Sonnet: He Rails against Dante, Who Had Censured His Homage to Becchina
D ANTE A LIGHIERI in Becchina's praise
Won't have me sing, and bears him like my lord.
He's but a pinchbeck florin, on my word;
Sugar he seems, but salt 's in all his ways;
He looks like wheaten bread, who 's bread of maize;
He 's but a sty, though like a tower in height;
A falcon, till you find that he 's a kite;
Call him a cock!—a hen 's more like his case.
Go now to Florence, Sonnet of my own,
And there with dames and maids hold pretty parles,
And say that all he is doth only seem.
And I meanwhile will make him better known
Unto the Count of Provence, good King Charles;
And in this way we'll singe his skin for him.
Won't have me sing, and bears him like my lord.
He's but a pinchbeck florin, on my word;
Sugar he seems, but salt 's in all his ways;
He looks like wheaten bread, who 's bread of maize;
He 's but a sty, though like a tower in height;
A falcon, till you find that he 's a kite;
Call him a cock!—a hen 's more like his case.
Go now to Florence, Sonnet of my own,
And there with dames and maids hold pretty parles,
And say that all he is doth only seem.
And I meanwhile will make him better known
Unto the Count of Provence, good King Charles;
And in this way we'll singe his skin for him.
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.