advent, thou and I will wed;
  • After the which, I'll do as thou hast said.
  • He.
  • These thy conditions, lady mine,
  • Are altogether nought;
  • Despite of them, I'll make a net
  • Wherein thou shalt be caught.
  • What, wilt thou put on wings to fly?
  • Of wax I think they're wrought,—
  • They'll let thee fall to earth, not rise with thee:
  • 120So, if thou canst, then keep thyself from me.
  • She.
  • Think not to fright me with thy nets
  • And suchlike childish gear;
  • I am safe pent within the walls
  • Of this strong castle here;
  • A boy before he is a man
  • Could give me as much fear.
  • If suddenly thou get not hence again,
  • It is my prayer thou may'st be found and slain.
  • He.
  • Wouldst thou in very truth that I
  • 130 Were slain, and for thy sake?
  • Then let them hew me to such mince
  • As a man's limbs may make!
    Image of page 7 page: 7
  • But meanwhile I shall not stir hence
  • Till of that fruit I take
  • Which thou hast in thy garden, ripe enough:
  • All day and night I thirst to think thereof.
  • She.
  • None have partaken of that fruit,
  • Not Counts nor Cavaliers:
  • Though many have reach'd up for it,
  • 140 Barons and great Seigneurs,
  • They all went hence in wrath because
  • They could not make it theirs.
  • Then how canst thou think to succeed alone
  • Who hast not a thousand ounces of thine own?
  • He.
  • How many nosegays I have sent
  • Unto thy house, sweet soul!
  • At least till I am put to proof,
  • This scorn of thine control.
  • For if the wind, so fair for thee,
  • 150 Turn ever and wax foul,
  • Be sure that thou shalt say when all is done,
  • “Now is my heart heavy for him that's gone.”
  • She.
  • If by my grief thou couldst be grieved,
  • God send me a grief soon!
  • I tell thee that though all my friends
  • Pray'd me as for a boon,
    Image of page 8 page: 8
  • Saying, “Even for the love of us,
  • Love thou this worthless loon,”—
  • Thou shouldst not have the thing that thou dost hope.
  • 160No, verily; not for the realm o' the Pope.
  • He.
  • Now could I wish that I in truth
  • Were dead here in thy house:
  • My soul would get its vengeance then;
  • Once known, the thing would rouse
  • A rabble, and they'd point and say,—
  • “Lo! she that breaks her vows,
  • And, in her dainty chamber, stabs!” Love, see:
  • One strikes just thus: it is soon done, pardie!
  • She.
  • If now thou do not hasten hence,
  • 170 (My curse companioning,)
  • That my stout friends will find thee here
  • Is a most certain thing:
  • After the which, my gallant sir,
  • Thy points of reasoning
  • May chance, I think, to stand thee in small stead.
  • Thou hast no friend, sweet friend, to bring thee aid.
  • He.
  • Thou sayest truly, saying that
  • I have not any friend:
  • A landless stranger, lady mine,
  • 180 None but his sword defend.
    Image of page 9 page: 9
  • One year ago, my love began,
  • And now, is this the end?
  • Oh! the rich dress thou worest on that day
  • Since when thou art walking at my side alway!
  • She.
  • So 'twas my dress enamour'd thee!
  • What marvel? I did wear
  • A cloth of samite silver-flower'd,
  • And gems within my hair.
  • But one more word; if on Christ's Book
  • 190 To wed me thou didst swear,
  • There's nothing now could win me to be thine:
  • I had rather make my bed in the sea-brine.
  • He.
  • And if thou make thy bed therein,
  • Most courteous lady and bland,
  • I'll follow all among the waves,
  • Paddling with foot and hand;
  • Then, when the sea hath done with thee,
  • I'll seek thee on the sand.
  • For I will not be conquer'd in this strife:
  • 200I'll wait, but win; or losing, lose my life.
  • She.
  • For Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
  • Three times I cross myself.
  • Thou art no godless heretic,
  • Nor Jew, whose God's his pelf:
    Image of page 10 page: 10
  • Even as I know it then, meseems,
  • Thou needs must know thyself
  • That woman, when the breath in her doth cease,
  • Loseth all savour and all loveliness.
  • He.
  • Woe's me! Perforce it must be said
  • 210 No craft could then avail:
  • So that if thou be thus resolved,
  • I know my suit must fail.
  • Then have some pity, of thy grace!
  • Thou may'st, love, very well;
  • For though thou love not me, my love is such
  • That 'tis enough for both—yea overmuch.
  • She.
  • Is it even so? Learn then that I
  • Do love thee from my heart.
  • To-morrow, early in the day,
  • 220 Come here, but now depart.
  • By thine obedience in this thing
  • I shall know what thou art,
  • And if thy love be real or nothing worth;
  • Do but go now, and I am thine henceforth.
  • He.
  • Nay, for such promise, my own life,
  • I will not stir a foot.
  • I've said, if thou wouldst tear away
  • My love even from its root,
    Image of page 11 page: 11
  • I have a dagger at my side
  • 230 Which thou may'st take to do't:
  • But as for going hence, it will not be.
  • O hate me not! my heart is burning me.
  • She.
  • Think'st thou I know not that thy heart
  • Is hot and burns to death?
  • Of all that thou or I can say,
  • But one word succoureth.
  • Till thou upon the Holy Book
  • Give me thy bounden faith,
  • God is my witness that I will not yield:
  • 240For with thy sword 'twere better to be kill'd.
  • He.
  • Then on Christ's Book, borne with me still
  • To read from and to pray,
  • (I took it, fairest, in a church,
  • The priest being gone away,)
  • I swear that my whole self shall be
  • Thine always from this day.
  • And now at once give joy for all my grief,
  • Lest my soul fly, that's thinner than a leaf.
  • She.
  • Now that this oath is sworn, sweet lord,
  • 250 There is no need to speak:
  • My heart, that was so strong before,
  • Now feels itself grow weak.
    Image of page 12 page: 12
  • If any of my words were harsh,
  • Thy pardon: I am meek
  • Now, and will give thee entrance presently.
  • It is best so, sith so it was to be.
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FOLCACHIERO DE' FOLCACHIERI,

KNIGHT OF SIENA.
more about CANZONE. He speaks of his Condition through Love.
Canzone.

He dwells on his Condition through Love.
  • All the whole world is living without war,
  • And yet I cannot find out any peace.
  • O God! that this should be!
  • O God! what does the earth sustain me for?
  • My life seems made for other lives' ill-ease:
  • All men look strange to me;
  • Nor are the wood-flowers now
  • As once, when up above
  • The happy birds in love
  • 10Made such sweet verses, going from bough to bough.
  • And if I come where other gentlemen
  • Bear arms, or say of love some joyful thing,—
  • Then is my grief most sore,
  • And all my soul turns round upon me then:
  • Folk also gaze upon me, whispering,
  • Because I am not what I was before.
    Image of page 14 page: 14
  • I know not what I am.
  • I know how wearisome
  • My life is now become,
  • 20And that the days I pass seem all the same.
  • I think that I shall die; yea, death begins;
  • Though 'tis no set down sickness that I have,
  • Nor are my pains set down.
  • But to wear raiment seems a burden since
  • This came, nor ever any food I crave;
  • Not any cure is known
  • To me, nor unto whom
  • I might commend my case:
  • This evil therefore stays
  • 30Still where it is, and hope can find no room.
  • I know that it must certainly be Love:
  • No other Lord, being thus set over me,
  • Had judged me to this curse;
  • With such high hand he rules, sitting above,
  • That of myself he takes two parts in fee,
  • Only the third being hers.
  • Yet if through service I
  • Be justified with God,
  • He shall remove this load,
  • 40Because my heart with inmost love doth sigh.
  • Gentle my lady, after I am gone,
  • There will not come another, it may be,
    Image of page 15 page: 15
  • To show thee love like mine:
  • For nothing can I do, neither have done,
  • Except what proves that I belong to thee
  • And am a thing of thine.
  • Be it not said that I
  • Despair'd and perish'd, then;
  • But pour thy grace, like rain,
  • 50On him who is burn'd up, yea, visibly.
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LODOVICO DELLA VERNACCIA.
more about SONNET. He exorts the State to vigilance.
Sonnet.

He exhorts the State to vigilance.
  • Think a brief while on the most marvellous
  • arts
  • Of our high-purposed labour, citizens;
  • And having thought, draw clear conclusion thence;
  • And say, do not ours seem but childish parts?
  • Also on these intestine sores and smarts
  • Ponder advisedly; and the deep sense
  • Thereof shall bow your heads in penitence,
  • And like a thorn shall grow into your hearts.
  • If, of our foreign foes, some prince or lord
  • 10 Is now, perchance, some whit less troublesome,
  • Shall the sword therefore drop into the sheath?
  • Nay, grasp it as the friend that warranteth:
  • For unto this vile rout, our foes at home,
  • Nothing is high or awful save the sword.
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Sig. C
SAINT FRANCIS OF ASSISI.
more about CANTICA. Our Lord Christ: of order.
Cantica.

Our Lord Christ: of order.*
  • Set Love in order, thou that lovest Me.
  • Never was virtue out of order found;
  • And though I fill thy heart desirously,
  • By thine own virtue I must keep My ground:
  • When to My love thou dost bring charity,
  • Even she must come with order girt and gown'd.
  • Look how the trees are bound
  • To order, bearing fruit;
  • And by one thing compute,
  • 10In all things earthly, order's grace or gain.
  • All earthly things I had the making of
  • Were number'd and were measured then by Me;
  • And each was order'd to its end by Love,
  • Each kept, through order, clean for ministry.
    • Transcribed Footnote (page [17]):

    * This speech occurs in a long poem on Divine Love, half

    ecstatic, half scholastic, and hardly appreciable now. The

    passage stands well by itself, and is the only one spoken by

    our Lord.

    Image of page 18 page: 18
  • Charity most of all, when known enough,
  • Is of her very nature orderly.
  • Lo, now! what heat in thee,
  • Soul, can have bred this rout?
  • Thou putt'st all order out.
  • 20Even this love's heat must be its curb and rein.
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FREDERICK II. EMPEROR.
more about CANZONE. Of his Lady in bondage.
Canzone.

