Sketches and Studies in Italy and Greece Part 36

Let him rebuke me whose hard heart of stone Ne'er felt of Love the summer in his vein!

I pray to Love that who hath never known Love's power, may ne'er be blessed with Love's great gain; But he who serves our lord with might and main, May dwell for ever in the fire of Love!

I ask no pardon if I follow Love; Since every gentle heart is thrall thereof.

Let him rebuke me without cause who will; For if he be not gentle, I fear nought: My heart obedient to the same love still Hath little heed of light words envy-fraught: So long as life remains, it is my thought To keep the laws of this so gentle Love.

I ask no pardon if I follow Love; Since every gentle heart is thrall thereof.

This Ballata is put into a woman's mouth. Another, ascribed to Lorenzo de' Medici, expresses the sadness of a man who has lost the favour of his lady. It ill.u.s.trates the well-known use of the word _Signore_ for mistress in Florentine poetry.

How can I sing light-souled and fancy-free, When my loved lord no longer smiles on me?

Dances and songs and merry wakes I leave To lovers fair, more fortunate and gay; Since to my heart so many sorrows cleave That only doleful tears are mine for aye: Who hath heart's ease, may carol, dance, and play While I am fain to weep continually.

How can I sing light-souled and fancy-free, When my loved lord no longer smiles on me?

I too had heart's ease once, for so Love willed, When my lord loved me with love strong and great: But envious fortune my life's music stilled, And turned to sadness all my gleeful state.

Ah me! Death surely were less desolate Than thus to live and love-neglected be!

How can I sing light-souled and fancy-free, When my loved lord no longer smiles on me?

One only comfort soothes my heart's despair, And mid this sorrow lends my soul some cheer; Unto my lord I ever yielded fair Service of faith untainted pure and clear; If then I die thus guiltless, on my bier It may be she will shed one tear for me.

How can I sing light-souled and fancy-free, When my loved lord no longer smiles on me?

The Florentine _Rispetto_ was written for the most part in octave stanzas, detached or continuous. The octave stanza in Italian literature was an emphatically popular form; and it is still largely used in many parts of the peninsula for the lyrical expression of emotion.[31] Poliziano did no more than treat it with his own facility, sacrificing the unstudied raciness of his popular models to literary elegance.

Here are a few of these detached stanzas or _Rispetti Spicciolati_:--

Upon that day when first I saw thy face, I vowed with loyal love to wors.h.i.+p thee.

Move, and I move; stay, and I keep my place: Whate'er thou dost, will I do equally.

In joy of thine I find most perfect grace, And in thy sadness dwells my misery: Laugh, and I laugh; weep, and I too will weep.

Thus Love commands, whose laws I loving keep.

Nay, be not over-proud of thy great grace, Lady! for brief time is thy thief and mine.

White will he turn those golden curls, that lace Thy forehead and thy neck so marble-fine.

Lo! while the flower still flourisheth apace, Pluck it: for beauty but awhile doth s.h.i.+ne.

Fair is the rose at dawn; but long ere night Her freshness fades, her pride hath vanished quite.

Fire, fire! Ho, water! for my heart's afire!

Ho, neighbours! help me, or by G.o.d I die!

See, with his standard, that great lord, Desire!

He sets my heart aflame: in vain I cry.

Too late, alas! The flames mount high and higher.

Alack, good friends! I faint, I fail, I die.

Ho! water, neighbours mine! no more delay I My heart's a cinder if you do but stay.

Lo, may I prove to Christ a renegade, And, dog-like, die in pagan Barbary; Nor may G.o.d's mercy on my soul be laid, If ere for aught I shall abandon thee: Before all-seeing G.o.d this prayer be made-- When I desert thee, may death feed on me: Now if thy hard heart scorn these vows, be sure That without faith none may abide secure.

I ask not, Love, for any other pain To make thy cruel foe and mine repent, Only that thou shouldst yield her to the strain Of these my arms, alone, for chastis.e.m.e.nt; Then would I clasp her so with might and main, That she should learn to pity and relent, And, in revenge for scorn and proud despite, A thousand times I'd kiss her forehead white.

Not always do fierce tempests vex the sea, Nor always clinging clouds offend the sky; Cold snows before the sunbeams haste to flee, Disclosing flowers that 'neath their whiteness lie; The saints each one doth wait his day to see, And time makes all things change; so, therefore, I Ween that 'tis wise to wait my turn, and say, That who subdues himself, deserves to sway.

It will be observed that the tone of these poems is not pa.s.sionate nor elevated. Love, as understood in Florence of the fifteenth century, was neither; nor was Poliziano the man to have revived Platonic mysteries or chivalrous enthusiasms. When the octave stanzas, written with this amorous intention, were strung together into a continuous poem, this form of verse took the t.i.tle of _Rispetto Gontinuato_. In the collection of Poliziano's poems there are several examples of the long Rispetto, carelessly enough composed, as may be gathered from the recurrence of the same stanzas in several poems. All repeat the old arguments, the old enticements to a less than lawful love. The one which I have chosen for translation, styled _Serenata ovvero Lettera in Istrambotti_, might be selected as an epitome of Florentine convention in the matter of love-making.

O thou of fairest fairs the first and queen, Most courteous, kind, and honourable dame, Thine ear unto thy servant's singing lean, Who loves thee more than health, or wealth, or fame; For thou his s.h.i.+ning planet still hast been, And day and night he calls on thy fair name: First wis.h.i.+ng thee all good the world can give, Next praying in thy gentle thoughts to live.

