The Collected Works of Dante Gabriel Rossetti, vol. 2 (1886)

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Document Title: The Collected Works of Dante Gabriel Rossetti, vol. 2 (1886)

Author: Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Date of publication: 1886

Publisher: Ellis and Scrutton

Printer: Hazell, Watson, and Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury

Edition: 2

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

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Manuscript Addition: Charles H. Forbes / from G. S. F.

Editorial Description: inscription written in cursive black ink.

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THE COLLECTED WORKS

OF

DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI

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THE COLLECTED WORKS

OF

DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI

EDITED

WITH PREFACE AND NOTES

BY

WILLIAM M ROSSETTI

IN TWO VOLUMES

VOLUME II

TRANSLATIONS

PROSE—NOTICES OF FINE ART

ELLIS AND SCRUTTON

LONDON

1886

All rights reserved

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Printed by Hazell, Watson, & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury.

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Note: The word PAGE is printed at the top of each column of numbers in the table of contents.

CONTENTS.

- - Advertisement to the Edition of 1874 . . . . xi
  - Preface to the First Edition (1861) . . . . . xii
  - Contents . . . . . . . . . . xvii
  - Index of First Lines (English and Italian) . . . xxvii
  - Introduction to Part I. . . . . . . . 1
  - Part I.—Dante and his Circle.
  - - The New Life (La Vita Nuova) . . . . 30
    - Poems ( see Contents to Dante and his Circle ) . . 96
  - Guido Cavalcanti and other Poets ( see Contents as above) 116
  - Appendix to Part I. ( see Contents as above) . . . . . . . 220
  - Part II.—Poets chiefly before Dante.
  - Table of Poets in Part II. . . . . . . 233
  - Ciullo d'Alcamo and other Poets ( see Contents to Dante
    
    and his Circle) . . . . . . . . 245
- - Francesca da Rimini—Dante. . . . . . 405
  - La Pia—Dante . . . . . . . . 406
  - Capitolo—A.M. Salvini to Francesco Redi, 16— . . 407
  - The Leaf—Leopardi . . . . . . . 409
  - Two Lyrics from Niccolò Tommaseo (The Young Girl—
    
    A Farewell) . . . . . . . 410
  - Poems by Francesco and Gaetano Polidori . . . 413
  - Henry the Leper, by Hartmann von Auë . . . 420
  - The Ballad of Dead Ladies—François Villon, 1450 . 461
  - To Death, of his Lady—Villon . . . . . 462
  - His Mother's Service to our Lady—Villon . . . 463
  - John of Tours—Old French. . . . . . 465
  - My Father's Close—Old French. . . . . 467
  - Two Songs from Victor Hugo's “Burgraves” . . 468
  - Lilith—from Göthe. . . . . . . .469
  - Beauty—a Combination from Sappho . . . .469
- - - Exhibition of Modern British Art at the Old Water-
      
      colour Gallery, 1850 . . . . . . 473
    - The Modern Pictures of all Countries, at Lichfield House,
      
      1851 . . . . . . . . .476
    - Exhibition of Sketches and Drawings in Pall Mall East,
      
      1851 . . . . . . . . .485
  - - Frank Stone : Sympathy, 1850 . . . . . 490
    - J.C. Hook : The Departure of the Chevalier Bayard
      
      from Brescia, 1850 . . . . . . . . 490
    - Anthony : The Rival's Wedding, 1850 . . . . 491
    - Branwhite . . . . . . . . . 492
    - Lucy, 1850 . . . . . . . . . 493
    - F.R. Pickersgill, 1850 . . . . . . . 494
    - C.H. Lear . . . . . . . . . 495
    - Kennedy . . . . . . . . . . 495
    - Cope, 1850 . . . . . . . . . 496
    - Landseer, 1850 . . . . . . . . . 497
    - Marochetti, 1850 . . . . . . . . 498
    - Madox Brown, 1851 . . . . . . . 499
    - Poole, 1851 . . . . . . . . . 501
    - Holman Hunt, 1851 . . . . . . . 503
    - Samuel Palmer, 1875-81 . . . . . . . 504
  - The Return of Tibullus to Delia . . . . . . 505
  - Maclise's Character-Portraits . . . . . . . 506
  - Subjects for Pictures . . . . . . . .512
  - Notes by William M. Rossetti . . . . . . . 517

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TRANSLATIONS.

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DANTE AND HIS CIRCLE:

With the Italian Poets preceding Him.

(1100—1200—1300).

A COLLECTION OF LYRICS.

TRANSLATED IN THE ORIGINAL METRES.

PART I.

Dante's Vita Nuova, etc.

Poets of Dante's Circle.

PART II.

Poets chiefly before Dante.

Note: All of the signatures in this edition are prefixed with “ VOL. II.”

Sig. b

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TO MY MOTHER

I DEDICATE THIS NEW EDITION

OF A BOOK PRIZED BY HER LOVE.

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Advertisement to the Edition of 1874.

In re-entitling and re-arranging this book (originally

published in 1861 as The Early Italian Poets ,) my

object has been to make more evident at a first glance

its important relation to Dante. The Vita Nuova,

together with the many among Dante's lyrics and those

of his contemporaries which elucidate their personal

intercourse, are here assembled, and brought to my

best ability into clear connection, in a manner not

elsewhere attempted even by Italian or German

editors.

Note: In the 2nd line of this page, the punctuation appears inappropriately within, rather than without, the close paranthesis bracket, a practice that is consistent throughout the 1874 edition but was corrected only inconsistently in the 1886.

Note: In the 6th line of this page "elucidate" appears with the letters c and d transposed.

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Preface to the First Edition

(1861).

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 un-

approached 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 inexperienced, 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 first division),

would have inclined me to bestow the time and trouble

which have resulted 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

page: xiii

a not illegitimate use in the case of poems which 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-grâce has almost been

dealt them by clumsy transcription and pedantic super-

structure. At this stage the task of talking much more

about them in any language is hardly to be entered

upon; and a translation (involving as it does the

necessity of settling many points without discussion,)

remains perhaps the most direct form of commentary.

The life-blood of rhythmical translation is this com-

mandment,—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, liter-

ality of rendering is altogether secondary to this chief

law. I say literality,—not fidelity, which is by no

means the same thing. When literality can be com-

bined 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 derived

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

degree, from the fact that such painstaking in arrange-

ment and descriptive heading as is often indispensable

to old and especially to “occasional” poetry, has here

been bestowed on these poets for the first time.

page: xiv

That there are many defects in this collection,

or that the above merit is its defect, or that it

has 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 series 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 exigencies

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 structure but for his author's

cadence: often the beautiful 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

page: xv

the matter; but no,— he must deal to each alike. Some-

times 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. 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 consideration 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

page: xvi

traffic, the ships which have been long outstripped and

the ensigns which are grown strange.

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. An array of

modern editions hardly looks so imposing as might a

reference to Allacci, Crescimbeni, etc.; but these older

collections would be found less accessible, and all they

contain has been reprinted.

I. Poeti del primo secolo della Lingua Italiana.

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. Fra-

ticelli. (Firenze. 1843, etc.)

VI. Rime di Guido Cavalcanti; raccolte da A. Cic-

ciaporci. (Firenze. 1813.)

VII. Vita e Poesie di Messer Cino da Pistoia. Edi-

zione di S. Ciampi. (Pisa. 1813.)

VIII. Documenti d'Amore; di Francesco da Barbe-

rino. 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.)

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Note: The word PAGE is printed at the top of each column of numbers in the table of contents.

CONTENTS.

- Introduction to Part I. . . . . . . 1
- - The New Life. ( La Vita Nuova.) . . . . 30
  - Sonnet (To Brunetto Latini). Sent with the Vita
    
    Nuova . . . . . . . . . 96
  - Sonnet. Of Beatrice de' Portinari, on All Saints' Day 97
  - Sonnet. To certain Ladies; when Beatrice was lament-
    
    ing her Father's Death . . . . . . 98
  - Sonnet. To the same Ladies; with their Answer . 99
  - Ballata. He will gaze upon Beatrice. . . . 100
  - Canzone. A Complaint of his Lady's Scorn . . 101
  - Canzone. He beseeches Death for the Life of Beatrice . 104
  - Sonnet. On the 9 th of June 1290 . . . . 107
  - Sonnet (To Cino da Pistoia). He rebukes Cino for
    
    Fickleness . . . . . . . . 108
  - Sonnet (Cino to Dante). He answers Dante, con-
    
    fessing his unsteadfast Heart . . . . . 109
  - Sonnet (to Cino da Pistoia). Written in Exile . 110
  - Sonnet (Cino to Dante). He answers the foregoing
    
    Sonnet ( by Dante) , and prays him, in the name of
    
    Beatrice, to continue his great Poem . . . 111
  - Sonnet. Of Beauty and Duty . . . . . 112
  - Sestina. Of the Lady Pietra degli Scrovigni . . 113
  - Sonnet. A Curse for a fruitless Love . . . . 115
- - Sonnet (to Dante Alighieri). He interprets Dante's
    
    Dream, related in the first Sonnet of the Vita Nuova 116
  - Sonnet. To his Lady Joan, of Florence . . . 117
  - Sonnet. He compares all things with his Lady, and
    
    finds them wanting. . . . . . . 118
  - Sonnet. A Rapture concerning his Lady . . . 119
  - Ballata. Of his Lady among other Ladies . . . 120
  - Sonnet (to Guido Orlandi). Of a consecrated Image
    
    resembling his Lady . . . . . . 121
  - Madrigal (Guido Orlandi to Cavalcanti). In
    
    answer to the foregoing Sonnet ( by Cavalcanti ) . 122
  - Sonnet. Of the Eyes of a certain Mandetta, of Thou-
    
    louse, which resemble those of his Lady Joan, of
    
    Florence . . . . . . . . . 123
  - Ballata. He reveals, in a Dialogue, his increasing Love
    
    for Mandetta . . . . . . . . 124
  - Sonnet (Dante Alighieri to Guido Cavalcanti).
    
    He imagines a pleasant voyage for Guido, Lapo
    
    Gianni, and himself, with their three Ladies . 126
  - Sonnet (to Dante Alighieri). He answers the fore-
    
    going Sonnet ( by Dante) , speaking with shame of his
    
    changed Love . . . . . . . . 127
  - Sonnet (to Dante Alighieri). He reports, in a
    
    feigned Vision, the successful issue of Lapo Gianni's
    
    Love . . . . . . . . . 128
  - Sonnet (to Dante Alighieri). He mistrusts the Love
    
    of Lapo Gianni . . . . . . . 129
  - Sonnet. On the Detection of a false Friend . . . 130
  - Sonnet. He speaks of a third Love of his . . . 131
  - Ballata. Of a continual Death in Love . . . 132
  - Sonnet. To a Friend who does not pity his Love . . 133
  - Ballata. He perceives that his highest Love is gone
    
    from him . . . . . . . . . 134
  - Sonnet. Of his Pain from a new Love . . . 136
  - Prolonged Sonnet (Guido Orlando to Guido
    
    Cavalcanti). He finds fault with the Conceits of
    
    the foregoing Sonnet ( by Cavalcanti) . . . 137
  - Sonnet (Gianni Alfani to Guido Cavalcanti).
    