Of his Lady in bondage.
  • For grief I am about to sing,
  • Even as another would for joy;
  • Mine eyes which the hot tears destroy
  • Are scarce enough for sorrowing:
  • To speak of such a grievous thing
  • Also my tongue I must employ,
  • Saying: Woe's me, who am full of woes!
  • Not while I live shall my sighs cease
  • For her in whom my heart found peace:
  • 10I am become like unto those
  • That cannot sleep for weariness,
  • Now I have lost my crimson rose.
  • And yet I will not call her lost;
  • She is not gone out of the earth;
  • She is but girded with a girth
  • Of hate, that clips her in like frost.
  • Thus says she every hour almost:—
  • “When I was born, 'twas an ill birth!
  • O that I never had been born,
  • 20 If I am still to fall asleep
    Image of page 20 page: 20
  • Weeping, and when I wake to weep;
  • If he whom I most loathe and scorn
  • Is still to have me his, and keep
  • Smiling about me night and morn!
  • “O that I never had been born
  • A woman! a poor, helpless fool,
  • Who can but stoop beneath the rule
  • Of him she needs must loathe and scorn!
  • If ever I feel less forlorn,
  • 30 I stand all day in fear and dule,
  • Lest he discern it, and with rough
  • Speech mock at me, or with his smile
  • So hard you scarce could call it guile:
  • No man is there to say, ‘Enough.’
  • O, but if God waits a long while,
  • Death cannot always stand aloof!
  • “Thou, God the Lord, dost know all this:
  • Give me a little comfort then.
  • Him who is worst among bad men
  • 40 Smite thou for me. Those limbs of his
  • Once hidden where the sharp worm is,
  • Perhaps I might see hope again.
  • Yet for a certain period
  • Would I seem like as one that saith
  • Strange things for grief, and murmureth
  • With smitten palms and hair abroad:
  • Still whispering under my held breath,
  • ‘Shall I not praise Thy name, O God?’
    Note: The final four lines of the preceding stanza ("Strange things for grief ... Thy name, O God?'") were incorrectly set too far to the left by the printer. They do not line up properly with the rest of the stanza.
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  • “Thou, God the Lord, dost know all this:
  • 50 It is a very weary thing
  • Thus to be always trembling:
  • And till the breath of his life cease,
  • The hate in him will but increase,
  • And with his hate my suffering.
  • Each morn I hear his voice bid them
  • That watch me, to be faithful spies
  • Lest I go forth and see the skies;
  • Each night, to each, he saith the same;—
  • And in my soul and in mine eyes
  • 60There is a burning heat like flame.”
  • Thus grieves she now; but she shall wear
  • This love of mine, whereof I spoke,
  • About her body for a cloak,
  • And for a garland in her hair,
  • Even yet: because I mean to prove,
  • Not to speak only, this my love.
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ENZO, KING OF SARDINIA.
more about SONNET. On the Fitness of Seasons.
Sonnet.

On the Fitness of Seasons.
  • There is a time to mount; to humble thee
  • A time; a time to talk, and hold thy peace;
  • A time to labour, and a time to cease;
  • A time to take thy measures patiently;
  • A time to watch what Time's next step may be;
  • A time to make light count of menaces,
  • And to think over them a time there is;
  • There is a time when to seem not to see.
  • Wherefore I hold him well-advised and sage
  • 10 Who evermore keeps prudence facing him,
  • And lets his life slide with occasion;
  • And so comports himself, through youth to age,
  • That never any man at any time
  • Can say, Not thus, but thus thou shouldst have
  • done.
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GUIDO GUINICELLI.
more about SONNET. Concerning Lucy.
I.

Sonnet.

Concerning Lucy.
  • When Lucy draws her mantle round her face,
  • So sweeter than all else she is to see,
  • That hence unto the hills there lives not he
  • Whose whole soul would not love her for her grace.
  • Then seems she like a daughter of some race
  • That holds high rule in France or Germany:
  • And a snake's head stricken off suddenly
  • Throbs never as then throbs my heart to embrace
  • Her body in these arms, even were she loth;—
  • 10 To kiss her lips, to kiss her cheeks, to kiss
  • The lids of her two eyes which are two flames.
  • Yet what my heart so longs for, my heart
  • blames:
  • For surely sorrow might be bred from this
  • Where some man's patient love abides its growth.
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more about CANZONE. Of the gentle Heart.
II.

Canzone.

Of the gentle Heart.
  • Within the gentle heart Love shelters him,
  • As birds within the green shade of the
  • grove.
  • Before the gentle heart, in Nature's scheme,
  • Love was not, nor the gentle heart ere Love.
  • For with the sun, at once,
  • So sprang the light immediately; nor was
  • Its birth before the sun's.
  • And Love hath his effect in gentleness
  • Of very self; even as
  • 10 Within the middle fire the heat's excess.
    Note: The next-to-last line ("And Love hath...") and last line ("Within the middle...") of the preceding stanza were set incorrectly by the printer so that they do not line up properly with the rest of the stanza. Compare the indentation for corresponding lines in the rest of the poem.
  • The fire of Love comes to the gentle heart
  • Like as its virtue to a precious stone;
  • To which no star its influence can impart
  • Till it is made a pure thing by the sun:
  • For when the sun hath smit
  • From out its essence that which there was vile,
  • The star endoweth it.
  • And so the heart created by God's breath
  • Pure, true, and clean from guile,
  • 20A woman, like a star, enamoureth.
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  • In gentle heart Love for like reason is
  • For which the lamp's high flame is fann'd and
  • bow'd:
  • Clear, piercing bright, it shines for its own bliss;
  • Nor would it burn there else, it is so proud.
  • For evil natures meet
  • With Love as it were water met with fire,
  • As cold abhorring heat.
  • Through gentle heart Love doth a track divine,—
  • Like knowing like; the same
  • 30As diamond runs through iron in the mine.
  • The sun strikes full upon the mud all day;
  • It remains vile, nor the sun's worth is less.
  • “By race I am gentle,” the proud man doth say:
  • He is the mud, the sun is gentleness.
  • Let no man predicate
  • That aught the name of gentleness should have,
  • Even in a king's estate,
  • Except the heart there be a gentle man's.
  • The star-beam lights the wave,—
  • 40Heaven holds the star and the star's radiance.
  • God, in the understanding of high Heaven,
  • Burns more than in our sight the living sun:
  • There to behold His Face unveil'd is given;
  • And Heaven, whose will is homage paid to One,
  • Fulfils the things which live
  • In God, from the beginning excellent.
  • So should my lady give
    Image of page 26 page: 26
  • That truth which in her eyes is glorified,
  • On which her heart is bent,
  • 50To me whose service waiteth at her side.
  • My lady, God shall ask, “What dared'st thou?”
  • (When my soul stands with all her acts review'd;)
  • “Thou passed'st Heaven, into My sight, as now,
  • To make Me of vain love similitude.
  • To Me doth praise belong,
  • And to the Queen of all the realm of grace
  • Who endeth fraud and wrong.”
  • Then may I plead: “As though from Thee he came,
  • Love wore an angel's face:
  • 60Lord, if I loved her, count it not my shame.”
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more about SONNET. He will praise his lady.
III.

Sonnet.

He will praise his Lady.
  • Yea, let me praise my lady whom I love,
  • Likening her unto the lily and rose:
  • Brighter than morning star her visage glows;
  • She is beneath even as her Saint above:
  • She is as the air in summer which God wove
  • Of purple and of vermillion glorious;
  • As gold and jewels richer than man knows.
  • Love's self, being love for her, must holier prove.
  • Ever as she walks she hath a sober grace,
  • 10 Making bold men abash'd and good men glad;
  • If she delight thee not, thy heart must err.
  • No man dare look on her his thoughts being base:
  • Nay, let me say even more than I have said;—
  • No man could think base thoughts who look'd
  • on her.
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more about CANZONE. He perceives his rashness in Love, but has no choice.
IV.

Canzone.

He perceives his Rashness in Love, but has no choice.
  • I hold him, verily, of mean emprise,
  • Whose rashness tempts a strength too great to
  • bear;
  • As I have done, alas! who turn'd mine eyes
  • Upon those perilous eyes of the most fair.
  • Unto her eyes I bow'd;
  • No need her other beauties in that hour
  • Should aid them, cold and proud:
  • As when the vassals of a mighty lord,
  • What time he needs his power,
  • 10Are all girt round him to make strong his sword.
  • With such exceeding force the stroke was dealt,
  • That by mine eyes its path might not be stay'd;
  • But deep into the heart it pierced, which felt
  • The pang of the sharp wound, and wax'd afraid;
  • Then rested in strange wise,
  • As when some creature utterly outworn
  • Sinks into bed and lies.
  • And she the while doth in no manner care,
  • But goes her way in scorn,
  • 20Beholding herself alway proud and fair.
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  • And she may be as proud as she shall please,
  • For she is still the fairest woman found:
  • A sun she seems among the rest; and these
  • Have all their beauties in her splendour drown'd.
  • In her is every grace,—
  • Simplicity of wisdom, noble speech,
  • Accomplish'd loveliness;
  • All earthly beauty is her diadem.
  • This truth my song would teach,—
  • 30My lady is of ladies chosen gem.
  • Love to my lady's service yieldeth me,—
  • Will I, or will I not, the thing is so,—
  • Nor other reason can I say or see,
  • Except that where it lists the wind doth blow.
  • He rules and gives no sign;
  • Nor once from her did show of love upbuoy
  • This passion which is mine.
  • It is because her virtue's strength and stir
  • So fill her full of joy
  • 40That I am glad to die for love of her.
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more about SONNET. Of Moderation and Tolerance.
V.

Sonnet.

Of Moderation and Tolerance.
  • He that has grown to wisdom hurries not,
  • But thinks and weighs what Reason bids
  • him do;
  • And after thinking he retains his thought
  • Until as he conceived the fact ensue.
  • Let no man to o'erweening pride be wrought,
  • But count his state as Fortune's gift and due.
  • He is a fool who deems that none has sought
  • The truth, save he alone, or knows it true.
  • Many strange birds are on the air abroad,
  • 10 Nor all are of one flight or of one force,
  • But each after his kind dissimilar:
  • To each was portion'd of the breath of God,
  • Who gave them divers instincts from one source.
  • Then judge not thou thy fellows what they are.
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more about SONNET. Of Human Presumption.
VI.

Sonnet.

Of Human Presumption.
  • Among my thoughts I count it wonderful,
  • How foolishness in man should be so rife
  • That masterly he takes the world to wife
  • As though no end were set unto his rule:
  • In labour alway that his ease be full,
  • As though there never were another life;
  • Till Death throws all his order into strife,
  • And round his head his purposes doth pull.
  • And evermore one sees the other die,
  • 10 And sees how all conditions turn to change,
  • Yet in no wise may the blind wretch be heal'd.
  • I therefore say, that sin can even estrange
  • Man's very sight, and his heart satisfy
  • To live as lives a sheep upon the field.
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GUERZO DI MONTECANTI.
more about SONNET. He is out of heart with his time.
Sonnet.

He is out of heart with his Time.
  • If any man would know the very cause
  • Which makes me to forget my speech in rhyme,
  • All the sweet songs I sang in other time,—
  • I'll tell it in a sonnet's simple clause.
  • I hourly have beheld how good withdraws
  • To nothing, and how evil mounts the while:
  • Until my heart is gnaw'd as with a file,
  • Nor aught of this world's worth is what it was.
  • At last there is no other remedy
  • 10 But to behold the universal end;
  • And so upon this hope my thoughts are urged:
  • To whom, since truth is sunk and dead at sea,
  • There has no other part or prayer remain'd,
  • Except of seeing the world's self submerged.
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Sig. D
INGHILFREDI SICILIANO.
more about CANZONE. He rebukes the Evil of that Time.
Canzone.