He humbly prayeth that thou shouldst be kind To think upon his pure and perfect faith, And that such mercy in thy heart and mind Should reign, as so much beauty argueth: A thousand, thousand hints, or he were blind, Of thy great courtesy he reckoneth: Wherefore thy loyal subject now doth sue Such guerdon only as shall prove them true.

He knows himself unmeet for love from thee, Unmeet for merely gazing on thine eyes; Seeing thy comely squires so plenteous be, That there is none but 'neath thy beauty sighs: Yet since thou seekest fame and bravery, Nor carest aught for gauds that others prize, And since he strives to honour thee alway, He still hath hope to gain thy heart one day.

Virtue that dwells untold, unknown, unseen, Still findeth none to love or value it; Wherefore his faith, that hath so perfect been, Not being known, can profit him no whit: He would find pity in thine eyes, I ween, If thou shouldst deign to make some proof of it; The rest may flatter, gape, and stand agaze; Him only faith above the crowd doth raise.

Suppose that he might meet thee once alone, Face unto face, without or jealousy, Or doubt or fear from false misgiving grown, And tell his tale of grievous pain to thee, Sure from thy breast he'd draw full many a moan.

And make thy fair eyes weep right plenteously: Yea, if he had but skill his heart to show, He scarce could fail to win thee by its woe.

Now art thou in thy beauty's blooming hour; Thy youth is yet in pure perfection's prime: Make it thy pride to yield thy fragile flower, Or look to find it paled by envious time: For none to stay the flight of years hath power, And who culls roses caught by frosty rime?

Give therefore to thy lover, give, for they Too late repent who act not while they may.

Time flies: and lo! thou let'st it idly fly: There is not in the world a thing more dear; And if thou wait to see sweet May pa.s.s by, Where find'st thou roses in the later year?

He never can, who lets occasion die: Now that thou canst, stay not for doubt or fear; But by the forelock take the flying hour, Ere change begins, and clouds above thee lower.

Too long 'twixt yea and nay he hath been wrung; Whether he sleep or wake he little knows, Or free or in the bands of bondage strung: Nay, lady, strike, and let thy lover loose!

What joy hast thou to keep a captive hung?

Kill him at once, or cut the cruel noose: No more, I prithee, stay; but take thy part: Either relax the bow, or speed the dart.

Thou feedest him on words and windiness, On smiles, and signs, and bladders light as air; Saying, thou fain wouldst comfort his distress, But dar'st not, canst not: nay, dear lady fair, All things are possible beneath the stress Of will, that flames above the soul's despair!

Dally no longer: up, set to thy hand; Or see his love unclothed and naked stand.

For he hath sworn, and by this oath will bide, E'en though his life be lost in the endeavour, To leave no way, nor art, nor wile untried, Until he pluck the fruit he sighs for ever: And, though he still would spare thy honest pride, The knot that binds him he must loose or sever; Thou too, O lady, shouldst make sharp thy knife, If thou art fain to end this amorous strife.

Lo! if thou lingerest still in dubious dread, Lest thou shouldst lose fair fame of honesty, Here hast thou need of wile and warihead, To test thy lover's strength in screening thee; Indulge him, if thou find him well bestead, Knowing that smothered love flames outwardly: Therefore, seek means, search out some privy way; Keep not the steed too long at idle play.

Or if thou heedest what those friars teach, I cannot fail, lady, to call thee fool: Well may they blame our private sins and preach; But ill their acts match with their spoken rule; The same pitch clings to all men, one and each.

There, I have spoken: set the world to school With this true proverb, too, be well acquainted The devil's ne'er so black as he is painted.

Nor did our good Lord give such grace to thee That thou shouldst keep it buried in thy breast, But to reward thy servant's constancy, Whose love and loyal faith thou hast repressed: Think it no sin to be some trifle free, Because thou livest at a lord's behest; For if he take enough to feed his fill, To cast the rest away were surely ill.

They find most favour in the sight of heaven Who to the poor and hungry are most kind; A hundred-fold shall thus to thee be given By G.o.d, who loves the free and generous mind; Thrice strike thy breast, with pure contrition riven, Crying: I sinned; my sin hath made me blind!-- He wants not much: enough if he be able To pick up crumbs that fall beneath thy table.

Wherefore, O lady, break the ice at length; Make thou, too, trial of love's fruits and flowers: When in thine arms thou feel'st thy lover's strength, Thou wilt repent of all these wasted hours; Husbands, they know not love, its breadth and length, Seeing their hearts are not on fire like ours: Things longed for give most pleasure; this I tell thee: If still thou doubtest let the proof compel thee.

What I have spoken is pure gospel sooth; I have told all my mind, withholding nought: And well, I ween, thou canst unhusk the truth, And through the riddle read the hidden thought: Perchance if heaven still smile upon my youth, Some good effect for me may yet be wrought: Then fare thee well; too many words offend: She who is wise is quick to comprehend.

The levity of these love-declarations and the fluency of their vows show them to be 'false as dicers' oaths,' mere verses of the moment, made to please a facile mistress. One long poem, which cannot be styled a Rispetto, but is rather a Canzone of the legitimate type, stands out with distinctness from the rest of Poliziano's love-verses.

It was written by him for Giuliano de' Medici, in praise of the fair Simonetta. The following version attempts to repeat its metrical effects in some measure:--