    On the part of a Lady of Pisa . . . . . 138
  - Sonnet (Bernardo da Bologna to Guido Caval-
    
    canti). He writes to Guido, telling him of the Love
    
    which a certain Pinella showed on seeing him . . 139
  - Sonnet (to Bernardo da Bologna). Guido answers,
    
    commending Pinella, and saying that the Love he can
    
    offer her is already shared by many noble Ladies . 140
  - Sonnet (Dino Compagni to Guido Cavalcanti).
    
    He reproves Guido for his Arrogance in Love . . 141
  - Sonnet (to Guido Orlandi). In Praise of Guido
    
    Orlandi's Lady . . . . . . . 142
  - Sonnet (Guido Orlandi to Guido Cavalcanti).
    
    He answers the foregoing Sonnet ( by Cavalcanti),
    
    declaring himself his Lady's Champion . . . 143
  - Sonnet (to Dante Alighieri). He rebukes Dante
    
    for his way of Life after the Death of Beatrice . . 144
  - Ballata. Concerning a Shepherd-maid . . . 145
  - Sonnet. Of an ill-favoured Lady . . . . 147
  - Sonnet (to Pope Boniface VIII.). After the Pope's
    
    Interdict, when the Great Houses were leaving Flo-
    
    rence . . . . . . . . . 148
  - Ballata. In Exile at Sarzana . . . . . 149
  - Canzone. A Song of Fortune . . . . . 151
  - Canzone. A Song against Poverty . . . . 154
  - Canzone. He laments the Presumption and Inconti-
    
    nence of his Youth . . . . . . . 156
  - Canzone. A Dispute with Death . . . . 159
- - Sonnet (to Dante Alighieri). He interprets Dante's
    
    Dream related in the first Sonnet of the Vita Nuova 163
  - Canzone (to Dante Alighieri). On the Death of
    
    Beatrice Portinari . . . . . . . 164
  - Sonnet (to Dante Alighieri). He conceives of some
    
    Compensation in Death . . . . . . 167
  - Madrigal. To his Lady Selvaggia Vergiolesi; likening
    
    his Love to a Search for Gold . . . . . 168
  - Sonnet. To Love, in great Bitterness . . . . 169
  - Sonnet. Death is not without but within him . . 170
  - Sonnet. A Trance of Love . . . . . . 171
  - Sonnet. Of the Grave of Selvaggia, on the Monte della
    
    Sambuca . . . . . . . . . 172
  - Canzone. His Lament for Selvaggia . . . . 173
  - Sonnet (to Guido Cavalcanti). He owes nothing
    
    to Guido as a Poet . . . . . . . 175
  - Sonnet. He impugns the verdicts of Dante's Commedia 176
  - Sonnet. He condemns Dante for not naming, in the
    
    Commedia, his friend Onesto di Boncima, and his
    
    Lady Selvaggia . . . . . . . 177
- - Sonnet (to Dante Alighieri). He interprets Dante
    
    Alighieri's Dream, related in the first Sonnet of the
    
    Vita Nuova . . . . . . . . 178
  - Sonnet. He craves interpreting of a Dream of his . 179
  - Sonnet (Guido Orlandi to Dante da Maiano).
    
    He interprets the Dream related in the foregoing
    
    Sonnet ( by Dante da Maiano ) . . . . . 180
  - Sonnet. To his Lady Nina, of Sicily . . . . 181
  - Sonnet. He thanks his Lady for the Joy he has had
    
    from her . . . . . . . . . 182
- - Sonnet (to Dante Alighieri). On the last Sonnet
    
    of the Vita Nuova . . . . . . . 183
  - Sonnet. He will not be too deeply in Love . . . 184
  - Sonnet. Of Love in Men and Devils . . . . 185
  - Sonnet. Of Love, in honour of his Mistress Becchina . 186
  - Sonnet. Of Becchina, the Shoemaker's Daughter . 187
  - Sonnet. To Messer Angiolieri, his Father . . . 188
  - Sonnet. Of the 20 th June 1291 . . . . . 189
  - Sonnet. In absence from Becchina . . . . 190
  - Sonnet. Of Becchina in a Rage . . . . . 191
  - Sonnet. He rails against Dante, who had censured his
    
    homage to Becchina . . . . . . . 192
  - Sonnet. Of his Four Tormentors . . . . 193
  - Sonnet. Concerning his Father . . . . . 194
  - Sonnet. Of all he would do . . . . . 195
  - Sonnet. He is past all Help . . . . . 196
  - Sonnet. Of why he is unhanged . . . . . 197
  - Sonnet. Of why he would be a Scullion . . . 198
  - Prolonged Sonnet. When his Clothes were gone . 199
  - Sonnet. He argues his case with Death . . . 200
  - Sonnet. Of Becchina, and of her Husband . . . 201
  - Sonnet. To Becchina's rich Husband . . . . 202
  - Sonnet. On the Death of his Father . . . . 203
  - Sonnet. He would slay all who hate their Fathers . 204
  - Sonnet (to Dante Alighieri). He writes to Dante,
    
    then in exile at Verona, defying him as no better than
    
    himself . . . . . . . . . 205
- - Sonnet. Against the“White” Ghibellines . . . 206
- - Madrigal. What Love shall provide for him . . . 207
  - Ballata. A Message in charge for his Lady Lagia . 208
- - Sonnet. Of what his Lady is . . . . . 210
  - Sonnet. Of the Star of his Love . . . . . 211
- - Canzone. On the Doctrine of Voluntary Poverty . 212
- - Prolonged Sonnet. In the last Days of the Emperor
    
    Henry VII . . . . . . . . . 215
- - Sonnet (to Dante Alighieri). He commends the
    
    work of Dante's life, then drawing to its close; and
    
    deplores his own deficiencies . . . . . 216
  - Sonnet (Dante Alighieri to Giovanni Quirino).
    
    He answers the foregoing Sonnet (by Quirino); saying
    
    what he feels at the approach of Death . . . 217
- - Sonnet (Dante to Forese). He taunts Forese, by the
    
    nickname of Bicci . . . . . . . 220
  - Sonnet (Forese to Dante). He taunts Dante ironi-
    
    cally for not avenging Geri Alighieri . . . 220
  - Sonnet (Dante to Forese). He taunts him concern-
    
    ing his Wife . . . . . . . . 221
  - Sonnet (Forese to Dante). He taunts him conern-
    
    ing the unavenged Spirit of Geri Alighieri . . 222
- II. Cecco d'Ascoli. . . . . . . . 225
- - Sonnet. To one who had censured his public Expo-
    
    sition of Dante . . . . . . . 227
  - Sonnet. Inscription for a Portrait of Dante . . 227
  - Sonnet. To Dante in Paradise, after Fiammetta's death 228
  - Sonnet. Of Fiammetta singing . . . . . 229
  - Sonnet. Of his last sight of Fiammetta . . .229
  - Sonnet. Of three Girls and of their Talk . . . 230
- TABLE OF POETS IN PART II . . . . . 233
- - Dialogue. Lover and Lady . . . . . 245
- - Canzone. He speaks of his Condition through Love . 255
- - Sonnet. He exhorts the State to vigilance . . . 257
- - Cantica. Our Lord Christ: of Order . . . 258
- - Canzone. Of his Lady in Bondage . . . . 259
- - Sonnet. On the fitness of Seasons . . . . 262
- - Sonnet. Concerning Lucy . . . . . . 263
  - Canzone. Of the gentle Heart . . . . . 264
  - Sonnet. He will praise his Lady . . . . 266
  - Canzone. He perceives his Rashness in Love, but has no
    
    choice . . . . . . . . . 267
  - Sonnet. Of Moderation and Tolerance . . . 269
  - Sonnet. Of Human Presumption . . . . 270
- - Sonnet. He is out of heart with his Time . . . 271
- - Canzone. He rebukes the Evil of that Time . . 272
- - Canzone. He is resolved to be joyful in Love . . 274
  - Canzone. A Lady, in Spring, repents of her Coldness . 277
- - Sonnet. Of his Lady in Heaven . . . . . 279
  - Canzonetta. Of his Lady, and of her Portrait . . 280
  - Sonnet. No Jewel is worth his Lady . . . . 283
  - Canzonetta. He will neither boast nor lament to his
    
    Lady . . . . . . . . . 284
  - Canzonetta. Of his Lady, and of his making her
    
    Likeness . . . . . . . . . 286
  - Sonnet. Of his Lady's Face . . . . . 288
  - Canzone. At the end of his Hope . . . . . 289
- - Canzone. He solicits his Lady's Pity . . . . 291
  - Canzone. After Six Years' Service he renounces his
    
    Lady . . . . . . . . . 293
  - Sonnet. Of Self-seeing . . . . . . 295
- - Canzone. Of his Change through Love . . . 296
- - Canzonetta. Of his Lady in Absence . . . . 290
  - Canzonetta. To his Lady, in Spring . . . 301
  - Canzone. Of his dead Lady . . . . . 303
- - Sonnet. To the Blessed Virgin Mary . . . . 306
- - Sonnet. He jests concerning his Poverty . . . 307
- - Dialogue. Lover and Lady . . . . . 308
- - Canzone. Of the true End of Love; with a Prayer to
    
    his Lady . . . . . . . . . . 310
  - Canzonetta. How he dreams of his Lady . . . 312
  - Sonnet. Of Wisdom and Foresight . . . . 314
  - Sonnet. Of Continence in Speech . . . . 315
- - Canzone. He will be silent and watchful in his Love . 316
  - Ballata. His Life is by Contraries . . . . 319
- - Sonnet. Of a Lady's Love for him . . . . 320
- - Canzone. He finds that Love has beguiled him, but will
    
    trust in his Lady . . . . . . . 321
- - Sonnet. Of Work and Wealth . . . . . 324
- - Sonnet. Of the Last Judgment . . . . . 325
  - Sonnet. He wishes that he could meet his Lady alone . 326
- - Sonnet. To Onesto di Boncima, in answer to the fore-
    
    going . . . . . . . . . 327
- - Sonnet. He declares all Love to be Grief . . . 328
- - Ballata. His Creed of Ideal Love . . . . 329
- - Sonnet. To the Guelph Faction . . . . . 330
  - Sonnet. To the Same . . . . . . . 331
  - Sonnet. Of Virtue . . . . . . . 332
  - Twelve Sonnets. Of the Months . . . . 333
  - Seven Sonnets. Of the Week . . . . . 342
- - Canzone. To Love and to his Lady . . . . 347
- - Canzonetta. A bitter Song to his Lady . . . 349
- - Canzone. Of his Love; with the Figures of a Stag, of
    
    Water, and of an Eagle . . . . . . 352
- - Canzonetta. For a Renewal of Favours . . . 354
- - Canzone. Being absent from his Lady, he fears Death . 356
- - Canzone. Of his Love, with the Figure of a sudden
    
    Storm . . . . . . . . . 358
- - Sonnet. Of the making of Master Messerin . . . 360
  - Sonnet. Of the safety of Messer Fazio . . . . 361
  - Sonnet. Of Messer Ugolino . . . . . 362
- - Sonnet. Of Expediency . . . . . . 363
- - Canzone. Of his Lady dancing . . . . . 364
- - Sonnet. He is in awe of his Lady . . . . 366
- - Sonnet. He is enjoined to pure Love . . . . 367
- - Sonnet. He solicits a Lady's Favours . . . . 368
- - Sonnet. A Return to Love . . . . . . 369
- - Prolonged Sonnet. When the Troops were returning
    
    from Milan . . . . . . . . 370
- - Blank Verse. A Virgin declares her Beauties . . 371
  - Sentenze. Of Sloth against Sin . . . . . 373
  - Sentenze. Of Sins in Speech . . . . . 375
  - Sentenze. Of Importunities and Troublesome Persons . 377
  - Sentenze. Of Caution . . . . . . 380
- - Canzone. His Portrait of his Lady, Angiola of Verona 381
  - Extract from the “Dittamondo.” Of England, and
    
    of its Marvels . . . . . . . . 384
  - Extract from the “Dittamondo.” Of the Dukes
    
    of Normandy, and thence of the Kings of England,
    
    from William I. to Edward III. . . . . 388
- - Ballata. His Talk with certain Peasant-girls . . 392
  - Catch. On a Fine Day . . . . . . 394
  - Catch. On a Wet Day . . . . . . 396
- - Sonnet. A Lady laments for her lost Lover, by simili-
    
    tude of a Falcon . . . . . . . 398
  - Ballata. One speaks of the Beginning of his Love . 399
  - Ballata. One speaks of his false Lady . . . 399
  - Ballata. One speaks of his feigned and real Love . . 400
  - Ballata. Of True and False Singing . . . . 401

page: [xxvii]

INDEX OF FIRST LINES.