He rebukes the Evil of that Time.
  • Hard is it for a man to please all men:
  • I therefore speak in doubt,
  • And as one may that looketh to be chid.
  • But who can hold his peace in these days?—when
  • Guilt cunningly slips out,
  • And innocence atones for what he did;
  • When worth is crush'd, even if it be not hid;
  • When on crush'd worth, guile sets his foot to rise;
  • And when the things wise men have counted wise
  • 10 Make fools to smile and stare and lift the lid.
  • Let none who have not wisdom govern you:
  • For he that was a fool
  • At first shall scarce grow wise under the sun.
  • And as it is, my whole heart bleeds anew
  • To think how hard a school
  • Young hope grows old at, as these seasons run.
  • Behold, sirs, we have reach'd this thing for
  • one:—
  • The lord before his servant bends the knee,
  • And service puts on lordship suddenly.
  • 20 Ye speak o' the end? Ye have not yet begun.
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  • I would not have ye without counsel ta'en
  • Follow my words; nor meant,
  • If one should talk and act not, to praise him.
  • But who, being much opposed, speaks not again,
  • Confesseth himself shent
  • And put to silence,—by some loud-mouth'd
  • mime,
  • Perchance, for whom I speak not in this
  • rhyme.
  • Strive what ye can; and if ye cannot all,
  • Yet should not your hearts fall:
  • 30 The fruit commends the flower in God's good
  • time.
  • (For without fruit, the flower delights not God:)
  • Wherefore let him whom Hope
  • Puts off, remember time is not gone by.
  • Let him say calmly: “Thus far on this road
  • A foolish trust buoy'd up
  • My soul, and made it like the butterfly
  • Burn'd in the flame it seeks: even so was I:
  • But now I'll aid myself; for still this trust,
  • I find, falleth to dust:
  • 40 The fish gapes for the bait-hook, and doth die.”
  • And yet myself, who bid ye do this thing,—
  • Am I not also spurn'd
  • By the proud feet of Hope continually;
  • Till that which gave me such good comforting
  • Is altogether turn'd
    Image of page 35 page: 35
  • Unto a fire whose heat consumeth me?
  • I am so girt with grief that my thoughts be
  • Tired of themselves, and from my soul I loathe
  • Silence and converse both;
  • 50 And my own face is what I hate to see.
  • Because no act is meet now nor unmeet.
  • He that does evil, men applaud his name,
  • And the well-doer must put up with shame:
  • Yea, and the worst man sits in the best seat.
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RINALDO D'AQUINO.
more about CANZONE. He is resolved to be joyful in Love.
I.

Canzone.

He is resolved to be joyful in Love.
  • A thing is in my mind,—
  • To have my joy again,
  • Which I had almost put away from me.
  • It were in foolish kind
  • For ever to refrain
  • From song, and renounce gladness utterly.
  • Seeing that I am given into the rule
  • Of Love, whom only pleasure makes alive
  • Whom pleasure nourishes and brings to
  • growth:
  • 10 The wherefore sullen sloth
  • Will he not suffer in those serving him
  • But pleasant they must seem,
  • That good folk love them and their service thrive;
  • Nor even their pain must make them sorrowful.
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  • So bear he him that thence
  • The praise of men be gain'd,—
  • He that would put his hope in noble Love;
  • For by great excellence
  • Alone can be attain'd
  • 20That amorous joy which wisdom may approve.
  • The way of Love is this, righteous and just;
  • Then whoso would be held of good account,
  • To seek the way of Love must him befit,—
  • Pleasure, to wit.
  • Through pleasure, man attains his worthiness:
  • For he must please
  • All men, so bearing him that Love may mount
  • In their esteem, Love's self being in his trust.
  • Trustful in servitude
  • 30 I have been and will be,
  • And loyal unto Love my whole life through.
  • A hundred-fold of good
  • Hath he not guerdon'd me
  • For what I have endured of grief and woe?
  • Since he hath given me unto one of whom
  • Thus much he said,—thou mightest seek for
  • aye
  • Another of such worth, so beauteous.
  • Joy therefore may keep house
  • In this my heart, that it hath loved so well.
  • 40 Me seems I scarce could dwell
  • Ever in weary life or in dismay
  • If to true service still my heart gave room.
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  • Serving at her pleasaunce
  • Whose service pleasureth,
  • I am enrich'd with all the wealth of Love.
  • Song hath no utterance
  • For my life's joyful breath
  • Since in this lady's grace my homage throve.
  • Yea, for I think it would be difficult
  • 50 One should conceive my former abject case:—
  • Therefore have knowledge of me from this
  • rhyme.
  • My penance-time
  • Is all accomplish'd now, and all forgot,
  • So that no jot
  • Do I remember of mine evil days.
  • It is my lady's will that I exult.
  • Exulting let me take
  • My joyful comfort, then,
  • Seeing myself in so much blessedness.
  • 60 Mine ease even as mine ache
  • Accepting, let me gain
  • No pride tow'rds Love; but with all humbleness,
  • Even still, my pleasurable service pay.
  • For a good servant ne'er was left to pine:
  • Great shall his guerdon be who greatly bears.
  • But, because he that fears
  • To speak too much, by his own silence shent,
  • Hath sometimes made lament,—
  • I am thus boastful, lady; being thine
  • 70For homage and obedience night and day.
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more about CANZONE. A Lady, in Spring, repents of her Coldness.
II.

Canzone.

A Lady, in Spring, repents of her Coldness.
  • Now, when it flowereth,
  • And when the banks and fields
  • Are greener every day,
  • And sweet is each bird's breath,
  • In the tree where he builds
  • Singing after his way,—
  • Spring comes to us with hasty step and brief,
  • Everywhere in leaf,
  • And everywhere makes people laugh and play.
  • 10 Love is brought unto me
  • In the scent of the flower
  • And in the birds' blithe noise.
  • When day begins to be,
  • I hear in every bower
  • New verses finding voice:
  • From every branch around me and above,
  • A minstrels' court of love,
  • The birds contend in song about love's joys.
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  • What time I hear the lark
  • 20 And nightingale keep Spring,
  • My heart will pant and yearn
  • For love. (Ye all may mark
  • The unkindly comforting
  • Of fire that will not burn.)
  • And, being in the shadow of the fresh wood,
  • How excellently good
  • A thing love is, I cannot choose but learn.
  • Let me ask grace; for I,
  • Being loved, loved not again.
  • 30 Now springtime makes me love,
  • And bids me satisfy
  • The lover whose fierce pain
  • I thought too lightly of:
  • For that the pain is fierce I do feel now.
  • And yet this pride is slow
  • To free my heart, which pity would fain move.
  • Wherefore I pray thee, Love,
  • That thy breath turn me o'er,
  • Even as the wind a leaf;
  • 40 And I will set thee above
  • This heart of mine, that's sore
  • Perplex'd, to be its chief.
  • Let also the dear youth, whose passion must
  • Henceforward have good trust,
  • Be happy without words; for words bring grief.
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JACOPO DA LENTINO.
more about SONNET. Of his Lady in Heaven.
I.

Sonnet.

Of his Lady in Heaven.
  • I have it in my heart to serve God so
  • That into Paradise I shall repair,—
  • The holy place through the which everywhere
  • I have heard say that joy and solace flow.
  • Without my lady I were loth to go,—
  • She who has the bright face and the bright hair;
  • Because if she were absent, I being there,
  • My pleasure would be less than nought, I know.
  • Look you, I say not this to such intent
  • 10 As that I there would deal in any sin:
  • I only would behold her gracious mien,
  • And beautiful soft eyes, and lovely face,
  • That so it should be my complete content
  • To see my lady joyful in her place.
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more about CANZONETTA. Of his Lady, and of her Portrait.
II.

Canzonetta.

Of his Lady, and of her Portrait.
  • Marvellously elate,
  • Love makes my spirit warm
  • With noble sympathies;
  • As one whose mind is set
  • Upon some glorious form,
  • To paint it as it is;—
  • I verily who bear
  • Thy face at heart, most fair,
  • Am like to him in this.
  • 10Not outwardly declared,
  • Within me dwells enclosed
  • Thine image as thou art.
  • Ah! strangely hath it fared!
  • I know not if thou know'st
  • The love within my heart.
  • Exceedingly afraid,
  • My hope I have not said,
  • But gazed on thee apart.
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  • Because desire was strong,
  • 20 I made a portraiture
  • In thine own likeness, love;
  • When absence has grown long,
  • I gaze, till I am sure
  • That I behold thee move;
  • As one who purposeth
  • To save himself by faith,
  • Yet sees not, nor can prove.
  • Then comes the burning pain;
  • As with the man that hath
  • 30 A fire within his breast,—
  • When most he struggles, then
  • Most boils the flame in wrath,
  • And will not let him rest.
  • So still I burn'd and shook,
  • To pass, and not to look
  • In thy face, loveliest.
  • For where thou art I pass,
  • And do not lift mine eyes,
  • Lady, to look on thee:
  • 40But, as I go, alas!
  • With bitterness of sighs
  • I mourn exceedingly.
  • Alas! the constant woe!
  • Myself I do not know,
  • So sore it troubles me.
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  • And I have sung thy praise,
  • Lady, and many times
  • Have told thy beauties o'er.
  • Hast heard in anyways,
  • 50 Perchance, that these my rhymes
  • Are song-craft and no more?
  • Nay, rather deem, when thou
  • Shalt see me pass and bow,
  • These words I sicken for.
  • Delicate song of mine,
  • Go sing thou a new strain;
  • Seek, with the first sunshine,
  • Our lady, mine and thine,—
  • The rose of Love's domain,
  • 60Than red gold comelier.
  • “Lady, in Love's name hark
  • To Jacopo the clerk,
  • Born in Lentino here.”
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more about SONNET. No Jewel is worth his Lady.
III.

Sonnet.

No Jewel is worth his Lady.
  • Sapphire, nor diamond, nor emerald,
  • Nor other precious stones past reckoning,
  • Topaz, nor pearl, nor ruby like a king,
  • Nor that most virtuous jewel, jasper call'd,
  • Nor amethyst, nor onyx, nor basalt,
  • Each counted for a very marvellous thing,
  • Is half so excellently gladdening
  • As is my lady's head uncoronall'd.
  • All beauty by her beauty is made dim;
  • 10 Like to the stars she is for loftiness;
  • And with her voice she taketh away grief.
  • She is fairer than a bud, or than a leaf.
  • Christ have her well in keeping, of His grace,
  • And make her holy and beloved, like Him!
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more about CANZONETTA. He will neither boast nor lament to his Lady.
IV.

Canzonetta.

He will neither boast nor lament to his Lady.
  • Love will not have me cry
  • For grace, as others do;
  • Nor as they vaunt, that I
  • Should vaunt my love to you.
  • For service, such as all
  • Can pay, is counted small;
  • Nor is it much to praise
  • The thing which all must know;—
  • Such pittance to bestow
  • 10On you my love delays.
  • Love lets me not turn shape
  • As chance or use may strike;
  • As one may see an ape
  • Counterfeit all alike.
  • Then, lady, unto you
  • Be it not mine to sue
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  • For grace or pitying.
  • Many the lovers be
  • That of such suit are free,—
  • 20It is a common thing.
  • A gem, the more 'tis rare,
  • The more its cost will mount:
  • And, be it not so fair,
  • It is of more account.
  • So, coming from the East,
  • The sapphire is increased
  • In worth, though scarce so bright;
  • I therefore seek thy face
  • Not to solicit grace
  • 30Being cheapen'd and made slight.
  • So is the colosmine
  • Now cheapen'd, which in fame
  • Was once so brave and fine,
  • But now is a mean gem.
  • So be such prayers for grace
  • Not heard in any place;
  • Would they indeed hold fast
  • Their worth, be they not said,
  • Nor by true lovers made
  • 40Before nine years be past.
  • Lady, sans sigh or groan,
  • My longing thou canst see;
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  • Much better am I known
  • Than to myself, to thee.
  • And is there nothing else
  • That in thy heart avails
  • For love but groan and sigh?
  • And wilt thou have it thus,
  • This love betwixen us?—
  • 50Much rather let me die.
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Sig. E
more about CANZONETTA. Of his Lady, and of his making her Likeness.
V.

