Classic Poem

Certain Verses very weary
On their laggard footsteps coming
In the Tuscan manner dreary,
Chanced upon a lover humming
Of his woes and bitter sorrows
In the heavy-footed measures
And the leaden-weighted treasures
That were used in ancient morrows—
Heaven forgive our Castillejo
For having praised these oldtime lays so!
“And whence,” said Love in passion,
“This measure so o'erweighted
Our ears have so much hated?”
They answered in this fashion:
“This is a foreign gabble,
The subject without reason,
To common-sense such treason
That the lady doubts the rabble
Is a cursing her or praising
When she hears its voices raising.”
“See, though the device are using
Caroilasso and Boscán,
This for utmost soarings choosing,
Though a Roland is each man,
Even they find insufficient
This false artificial plan.
'Tis for your own damage making
A perverse, mad, undertaking,—
Through my kingdom idly spreading
The false coinage they are shedding.”

“To the chatelaine or maiden
(Venus asks) what rash pretender
Speaks the cares with which he's laden
On a speech no mind can render?
You, nor I, nor she, are able
To feel very comfortable,
When we see the very ladies
That we die for, and each maid is
Quite unsure if it's a joke
Or a satire that we poke
In this rigmarole from Hades.”