( ENGLISH AND ITALIAN.)

Note: The word PAGE is printed at the top of each column of numbers in the table of contents.

A certain youthful lady in Thoulouse

Una giovine donna di Tolosa . . . . 123
A day agone as I rode sullenly

Cavalcando l'altrier per un cammino . . . 40
A fresh content of fresh enamouring

Novella gioia e nova innamoranza . . . 369
A gentle thought there is will often start

Gentil pensiero che parla di vui . . . . 90
A lady in whom love is manifest

La bella donna dove Amor si mostra . . . 142
Alas for me who loved a falcon well

Tapina me che amava uno sparviero . . . 398
Albeit my prayers have not so long delay'd

Avvegna ched io m'aggio più per tempo . . . 164
A little wild bird sometimes at my ear

Augelletto selvaggio per stagione . . . . 401
All my thoughts always speak to me of Love

Tutti li miei pensier parlan d'Amore . . . 46
All the whole world is living without war

Tutto lo mondo vive senza guerra . . . 255
All ye that pass along Love's trodden way

O voi che per la via d'amor passate . . . 36
Along the road all shapes must travel by

Per quella via che l'altre forme vanno . . . 215

page: xxviii

A man should hold in very dear esteem

Ogni uomo deve assai caro tenere . . . 324
Among my thoughts I count it wonderful

Pure a pensar mi par gran meraviglia . . . 270
Among the dancers I beheld her dance

Alla danza la vidi danzare . . . . 364
Among the faults we in that book descry

Infra gli altri difetti del libello . . . . 177
And every Wednesday as the swift days move

Ogni Mercoledì corredo grande . . . . 344
And in September O what keen delight

Di Settembre vi do diletti tanti . . . . 339
And now take thought my Sonnet who is he

Sonetto mio, anda o' lo divisi . . . . 341
And on the morrow at first peep o' the day

Alla domane al parere del giorno . . . . 346
As I walked thinking through a little grove

Passando con pensier per un boschetto . . . 396
As thou wert loth to see before thy feet

Se non ti caggia la tua Santalena . . . 202
A spirit of Love with Love's intelligence

Ispirito d'Amor con intelletto . . . . 367
A thing is in my mind

Venuto m' è in talento . . . . 274
At whiles yea oftentimes I muse over

Spesse fiate venemi alla mente . . . . 51
A very pitiful lady very young

Donna pietosa e di novella etate . . . . 65
Ay me alas the beautiful bright hair

Ohimè lasso quelle treccie bionde . . . . 173
Ballad since Love himself hath fashioned thee

Ballata poi che ti compose Amore . . . . 208
Beauty in woman the high will's decree

Beltà di donna e di saccente core . . . . 118
Because I find not whom to speak withal

Poich' io non trovo chi meco ragioni . . . 110

page: xxix

Because I think not ever to return

Perch' io non spero di tornar giammai . . . 149
Because mine eyes can never have their fill

Poichè saziar non posso gli occhi miei . . . 100
Because ye made your backs your shields it came

Guelfi per fare scudo delle reni . . . . 330
Being in thought of love I chanced to see

Era in pensier d' amor quand' io trovai . . . 124
Be stirring girls we ought to have a run

State su donne che debbiam noi fare . . . 394
Beyond the sphere which spreads to widest space

Oltre la spera che più larga gira . . . . 94
By a clear well within a little field

Intorno ad una fonte in un pratello . . . 230
By the long sojourning

Per lunga dimoranza . . . . . 319
Canst thou indeed be he that still would sing

Sei tu colui ch' hai trattato sovente . . . 62
Dante Alighieri a dark oracle

Dante Alighieri son Minerva oscura . . . 227
Dante Alighieri Cecco your good friend

Dante Alighier Cecco tuo servo e amico . . . 183
Dante Alighieri if I jest and lie

Dante Alighier s'io son buon begolardo . . . 205
Dante Alighieri in Becchina's praise

Lassar vuol lo trovare di Becchina . . . 192
Dante a sigh that rose from the heart's core

Dante un sospiro messagger del core . . . 128
Dante if thou within the sphere of Love

Dante se tu nell' amorosa spera . . . . 228
Dante since I from my own native place

Poich' io fui Dante dal mio natal sito . . . 109
Dante whenever this thing happeneth

Dante quando per caso s'abbandona . . . 167
Death alway cruel Pity's foe in chief

Morte villana di Pietà nemica . . . . 38

page: xxx

Death since I find not one with whom to grieve

Morte poich' io non trovo a cui mi doglia . . 104
Death why hast thou made life so hard to bear

Morte perchè m' hai fatto sì gran guerra . . . 303
Do not conceive that I shall here recount

Non intendiate ch' io qui le vi dica . . . 371
Each lover's longing leads him naturally

Naturalmente chere ogni amadore . . . 163
Even as the day when it is yet at dawning

Come lo giorno quando è al mattino . . . 358
Even as the moon among the stars doth shed

Come le stelle sopra la Diana . . . . 366
Even as the others mock thou mockest me

Con l'altre donne mia vista gabbate . . . 49
Fair sir this love of ours

Messer lo nostro amore . . . . . 308
Flowers hast thou in thyself and foliage

Avete in voi li fiori e la verdura . . . . 117
For a thing done repentance is no good

A cosa fatta già non val pentire . . . . 196
For August be your dwelling thirty towers

D'Agosto sì vi do trenta castella . . . . 338
For certain he hath seen all perfectness

Vede perfettamente ogni salute . . . . 74
For grief I am about to sing

Di dolor mi conviene cantare . . . . 259
For January I give you vests of skins

Io dono vai nel mese di Gennaio . . . . 335
For July in Siena by the willow-tree

Di Luglio in Siena sulla saliciata. . . 338
For no love borne by me

Non per ben ch' io ti voglia. . . . 400
For Thursday be the tournament prepared

Ed ogni Giovedì torniamento . . . . 344
Friend well I know thou knowest well to bear

Amico saccio ben che sai limare . . . . 137

page: xxxi

Glory to God and to God's Mother chaste

Lode di Dio e della Madre pura . . . . 216
Gramercy Death as you've my love to win

Morte mercè sì ti priego e m'è in grato . . . 200
Guido an image of my lady dwells

Una figura della donna mia . . . . 121
Guido I wish that Lapo thou and I

Guido vorrei che tu e Lape ed io . . . . 127
Guido that Gianni who a day agone

Guido quel Gianni che a te fù l'altrieri . . . 138
Hard is it for a man to please all men

Greve puot' uom piacere a tutta gente . . . 272
He that has grown to wisdom hurries not

Uomo ch' è saggio non corre leggiero . . . 269
Her face has made my life most proud and glad

Lo viso mi fa andare allegramente. . . 288
I am afar but near thee is my heart

Lontan vi son ma presso v' è lo core . . . . 356
I am all bent to glean the golden ore

Io mi son dato tutto a tragger oro . . . 168
I am enamoured and yet not so much

Io sono innamorato ma non tanto. . . . 184
I am so passing rich in poverty

Eo son si ricco della povertate . . . . 307
I am so out of love through poverty

La povertà m' ha sì disamorato . . . 198
I come to thee by daytime constantly

Io vegno il giorno a te infinite volte . . . 144
I felt a spirit of Love begin to stir

Io mi sentii svegliar dentro dal core . . . 69
If any his own foolishness might see

Chi conoscesse sì la sua fallanza . . . . 295
If any man would know the very cause

Se alcun volesse la cagion savere . . . . 271
If any one had anything to say

Chi Messer Ugolin biasma o riprende . . . 362

page: xxxii

If as thou say'st thy love tormented thee

Se vi stringesse quanto dite amore . . . . 327
If Dante mourns there wheresoe'er he be

Se Dante piange dove ch' el si sia . . . . 227
If I'd a sack of florins and all new

S' io avessi un sacco di fiorini . . . . 188
If I entreat this lady that all grace

S' io prego questa donna che pietate . . . 133
If I were fire I'd burn the world away

S' io fossi foco arderei lo mondo . . . . 195
If I were still that man worthy to love

S' io fossi quello che d'amor fù degno . . . 127
If thou hadst offered friend to blessed Mary

Se avessi detto amico di Maria . . . . 122
If you could see fair brother how dead beat

Fratel se tu vedessi questa gente . . . . 370
I give you horses for your games in May

Di Maggio sì vi do molti cavagli . . . . 337
I give you meadow-lands in April fair

D'Aprile vi do la gentil campagna . . . 336
I have it in my heart to serve God so

Io m'aggio posto in core a Dio servire . . . 279
I hold him verily of mean emprise

Tegno di folle impresa allo ver dire . . . . 267
I know not Dante in what refuge dwells

Dante io non odo in qual albergo suoni . . . 111
I laboured these six years

Sei anni ho travagliato . . . . . 293
I look at the crisp golden-threaded hair

Io miro i crespi e gli biondi capegli . . . 381
I'm caught like any thrush the nets surprise

Babbo Becchina Amore e mia madre . . . . 193
I'm full of everything I do not want

Io ho tutte le cose ch' io non voglio . . . 189
In February I give you gallant sport

Di Febbraio vi dono bella caccia . . . 335

page: xxxiii

In March I give you plenteous fisheries

Di Marzo sì vi do una peschiera . . . . 336
In June I give you a close-wooded fell

Di Giugno dovvi una montagnetta . . . 337
I play this sweet prelude

Dolce cominciamento . . . . . 354
I pray thee Dante shouldst thou meet with Love

Se vedi Amore assai ti prego Dante . . . 129
I thought to be for ever separate

Io mi credea del tutto esser partito . . . 108
I've jolliest merriment for Saturday

E il Sabato diletto ed allegranza . . . . 345
I was upon the high and blessed mound

Io fui in sull' alto e in sul beato monte . . . 172
I would like better in the grace to be

Io vorrei innanzi in grazia ritornare . . . 201
Just look Manetto at that wry-mouthed minx

Guarda Manetto quella sgrignutuzza . . . 147
Ladies that have intelligence in Love