Canzonetta.

Of his Lady, and of his making her Likeness.
  • My lady mine,* I send
  • These sighs in joy to thee;
  • Though, loving till the end,
  • There were no hope for me
  • That I should speak my love;
  • And I have loved indeed,
  • Though, having fearful heed,
  • It was not spoken of.
Transcribed Footnote (page 49):

* Madonna mia.

  • Thou art so high and great
  • 10 That whom I love I fear;
  • Which thing to circumstate
  • I have no messenger:
  • Wherefore to Love I pray,
  • On whom each lover cries,
  • That these my tears and sighs
  • Find unto thee a way.
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  • Well have I wish'd, when I
  • At heart with sighs have ached,
  • That there were in each sigh
  • 20 Spirit and intellect,
  • The which, where thou dost sit,
  • Should kneel and sue for aid,
  • Since I am thus afraid
  • And have no strength for it.
  • Thou, lady, killest me,
  • Yet keepest me in pain,
  • For thou must surely see
  • How, fearing, I am fain.
  • Ah! why not send me still
  • 30 Some solace, small and slight,
  • So that I should not quite
  • Despair of thy good will?
  • Thy grace, all else above,
  • Even now while I implore,
  • Enamoureth my love
  • To love thee still the more.
  • Yet scarce should I know well
  • A greater love to gain,
  • Even if a greater pain,
  • 40Lady, were possible.
  • Joy did that day relax
  • My grief's continual stress,
  • When I essay'd in wax
  • Thy beauty's life-likeness.
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  • Ah! much more beautiful
  • Than golden-hair'd Yseult,—
  • Who mak'st all men exult,
  • Who bring'st all women dule.
  • And certes without blame
  • 50 Thy love might fall to me,
  • Though it should chance my name
  • Were never heard of thee.
  • Yea, for thy love, in fine,
  • Lentino gave me birth,
  • Who am not nothing worth
  • If worthy to be thine.
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more about SONNET. Of his Lady's Face.
VI.

Sonnet.

Of his Lady's Face.
  • Her face has made my life most proud and
  • glad;
  • Her face has made my life quite wearisome;
  • It comforts me when other troubles come,
  • And amid other joys it strikes me sad.
  • Truly I think her face can drive me mad;
  • For now I am too loud, and anon dumb.
  • There is no second face in Christendom
  • Has a like power, nor shall have, nor has had.
  • What man in living face has seen such eyes,
  • 10 Or such a lovely bending of the head,
  • Or mouth that opens to so sweet a smile?
  • In speech, my heart before her faints and dies,
  • And into Heaven seems to be spirited;
  • So that I count me blest a certain while.
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more about CANZONE. At the end of his Hope.
VII.

Canzone.

At the end of his Hope.
  • Remembering this—how Love
  • Mocks me, and bids me hoard
  • Mine ill reward that keeps me nigh to death,—
  • How it doth still behove
  • I suffer the keen sword,
  • Whence undeplored I may not draw my breath;
  • In memory of this thing
  • Sighing and sorrowing,
  • I am languid at the heart
  • 10 For her to whom I bow,
  • Craving her pity now,
  • And who still turns apart.
  • I am dying, and through her—
  • This flower, from paradise
  • Sent in some wise, that I might have no rest.
  • Truly she did not err
  • To come before his eyes
  • Who fails and dies, by her sweet smile possess'd;
  • For, through her countenance
  • 20 (Fair brows and lofty glance!)
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  • I live in constant dule.
  • Of lovers' hearts the chief
  • For sorrow and much grief,
  • My heart is sorrowful.
  • For Love has made me weep
  • With sighs that do him wrong,
  • Since, when most strong my joy, he gave this woe.
  • I am broken, as a ship
  • Perishing of the song
  • 30Sweet, sweet and long, the song the sirens know.
  • The mariner forgets,
  • Voyaging in those straits,
  • And dies assuredly.
  • Yea, from her pride perverse,
  • Who hath my heart as her's,
  • Even such my death must be.
  • I deem'd her not so fell
  • And hard but she would greet,
  • From her high seat, at length, the love I bring;
  • 40 For I have loved her well;—
  • Nor that her face so sweet
  • In so much heat would keep me languishing;
  • Seeing that she I serve
  • All honour doth deserve
  • For worth unparallell'd.
  • Yet what availeth moan
  • But for more grief alone?
  • O God! that it avail'd!
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  • Thou, my new song, shalt pray
  • 50 To her, who for no end
  • Each day doth tend her virtues that they grow,—
  • Since she to love saith nay;—
  • (More charms she hath attain'd
  • Than sea hath sand, and wisdom even so);—
  • Pray thou to her that she
  • For my love pity me,
  • Since with my love I burn,—
  • That of the fruit of love,
  • While help may come thereof,
  • 60 She give to me in turn.
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MAZZEO DI RICCO DA MESSINA.
more about CANZONE. He solicits his Lady's Pity.
I.

Canzone.

He solicits his Lady's Pity
  • The lofty worth and lovely excellence,
  • Dear lady, that thou hast,
  • Hold me consuming in the fire of love;
  • That I am much afear'd and wilder'd thence,
  • As who, being meanly placed,
  • Would win unto some height he dreameth of.
  • Yet, if it be decreed,
  • After the multiplying of vain thought,
  • By Fortune's favour he at last is brought
  • 10To his far hope, the mighty bliss indeed.
  • Thus, in considering thy loveliness,
  • Love maketh me afear'd,—
  • So high art thou, joyful, and full of good;—
  • And all the more, thy scorn being never less.
  • Yet is this comfort heard,—
  • That underneath the water fire doth brood,
    Image of page 57 page: 57
  • Which thing would seem unfit
  • By law of nature. So may thy scorn prove
  • Changed at the last, through pity, into love,
  • 20If favourable Fortune should permit.
  • Lady, though I do love past utterance,
  • Let it not seem amiss,
  • Neither rebuke thou the enamour'd eyes.
  • Look thou thyself on thine own countenance,
  • From that charm unto this,
  • All thy perfection of sufficiencies.
  • So shalt thou rest assured
  • That thine exceeding beauty lures me on
  • Perforce, as by the passive magnet-stone
  • 30The needle, of its nature's self, is lured.
  • Certes, it was of Love's dispiteousness
  • That I must set my life
  • On thee, proud lady, who accept'st it not.
  • And how should I attain unto thy grace,
  • That falter, thus at strife
  • To speak to thee the thing which is my thought?
  • Thou, lovely as thou art,
  • I pray for God, when thou dost pass me by,
  • Look upon me: so shalt thou certify,
  • 40By my cheek's ailing, that which ails my heart.
  • So thoroughly my love doth tend toward
  • Thy love its lofty scope,
  • That I may never think to ease my pain;
  • Because the ice, when it is frozen hard,
    Image of page 58 page: 58
  • May have no further hope
  • That it should ever become snow again.
  • But, since Love bids me bend
  • Unto thy signiory,
  • Have pity thou on me,
  • 50That so upon thyself all grace descend.
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more about CANZONE. After six years' service he renounces his Lady.
II.

Canzone.

After six years' Service he renounces his Lady.
  • I laboured these six years
  • For thee, thou bitter sweet;
  • Yea, more than it is meet
  • That speech should now rehearse
  • Or song should rhyme to thee;
  • But love gains never aught
  • From thee, by depth or length;
  • Unto thine eyes such strength
  • And calmness thou hast taught,
  • 10 That I say wearily:—
  • “The child is most like me,
  • Who thinks in the clear stream
  • To catch the round flat moon
  • And draw it all a-dripping unto him,—
  • Who fancies he can take into his hand
  • The flame o' the lamp, but soon
  • Screams and is nigh to swoon
  • At the sharp heat his flesh may not withstand.”
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  • Though it be late to learn
  • 20 How sore I was possest,
  • Yet do I count me blest,
  • Because I still can spurn
  • This thrall which is so mean.
  • For when a man, once sick,
  • Has got his health anew,
  • The fever which boil'd through
  • His veins, and made him weak,
  • Is as it had not been.
  • For all that I had seen,
  • 30Thy spirit, like thy face,
  • More excellently shone
  • Than precious crystals in an untrod place.
  • Go to: thy worth is but as glass, the cheat,
  • Which, to gaze thereupon,
  • Seems crystal, even as one,
  • But only is a cunning counterfeit.
  • Foil'd hope has made me mad,
  • As one who, playing high,
  • Thought to grow rich thereby,
  • 40And loses what he had.
  • Yet I can now perceive
  • How true the saying is
  • That says: “If one turn back
  • Out of an evil track
  • Through loss which has been his,
  • He gains, and need not grieve.”
  • To me now, by your leave,
    Image of page 61 page: 61
  • It chances as to him
  • Who of his purse is free
  • 50To one whose memory for such debts is dim.
  • Long time he speaks no word thereof, being loth:
  • But having ask'd, when he
  • Is answer'd slightingly,
  • Then shall he lose his patience, and be wroth.
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more about SONNET. Of Self-seeing.
III.

Sonnet.

Of Self-seeing.
  • If any his own foolishness might see
  • As he can see his fellow's foolishness,
  • His evil speakings could not but prove less,
  • For his own fault would vex him inwardly.
  • But, by old custom, each man deems that he
  • Has to himself all this world's worthiness;
  • And thou, perchance, in blind contentedness,
  • Scorn'st him, yet know'st not what I think of thee.
  • Wherefore I wish it were so orderèd
  • 10 That each of us might know the good that's his,
  • And also the ill,—his honour and his shame.
  • For oft a man has on his proper head
  • Such weight of sins, that, did he know but this,
  • He could not for his life give others blame.
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PANNUCCIO DAL BAGNO PISANO.
more about CANZONE. Of his Change through Love.
Canzone.

