Why were they proud? Because fair orange-mounts XVII. Yet were these Florentines as self-retired And pannier'd mules for ducats and old liesQuick cat's-paws on the generous stray-away,Great wits in Spanish, Tuscan, and Malay. XVIII. How was it these same ledger-men could spy How could they find out in Lorenzo's eye A straying from his toil? Hot Egypt's pest Into their vision covetous and sly! How could these money-bags see east and west? Yet so they did-and every dealer fair Must see behind, as doth the hunted hare. XIX. O eloquent and famed Boccaccio! Of thee we now should ask forgiving boon, And of thy lilies, that do paler grow Now they can no more hear thy ghittern's tune, For venturing syllables that ill beseem The quiet glooms of such a piteous theme. XX. Grant thou a pardon here, and then the tale There is no other crime, no mad assail To make old prose in modern rhyme more sweet: But it is done-succeed the verse or failTo honour thee, and thy gone spirit greet; To stead thee as a verse in English tongue, An echo of thee in the north-wind sung. XXI. These brethren having found by many signs XXII. And many a jealous conference had they, To make the youngster for his crime atone; And at the last, these men of cruel clay Cut Mercy with a sharp knife to the bone; XXIII. So on a pleasant morning, as he leant XXIV. "To-day we purpose, ay, this hour we mount To spur three leagues towards the Apennine; Come down, we pray thee, ere the hot sun count His dewy rosary on the eglantine." Lorenzo, courteously as he was wont, Bow'd a fair greeting to these serpents' whine, And went in haste, to get in readiness, With belt, and spur, and bracing huntsman's dress. XXV. And as he to the court-yard pass'd along, Each third step did he pause, and listen'd oft If he could hear his lady's matin-song, Or the light whisper of her footstep soft; When, looking up, he saw her features bright XXVI. "Love, Isabel! said he, "I was in pain Lest I should miss to bid thee a good morrow: Ah! what if I should lose thee, when so fain Out of the amorous dark what day doth borrow. Good bye! I'll soon be back."-" Good bye!" said she: And as he went she chanted merrily. XXVII. So the two brothers and their murder'd man Rode past fair Florence, to where Arno's stream Gurgles through straighten'd banks, and still doth san Itself with dancing bulrush, and the bream Keeps head against the freshets. Sick and wan The brothers' faces in the ford did seem, Lorenzo's flush with love. They pass'd the water Into a forest quiet for the slaughter. XXVIII. There was Lorenzo slain and buried in, XXIX. They told their sister how, with sudden speed, 5 Poor girl! put on thy stifling widow's weed, And 'scape at once from Hope's accursed bands; To-day thou wilt not see him, nor to-morrow, And the next day will be a day of sorrow. XXX. She weeps alone for pleasures not to be; She brooded o'er the luxury alone: XXXI. But Selfishness, Love's cousin, held not long Upon the time with feverish unrest- Came tragic; passion not to be subdued, XXXII. In the mid days of autumn, on their eves Of some gold tinge, and plays a roundelay |