Donne che avete intelletto d'Amore . . . 54
Lady my wedded thought

La mia amorosa mente . . . . . 312
Lady of Heaven the Mother glorified

Donna del cielo gloriosa madre . . . . 306
Lady with all the pains that I can take

Donna io forzeraggio lo podere . . . . 352
Last All-Saints' holy-day even now gone by

Di donne io vidi una gentile schiera . . . 97
Last for December houses on the plain

E di Dicembre una città in piano . . . 340
Let baths and wine-butts be November's due

E di Novembre petriuolo e il bagno . . . 340
Let Friday be your highest hunting-tide

Ed ogni Venerdì gran caccia e forte . . . 345
Let not the inhabitants of hell despair

Non si disperin quelli dello Inferno . . . 203

page: xxxiv

Lo I am she who makes the wheel to turn

Io son la donna che volgo la rota . . . . 151
Love and the gentle heart are one same thing

Amore e cor gentil son una cosa . . . . 58
Love and the Lady Lagia Guido and I

Amore e Monna Lagia e Guido ed io . . . 130
Love hath so long possessed me for his own

Sì lungamente m' ha tenuto Amore . . . 75
Love I demand to have my lady in fee

Amore io chero mia donna in domino . . . 207
Love's pallor and the semblance of deep ruth

Color d'amore e di pietà sembianti . . . 87
Love since it is thy will that I return

Perchè to piace Amore ch' io ritorni . . . 101
Love steered my course while yet the Sun rode high

Guidommi Amor ardendo ancora il Sole . . . 229
Love taking leave my heart then leaveth me

Amor s'eo parto il cor si parte e dole . . . 328
Love will not have me cry

Amor non vuol ch' io clami . . . . 284
Many there are praisers of poverty

Molti son quei che lodan povertade . . . 212
Marvellously elate

Maravigliosamente . . . . . 280
Master Bertuccio you are called to account

Messer Bertuccio a dritto uom vi cagiona . . . 361
Master Brunetto this my little maid

Messer Brunetto questa pulzelletta . . . 96
Mine eyes beheld the blessed pity spring

Videro gli occhi miei quanta pietate . . . 86
My body resting in a haunt of mine

Poso il corpo in un loco mio pigliando . . . 320
My curse be on the day when first I saw

Io maladico il dì ch' io vidi imprima . . . 115
My heart's so heavy with a hundred things

Io ho sì tristo il cor di cose cento . . . . 190

page: xxxv

My lady carries love within her eyes

Negli occhi porta la mia donna amore . . . 59
My lady looks so gentle and so pure

Tanto gentile e tanto onesta pare . . . . 74
My lady mine I send

Madonna mia a voi mando . . . . 286
My lady thy delightful high command

Madonna vostro altero piacimento . . . 296
Nero thus much for tidings in thine ear

Novella ti so dire odi Nerone . . . . 148
Never so bare and naked was church-stone

Nel tempio santo non vid' io mai pietra . . . 199
Never was joy or good that did not soothe

Gioia nè ben non è senza conforto . . . . 310
Next for October to some sheltered coign

Di Ottobre nel cantà ch' ha buono stallo. . . 339
No man may mount upon a golden stair

Non vi si monta per iscala d' oro . . . . 141
Now of the hue of ashes are the Whites

Color di cener fatti son li Bianchi . . . 206
Now these four things, if thou

Quattro cose chi vuole . . . . . 375
Now to Great Britain we must make our way

Ora si passa nella Gran Bretagna . . . 384
Now when it flowereth

Oramai quando flore . . . . . 277
Now with the moon the day-star Lucifer

Quando la luna e la stella diana . . . . 343
O Bicci pretty son of who knows whom

Bicci novel figliuol di non so cui . . . . 220
Often the day had a most joyful morn

Spesso di gioia nasce ed incomenza . . . 321
Of that wherein thou art a questioner

Di ciò che stato sei dimandatore . . . . 178
O Lady amorous

Donna amorosa . . . . . . 349

page: xxxvi

O Love O thou that for my fealty

O tu Amore che m' hai fatto martire . . . 169
O Love who all this while hast urged me on

Amor che lungamente m' hai menato . . . 347
On the last words of what you write to me

Al motto diredan prima ragione . . . . 180
O Poverty by thee the soul is wrapped

O Povertà come tu sei un manto . . . . 154
O sluggish hard ingrate what doest thou

O lento pigro ingrato ignar che fai . . . 159
O thou that often hast within thine eyes

O tu che porti negli occhi sovente . . . . 131
Pass and let pass this counsel I would give

Per consiglio ti do dè passa passa . . . . 363
Prohibiting all hope

Levandomi speranza . . . . . 329
Remembering this how Love

Membrando ciò che Amore . . . . 289
Right well I know thou'rt Alighieri's son

Ben so che fosti figliuol d'Alighieri . . . 220
Round her red garland and her golden hair

Sovra li fior vermigli e i capei d' oro . . . 229
Sapphire nor diamond nor emerald

Diamante nè smeraldo nè zaffino . . . . 283
Say wouldst thou guard thy son

Vuoi guardar tuo figliuolo . . . . 380
Set Love in order thou that lovest me

Ordina quest' Amore o tu che m' ami . . . 258
So greatly thy great pleasaunce pleasured me

Si m'abbellìo la vostra gran piacenza. . . 181
Song 'tis my will that thou do seek out Love

Ballata io vo che tu ritruovi Amore . . . 44
Stay now with me and listen to my sighs

Venite a intender li sospiri miei . . . . 82
Such wisdom as a little child displays

Saver che sente un picciolo fantino . . . 314

page: xxxvii

That lady of all gentle memories

Era venuta nella mente mia . . . . 85
That star the highest seen in heaven's expanse

Quest' altissima stella che si vede . . . . 211
The devastating flame of that fierce plague

L' ardente fiamma della fiera peste. . . 156
The dreadful and the desperate hate I bear

Il pessimo e il crudel odio che' io porto . . . 194
The eyes that weep for pity of the heart

Gli occhi dolenti per pietà del core . . . 79
The flower of virtue is the heart's content

Fior di virtù si è gentil coraggio . . . . 332
The fountain-head that is so bright to see

Ciascuna fresca e dolce fontanella . . . . 140
The King by whose rich grace His servants be

Lo Re che merta i suoi servi a ristoro . . . 217
The lofty worth and lovely excellence

Lo gran valore e lo pregio amoroso . . . 291
The man who feels not more or less somewhat

Chi non sente d' Amore o tanto o quanto . . 186
The other night I had a dreadful cough

L' altra notte mi venne una gran tosse . . . 222
The sweetly-favoured face

La dolce ciera piacente . . . . . 299
The thoughts are broken in my memory

Ciò che m'incontra nella mente more . . . 50
The very bitter weeping that ye made

L' amaro lagrimar che voi faceste . . . 88
There is a time to mount to humble thee

Tempo vien di salire e di scendere . . . 262
There is a vice prevails

Par che un vizio pur regni . . . . 377
There is a vice which oft

Un vizio è che laudato . . . . . 373
There is among my thoughts the joyous plan

Io ho pensato di fare un gioiello . . . . 342

page: xxxviii

Think a brief while on the most marvellous arts

Sè 'l subietto preclaro O Cittadini . . . 257
This book of Dante's very sooth to say

In verità questo libel di Dante . . . . 176
This fairest lady who as well I wot

Questa leggiadra donna ched io sento . . . 170
This fairest one of all the stars whose flame

La bella stella che sua fiamma tiene . . . 399
This is the damsel by whom Love is brought

Questa è la giovinetta ch' amor guida . . . 210
Thou sweetly-smelling fresh red rose

Rosa fresca aulentissima . . . . . 245
Thou that art wise let wisdom minister

Provvedi saggio ad esta visione . . . . 179
Thou well hast heard that Rollo had two sons

Come udit' hai due figliuoli ebbe Rollo . . . 388
Though thou indeed hast quite forgotten ruth

Se m'hai del tutto obliato mercede . . . 132
Through this my strong and new misaventure

La forte e nova mia disavventura . . . . 134
To a new world on Tuesday shifts my song

E il Martedì li do un nuovo mondo . . . 343
To every heart which the sweet pain doth move

A ciascun' alma presa e gentil core . . . 33
To hear the unlucky wife of Bicci cough

Chi udisse tossir la mal fatata . . . . 221
To see the green returning

Quando veggio rinverdire . . . . . 301
To sound of trumpet rather than of horn

A suon di tromba innanzi che di corno . . . 143
To the dim light and the large circle of shade

Al poco giorno ed al gran cerchio d'ombra . . . 113
Two ladies to the summit of my mind

Due donne in cima della mente mia . . . 112
Unto my thinking thou beheld'st all worth

Vedesti al mio parere ogni valore . . . . 116

page: xxxix

Unto that lowly lovely maid I wis

A quella amorosetta forosella . . . . 139
Unto the blithe and lordly fellowship

Alla brigata nobile e cortese . . . . 333
Upon a day came Sorrow in to me

Un dì si venne a me Melancolìa . . . . 107
Upon that cruel season when our Lord

Quella crudel stagion che a giudicare . . . 325
Vanquished and weary was my soul in me

Vinta e lassa era già l' anima mia . . . 171
Weep Lovers sith Love's very self doth weep

Piangete amanti poi che piange Amore . . . 37
Were ye but constant Guelfs in war or peace

Così faceste voi o guerra o pace . . . . . 333
Wert thou as prone to yield unto my prayer

Così fossi tu acconcia di donarmi . . . . 368
Whatever good is naturally done

Qualunque ben si fa naturalmente . . . 186
Whatever while the thought comes over me

Quantunque volte lasso mi rimembra . . . 83
What rhymes are thine which I have ta'en from thee

Quai son le cose vostre ch' io vi tolgo . . . 175
Whence come you all of you so sorrowful

Onde venite voi così pensose . . . . 98
When God had finished Master Messerin

Quando Iddio Messer Messerin fece . . . 360
When I behold Becchina in a rage

Quando veggio Becchina corrucciata . . . 191
When Lucy draws her mantle round her face

Chi vedesse a Lucia un var cappuzzo . . . 263
When the last greyness dwells throughout the air

Quando l' aria comincia a farsi bruna . . . 399
Whether all grace have failed I scarce may scan

Non so s' è mercè che mo veno a meno . . . 326
Whoever without money is in love

Chi è senza denari innamorato . . . . 197

page: xl

Who is she coming whom all gaze upon

Chi è questa che vien ch' ogn' uom la mira . . 119
Whoso abandons peace for war-seeking

Chi va cherendo guerra e lassa pace . . . 315
Who utters of his father aught but praise

Chi dice di suo padre altro che onore . . . 204
Why from the danger did not mine eyes start

Perchè non furo a me gli occhi dispenti . . . 136
Why if Becchina's heart were diamond

Se di Becchina il cor fosse diamante . . . 187
Within a copse I met a shepherd-maid

In un boschetto trovai pastorella . . . . 145
Within the gentle heart Love shelters him

Al cor gentil ripara sempre Amore . . . 264
With other women I beheld my love

Io vidi donne con la donna mia . . . . 120
Woe's me by dint of all these sighs that come

Lasso per forza de' molti sospiri . . . . 91
Wonderful countenance and royal neck

Viso mirabil gola morganata . . . . 182
Yea let me praise my lady whom I love

Io vo del ver la mia donna lodare . . . 266
Ye graceful peasant-girls and mountain-maids

Vaghe le montanine e pastorelle . . . . 392
Ye ladies walking past me piteous-eyed

Voi donne che pietoso atto mostrate . . . 99
Ye pilgrim-folk advancing pensively

Deh peregrini che pensosi andate . . . . 93
You that thus wear a modest countenance

Voi che portate la sembianza umile . . . 61
Your joyful understanding lady mine

Madonna vostra altera canoscenza . . . 316

page: [1]

Note: ”Appealing” in line 16 appears to be a typo; in all likelihood, the “l” should be an “r.”