Of his Change through Love.
  • My lady, thy delightful high command,
  • Thy wisdom's great intent,
  • The worth which ever rules thee in thy sway,
  • (Whose righteousness of strength has ta'en in hand
  • Such full accomplishment
  • As height makes worthy of more height alway,)
  • Have granted to thy servant some poor due
  • Of thy perfection; who
  • From them has gain'd a proper will so fix'd,
  • 10 With other thought unmix'd,
  • That nothing save thy service now impels
  • His life, and his heart longs for nothing else.
  • Beneath thy pleasure, lady mine, I am:
  • The circuit of my will,
  • The force of all my life, to serve thee so:
  • Never but only this I think or name,
  • Nor ever can I fill
  • My heart with other joy that man may know.
  • And hence a sovereign blessedness I draw,
  • 20 Who soon most clearly saw
    Image of page 64 page: 64
  • That not alone my perfect pleasure is
  • In this my life-service;
  • But Love has made my soul with thine to touch
  • Till my heart feels unworthy of so much.
  • For all that I could strive, it were not worth
  • That I should be uplift
  • Into thy love, as certainly I know:
  • Since one to thy deserving should stretch forth
  • His love for a free gift,
  • 30 And be full fain to serve and sit below.
  • And forasmuch as this is verity,
  • It came to pass with thee
  • That seeing how my love was not loud-tongued
  • Yet for thy service long'd,—
  • As only thy pure wisdom brought to pass,—
  • Thou knew'st my heart for only what it was.
  • Also because thou thus at once didst learn
  • This heart of mine and thine,
  • With all its love for thee, which was and is;
  • 40Thy lofty sense that could so well discern
  • Wrought even in me some sign
  • Of thee, and of itself some emphasis,
  • Which evermore might hold my purpose fast.
  • For lo! thy law is pass'd
  • That this my love should manifestly be
  • To serve and honour thee:
  • And so I do: and my delight is full,
  • Accepted for the servant of thy rule.
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Sig. F
  • Without almost, I am all rapturous,
  • 50 Since thus my will was set
  • To serve, thou flower of joy, thine excellence:
  • Nor ever seems it anything could rouse
  • A pain or a regret,
  • But on thee dwells mine every thought and sense;
  • Considering that from thee all virtues spread
  • As from a fountain-head,—
  • That in thy gift is wisdom's best avail
  • And honour without fail;
  • With whom each sovereign good dwells separate
  • 60Fulfilling the perfection of thy state.
  • Lady, since I conceived
  • Thy pleasurable aspect in my heart,
  • My life has been apart
  • In shining brightness and the place of truth;
  • Which till that time, good sooth,
  • Groped among shadows in a darken'd place
  • Where many hours and days
  • It hardly ever had remember'd good.
  • But now my servitude
  • 70Is thine, and I am full of joy and rest.
  • A man from a wild beast
  • Thou madest me, since for thy love I lived.
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GIACOMINO PUGLIESI, KNIGHT

OF PRATO.
more about CANZONETTA. Of his Lady in Absence.
I.

Canzonetta.

Of his Lady in absence.
  • The sweetly-favour'd face
  • She has, and her good cheer,
  • Have fill'd me full of grace
  • When I have walk'd with her.
  • They did upon that day:
  • And everything that pass'd
  • Comes back from first to last
  • Now that I am away.
  • There went from her meek mouth
  • 10 A poor low sigh which made
  • My heart sink down for drouth.
  • She stoop'd, and sobb'd, and said,—
  • “Sir, I entreat of you
  • Make little tarrying:
  • It is not a good thing
  • To leave one's love and go.”
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  • But when I turn'd about
  • Saying, “God keep you well!”—
  • As she look'd up I thought
  • 20 Her lips that were quite pale
  • Strove much to speak, but she
  • Had not half strength enough:
  • My own dear graceful love
  • Would not let go of me.
  • I am not so far, sweet maid,
  • That now the old love's unfelt:
  • I believe Tristram had
  • No such love for Yseult:
  • And when I see your eyes
  • 30 And feel your breath again,
  • I shall forget this pain
  • And my whole heart will rise.
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more about CANZONETTA. To his Lady, in Spring.
II.

Canzonetta.

To his Lady, in Spring.
  • To see the green returning
  • To stream-side, garden, and meadow,—
  • To hear the birds give warning,
  • (The laughter of sun and shadow
  • Awaking them full of revel,)
  • It puts me in strength to carol
  • A music measured and level,
  • This grief in joy to apparel;
  • For the deaths of lovers are evil.
  • 10Love is a foolish riot,
  • And to be loved is a burden;
  • Who loves and is loved in quiet
  • Has all the world for his guerdon.
  • Ladies on him take pity
  • Who for their sake hath trouble:
  • Yet, if any heart be a city
  • From Love embarrèd double,
  • Thereof is a joyful ditty.
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  • That heart shall be always joyful;—
  • 20 But I in the heart, my lady,
  • Have jealous doubts unlawful,
  • And stubborn pride stands ready.
  • Yet love is not with a measure,
  • But still is willing to suffer
  • Service at his good pleasure:
  • The whole Love hath to offer
  • Tends to his perfect treasure.
  • Thine be this prelude-music
  • That was of thy commanding:
  • 30Thy gaze was not delusive,—
  • Of my heart thou hadst understanding.
  • Lady, by thine attemp'rance
  • Thou held'st my life from pining:
  • This tress thou gav'st, in semblance
  • Like gold of the third refining,
  • Which I do keep for remembrance.
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more about CANZONE. Of his dead Lady.
III.

Canzone.

Of his dead Lady.
  • Death, why hast thou made life so hard to
  • bear,
  • Taking my lady hence? Hast thou no whit
  • Of shame? The youngest flower and the most fair
  • Thou hast pluck'd away, and the world wanteth it.
  • O leaden Death, hast thou no pitying?
  • Our warm love's very spring
  • Thou stopp'st, and endest what was holy and meet;
  • And of my gladdening
  • Mak'st a most woful thing,
  • 10And in my heart dost bid the bird not sing
  • That sang so sweet.
  • Once the great joy and solace that I had
  • Was more than is with other gentlemen:—
  • Now is my love gone hence, who made me glad.
  • With her that hope I lived in she hath ta'en,
  • And left me nothing but these sighs and tears,—
  • Nothing of the old years
  • That come not back again,
    Image of page 71 page: 71
  • Wherein I was so happy, being her's.
  • 20Now to mine eyes her face no more appears,
  • Nor doth her voice make music in mine ears,
  • As it did then.
  • O God, why hast thou made my grief so deep?
  • Why set me in the dark to grope and pine?
  • Why parted me from her companionship,
  • And crush'd the hope which was a gift of thine?
  • To think, dear, that I never any more
  • Can see thee as before!
  • Who is it shuts thee in?
  • 30Who hides that smile for which my heart is sore,
  • And drowns those words that I am longing for,
  • Lady of mine?
  • Where is my lady, and the lovely face
  • She had, and the sweet motion when she walk'd?
  • Her chaste, mild favour—her so delicate grace—
  • Her eyes, her mouth, and the dear way she
  • talk'd?—
  • Her courteous bending—her most noble air—
  • The soft fall of her hair? . . . .
  • My lady—she who to my soul so rare
  • 40 A gladness brought!
  • Now I do never see her anywhere,
  • And may not, looking in her eyes, gain there
  • The blessing which I sought.
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  • So if I had the realm of Hungary,
  • With Greece, and all the Almayn even to France,
  • Or Saint Sophia's treasure-hoard, you see
  • All could not give me back her countenance.
  • For since the day when my dear lady died
  • From us, (with God being born and glorified,)
  • 50 No more pleasaunce
  • Her image bringeth, seated at my side,
  • But only tears. Ay me! the strength and pride
  • Which it brought once.
  • Had I my will, beloved, I would say
  • To God, unto whose bidding all things bow,
  • That we were still together night and day:
  • Yet be it done as His behests allow.
  • I do remember that while she remain'd
  • With me, she often call'd me her sweet friend;
  • 60 But does not now,
  • Because God drew her towards Him, in the end.
  • Lady, that peace which none but He can send
  • Be thine. Even so.
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FRA GUITTONE D'AREZZO.
more about SONNET. To the Blessed Virgin Mary.
Sonnet.

To the Blessed Virgin Mary.
  • Lady of Heaven, the mother glorified
  • Of glory, which is Jesus,—He whose death
  • Us from the gates of Hell delivereth
  • And our first parents' error sets aside:—
  • Behold this earthly Love, how his darts glide—
  • How sharpen'd—to what fate—throughout this
  • earth!
  • Pitiful Mother, partner of our birth,
  • Win these from following where his flight doth guide.
  • And O, inspire in me that holy love
  • 10 Which leads the soul back to its origin,
  • Till of all other love the link do fail.
  • This water only can this fire reprove,—
  • Only such cure suffice for such like sin;
  • As nail from out a plank is struck by nail.
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BARTOLOMEO DI SANT' ANGELO.
more about SONNET. He jests concerning his Poverty.
Sonnet.

He jests concerning his Poverty.
  • I am so passing rich in poverty
  • That I could furnish forth Paris and Rome,
  • Pisa and Padua and Byzantium,
  • Venice and Lucca, Florence and Forlì;
  • For I possess, in actual specie,
  • Of nihil and of nothing a great sum;
  • And unto this my hoard whole shiploads come,
  • What between nought and zero, annually.
  • In gold and precious jewels I have got
  • 10 A hundred ciphers' worth, all roundly writ;
  • And therewithal am free to feast my friend.
  • Because I need not be afraid to spend,
  • Nor doubt the safety of my wealth a whit:—
  • No thief will ever steal thereof, God wot.
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SALADINO DA PAVIA.
more about DIALOGUE. Lover and Lady.
Dialogue.

Lover and Lady.
  • She.
  • Fair sir, this love of ours,
  • In joy begun so well,
  • I see at length to fail upon thy part:
  • Wherefore my heart sinks very heavily.
  • Fair sir, this love of ours
  • Began with amorous longing, well I ween:
  • Yea, of one mind, yea, of one heart and will
  • This love of ours hath been.
  • Now these are sad and still;
  • 10For on thy part at length it fails, I see.
  • And now thou art gone from me,
  • Quite lost to me thou art:
  • Wherefore my heart in this pain languisheth,
  • Which sinks it unto death thus heavily.
  • He.
  • Lady, for will of mine
  • Our love had never changed in anywise,
  • Had not the choice been thine
  • With so much scorn my homage to despise.
    Image of page 76 page: 76
  • I swore not to yield sign
  • 20Of holding 'gainst all hope my heart-service.
  • Nay, let thus much suffice:—
  • From thee whom I have served,
  • All undeserved contempt is my reward,—
  • Rich prize prepared to guerdon fealty!
  • She.
  • Fair sir, it oft is found
  • That ladies, who would try their lovers so,
  • Have for a season frown'd,
  • Not from their heart but in mere outward show.
  • Then chide not on such ground,
  • 30Since ladies oft have tried their lovers so.
  • Alas, but I will go,
  • If now it be thy will.
  • Yet turn thee still, alas! for I do fear
  • Thou lov'st elsewhere, and therefore fly'st from me.
    Note: Lines 31 and 32 appear to have been set incorrectly by the printer. They are indented a little deeper than the corresponding lines in the previous stanza, which otherwise has an identical form.
  • He.
  • Lady, there needs no doubt
  • Of my good faith, nor any nice suspense
  • Lest love be elsewhere sought.
  • For thine did yield me no such recompense,—
  • Rest thou assured in thought,—
  • 40That now, within my life's circumference,
  • I should not quite dispense
  • My heart from woman's laws,
  • Which for no cause give pain and sore annoy,
  • And for one joy a world of misery.
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BONAGGIUNTA URBICIANI, DA LUCCA.
more about CANZONE. Of the true End of Love; with a Prayer to his Lady.
I.

