• 280 Were worth the waiting for or no,
• And mute he sat amid their din,—
• Can Grande called the Jester in.

• Rank words, with such, are wit's best wealth.
• Lords mouthed approval; ladies kept
• Twittering with clustered heads, except
• Some few that took their trains by stealth
• And went. Can Grande shook his hair
• And smote his thighs and laughed i' the air.

• Then, facing on his guest, he cried,—
• 290 ‘Say, Messer Dante, how it is
• I get out of a clown like this
• More than your wisdom can provide.’
• And Dante: ‘'Tis man's ancient whim
• That still his like seems good to him.’

• Also a tale is told, how once,
• At clearing tables after meat,
• Piled for a jest at Dante's feet
• Were found the dinner's well-picked bones;
• So laid, to please the banquet's lord,
• 300 By one who crouched beneath the board.

• Then smiled Can Grande to the rest:—
• ‘Our Dante's tuneful mouth indeed
• Lacks not the gift on flesh to feed!’
• ‘Fair host of mine,’ replied the guest,
• ‘So many bones you'd not descry
• If so it chanced the dog were I.’*

• But wherefore should we turn the grout
• In a drained cup, or be at strife
• From the worn garment of a life
• 310 To rip the twisted ravel out?
• Good needs expounding; but of ill
• Each hath enough to guess his fill.

• They named him Justicer-at-Law:
• Each month to bear the tale in mind
• Of hues a wench might wear unfin'd
• And of the load an ox might draw;
• To cavil in the weight of bread
• And to see purse-thieves gibbeted.

• And when his spirit wove the spell
• 320 (From under even to over-noon
• In converse with itself alone,)
• As high as Heaven, as low as Hell,—
• He would be summoned and must go:
• For had not Gian stabbed Giacomo?

• Therefore the bread he had to eat
• Seemed brackish, less like corn than tares;
• And the rush-strown accustomed stairs
• Each day were steeper to his feet;
• And when the night-vigil was done,
• 330 His brows would ache to feel the sun.

• Nevertheless, when from his kin
• There came the tidings how at last
• In Florence a decree was pass'd
• Whereby all banished folk might win
• Free pardon, so a fine were paid
• And act of public penance made,—

• This Dante writ in answer thus,
• Words such as these: ‘That clearly they
• In Florence must not have to say,—
  page: 68  
• 340The man abode aloof from us
• Nigh fifteen years, yet lastly skulk'd
• Hither to candleshrift and mulct.

• ‘That he was one the Heavens forbid
• To traffic in God's justice sold
• By market-weight of earthly gold,
• Or to bow down over the lid
• Of steaming censers, and so be
• Made clean of manhood's obloquy.

• ‘That since no gate led, by God's will,
• 350 To Florence, but the one whereat
• The priests and money-changers sat,
• He still would wander; for that still,
• Even through the body's prison-bars,
• His soul possessed the sun and stars.’

• Such were his words. It is indeed
• For ever well our singers should
• Utter good words and know them good
• Not through song only; with close heed
• Lest, having spent for the work's sake
• 360 Six days, the man be left to make.

• Months o'er Verona, till the feast
• Was come for Florence the Free Town:
• And at the shrine of Baptist John
• The exiles, girt with many a priest
• And carrying candles as they went,
• Were held to mercy of the saint.

• On the high seats in sober state,—
• Gold neck-chains range o'er range below
• Gold screen-work where the lilies grow,—
• 370 The Heads of the Republic sate,
• Marking the humbled face go by
• Each one of his house-enemy.

• And as each proscript rose and stood
• From kneeling in the ashen dust
• On the shrine-steps, some magnate thrust
• A beard into the velvet hood
• Of his front colleague's gown, to see
• The cinders stuck in the bare knee.

• Tosinghi passed, Manelli passed,
• 380 Rinucci passed, each in his place;
• But not an Alighieri's face
  page: 70  
• Went by that day from first to last
• In the Republic's triumph; nor
• A foot came home to Dante's door.

• (Respublica—a public thing:
• A shameful shameless prostitute,
• Whose lust with one lord may not suit,
• So takes by turns its revelling
• A night with each, till each at morn
• 390 Is stripped and beaten forth forlorn,

• And leaves her, cursing her. If she,
• Indeed, have not some spice-draught, hid
• In scent under a silver lid,
• To drench his open throat with—he
• Once hard asleep; and thrust him not
• At dawn beneath the stairs to rot.

• Such this Republic!—not the Maid
• He yearned for; she who yet should stand
• With Heaven's accepted hand in hand,
• 400 Invulnerable and unbetray'd:
• To whom, even as to God, should be
• Obeisance one with Liberty.)

• Years filled out their twelve moons, and ceased
• One in another; and alway
• There were the whole twelve hours each day
• And each night as the years increased;
• And rising moon and setting sun
• Beheld that Dante's work was done.

• What of his work for Florence? Well
• 410 It was, he knew, and well must be.
• Yet evermore her hate's decree
• Dwelt in his thought intolerable:—
• His body to be burned,*—his soul
• To beat its wings at hope's vain goal.

• What of his work for Beatrice?
• Now well-nigh was the third song writ,—
• The stars a third time sealing it
• With sudden music of pure peace:
• For echoing thrice the threefold song,
• 420 The unnumbered stars the tone prolong.†

• Each hour, as then the Vision pass'd,
• He heard the utter harmony
• Of the nine trembling spheres, till she
• Bowed her eyes towards him in the last,
• So that all ended with her eyes,
• Hell, Purgatory, Paradise.

• ‘It is my trust, as the years fall,
• To write more worthily of her
• Who now, being made God's minister,
• 430 Looks on His visage and knows all.’
• Such was the hope that love did blend
• With grief's slow fires, to make an end

• Of the ‘New Life,’ his youth's dear book:
• Adding thereunto: ‘In such trust
• I labour, and believe I must
• Accomplish this which my soul took
• In charge, if God, my Lord and hers,
• Leave my life with me a few years.’