DANTE AND HIS CIRCLE.

INTRODUCTION TO PART I.

In the first division of this volume are included all the

poems I could find which seemed to have value as

being personal to the circle of Dante's friends, and as

illustrating their intercourse with each other. Those

who know the Italian collections from which I have

drawn these pieces (many of them most obscure) will

perceive how much which is in fact elucidation is here

attempted to be embodied in themselves, as to their

rendering, arrangement, and heading: since the Italian

editors have never yet paid any of them, except of

course those by Dante, any such attention; but have

printed and reprinted them in a jumbled and dishearten-

ing form, by which they can serve little purpose except

as testi di lingua—dead stock by whose help the makers

of dictionaries may smother the language with decayed

words. Appealing now I believe for the first time in

print, though in a new idiom, from their once living

writers to such living readers as they may find, they

require some preliminary notice.

The Vita Nuova (the Autobiography or Autopsycho-

logy of Dante's youth till about his twenty-seventh year)

is already well known to many in the original, or by

means of essays and of English versions partial or entire.

It is, therefore, and on all accounts, unnecessary to say

Sig. 1

page: 2

much more of the work here than it says for itself.

Wedded to its exquisite and intimate beauties are per-

sonal peculiarities which excite wonder and conjecture,

best replied to in the words which Beatrice herself is

made to utter in the Commedia: “Questi fù tal nella sua

vita nuova.”* Thus then young Dante was. All that

seemed possible to be done here for the work was to

translate it in as free and clear a form as was consistent

with fidelity to its meaning; to ease it, as far as possible,

from notes and encumbrances; and to accompany it for

the first time with those poems from Dante's own lyrical

series which have reference to its events, as well as with

such native commentary (so to speak) as might be

afforded by the writings of those with whom its author

was at that time in familiar intercourse. Not chiefly to

Dante, then, of whom so much is known to all or may

readily be found written, but to the various other mem-

bers of his circle, these few pages should be devoted.

It may be noted here, however, how necessary a

knowledge of the Vita Nuova is to the full comprehen-

sion of the part borne by Beatrice in the Commedia.

Moreover, it is only from the perusal of its earliest and

then undivulged self-communings that we can divine the

whole bitterness of wrong to such a soul as Dante's, its

poignant sense of abandonment, or its deep and jealous

refuge in memory. Above all, it is here that we find the

first manifestations of that wisdom of obedience, that

natural breath of duty, which afterwards, in the Com-

media , lifted up a mighty voice for warning and testi-

mony. Throughout the Vita Nuova there is a strain like

the first falling murmur which reaches the ear in some

remote meadow, and prepares us to look upon the sea.

Boccaccio, in his Life of Dante, tells us that the great

poet, in later life, was ashamed of this work of his

youth. Such a statement hardly seems reconcilable with

the allusions to it made or implied in the Commedia;

Transcribed Footnote (page 2):

* Purgatorio, C. xxx.

page: 3

but it is true that the Vita Nuova is a book which only

youth could have produced, and which must chiefly

remain sacred to the young; to each of whom the figure

of Beatrice, less lifelike than lovelike, will seem the

friend of his own heart. Nor is this, perhaps, its least

praise. To tax its author with effeminacy on account of

the extreme sensitiveness evinced by this narrative of

his love, would be manifestly unjust, when we find that,

though love alone is the theme of the Vita Nuova, war

already ranked among its author's experiences at the

period to which it relates. In the year 1289, the one

preceding the death of Beatrice, Dante served with the

foremost cavalry in the great battle of Campaldino, on

the eleventh of June, when the Florentines defeated the

people of Arezzo. In the autumn of the next year,

1290, when for him, by the death of Beatrice, the city as

he says “sat solitary,” such refuge as he might find from

his grief was sought in action and danger: for we learn

from the Commedia (Hell, C. xxi.) that he served in the

war then waged by Florence upon Pisa, and was present

at the surrender of Caprona. He says, using the reminis-

cence to give life to a description, in his great way:—

“I've seen the troops out of Caprona go
On terms, affrighted thus, when on the spot
They found themselves with foemen compass'd so.”

(Cayley's Translation.)

A word should be said here of the title of Dante's

autobiography. The adjective Nuovo, nuova, or Novello,

novella, literally New, is often used by Dante and other

early writers in the sense of young. This has induced

some editors of the Vita Nuova to explain the title as

meaning Early Life . I should be glad on some accounts

to adopt this supposition, as everything is a gain which

increases clearness to the modern reader; but on con

sideration I think the more mystical interpretation of

the words, as New Life (in reference to that revulsion

of his being which Dante so minutely describes as

Note: The hyphen is missing after “con” in the fourth-to-last line above.

page: 4

having occurred simultaneously with his first sight of

Beatrice), appears the primary one, and therefore the

most necessary to be given in a translation. The pro-

bability may be that both were meant, but this I cannot

convey.*

Transcribed Footnote (page 4):

* I must hazard here (to relieve the first page of my translation

from a long note) a suggestion as to the meaning of the most

puzzling passage in the whole Vita Nuova,—that sentence just at

the outset which says, “La gloriosa donna della mia mente, la

quale fù chiamata da molti Beatrice, i quali non sapeano che si

chiamare.” On this passage all the commentators seem helpless,

turning it about and sometimes adopting alterations not to be

found in any ancient manuscript of the work. The words mean

literally, “The glorious lady of my mind who was called Beatrice

by many who knew not how she was called.” This presents the

obvious difficulty that the lady's name really was Beatrice, and

that Dante throughout uses that name himself. In the text of my

version I have adopted, as a rendering, the one of the various

compromises which seemed to give the most beauty to the mean-

ing. But it occurs to me that a less irrational escape out of the

difficulty than any I have seen suggested may possibly be found by

linking this passage with the close of the sonnet at page 69 of the

Vita Nuova, beginning, “I felt a spirit of Love begin to stir,” in the

last line of which sonnet Love is made to assert that the name of

Beatrice is Love. Dante appears to have dwelt on this fancy with

some pleasure, from what is said in an earlier sonnet (page 38)

about “Love in his proper form” (by which Beatrice seems to be

meant) bending over a dead lady. And it is in connection with

the sonnet where the name of Beatrice is said to be Love, that

Dante, as if to show us that the Love he speaks of is only his own

emotion, enters into an argument as to Love being merely an acci-

dent in substance,—in other words, “Amore e il cor gentil son una

cosa.” This conjecture may be pronounced extravagant; but the

Vita Nuova, when examined, proves so full of intricate and fan-

tastic analogies, even in the mere arrangement of its parts (much

more than appears on any but the closest scrutiny), that it seems

admissible to suggest even a whimsical solution of a difficulty

which remains unconquered. Or to have recourse to the much

more welcome means of solution afforded by simple inherent

beauty: may not the meaning be merely that any person looking

on so noble and lovely a creation, without knowledge of her name,

must have spontaneously called her Beatrice,— i.e., the giver of

blessing? This would be analogous by antithesis to the transla-

tion I have adopted in my text.

page: 5

Among the poets of Dante's circle, the first in order,

the first in power, and the one whom Dante has styled

his “first friend,” is Guido Cavalcanti, born about 1250,

and thus Dante's senior by some fifteen years. It is

therefore probable that there is some inaccuracy about

the statement, often repeated, that he was Dante's fellow-

pupil under Brunetto Latini; though it seems certain

that they both studied, probably Guido before Dante,

with the same teacher. The Cavalcanti family was

among the most ancient in Florence; and its importance

may be judged by the fact that in 1280, on the occasion

of one of the various missions sent from Rome with the

view of pacifying the Florentine factions, the name of

“Guido the son of Messer Cavalcante de' Cavalcanti”

appears as one of the sureties offered by the city for the

quarter of San Piero Scheraggio. His father must have

been notoriously a sceptic in matters of religion, since

we find him placed by Dante in the sixth circle of Hell,

in one of the fiery tombs of the unbelievers. That

Guido shared this heresy was the popular belief, as is

plain from an anecdote in Boccaccio which I shall give;

and some corroboration of such reports, at any rate as

applied to Guido's youth, seems capable of being gathered

from an extremely obscure poem, which I have trans-

lated on that account (at page 156) as clearly as I found

possible. It must be admitted, however, that there is to

the full as much devotional as sceptical tendency implied

here and there in his writings; while the presence of

either is very rare. We may also set against such a

charge the fact that Dino Compagni refers, as will be

seen, to his having undertaken a religious pilgrimage.

But indeed he seems to have been in all things of that

fitful and vehement nature which would impress others

always strongly, but often in opposite ways. Self-reliant

pride gave its colour to all his moods; making his ex-

ploits as a soldier frequently abortive through the head-

strong ardour of partisanship, and causing the perversity

of a logician to prevail in much of his amorous poetry.

page: 6

The writings of his contemporaries, as well as his own,

tend to show him rash in war, fickle in love, and pre-

sumptuous in belief; but also, by the same concurrent

testimony, he was distinguished by great personal beauty,

high accomplishments of all kinds, and daring nobility of

soul. Not unworthy, for all the weakness of his strength,

to have been the object of Dante's early emulation, the

first friend of his youth, and his precursor and fellow-

labourer in the creation of Italian Poetry.

In the year 1267, when Guido cannot have been much

more than seventeen years of age, a last attempt was

made in Florence to reconcile the Guelfs and Ghibellines.

With this view several alliances were formed between

the leading families of the two factions; and among

others, the Guelf Cavalcante de' Cavalcanti wedded his

son Guido to a daughter of the Ghibelline Farinata degli

Uberti. The peace was of short duration; the utter

expulsion of the Ghibellines (through French interven-

tion solicited by the Guelfs) following almost immediately.

In the subdivision, which afterwards took place, of the

victorious Guelfs into so-called “Blacks” and “Whites,”

Guido embraced the White party, which tended strongly

to Ghibellinism, and whose chief was Vieri de' Cerchi,

while Corso Donati headed the opposite faction. Whether

his wife was still living at the time when the events of

the Vita Nuova occurred, is probably not ascertainable;

but about that time Dante tells us that Guido was ena-

moured of a lady named Giovanna or Joan, and whose

Christian name is absolutely all that we know of her.

However, on the occasion of his pilgrimage to Thoulouse,

recorded by Dino Compagni, he seems to have conceived

a fresh passion for a lady of that city named Mandetta,

who first attracted him by a striking resemblance to his

Florentine mistress. Thoulouse had become a place of

pilgrimage from its laying claim to the possession of the

body, or part of the body, of St. James the Greater;

though the same supposed distinction had already made

the shrine of Compostella in Galicia one of the most

page: 7

famous throughout all Christendom. That this devout

journey of Guido's had other results besides a new love

will be seen by the passage from Compagni's Chronicle.