Canzone.

Of the true End of Love; with a Prayer to his Lady.
  • Never was joy or good that did not soothe
  • And beget glorying,
  • Neither a glorying without perfect love.
  • Wherefore, if one would compass of a truth
  • The flight of his soul's wing,
  • To bear a loving heart must him behove.
  • Since from the flower man still expects the fruit,
  • And, out of love, that he desireth;
  • Seeing that by good faith
  • 10 Alone hath love its comfort and its joy;
  • For, suffering falsehood, love were at the root
  • Dead of all worth, which living must aspire;
  • Nor could it breed desire
  • If its reward were less than its annoy.
  • Even such the joy, the triumph, and pleasaunce,
  • Whose issue honour is,
  • And grace, and the most delicate teaching sent
  • To amorous knowledge, its inheritance;
  • Because Love's properties
    Image of page 78 page: 78
  • 20 Alter not by a true accomplishment;
  • But it were scarcely well if one should gain,
  • Without much pain, so great a blessedness;
  • He errs, when all things bless,
  • Whose heart had else been humbled to implore.
  • He gets not joy who gives no joy again;
  • Nor can win love whose love hath little scope;
  • Nor fully can know hope
  • Who leaves not of the thing most languish'd for.
  • Wherefore his choice must err immeasurably
  • 30 Who seeks the image when
  • He might behold the thing substantial.
  • I at the noon have seen dark night to be,
  • Against earth's natural plan,
  • And what was good to worst abasement fall.
  • Then be thus much sufficient, lady mine;
  • If of thy mildness pity may be born,
  • Count thou my grief outworn,
  • And turn into sweet joy this better ill;
  • Lest I might change, if left too long to pine:
  • 40As one who, journeying, in mid path should stay,
  • And not pursue his way,
  • But should go back against his proper will.
  • Natheless I hope, yea trust, to make an end
  • Of the beginning made,
  • Even by this sign—that yet I triumph not.
  • And if in truth, against my will constrain'd,
  • To turn my steps essay'd,
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  • No courage have I neither strength, God wot.
  • Such is Love's rule, who thus subdueth me
  • 50 By thy sweet face, lovely and delicate;
  • Through which I live elate,
  • But in such longing that I die for love.
  • Ah! and these words as nothing seem to be:
  • For love to such a constant fear has chid
  • My heart, that I keep hid
  • Much more than I have dared to tell thee of.
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more about How he dreams of his Lady.
II.

Canzonetta.

How he dreams of his Lady.
  • Lady, my wedded thought,
  • When to thy shape 'tis wrought,
  • Can think of nothing else
  • But only of thy grace,
  • And of those gentle ways
  • Wherein thy life excels.
  • For ever, sweet one, dwells
  • Thine image on my sight,
  • (Even as it were the gem
  • 10 Whose name is as thy name)*
  • And fills the sense with light.
Transcribed Footnote (page 80):

* The lady was probably called Diamante, Margherita, or

some similar name.

  • Continual ponderings
  • That brood upon these things
  • Yield constant agony:
  • Yea, the same thoughts have crept
  • About me as I slept.
  • My spirit looks at me,
  • And asks, “Is sleep for thee?
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    Sig. G
  • Nay, mourner, do not sleep,
  • 20 But fix thine eyes, for lo!
  • Love's fulness thou shalt know
  • By steadfast gaze and deep.”
  • Then, burning, I awake,
  • Sore tempted to partake
  • Of dreams that seek thy sight:
  • Until, being greatly stirr'd,
  • I turn to where I heard
  • That whisper in the night;
  • And there a breath of light
  • 30Shines like a silver star.
  • The same is mine own soul,
  • Which lures me to the goal
  • Of dreams that gaze afar.
  • But now my sleep is lost;
  • And through this uttermost
  • Sharp longing for thine eyes,
  • At length it may be said
  • That I indeed am mad
  • With love's extremities.
  • 40Yet when in such sweet wise
  • Thou passest and dost smile,
  • My heart so fondly burns,
  • That unto sweetness turns
  • Its bitter pang the while.
  • Even so Love rends apart
  • My spirit and my heart,
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  • Lady, in loving thee;
  • Till when I see thee now,
  • Life beats within my brow
  • 50And would be gone from me.
  • So hear I ceaselessly
  • Love's whisper, well fulfill'd,—
  • Even I am he, even so,
  • Whose flame thy heart doth know:
  • And while I strive I yield.
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more about SONNET. Of Wisdom and Foresight.
III.

Sonnet.

Of Wisdom and Foresight.
  • Such wisdom as a little child displays
  • Were not amiss in certain lords of fame:
  • For, where he fell, thenceforth he shuns the place,
  • And, having suffer'd blows, he feareth them.
  • Who knows not this may forfeit all he sways
  • At length, and find his friends go as they came.
  • O therefore on the past time turn thy face,
  • And, if thy will do err, forget the same.
  • Because repentance brings not back the past:
  • 10 Better thy will should bend than thy life break:
  • Who knows not this, by him shall it appear.
  • And, because even from fools the wise may make
  • Wisdom, the first should count himself the last,
  • Since a dog scourged can bid the lion fear.
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more about SONNET. Of Continence in Speech.
IV.

Sonnet.

Of Continence in Speech.
  • Whoso abandons peace for war-seeking,
  • 'Tis of all reason he should bear the
  • smart.
  • Whoso hath evil speech, his medicine
  • Is silence, lest it seem a hateful art.
  • To vex the wasps' nest is not a wise thing;
  • Yet who rebukes his neighbour in good part,
  • A hundred years shall show his right therein.
  • Too prone to fear, one wrongs another's heart.
  • If ye but knew what may be known to me,
  • 10 Ye would fall sorry sick, nor be thus bold
  • To cry among your fellows your ill thought.
  • Wherefore I would that every one of ye
  • Who thinketh ill, his ill thought should withold:
  • If that ye would not hear it, speak it not.
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MEO ABBRACCIAVACCA, DA PISTOIA.
more about CANZONE. He will be silent and watchful in his Love.
I.

Canzone.

He will be silent and watchful in his Love.
  • Your joyful understanding, lady mine,
  • Those honours of fair life
  • Which all in you agree to pleasantness,
  • Long since to service did my heart assign;
  • That never it has strife,
  • Nor once remembers other means of grace;
  • But this desire alone gives light to it.
  • Behold, my pleasure, by your favour, drew
  • Me, lady, unto you,
  • 10 All beauty's and all joy's reflection here:
  • From whom good women also have thought fit
  • To take their life's example every day;
  • Whom also to obey
  • My wish and will have wrought, with love and fear.
  • With love and fear to yield obedience, I
  • Might never half deserve:
  • Yet you must know, merely to look on me,
  • How my heart holds its love and lives thereby;
  • Though, well intent to serve,
    Image of page 86 page: 86
  • 20 It can accept Love's arrow silently.
  • 'Twere late to wait, ere I would render plain
  • My heart, (thus much I tell you, as I should,)
  • Which, to be understood,
  • Craves therefore the fine quickness of your glance.
  • So shall you know my love of such high strain
  • As never yet was shown by its own will;
  • Whose proffer is so still,
  • That love in heart hates love in countenance.
  • In countenance oft the heart is evident
  • 30 Full clad in mirth's attire
  • Wherein at times it overweens to waste:
  • Which yet of selfish joy or foul intent
  • Doth hide the deep desire,
  • And is, of heavy surety, double-faced;
  • Upon things double therefore look ye twice.
  • O ye that love! not what is fair alone
  • Desire to make your own,
  • But a wise woman, fair in purity;
  • Nor think that any, without sacrifice
  • 40 Of his own nature, suffers service still;
  • But out of high free-will;
  • In honour propp'd, thou bow'd in dignity.
  • In dignity as best I may, must I
  • The guerdon very grand,
  • The whole of it, secured in purpose, sing?
  • Lady, whom all my heart doth magnify,
  • You took me in your hand,
    Image of page 87 page: 87
  • Ah! not ungraced with other guerdoning:
  • For you of your sweet reason gave me rest
  • 50 From yearning, from desire, from potent pain;
  • Till, now, if Death should gain
  • Me to his kingdom, it would pleasure me,
  • Having obey'd the whole of your behest.
  • Since you have drawn, and I am yours by lot,
  • I pray you doubt me not
  • Lest my faith swerve, for this could never be.
  • Could never be; because the natural heart
  • Will absolutely build
  • Her dwelling-place within the gates of truth:
  • 60And, if it be no grief to bear her part,
  • Why, then by change were fill'd
  • The measure of her shame beyond all ruth.
  • And therefore no delay shall once disturb
  • My bounden service, nor bring grief to it;
  • Nor unto you deceit.
  • True virtue her provision first affords,
  • Ere she yield grace, lest afterward some curb
  • Or check should come, and evil enter in:
  • For alway shame and sin
  • 70 Stand cover'd, ready, full of faithful words.
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more about BALLATA. His Life is by Contraries.
II.

Ballata.

His Life is by Contraries.
  • By the long sojourning
  • That I have made with grief,
  • I am quite changed, you see;—
  • If I weep, 'tis for glee;
  • I smile at a sad thing;
  • Despair is my relief.
  • Good hap makes me afraid;
  • Ruin seems rest and shade;
  • In May the year is old;
  • 10With friends I am ill at ease;
  • Among foes I find peace;
  • At noonday I feel cold.
  • The thing that strengthens others, frightens me.
  • If I am grieved, I sing;
  • I chafe at comforting;
  • Ill fortune makes me smile exultingly.
  • And yet, though all my days are thus,—despite
  • A shaken mind, and eyes
  • Which see by contraries,—
  • 20I know that without wings is an ill flight.
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UBALDO DI MARCO.
more about SONNET. Of a Lady's Love for him.
Sonnet.

Of a Lady's Love for him.
  • My body resting in a haunt of mine,
  • I ranged among alternate memories;
  • What while an unseen noble lady's eyes
  • Were fix'd upon me, yet she gave no sign;
  • To stay and go she sweetly did incline,
  • Always afraid lest there were any spies;
  • Then reach'd to me,—and smelt it in sweet wise,
  • And reach'd to me—some sprig of bloom or bine.
  • Conscious of perfume, on my side I leant,
  • 10 And rose upon my feet, and gazed around
  • To see the plant whose flower could so beguile.
  • Finding it not, I sought it by the scent;
  • And by the scent, in truth, the plant I found,
  • And rested in its shadow a great while.
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SIMBUONO GIUDICE.
more about CANZONE. He finds that Love has beguiled him, but will trust in his Lady.
Canzone.