• The trust which he had borne in youth
• 440 Was all at length accomplished. He
• At length had written worthily—
  page: 73  
• Yea even of her; no rhymes uncouth
• 'Twixt tongue and tongue; but by God's aid
• The first words Italy had said.

• Ah! haply now the heavenly guide
• Was not the last form seen by him:
• But there that Beatrice stood slim
• And bowed in passing at his side,
• For whom in youth his heart made moan
• 450 Then when the city sat alone.*

• Clearly herself; the same whom he
• Met, not past girlhood, in the street,
• Low-bosomed and with hidden feet;
• And then as woman perfectly,
• In years that followed, many an once,—
• And now at last among the suns

• In that high vision. But indeed
• It may be memory might recall
• Last to him then the first of all,—
  page: 74  
• 460 The child his boyhood bore in heed
• Nine years. At length the voice brought peace,—
• ‘Even I, even I am Beatrice.’

• All this, being there, we had not seen.
• Seen only was the shadow wrought
• On the strong features bound in thought;
• The vagueness gaining gait and mien;
• The white streaks gathering clear to view
• In the burnt beard the women knew.

• For a tale tells that on his track,
• 470 As through Verona's streets he went,
• This saying certain women sent:—
• ‘Lo, he that strolls to Hell and back
• At will! Behold him, how Hell's reek
• Has crisped his beard and singed his cheek.’

• ‘Whereat’ (Boccaccio's words) ‘he smil'd
• For pride in fame.’ It might be so:
• Nevertheless we cannot know
• If haply he were not beguil'd
• To bitterer mirth, who scarce could tell
• 480 If he indeed were back from Hell.

• So the day came, after a space,
• When Dante felt assured that there
• The sunshine must lie sicklier
• Even than in any other place,
• Save only Florence. When that day
• Had come, he rose and went his way.

• He went and turned out. From his shoes
• It may be that he shook the dust,
• As every righteous dealer must
• 490 Once and again ere life can close:
• And unaccomplished destiny
• Struck cold his forehead, it may be.

• No book keeps record how the Prince
• Sunned himself out of Dante's reach,
• Nor how the Jester stank in speech:
• While courtiers, used to smile and wince,
• Poets and harlots, all the throng,
• Let loose their scandal and their song.

• No book keeps record if the seat
• 500 Which Dante held at his host's board
• Were sat in next by clerk or lord,—
  page: 76  
• If leman lolled with dainty feet
• At ease, or hostage brooded there,
• Or priest lacked silence for his prayer.

• Eat and wash hands, Can Grande;—scarce
• We know their deeds now: hands which fed
• Our Dante with that bitter bread;
• And thou the watch-dog of those stairs
• Which, of all paths his feet knew well,
• 510 Were steeper found than Heaven or Hell.

   

• Heavenborn Helen, Sparta's queen,
• ( O Troy Town!)
• Had two breasts of heavenly sheen,
• The sun and moon of the heart's desire:
• All Love's lordship lay between.
• ( O Troy's down,
• Tall Troy's on fire!)

• Helen knelt at Venus' shrine,
• ( O Troy Town!)
• 10Saying, ‘A little gift is mine,
• A little gift for a heart's desire.
• Hear me speak and make me a sign!
• ( O Troy's down,
• Tall Troy's on fire!)

• ‘Look, I bring thee a carven cup;
• ( O Troy Town!)
• See it here as I hold it up,—
• Shaped it is to the heart's desire,
• Fit to fill when the gods would sup.
• 20 ( O Troy's down,
• Tall Troy's on fire!)

• ‘It was moulded like my breast;
• ( O Troy Town!)
• He that sees it may not rest,
• Rest at all for his heart's desire.
• O give ear to my heart's behest!
• ( O Troy's down,
• Tall Troy's on fire!)

• ‘See my breast, how like it is;
• 30 ( O Troy Town!)
• See it bare for the air to kiss!
• Is the cup to thy heart's desire?
• O for the breast, O make it his!
• ( O Troy's down,
• Tall Troy's on fire!)

• ‘Yea, for my bosom here I sue;
• ( O Troy Town!)
• Thou must give it where 'tis due,
• Give it there to the heart's desire.
• 40Whom do I give my bosom to?
• ( O Troy's down,
• Tall Troy's on fire!)

• ‘Each twin breast is an apple sweet.
• ( O Troy Town!)
• Once an apple stirred the beat
• Of thy heart with the heart's desire:—
• Say, who brought it then to thy feet?
• ( O Troy's down,
• Tall Troy's on fire!)

• 50‘They that claimed it then were three:
• ( O Troy Town!)
• For thy sake two hearts did he
• Make forlorn of the heart's desire.
• Do for him as he did for thee!
• ( O Troy's down,
• Tall Troy's on fire!)

• ‘Mine are apples grown to the south,
• ( O Troy Town!)
• Grown to taste in the days of drouth,
• 60Taste and waste to the heart's desire:
• Mine are apples meet for his mouth.’
• ( O Troy's down,
• Tall Troy's on fire!)

• Venus looked on Helen's gift,
• ( O Troy Town!)
• Looked and smiled with subtle drift,
• Saw the work of her heart's desire:—
• ‘There thou kneel'st for Love to lift!’
• ( O Troy's down,
• 70 Tall Troy's on fire!)

• Venus looked in Helen's face,
• ( O Troy Town!)
• Knew far off an hour and place,
• And fire lit from the heart's desire;
• Laughed and said, ‘Thy gift hath grace!’
• ( O Troy's down,
• Tall Troy's on fire!)