He says:—

more about Excerpt from Compagni's Chronicle

“A young and noble knight named Guido, son of Messer Caval-

cante Cavalcanti,—full of courage and courtesy, but disdainful,

solitary, and devoted to study,—was a foe to Messer Corso

(Donati), and had many times cast about to do him hurt. Messer

Corso feared him exceedingly, as knowing him to be of a great

spirit, and sought to assassinate him on a pilgrimage which Guido

made to the shrine of St. James; but he might not compass it.

Wherefore, having returned to Florence and being made aware of

this, Guido incited many youths against Messer Corso, and these

promised to stand by him. Who being one day on horseback

with certain of the house of the Cerchi, and having a javelin in his

hand, spurred his horse against Messer Corso, thinking to be fol-

lowed by the Cerchi that so their companies might engage each

other; and he running in on his horse cast the javelin, which

missed its aim. And with Messer Corso were Simon, his son, a

strong and daring youth, and Cecchino de' Bardi, who with many

others pursued Guido with drawn swords; but not overtaking

him they threw stones after him, and also others were thrown at

him from the windows, whereby he was wounded in the hand.

And by this matter hate was increased. And Messer Corso spoke

great scorn of Messer Vieri, calling him the Ass of the Gate; be-

cause, albeit a very handsome man, he was but of blunt wit and

no great speaker. And therefore Messer Corso would say often,

‘To-day the Ass of the Gate has brayed,’ and so greatly dis-

parage him; and Guido he called Cavicchia.* And thus it was

spread abroad of the jongleurs; and especially one named Scam-

polino reported worse things than were said, that so the Cerchi

might be provoked to engage the Donati.”

Transcribed Footnote (page 7):

* A nickname chiefly chosen, no doubt, for its resemblance to

Cavalcanti. The word cavicchia, cavicchio, or caviglia, means a

wooden peg or pin. A passage in Boccaccio says, “He had tied

his ass to a strong wooden pin” ( caviglia). Thus Guido, from his

mental superiority, might be said to be the Pin to which the

Ass, Messer Vieri, was tethered at the Gate, (that is, the gate of

San Pietro, near which he lived). However, it seems quite as

likely that the nickname was founded on a popular phrase by

which one who fails in any undertaking is said “to run his rear on

a peg” ( dare del culo in un cavicchio ). The haughty Corso Donati

page: 8

The praise which Compagni, his contemporary, awards

to Guido at the commencement of the foregoing extract,

receives additional value when viewed in connection

with the sonnet addressed to him by the same writer

(see page 141), where we find that he could tell him of

his faults.

Such scenes as the one related above had become

common things in Florence, which kept on its course

from bad to worse till Pope Boniface VIII. resolved on

sending a legate to propose certain amendments in its

scheme of government by Priori, or representatives of

the various arts and companies. These proposals, how-

ever, were so ill received, that the legate, who arrived in

Florence in the month of June 1300, departed shortly

afterwards greatly incensed, leaving the city under a

papal interdict. In the ill-considered tumults which en-

sued we again hear of Guido Cavalcanti.

more about Excerpt from Giovanni Villani's History of Florence

“It happened (says Giovanni Villani in his History of Florence)

that in the month of December (1300) Messer Corso Donati with

his followers, and also those of the house of the Cerchi and their

followers, going armed to the funeral of a lady of the Frescobaldi

family, this party defying that by their looks would have assailed

the one the other; whereby all those who were at the funeral

having risen up tumultuously and fled each to his house, the whole

city got under arms, both factions assembling in great numbers, at

their respective houses. Messer Gentile de' Cerchi, Guido Caval-

canti, Baldinuccio and Corso Adimari, Baschiero della Tosa and

Naldo Gherardini, with their comrades and adherents on horse and

on foot, hastened to St. Peter's Gate to the house of the Donati.

Not finding them there they went on to San Pier Maggiore, where

Messer Corso was with his friends and followers; by whom they

were encountered and put to flight, with many wounds and with

much shame to the party of the Cerchi and to their adherents.”

By this time we may conjecture as probable that

Dante, in the arduous position which he then filled as

chief of the nine Priori on whom the government of

Transcribed Footnote (page 8):

himself went by the name of Malefammi or “Do-me-harm.” For

an account of his death in 1307, which proved in keeping with his

turbulent life, see Dino Compagni's Chronicle, or the Pecorone of

Giovanni Fiorentino (Gior. xxiv. Nov. 2.)

page: 9

Florence devolved, had resigned for far other cares the

sweet intercourse of thought and poetry which he once

held with that first friend of his who had now become

so factious a citizen. Yet it is impossible to say how

much of the old feeling may still have survived in Dante's

mind when, at the close of the year 1300 or beginning

of 1301, it became his duty, as a faithful magistrate of

the republic, to add his voice to those of his colleagues

in pronouncing a sentence of banishment on the heads

of both the Black and White factions, Guido Cavalcanti

being included among the latter. The Florentines had

been at last provoked almost to demand this course from

their governors, by the discovery of a conspiracy, at the

head of which was Corso Donati (while among its leading

members was Simone de' Bardi, once the husband of

Beatrice Portinari), for the purpose of inducing the Pope

to subject the republic to a French peace-maker ( Paciere),

and so shamefully free it from its intestine broils. It

appears therefore that the immediate cause of the exile

to which both sides were subjected lay entirely with the

“Black” party, the leaders of which were banished to the

Castello della Pieve in the wild district of Massa Tra-

beria, while those of the “White” faction were sent to

Sarzana, probably (for more than one place bears the

name) in the Genovesato. “But this party” (writes

Villani) “remained a less time in exile, being recalled on

account of the unhealthiness of the place, which made

that Guido Cavalcanti returned with a sickness, whereof

he died. And of him was a great loss; seeing that he

was a man, as in philosophy, so in many things deeply

versed; but therewithal too fastidious and prone to take

offence.”* His death apparently took place in 1301.

When the discords of Florence ceased, for Guido, in

death, Dante also had seen their native city for the last

Transcribed Footnote (page 9):

* “Troppo tenero e stizzoso.” I judge that “tenero” here is

rather to be interpreted as above than meaning “impression-

able” in love affairs, but cannot be certain.

page: 10

time. Before Guido's return he had undertaken that

embassy to Rome which bore him the bitter fruit of un-

just and perpetual exile: and it will be remembered that

a chief accusation against him was that of favour shown

to the White party on the banishment of the factions.

Besides the various affectionate allusions to Guido in

the Vita Nuova, Dante has unmistakeably referred to

him in at least two passages of the Commedia. One of

these references is to be found in those famous lines of

the Purgatory (C. xi.) where he awards him the palm of

poetry over Guido Guinicelli (though also of the latter he

speaks elsewhere with high praise), and implies at the

same time, it would seem, a consciousness of his own

supremacy over both.

“Against all painters Cimabue thought
To keep the field. Now Giotto has the cry,
And so the fame o' the first wanes nigh to nought.
Thus one from other Guido took the high
Glory of language; and perhaps is born
He who from both shall bear it by-and-bye.”

The other mention of Guido is in that pathetic passage

of the Hell (C. x.) where Dante meets among the lost

souls Cavalcante de' Cavalcanti:—

“All roundabout he looked, as though he had
Desire to see if one was with me else.
But after his surmise was all extinct,
He weeping said: ‘If through this dungeon blind
Thou goest by loftiness of intellect,—
Where is my son, and wherefore not with thee?’
And I to him: ‘Of myself come I not:
He who there waiteth leads me thoro' here,
Whom haply in disdain your Guido had.’*

Raised upright of a sudden, cried he: ‘How
Didst say He had? Is he not living still?

Transcribed Footnote (page 10):

* Virgil, Dante's guide through Hell. Any prejudice which

Guido entertained against Virgil depended, no doubt, only on his

strong desire to see the Latin language give place, in poetry and

literature, to a perfected Italian idiom.

page: 11

Doth not the sweet light strike upon his eyes?’
When he perceived a certain hesitance
Which I was making ere I should reply,
He fell supine, and forth appeared no more.”

Dante, however, conveys his answer afterwards to the

spirit of Guido's father, through another of the con-

demned also related to Guido, Farinata degli Uberti,

with whom he has been speaking meanwhile:—

“Then I, as in compunction for my fault,
Said: ‘Now then shall ye tell that fallen one
His son is still united with the quick.
And, if I erst was dumb to the response,
I did it, make him know, because I thought
Yet on the error you have solved for me.’”
(W. M. Rossetti's Translation.)

The date which Dante fixes for his vision is Good Friday

of the year 1300. A year later, his answer must have

been different. The love and friendship of his Vita

Nuova had then both left him. For ten years Beatrice

Portinari had been dead, or (as Dante says in the Con-

vito ) “lived in heaven with the angels and on earth with

his soul.” And now, distant and probably estranged

from him, Guido Cavalcanti was gone too.

Among the Tales of Franco Sacchetti, and in the De-

cameron of Boccaccio, are two anecdotes relating to

Guido. Sacchetti tells us how, one day that he was

intent on a game at chess, Guido (who is described as

“one who perhaps had not his equal in Florence”) was

disturbed by a child playing about, and threatened pun-

ishment if the noise continued. The child, however,

managed slily to nail Guido's coat to the chair on which

he sat, and so had the laugh against him when he rose

soon afterwards to fulfil his threat. This may serve as

an amusing instance of Guido's hasty temper, but is

rather a disappointment after its magniloquent heading,

which sets forth how “Guido Cavalcanti, being a man of

great valour and a philosopher, is defeated by the cun-

ning of a child.”

page: 12

The ninth Tale of the sixth Day of the Decameron

relates a repartee of Guido's, which has all the profound

platitude of mediæval wit. As the anecdote, however,

is interesting on other grounds, I translate it here.