He finds that Love has beguiled him, but will

trust in his Lady.
  • Often the day had a most joyful morn
  • That bringeth grief at last
  • Unto the human heart which deem'd all well:
  • Of a sweet seed the fruit was often born
  • That hath a bitter taste:
  • Of mine own knowledge, oft it thus befell.
  • I say it for myself, who, foolishly
  • Expectant of all joy,
  • Triumphing undertook
  • 10 To love a lady proud and beautiful,
  • For one poor glance vouchsafed in mirth to me:
  • Wherefrom sprang all annoy:
  • For, since the day Love shook
  • My heart, she ever hath been cold and cruel.
  • Well thought I to possess my joy complete
  • When that sweet look of her's
  • I felt upon me, amorous and kind:
  • Now is my hope even underneath my feet.
  • And still the arrow stirs
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  • 20 Within my heart—(oh hurt no skill can bind!)—
  • Which through mine eyes found entrance cunningly;
  • In manner as through glass
  • Light pierces from the sun,
  • And breaks it not, but wins its way beyond,—
  • As into an unalter'd mirror, free
  • And still, some shape may pass.
  • Yet has my heart begun
  • To break, methinks, for I on death grow fond.
  • But, even though death were long'd for, the sharp
  • wound
  • 30 I have might yet be heal'd,
  • And I not altogether sink to death.
  • In mine own foolishness the curse I found,
  • Who foolish faith did yield
  • Unto mine eyes, in hope that sickeneth.
  • Yet might love still exult and not be sad—
  • (For some such utterance
  • Is at my secret heart)—
  • If from herself the cure it could obtain,—
  • Who hath indeed the power Achilles had,
  • 40 To wit, that of his lance,
  • The wound could by no art
  • Be closed till it were touch'd therewith again.
  • So must I needs appeal for pity now
  • From her on her own fault,
  • And in my prayer put meek humility:
  • For certes her much worth will not allow
    page: 92
  • That anything be call'd
  • Treacherousness in such an one as she,
  • In whom is judgment and true excellence.
  • 50 Wherefore I cry for grace;
  • Not doubting that all good,
  • Joy, wisdom, pity, must from her be shed;
  • For scarcely should it deal in death's offence,
  • The so-beloved face
  • So watch'd for; rather should
  • All death and ill be thereby subjected.
  • And since, in hope of mercy, I have bent
  • Unto her ordinance
  • Humbly my heart, my body, and my life,
  • 60Giving her perfect power acknowledgment,—
  • I think some kinder glance
  • She'll deign, and, in mere pity, pause from strife.
  • She surely shall enact the good lord's part:
  • When one whom force compels
  • Doth yield, he is pacified,
  • Forgiving him therein where he did err.
  • Ah! well I know she hath the noble heart
  • Which in the lion quells
  • Obduracy of pride;
  • 70 Whose nobleness is for a crown on her.
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MASOLINO DA TODI.
more about SONNET. Of Work and Wealth.
Sonnet.

Of Work and Wealth.
  • A man should hold in very dear esteem
  • The first possession that his labours gain'd;
  • For, though great riches be at length attain'd,
  • From that first mite they were increased to him.
  • Who followeth after his own wilful whim
  • Shall see himself outwitted in the end;
  • Wherefore I still would have him apprehend
  • His fall, who toils not being once supreme.
  • Thou seldom shalt find folly, of the worst,
  • 10 Holding companionship with poverty,
  • Because it is distracted of much care.
  • Howbeit, if one that hath been poor at first
  • Is brought at last to wealth and dignity,
  • Still the worst folly thou shalt find it there.
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ONESTO DI BONCIMA, BOLOGNESE.
more about SONNET. Of the Last Judgment.
I.

Sonnet.

Of the Last Judgment.
  • Upon that cruel season when our Lord
  • Shall come to judge the world eternally;
  • When to no man shall anything afford
  • Peace in the heart, how pure soe'er it be;
  • When heaven shall break asunder at His word,
  • With a great trembling of the earth and sea;
  • When even the just shall fear the dreadful sword,—
  • The wicked crying, “Where shall I cover me?”—
  • When no one angel in His presence stands
  • 10 That shall not be affrighted of that wrath,
  • Except the Virgin Lady, she our guide;—
  • How shall I then escape, whom sin commands?
  • Out and alas on me! There is no path
  • If in her prayers I be not justified.
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more about SONNET. He wishes that he could meet his Lady alone.
II.

Sonnet.

He wishes that he could meet his Lady alone.
  • Whether all grace have fail'd I scarce
  • may scan,
  • Be it of mere mischance, or art's ill sway,
  • That this-wise, Monday, Tuesday, every day,
  • Afflicts me, through her means, with bale and ban.
  • Now are my days but as a painful span;
  • Nor once “Take heed of dying” did she say.
  • I thank thee for my life thus cast away,
  • Thou who hast wearied out a living man.
  • Yet, oh! my Lord, if I were bless'd no more
  • 10 Than thus much,—clothed with thy humility,
  • To find her for a single hour alone,—
  • Such perfectness of joy would triumph o'er
  • This grief wherein I waste, that I should be
  • As a new image of Love to look upon.
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TERINO DA CASTEL FIORENTINO.
more about SONNET. To Onesto di Boncima, in answer to the foregoing.
Sonnet.

To Onesto di Boncima, in answer to the Foregoing.
  • If, as thou say'st, thy love tormented thee,
  • That thou thereby wast in the fear of death,
  • Messer Onesto, couldst thou bear to be
  • Far from Love's self, and breathing other breath?
  • Nay, thou wouldst pass beyond the greater sea
  • (I do not speak of the Alps, an easy path),
  • For thy life's gladdening; if so to see
  • That light which for my life no comfort hath
  • But rather makes my grief the bitterer:
  • 10 For I have neither ford nor bridge—no course
  • To reach my lady, or send word to her.
  • And there is not a greater pain, I think,
  • Than to see waters at the limpid source,
  • And to be much athirst, and not to drink.
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Sig. H
MAESTRO MIGLIORE, DA FIORENZA.
more about SONNET. He declares all Love to be Grief.
Sonnet.

He declares all Love to be Grief.
  • Love, taking leave, my heart then leaveth me,
  • And is enamour'd even while it would shun;
  • For I have look'd so long upon the sun
  • That the sun's glory is now in all I see.
  • To its first will unwilling may not be
  • This heart (though by its will its death be won),
  • Having remembrance of the joy forerun:
  • Yea, all life else seems dying constantly.
  • Ay and alas! in love is no relief,
  • 10 For any man who loveth in full heart,
  • That is not rather grief than gratefulness.
  • Whoso desires it, the beginning is grief;
  • Also the end is grief, most grievous smart;
  • And grief is in the middle, and is call'd grace.
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Editorial Description: Checkmark in left margin
DELLO DA SIGNA.
more about BALLATA. His Creed of Ideal Love.
Ballata.

His Creed of Ideal Love.
  • Prohibiting all hope
  • Of the fulfilment of the joy of love,
  • My lady chose me for her lover still.
  • So am I lifted up
  • To trust her heart which piteous pulses move,
  • Her face which is her joy made visible.
  • Nor have I any fear
  • Lest love and service should be met with scorn,
  • Nor doubt that thus I shall rejoice the more.
  • 10 For ruth is born of prayer;
  • Also, of ruth delicious love is born;
  • And service wrought makes glad the servitor.
  • Behold, I, serving more than others, love
  • One lovely more than all;
  • And, singing and exulting, look for joy
  • There where my homage is for ever paid.
  • And, for I know she does not disapprove
  • If on her grace I call,
  • My soul's good trust I will not yet destroy,
  • 20Though Love's fulfilment stand prohibited.
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FOLGORE DA SAN GEMINIANO.
more about SONNET. To the Guelf Faction.
I.

Sonnet.

To the Guelf Faction.
  • Because ye made your backs your shields, it
  • came
  • To pass, ye Guelfs, that these your enemies
  • From hares grew lions: and because your eyes
  • Turn'd homeward, and your spurs e'en did the same,
  • Full many an one who still might win the game
  • In fever'd tracts of exile pines and dies.
  • Ye blew your bubbles as the falcon flies,
  • And the wind broke them up and scatter'd them.
  • This counsel, therefore. Shape your high resolves
  • 10 In good king Robert's humour,* and afresh
  • Accept your shames, forgive, and go your way.
  • And so her peace is made with Pisa! Yea,
  • What cares she for the miserable flesh
  • That in the wilderness has fed the wolves?
Transcribed Footnote (page [99]):

* See what is said in allusion to his government of

Florence by Dante, ( Parad. C.viii.)

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more about SONNET. To the Same.
II.

Sonnet.

To the Same.
  • Were ye but constant, Guelfs, in war or
  • peace,
  • As in divisions ye are constant still!
  • There is no wisdom in your stubborn will,
  • Wherein all good things wane, all harms increase.
  • But each upon his fellow looks, and sees
  • And looks again, and likes his favour ill;
  • And traitors rule ye; and on his own sill
  • Each stirs the fire of household enmities.
  • What, Guelfs! and is Monte Catini* quite
  • 10 Forgot,—where still the mothers and sad wives
  • Keep widowhood, and curse the Ghibellins?
  • O fathers, brothers, yea, all dearest kins!
  • Those men of ye that cherish kindred lives,
  • Even once again must set their teeth and fight.
Transcribed Footnote (page 100):

* The battle of Monte Catini was fought and won by the

Ghibelline leader Uguccione della Faggiola against the

Florentines; August 29, 1315.

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more about SONNET. Of Virtue.
III.

Sonnet.

Of Virtue.
  • The flower of Virtue is the heart's content;
  • And fame is Virtue's fruit that she doth bear;
  • And Virtue's vase is fair without and fair
  • Within; and Virtue's mirror brooks no taint;
  • And Virtue by her names is sage and saint;
  • And Virtue hath a steadfast front and clear;
  • And Love is Virtue's constant minister;
  • And Virtue's gift of gifts is pure descent.
  • And Virtue dwells with knowledge, and therein
  • 10 Her cherish'd home of rest is real love;
  • And Virtue's strength is in a suffering will;
  • And Virtue's work is life exempt from sin,
  • With arms that aid; and in the sum hereof,
  • All Virtue is to render good for ill.
page: 102
more about Twelve Sonnets. Of the Months.
OF THE MONTHS.

Twelve Sonnets.

Addressed to a Fellowship of Sienese Nobles.*
more about TWELVE SONNETS. Of the Months.
DEDICATION.
  • Unto the blithe and lordly Fellowship,
  • (I know not where, but wheresoe'er, I know,
  • Lordly and blithe,) be greeting; and thereto,
  • Dogs, hawks, and a full purse wherein to dip;
  • Quails struck i' the flight; nags mettled to the whip;
    Transcribed Footnote (page 102):

    * This fellowship or club ( Brigata), so highly approved

    and encouraged by our Folgore, is the same to which, and to

    some of its members by name, scornful allusion is made by

    Dante ( Inferno, C. xxix. l. 130), where he speaks of the

    hair-brained character of the Sienese. Mr. Cayley, in his

    valuable notes on Dante, says of it: “A dozen extravagant

    youths of Siena had put together by equal contributions

    216,000 florins to spend in pleasuring; they were reduced in

    about a twelvemonth to the extremes of poverty. It was

    their practice to give mutual entertainments twice a month;

    at each of which, three tables having been sumptuously

    covered, they would feast at one, wash their hands on

    another, and throw the last out of window.”

