English

Now these four things, if thou
Consider, are so bad that none are worse.
First, — among counsellors
To thrust thyself, when not called absolutely.

And in the other three
Many offend by their own evil wit.
When men in council sit,
One talks because he loves not to be still;

And one to have his will;
And one for nothing else but only show.
These rules were well to know,
First for the first, for the others afterward.

Where many are repair'd
And met together, never go with them

Pass and let pass, — this counsel I would give, —
And wrap thy cloak what way the wind may blow;
Who cannot raise himself were wise to know
How best, by dint of stooping, he may thrive.
Take for ensample this: when the winds drive
Against it, how the sapling tree bends low,
And, once being prone, abideth even so
Till the hard harsh wind cease to rend and rive.
Wherefore, when thou behold'st thyself abased,
Be blind, deaf, dumb; yet therewith none the less
Note thou in peace what thou shalt hear and see,

If any one had anything to say
To the Lord Ugolino, because he 's
Not staunch, and never minds his promises,
'Twere hardly courteous, for it is his way.
Courteous it were to say such sayings nay:
As thus: He 's true, sir, only takes his ease
And don't care merely if it plague or please,
And has good thoughts, no doubt, if they would stay.
Now I know he 's so loyal every whit
And altogether worth such a good word
As worst would best and best would worst befit.
He'd love his party with a dear accord

MASTER B ERTUCCIO , you are called to account
That you guard Fazio's life from poison ill:
And every man in Florence tells me still
He has no horse that he can safely mount.
A mighty war-horse worth a thousand pound
Stands in Cremona stabled at his will;
Which for his honoured person should fulfil
Its use. Nay, sir, I pray you be not found
So poor a steward. For all fame of yours
Is cared for best, believe me, when I say: —
Our Florence gives Bertuccio charge of one
Who rides her own proud spirit like a horse;

I PLAY this sweet prelùde
For the best heart, and queen
Of gentle womanhood,
From here unto Messene;
Of flowers the fairest one;
The star that 's next the sun;
The brightest star of all.
What time I look at her,
My thoughts do crowd and stir
And are made musical.

Sweetest my lady, then
Wilt thou not just permit,
As once I spoke, again
That I should speak of it?
My heart is burning me
Within, though outwardly
I seem so brave and gay.
Ah! dost thou not sometimes

Lady , with all the pains that I can take,
I'll sing my love renewed, if I may, well,
And only in your praise.
The stag in his old age seeks out a snake
And eats it, and then drinks, (I have heard tell)
Fearing the hidden ways
Of the snake's poison, and renews his youth.
Even such a draught, in truth,
Was your sweet welcome, which cast out of me,
With whole cure instantly,
Whatever pain I felt, for my own good,
When first we met that I might be renew'd.

A thing that has its proper essence changed

Let Friday be your highest hunting-tide, —
No hound nor brach nor mastiff absent thence, —
Through a low wood, by many miles of dens,
All covert, where the cunning beasts abide:
Which now driven forth, at first you scatter wide, —
Then close on them, and rip out blood and breath:
Till all your hunstmen's horns wind at the death,
And you count up how many beasts have died.
Then, men and dogs together brought, you'll say:
Go fairly greet from us this friend and that,
Bid each make haste to blithest wassailings.

Now with the moon the day-star Lucifer
Departs, and night is gone at last, and day
Brings, making all men's spirits strong and gay,
A gentle wind to gladden the new air.
Lo! this is Monday, the week's harbinger;
Let music breathe her softest matin-lay,
And let the loving damsels sing to-day,
And the sun wound with heat at noontide here.
And thou, young lord, arise and do not sleep,
For now the amorous day inviteth thee
The harvest of thy lady's youth to reap.
Let coursers round the door, and palfreys, be,

DEDICATION

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

Were ye but constant, Guelfs, in war or peace,
As in divisions ye are constant still!
There is no wisdom in your stubborn will,
Wherein all good things wane, all harms increase.
But each upon his fellow looks, and sees
And looks again, and likes his favour ill;
And traitors rule ye; and on his own sill
Each stirs the fire of household enmities.
What, Guelfs! and is Monte Catini quite
Forgot,—where still the mothers and sad wives
Keep widowhood, and curse the Ghibellins?
O fathers, brothers, yea, all dearest kins!