more about Excerpt from the Ninth Tale of the Sixth Day of Boccaccio's Decameron

“You must know that in past times there were in our city cer-

tain goodly and praiseworthy customs no one of which is now left,

thanks to avarice, which has so increased with riches that it has

driven them all away. Among the which was one whereby the

gentlemen of the outskirts were wont to assemble together in

divers places throughout Florence, and to limit their fellowships to

a certain number, having heed to compose them of such as could

fitly discharge the expense. Of whom to-day one, and to-morrow

another, and so all in turn, laid tables each on his own day for all

the fellowship. And in such wise often they did honour to strangers

of worship and also to citizens. They all dressed alike at least

once in the year, and the most notable among them rode together

through the city; also at seasons they held passages of arms, and

specially on the principal feast-days, or whenever any news of

victory or other glad tidings had reached the city. And among

these fellowships was one headed by Messer Betto Brunelleschi,

into the which Messer Betto and his companions had often in-

trigued to draw Guido di Messer Cavalcante de' Cavalcanti; and

this not without cause, seeing that not only he was one of the best

logicians that the world held, and a surpassing natural philo-

sopher (for the which things the fellowship cared little), but

also he exceeded in beauty and courtesy, and was of great gifts as

a speaker; and everything that it pleased him to do, and that best

became a gentleman, he did better than any other; and was ex-

ceeding rich and knew well to solicit with honourable words

whomsoever he deemed worthy. But Messer Betto had never

been able to succeed in enlisting him; and he and his companions

believed that this was through Guido's much pondering which

divided him from other men. Also because he held somewhat of

the opinion of the Epicureans, it was said among the vulgar sort

that his speculations were only to cast about whether he might

find that there was no God. Now on a certain day Guido having

left Or San Michele, and held along the Corso degli Adimari as far

as San Giovanni (which oftentimes was his walk); and coming to

the great marble tombs which now are in the Church of Santa

Reparata, but were then with many others in San Giovanni; he

being between the porphyry columns which are there among those

tombs, and the gate of San Giovanni which was locked;—it so

chanced that Messer Betto and his fellowship came riding up by

the Piazza di Santa Reparata, and seeing Guido among the sepul-

page: 13

chres, said, ‘Let us go and engage him.’ Whereupon, spurring

their horses in the fashion of a pleasant assault, they were on him

almost before he was aware, and began to say to him, ‘Thou,

Guido, wilt none of our fellowship; but lo now! when thou shalt

have found that there is no God, what wilt thou have done?’ To

whom Guido, seeing himself hemmed in among then, readily re-

plied, ‘Gentlemen, ye are at home here, and may say what ye

please to me.’ Wherewith, setting his hand on one of those high

tombs, being very light of his person, he took a leap and was over

on the other side; and so having freed himself from them, went

his way. And they all remained bewildered, looking on one

another; and began to say that he was but a shallow-witted

fellow, and that the answer he had made was as though one

should say nothing; seeing that where they were, they had not

more to do than other citizens, and Guido not less than they. To

whom Messer Betto turned and said thus: ‘Ye yourselves are

shallow-witted if ye have not understood him. He has civilly and

in few words said to us the most uncivil thing in the world; for

if ye look well to it, these tombs are the homes of the dead, see-

ing that in them the dead are set to dwell; and here he says that

we are at home; giving us to know that we and all other simple

unlettered men, in comparison of him and the learned, are even

as dead men; wherefore, being here, we are at home.’ Thereupon

each of them understood what Guido had meant, and was

ashamed; nor ever again did they set themselves to engage him.

Also from that day forth they held Messer Betto to be a subtle

and understanding knight.”

In the above story mention is made of Guido Caval-

canti's wealth, and there seems no doubt that at that

time the family was very rich and powerful. On this

account I am disposed to question whether the Canzone

at page 154 (where the author speaks of his poverty)

can really be Guido's work, though I have included it as

being interesting if rightly attributed to him; and it is

possible that, when exiled, he may have suffered for the

time in purse as well as person. About three years

after his death, on the 10th June 1304, the Black party

plotted together and set fire to the quarter of Florence

chiefly held by their adversaries. In this conflagration

the houses and possessions of the Cavalcanti were

almost entirely destroyed; the flames in that neigh-

bourhood (as Dino Compagni records) gaining rapidly

page: 14

in consequence of the great number of waxen images

in the Virgin's shrine at Or San Michele; one of which,

no doubt, was the very image resembling his lady to

which Guido refers in a sonnet (see page 121). After

this, their enemies succeeded in finally expelling from

Florence the Cavalcanti family,* greatly impoverished

by this monstrous fire, in which nearly two thousand

houses were consumed.

Guido appears, by various evidence, to have written,

besides his poems, a treatise on Philosophy and another

on Oratory, but his poems only have survived to our

day. As a poet, he has more individual life of his own

than belongs to any of his predecessors; by far the best

of his pieces being those which relate to himself, his

loves and hates. The best known, however, and perhaps

the one for whose sake the rest have been preserved,

is the metaphysical canzone on the Nature of Love,

beginning, “Donna mi priega,” and intended, it is said,

as an answer to a sonnet by Guido Orlandi, written as

though coming from a lady, and beginning, “Onde si

muove e donde nasce Amore?” On this canzone of

Guido's there are known to exist no fewer than eight

commentaries, some of them very elaborate, and written

by prominent learned men of the middle ages and re-

naissance; the earliest being that by Egidio Colonna, a

beatified churchman who died in 1316; while most of

the too numerous Academic writers on Italian literature

speak of this performance with great admiration as

Guido's crowning work. A love-song which acts as such

a fly-catcher for priests and pedants looks very suspi-

Transcribed Footnote (page 14):

* With them were expelled the still more powerful Gherardini,

also great sufferers by the conflagration; who, on being driven

from their own country, became the founders of the ancient

Geraldine family in Ireland. The Cavalcanti reappear now and

then in later European history; and especially we hear of a

second Guido Cavalcanti, who also cultivated poetry, and travelled

to collect books for the Ambrosian Library; and who, in 1563,

visited England as Ambassador to the court of Elizabeth from

Charles IX. of France.

page: 15

cious; and accordingly, on examination, it proves to be

a poem beside the purpose of poetry, filled with meta-

physical jargon, and perhaps the very worst of Guido's

productions. Its having been written by a man whose

life and works include so much that is impulsive and

real, is easily accounted for by scholastic pride in those

early days of learning. I have not translated it, as being

of little true interest; but was pleased lately, neverthe-

less, to meet with a remarkably complete translation of

it by the Rev. Charles T. Brooks, of Cambridge, United

States.* The stiffness and cold conceits which prevail

in this poem may be found disfiguring much of what

Guido Cavalcanti has left, while much besides is blunt,

obscure, and abrupt: nevertheless, if it need hardly be

said how far he falls short of Dante in variety and per-

sonal directness, it may be admitted that he worked

worthily at his side, and perhaps before him, in adding

those qualities to Italian poetry. That Guido's poems

dwelt in the mind of Dante is evident by his having

appropriated lines from them (as well as from those of

Guinicelli) with little alteration, more than once, in the

Commedia.

Towards the close of his life, Dante, in his Latin

treatise De Vulgari Eloquio , again speaks of himself as

the friend of a poet,—this time of Cino da Pistoia. In

an early passage of that work he says that “those who

have most sweetly and subtly written poems in modern

Italian are Cino da Pistoia and a friend of his.” This

friend we afterwards find to be Dante himself; as among

the various poetical examples quoted are several by

Cino followed in three instances by lines from Dante's

Transcribed Footnote (page 15):

* This translation occurs in the Appendix to an Essay on the

Vita Nuova of Dante, including extracts, by my friend Mr. Charles

E. Norton, of Cambridge, U.S.,—a work of high delicacy and ap-

preciation, which originally appeared by portions in the Atlantic

Monthly , but has since been augmented by the author and pri-

vately printed in a volume which is a beautiful specimen of

American typography.

page: 16

own lyrics, the author of the latter being again described

merely as “Amicus ejus.” In immediate proximity to

these, or coupled in two instances with examples from

Dante alone, are various quotations taken from Guido

Cavalcanti; but in none of these cases is anything said

to connect Dante with him who was once “the first of

his friends.”* As commonly between old and new, the

change of Guido's friendship for Cino's seems doubtful

gain. Cino's poetry, like his career, is for the most part

smoother than that of Guido, and in some instances it

rises into truth and warmth of expression: but it con-

veys no idea of such powers, for life or for work, as

seem to have distinguished the “Cavicchia” of Messer

Corso Donati. However, his one talent (reversing the

parable) appears generally to be made the most of,

while Guido's two or three remain uncertain through the

manner of their use.

Cino's Canzone addressed to Dante on the death of

Beatrice, as well as his answer to the first sonnet of the

Vita Nuova, indicate that the two poets must have become

Transcribed Footnote (page 16):

* It is also noticeable that in this treatise Dante speaks of Guido

Guinicelli on one occasion as Guido Maximus, thus seeming to

contradict the preference of Cavalcanti which is usually supposed

to be implied in the passage I have quoted from the Purgatory. It

has been sometimes surmised (perhaps for this reason) that the

two Guidos there spoken of may be Guittone d'Arezzo and Guido

Guinicelli, the latter being said to surpass the former, of whom

Dante elsewhere in the Purgatory has expressed a low opinion.

But I should think it doubtful whether the name Guittone, which

(if not a nickname, as some say) is substantially the same as Guido,

could be so absolutely identified with it: at that rate Cino da

Pistoia even might be classed as one Guido, his full name, Guitton-

cino, being the diminutive of Guittone. I believe it more probable

that Guinicelli and Cavalcanti were then really meant, and that

Dante afterwards either altered his opinion, or may (conjecturably)

have chosen to imply a change of preference in order to gratify

Cino da Pistoia, whom he so markedly distinguishes as his friend

throughout the treatise, and between whom and Cavalcanti some

jealousy appears to have existed, as we may gather from one of

Cino's sonnets (at page 176); nor is Guido mentioned anywhere

with praise by Cino, as other poets are.

page: 17

acquainted in youth, though there is no earlier mention

of Cino in Dante's writings than those which occur in

his treatise on the Vulgar Tongue. It might perhaps be

inferred with some plausibility that their acquaintance

was revived after an interruption by the sonnet and

answer at pages 110-111, and that they afterwards cor-

responded as friends till the period of Dante's death,

when Cino wrote his elegy. Of the two sonnets in

which Cino expresses disapprobation of what he thinks

the partial judgments of Dante's Commedia, the first seems

written before the great poet's death, but I should think

that the second dated after that event, as the Paradise, to

which it refers, cannot have become fully known in its

author's lifetime. Another sonnet sent to Dante elicited

a Latin epistle in reply, where we find Cino addressed

as “frater carissime.” Among Cino's lyrical poems are

a few more written in correspondence with Dante, which

I have not translated as being of little personal interest.

Guittoncino de' Sinibuldi (for such was Cino's full

name) was born in Pistoia, of a distinguished family, in

the year 1270. He devoted himself early to the study

of law, and in 1307 was Assessor of Civil Causes in his

native city. In this year, and in Pistoia, first cradle of

the “Black” and “White” factions, their endless contest

again sprang into activity; the “Blacks” and Guelfs of

Florence and Lucca driving out the “Whites” and

Ghibellines, who had ruled in the city since 1300.

With their accession to power came many iniquitous

laws in favour of their own party; so that Cino, as a

lawyer of Ghibelline opinions, soon found it necessary

or advisable to leave Pistoia, for it seems uncertain

whether his removal was voluntary or by proscription.

He directed his course towards Lombardy, on whose

confines the chief of the “White” party in Pistoia, Filippo

Vergiolesi, still held the fortress of Pitecchio. Hither

Vergiolesi had retreated with his family and adherents

when resistance in the city became no longer possible;

and it may be supposed that Cino came to join him, not

Sig. 2

page: 18

on account of political sympathy alone; as Selvaggia

Vergiolesi, his daughter, is the lady celebrated through-

out the poet's compositions. Three years later, the

Vergiolesi and their followers, finding Pitecchio unten-

able, fortified themselves on the Monte della Sambuca,

a lofty peak of the Apennines; which again they were

finally obliged to abandon, yielding it to the Guelfs of

Pistoia at the price of eleven thousand lire. Meanwhile

the bleak air of the Sambuca had proved fatal to the

lady Selvaggia, who remained buried there, or, as Cino

expresses it in one of his poems,

“Cast out upon the steep path of the mountains,
Where Death had shut her in between hard stones.”

Over her cheerless tomb Cino bent and mourned, as

he has told us, when, after a prolonged absence spent

partly in France, he returned through Tuscany on his

way to Rome. He had not been with Selvaggia's family

at the time of her death; and it is probable that, on his

return to the Sambuca, the fortress was already sur-

rendered, and her grave almost the only record left

there of the Vergiolesi.