    There exists a second curious series of sonnets for the

    months, addressed also to this club, by Cene della Chitarra

    d'Arezzo. Here, however, all sorts of disasters and discom-

    page: 103
    Transcribed Footnote (page 103):

    forts, in the same pursuits of which Folgore treats, are

    imagined for the prodigals; each sonnet, too, being composed

    with the same terminations in its rhymes as the correspond-

    ing one among his. They would seem to have been written

    after the ruin of the club, as a satirical prophecy of the year

    to succeed the golden one. But this second series, though

    sometimes laughable, not having the poetical merit of the

    first, I have not included it.

    My translations of Folgore's sonnets were made from the

    versions given in the forlorn Florentine collection of 1816,

    where editorial incompetence walks naked and not ashamed,

    indulging indeed in gambols as of Punch, and words which

    no voice but his could utter. Not till my book was in the

    printer's hands, did I meet with Nannucci's Manuale del Primo

    Secolo     (1843), and am sorry that it is too late to avail myself

    of lights cast here and there by him on dark passages through

    which I had groped as I could. Nor is it only in these son-

    nets that his suggestions might have done me service, though

    fortunately the instances are never of much importance.

  • Hart-hounds, hare-hounds, and blood-hounds
  • even so;
  • And o'er that realm, a crown for Niccolò,
  • Whose praise in Siena springs from lip to lip.
  • Tingoccio, Atuin di Togno, and Ancaiàn,
  • 10 Bartolo and Mugaro and Faënot,
  • Who well might pass for children of King Ban,
  • Courteous and valiant more than Lancelot,—
  • To each, God speed! How worthy every man
  • To hold high tournament in Camelot.
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more about TWELVE SONNETS. Of the Months.
JANUARY.
  • For January I give you vests of skins,
  • And mighty fires in hall, and torches lit;
  • Chambers and happy beds with all things fit;
  • Smooth silken sheets, rough furry counterpanes;
  • And sweetmeats baked; and one that deftly spins
  • Warm arras; and Douay cloth, and store of it;
  • And on this merry manner still to twit
  • The wind, when most his mastery the wind wins.
  • Or issuing forth at seasons in the day,
  • 10 Ye'll fling soft handfuls of the fair white snow
  • Among the damsels standing round, in play:
  • And when you all are tired and all aglow,
  • Indoors again the court shall hold its sway,
  • And the free Fellowship continue so.
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more about TWELVE SONNETS. Of the Months.
FEBRUARY.
  • In February I give you gallant sport
  • Of harts and hinds and great wild boars; and all
  • Your company good foresters and tall,
  • With buskins strong, with jerkins close and short;
  • And in your leashes, hounds of brave report;
  • And from your purses, plenteous money-fall,
  • In very spleen of misers' starveling gall,
  • Who at your generous customs snarl and snort.
  • At dusk wend homeward, ye and all your folk
  • 10 All laden from the wilds, to your carouse,
  • With merriment and songs accompanied:
  • And so draw wine and let the kitchen smoke;
  • And so be till the first watch glorious;
  • Then sound sleep to you till the day be wide.
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more about TWELVE SONNETS. Of the Months.
MARCH.
  • In March I give you plenteous fisheries
  • Of lamprey and of salmon, eel and trout,
  • Dental and dolphin, sturgeon, all the rout
  • Of fish in all the streams that fill the seas.
  • With fishermen and fishingboats at ease,
  • Sail-barques and arrow-barques and galeons stout,
  • To bear you, while the season lasts, far out,
  • And back, through spring, to any port you please.
  • But with fair mansions see that it be fill'd,
  • 10 With everything exactly to your mind,
  • And every sort of comfortable folk.
  • No convent suffer there, nor priestly guild:
  • Leave the mad monks to preach after their kind
  • Their scanty truth, their lies beyond a joke.
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more about TWELVE SONNETS. Of the Months.
APRIL.
  • I give you meadow-lands in April, fair
  • With over-growth of beautiful green grass;
  • There among fountains the glad hours shall pass,
  • And pleasant ladies bring you solace there.
  • With steeds of Spain and ambling palfreys rare;
  • Provençal songs and dances that surpass;
  • And quaint French mummings; and through
  • hollow brass
  • A sound of German music on the air.
  • And gardens ye shall have, that every one
  • 10 May lie at ease about the fragrant place;
  • And each with fitting reverence shall bow down
  • Unto that youth to whom I gave a crown
  • Of precious jewels like to those that grace
  • The Babylonian Kaiser, Prester John.
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more about TWELVE SONNETS. Of the Months.
MAY.
  • I give you horses for your games in May,
  • And all of them well train'd unto the course,—
  • Each docile, swift, erect, a goodly horse;
  • With armour on their chests, and bells at play
  • Between their brows, and pennons fair and gay;
  • Fine nets, and housings meet for warriors,
  • Emblazon'd with the shields ye claim for yours,
  • Gules, argent, or, all dizzy at noonday.
  • And spears shall split, and fruit go flying up
  • 10In merry counterchange for wreaths that drop
  • From balconies and casements far above;
  • And tender damsels with young men and youths
  • Shall kiss together on the cheeks and mouths;
  • And every day be glad with joyful love.
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more about TWELVE SONNETS. Of the Months.
JUNE.
  • In June I give you a close-wooded fell,
  • With crowns of thicket coil'd about its head,
  • With thirty villas twelve times turreted,
  • All girdling round a little citadel;
  • And in the midst a springhead and fair well
  • With thousand conduits branch'd and shining
  • speed,
  • Wounding the garden and the tender mead,
  • Yet to the freshen'd grass acceptable.
  • And lemons, citrons, dates, and oranges,
  • 10 And all the fruits whose savour is most rare,
  • Shall shine within the shadow of your trees;
  • And every one shall be a lover there;
  • Until your life, so fill'd with courtesies,
  • Throughout the world be counted debonair.
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more about TWELVE SONNETS. Of the Months.
JULY.
  • For Jùly, in Siena, by the willow-tree,
  • I give you barrels of white Tuscan wine
  • In ice far down your cellars stored supine;
  • And morn and eve to eat in company
  • Of those vast jellies dear to you and me;
  • Of partridges and youngling pheasants sweet,
  • Boil'd capons, sovereign kids: and let their treat
  • Be veal and garlic, with whom these agree.
  • Let time slip by, till by-and-by, all day;
  • 10 And never swelter through the heat at all,
  • But move at ease at home, sound, cool, and gay;
  • And wear sweet-colour'd robes that lightly fall;
  • And keep your tables set in fresh array,
  • Not coaxing spleen to be your seneschal.
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more about TWELVE SONNETS. Of the Months.
AUGUST.
  • For August, be your dwelling thirty towers
  • Within an Alpine valley mountainous,
  • Where never the sea-wind may vex your house,
  • But clear life separate, like a star, be yours.
  • There horses shall wait saddled at all hours,
  • That ye may mount at morning or at eve:
  • On each hand either ridge ye shall perceive,
  • A mile apart, which soon a good beast scours.
  • So alway, drawing homewards, ye shall tread
  • 10 Your valley parted by a rivulet
  • Which day and night shall flow sedate and
  • smooth.
  • There all through noon ye may possess the shade,
  • And there your open purses shall entreat
  • The best of Tuscan cheer to feed your youth.
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more about TWELVE SONNETS. Of the Months.
SEPTEMBER.
  • And in September, O what keen delight!
  • Falcons and astors, merlins, sparrowhawks;
  • Decoy-birds that shall lure your game in flocks;
  • And hounds with bells; and gauntlets stout and
  • tight;
  • Wide pouches; crossbows shooting out of sight;
  • Arblasts and javelins; balls and ball-cases;
  • All birds the best to fly at; moulting these,
  • Those rear'd by hand; with finches mean and slight;
  • And for their chase, all birds the best to fly;
  • 10 And each to each of you be lavish still
  • In gifts; and robbery find no gainsaying;
  • And if you meet with travellers going by,
  • Their purses from your purse's flow shall fill;
  • And avarice be the only outcast thing.
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Sig. I
more about TWELVE SONNETS. Of the Months.
OCTOBER.
  • Next, for October, to some shelter'd coign
  • Flouting the winds, I'll hope to find you slunk;
  • Though in bird-shooting (lest all sport be sunk),
  • Your foot still press the turf, the horse your groin.
  • At night with sweethearts in the dance you'll join,
  • And drink the blessed must, and get quite drunk.
  • There's no such life for any human trunk;
  • And that's a truth that rings like golden coin!
  • Then, out of bed again when morning's come,
  • 10 Let your hands drench your face refreshingly,
  • And take your physic roast, with flask and knife.
  • Sounder and snugger you shall feel at home
  • Than lake-fish, river-fish, or fish at sea,
  • Inheriting the cream of Christian life.
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NOVEMBER.
  • Let baths and wine-butts be November's due,
  • With thirty mule-loads of broad gold-pieces;
  • And canopy with silk the streets that freeze;
  • And keep your drink-horns steadily in view.
  • Let every trader have his gain of you:
  • Clareta shall your lamps and torches send,—
  • Caëta, citron-candies without end;
  • And each shall drink, and help his neighbour to.
  • And let the cold be great, and the fire grand:
  • 10 And still for fowls, and pastries sweetly wrought,
  • For hares and kids, for roast and boil'd, be sure
  • You always have your appetites at hand;
  • And then let night howl and heaven fall, so nought
  • Be miss'd that makes a man's bed-furniture.
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DECEMBER.
  • Last, for December, houses on the plain,
  • Ground-floors to live in, logs heap'd moun-
  • tain-high,
  • And carpets stretch'd, and newest games to try,
  • And torches lit, and gifts from man to man:
  • (Your host, a drunkard and a Catalan;)
  • And whole dead pigs, and cunning cooks to ply
  • Each throat with tit-bits that shall satisfy;
  • And wine-butts of Saint Galganus' brave span.
  • And be your coats well-lined and tightly bound,
  • 10 And wrap yourselves in cloaks of strength and
  • weight,
  • With gallant hoods to put your faces through.
  • And make your game of abject vagabond
  • Abandon'd miserable reprobate
  • Misers; don't let them have a chance with you.
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CONCLUSION.
  • And now take thought, my sonnet, who is he
  • That most is full of every gentleness;
  • And say to him (for thou shalt quickly guess
  • His name) that all his 'hests are law to me.
  • For if I held fair Paris town in fee,
  • And were not call'd his friend, 'twere surely less.
  • Ah! had he but the emperor's wealth, my place
  • Were fitted in his love more steadily
  • Than is Saint Francis at Assisi. Alway
  • 10 Commend me unto him and his,—not least
  • To Caian, held so dear in the blithe band.
  • “Folgore da San Geminiano” (say,)
  • “Has sent me, charging me to travel fast,
  • Because his heart went with you in your hand.”
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OF THE WEEK.

Seven Sonnets.
more about SEVEN SONNETS. Of the Week.
DEDICATION.
  • There is among my thoughts the joyous plan
  • To fashion a bright-jewell'd carcanet,
  • Which I upon such worthy brows would set,
  • To say, it suits them fairly as it can.
  • And now I have newly found a gentleman,
  • Of courtesies and birth commensurate,
  • Who better would become the imperial state
  • Than fits the gem within the signet's span.
  • Carlo di Messer Guerra Cavicciuoli,*