Cino's journey to Rome was on account of his having

received a high office under Louis of Savoy, who pre-

ceded the Emperor Henry VII. when he went thither to

be crowned in 1310. In another three years the last

blow was dealt to the hopes of the exiled and persecuted

Ghibellines, by the death of the Emperor, caused almost

surely by poison. This death Cino has lamented in a

canzone. It probably determined him to abandon a

cause which seemed dead, and return, when possible, to

his native city. This he succeeded in doing before 1319,

as in that year we find him deputed, together with six

other citizens, by the Government of Pistoia to take

possession of a stronghold recently yielded to them.

He had now been for some time married to Margherita

degli Ughi, of a very noble Pistoiese family, who bore

him a son named Mino, and four daughters, Diamante,

page: 19

Beatrice, Giovanna, and Lombarduccia. Indeed, this

marriage must have taken place before the death of

Selvaggia in 1310, as in 1325-26, his son Mino was

one of those by whose aid from within the Ghibelline

Castruccio Antelminelli obtained possession of Pistoia,

which he held in spite of revolts till his death some two

or three years afterwards, when it again reverted to the

Guelfs.

After returning to Pistoia, Cino's whole life was

devoted to the attainment of legal and literary fame. In

these pursuits he reaped the highest honours, and taught

at the universities of Siena, Perugia, and Florence;

having for his disciples men who afterwards became

celebrated, among whom rumour has placed Petrarch,

though on examination this seems very doubtful. A

sonnet by Petrarch exists, however, commencing “Pian-

gete donne e con voi pianga Amore,” written as a lament

on Cino's death, and bestowing the highest praise on

him. He and his Selvaggia are also coupled with Dante

and Beatrice in the same poet's Trionfi d'Amore (cap. 4).

Though established again in Pistoia, Cino resided

there but little till about the time of his death, which

occurred in 1336-7. His monument, where he is repre-

sented as a professor among his disciples, still exists in

the Cathedral of Pistoia, and is a mediæval work of great

interest. Messer Cino de' Sinibuldi was a prosperous

man, of whom we have ample records, from the details

of his examinations as a student, to the inventory of his

effects after death, and the curious items of his funeral

expenses. Of his claims as a poet it may be said that

he filled creditably the interval which elapsed between

the death of Dante and the full blaze of Petrarch's suc-

cess. Most of his poems in honour of Selvaggia are full

of an elaborate and mechanical tone of complaint which

hardly reads like the expression of a real love; never-

theless there are some, and especially the sonnet on her

tomb (at page 172), which display feeling and power.

The finest, as well as the most interesting, of all his

page: 20

pieces, is the very beautiful canzone in which he

attempts to console Dante for the death of Beatrice.

Though I have found much fewer among Cino's poems

than among Guido's which seemed to call for translation,

the collection of the former is a larger one. Cino pro-

duced legal writings also, of which the chief one that

has survived is a Commentary on the Statutes of Pistoia,

said to have great merit, and whose production in the

short space of two years was accounted an extraordinary

achievement.

Having now spoken of the chief poets of this division,

it remains to notice the others of whom less is known.

Dante da Maiano (Dante being, as with Alighieri, the

short of Durante, and Maiano in the neighbourhood of

Fiesole) had attained some reputation as a poet before

the career of his great namesake began; his Sicilian lady

Nina (herself, it is said, a poetess, and not personally

known to him) going by the then unequivocal title of

“La Nina di Dante.” This priority may also be inferred

from the contemptuous answer sent by him to Dante

Alighieri's dream sonnet in the Vita Nuova (see page

178). All the writers on early Italian poetry seem to

agree in specially censuring this poet's rhymes as coarse

and trivial in manner; nevertheless, they are sometimes

distinguished by a careless force not to be despised, and

even by snatches of real beauty. Of Dante da Maiano's

life no record whatever has come down to us.

Most literary circles have their prodigal, or what in

modern phrase might be called their “scamp”; and among

our Danteans, this place is indisputably filled by Cecco

Angiolieri, of Siena. Nearly all his sonnets (and no

other pieces by him have been preserved) relate either

to an unnatural hatred of his father, or to an infatuated

love for the daughter of a shoemaker, a certain married

Becchina. It would appear that Cecco was probably

enamoured of her before her marriage as well as after-

wards, and we may surmise that his rancour against his

father may have been partly dependent, in the first

page: 21

instance, on the disagreements arising from such a con-

nection. However, from an amusing and lifelike story

in the Decameron (Gior. ix. Nov. 4) we learn that on one

occasion Cecco's father paid him six months' allowance in

advance, in order that he might proceed to the Marca

d'Ancona, and join the suite of a Papal Legate who was

his patron; which looks, after all, as if the father had

some care of his graceless son. The story goes on to

relate how Cecco (whom Boccaccio describes as a hand-

some and well-bred man) was induced to take with him

as his servant a fellow-gamester with whom he had

formed an intimacy purely on account of the hatred

which each of the two bore his own father, though in

other respects they had little in common. The result

was that this fellow, during the journey, while Cecco was

asleep at Buonconvento, took all his money and lost it at

the gaming-table, and afterwards managed by an adroit

trick to get possession of his horse and clothes, leaving

him nothing but his shirt. Cecco then, ashamed to return

to Siena, made his way, in a borrowed suit and mounted

on his servant's sorry hack, to Corsignano, where he had

relations; and there he stayed till his father once more

(surely much to his credit) made him a remittance of

money. Boccaccio seems to say in conclusion that Cecco

ultimately had his revenge on the thief.

In reading many both of Cecco's love-sonnets and

hate-sonnets, it is impossible not to feel some pity for

the indications they contain of self-sought poverty, un-

happiness, and natural bent to ruin. Altogether they

have too much curious individuality to allow of their

being omitted here: especially as they afford the earliest

prominent example of a naturalism without afterthought

in the whole of Italian poetry. Their humour is some-

times strong, if not well chosen; their passion always

forcible from its evident reality: nor indeed are several

among them devoid of a certain delicacy. This quality

is also to be discerned in other pieces which I have not

included as having less personal interest; but it must

page: 22

be confessed that for the most part the sentiments ex-

pressed in Cecco's poetry are either impious or licentious.

Most of the sonnets of his which are in print are here

given;* the selections concluding with an extraordinary

one in which he proposes a sort of murderous crusade

against all those who hate their fathers. This I have

placed last (exclusive of the Sonnet to Dante in exile) in

order to give the writer the benefit of the possibility

that it was written last, and really expressed a still

rather blood-thirsty contrition; belonging at best, I fear,

to the content of self-indulgence when he came to enjoy

his father's inheritance. But most likely it is to be

received as the expression of impudence alone, unless

perhaps of hypocrisy.

Cecco Angiolieri seems to have had poetical intercourse

with Dante early as well as later in life; but even from

the little that remains, we may gather that Dante soon

put an end to any intimacy which may have existed

between them. That Cecco already poetized at the time

to which the Vita Nuova relates, is evident from a date

given in one of his sonnets,—the 20th June 1291, and

from his sonnet raising objections to the one at the close

of Dante's autobiography. When the latter was written

he was probably on good terms with the young Alighieri;

but within no great while afterwards they had discovered

that they could not agree, as is shown by a sonnet in

which Cecco can find no words bad enough for Dante,

who has remonstrated with him about Becchina.† Much

Transcribed Footnote (page 22):

* It may be mentioned (as proving how much of the poetry of

this period still remains in MS.) that Ubaldini, in his Glossary to

Barberino, published in 1640, cites as grammatical examples no

fewer than twenty-three short fragments from Cecco Angiolieri,

one of which alone is to be found among the sonnets which I have

seen, and which I believe are the only ones in print. Ubaldini

quotes them from the Strozzi MSS.

Transcribed Footnote (page 22):

† Of this sonnet I have seen two printed versions, in both of

which the text is so corrupt as to make them very contradictory in

important points; but I believe that by comparing the two I have

given its meaning correctly. (See page 192 .)

page: 23

later, as we may judge, he again addresses Dante in an

insulting tone, apparently while the latter was living in

exile at the court of Can Grande della Scala. No other

reason can well be assigned for saying that he had

“turned Lombard”; while some of the insolent allusions

seem also to point to the time when Dante learnt by

experience “how bitter is another's bread and how steep

the stairs of his house.”

Why Cecco in this sonnet should describe himself as

having become a Roman, is more puzzling. Boccaccio

certainly speaks of his luckless journey to join a Papal

legate, but does not tell us whether fresh clothes and the

wisdom of experience served him in the end to become

so far identified with the Church of Rome. However,

from the sonnet on his father's death he appears (though

the allusion is desperately obscure) to have been then

living at an abbey; and also, from the one mentioned

above, we may infer that he himself, as well as Dante,

was forced to sit at the tables of others: coincidences

which almost seem to afford a glimpse of the phenomenal

fact that the bosom of the church was indeed for a time

the refuge of this shorn lamb. If so, we may further

conjecture that the wonderful crusade-sonnet was an

amende honorable then imposed on him, accompanied

probably with more fleshly penance.

Though nothing indicates the time of Cecco Angiolieri's

death, I will venture to surmise that he outlived the

writing and revision of Dante's Inferno, if only by the

token that he is not found lodged in one of its meaner

circles. It is easy to feel sure that no sympathy can

ever have existed for long between Dante and a man

like Cecco; however arrogantly the latter, in his verses,

might attempt to establish a likeness and even an

equality. We may accept the testimony of so reverent

a biographer as Boccaccio, that the Dante of later years

was far other than the silent and awe-struck lover of the

Vita Nuova; but he was still (as he proudly called him-

self) “the singer of Rectitude,” and his that “indignant

page: 24

soul” which made blessed the mother who had born

him.*

Leaving to his fate (whatever that may have been) the

Scamp of Dante's Circle, I must risk the charge of a con-

firmed taste for slang by describing Guido Orlandi as

its Bore. No other word could present him so fully.

Very few pieces of his exist besides the five I have

given. In one of these,† he rails against his political

adversaries; in three,‡ falls foul of his brother poets;

and in the remaining one,§ seems somewhat appeased

(I think) by a judicious morsel of flattery. I have already

referred to a sonnet of his which is said to have led to

the composition of Guido Cavalcanti's Canzone on the

Nature of Love. He has another sonnet beginning, “Per

troppa sottiglianza il fil si rompe,” ǁ in which he is cer-

tainly enjoying a fling at somebody, and I suspect at

Cavalcanti in rejoinder to the very poem which he him-

self had instigated. If so, this stamps him a master-

critic of the deepest initiation. Of his life nothing is

recorded; but no wish perhaps need be felt to know

much of him, as one would probably have dropped his

acquaintance. We may be obliged to him, however, for

his character of Guido Cavalcanti (at page 137), which is

boldly and vividly drawn.

Next follow three poets of whom I have given one

specimen apiece. By Bernardo da Bologna ( page 139)

no other is known to exist, nor can anything be learnt of

his career. Gianni Alfani was a noble and distinguished

Florentine, a much graver man, it would seem, than one

could judge from this sonnet of his (page 138), which

belongs rather to the school of Sir Pandarus of Troy.

Dino Compagni, the chronicler of Florence, is repre-