For in the Sun, which lighted you and burned For reason that to you is manifest, This inequality; so give not thanks, Set in this precious jewel as a gem, E'en while awaiting, I was thine own root!" Then said to me: "That one from whom is named A son of mine and thy great-grandsire was ; Well it behoves thee that the long fatigue From which she taketh still her tierce and nones, No golden chain she had, nor coronal, Nor ladies shod with sandal shoon, nor girdle That caught the eye more than the person did. Not yet the daughter at her birth struck fear Into the father, for the time and dower Did not o'errun this side or that the measure. No houses had she void of families, Not yet had thither come Sardanapalus Not yet surpassed had Montemalo been By your Uccellatojo, which surpassed Bellincion Berti saw I go begirt With leather and with bone, and from the mirror And him of Nerli saw, and him of Vecchio, Contented with their simple suits of buff, One o'er the cradle kept her studious watch, And in her lullaby the language used That first delights the fathers and the mothers; Told o'er among her family the tales As great a marvel then would have been held Life of the citizen, to such a safe From Val di Pado came to me my wife, I followed afterward the Emperor Conrad, So much I pleased him with my noble deeds. I followed in his train against that law's Iniquity, whose people doth usurp Your just possession, through your Pastor's fault. There by that execrable race was I Released from bonds of the fallacious world, And came from martyrdom unto this peace." 125 130 135 140 145 CANTO XVI. O THOU Our poor nobility of blood, If thou dost make the people glory in thee Down here where our affection languishes, A marvellous thing it ne'er will be to me; For there where appetite is not perverted, So that unless we piece thee day by day Yet once again my words beginning made; ΤΟ Whence Beatrice, who stood somewhat apart, My mind, that of itself it makes a joy Who were your ancestors, and what the years Tell me about the sheepfold of Saint John, How large it was, and who the people were As at the blowing of the winds a coal Quickens to flame, so I beheld that light And as unto mine eyes it grew more fair, With voice more sweet and tender, but not in "From uttering of the Ave, till the birth In which my mother, who is now a saint, Of me was lightened who had been her burden, Unto its Lion had this fire returned Five hundred fifty times and thirty more, My ancestors and I our birthplace had Suffice it of my elders to hear this; Where first is found the last ward of the city But who they were, and whence they thither came, All those who at that time were there between Mars and the Baptist, fit for bearing arms, But the community, that now is mixed With Campi and Certaldo and Figghine, O how much better 'twere to have as neighbours Who has sharp eyes for trickery already. Had not the folk, which most of all the world Some who turn Florentines, and trade and discount, There where their grandsires went about as beggars. Ever the intermingling of the people Has been the source of malady in cities, And a blind bull more headlong plunges down If Luni thou regard, and Urbisaglia, To hear how races waste themselves away, How they have passed away, and how are passing Will seem to thee no novel thing nor hard, All things of yours have their mortality, Even as yourselves; but it is hidden in some And as the turning of the lunar heaven Covers and bares the shores without a pause, In the like manner fortune does with Florence. Therefore should not appear a marvellous thing What I shall say of the great Florentines Of whom the fame is hidden in the Past. I saw the Ughi, saw the Catellini, Filippi, Greci, Ormanni, and Alberichi, Even in their fall illustrious citizens; And saw, as mighty as they ancient were, With him of La Sannella him of Arca, With a new felony of so much weight The County Guido, and whoe'er the name Already, and already Galigajo Had hilt and pommel gilded in his house. Mighty already was the Column Vair, Sacchetti, Giuochi, Fifant, and Barucci, By their own pride! and how the Balls of Gold Who evermore, when vacant is your church, The insolent race, that like a dragon follows So that it pleased not Ubertin Donato That his wife's father should make him their kin. Giuda and Infangato were good burghers. I'll tell a thing incredible, but true; One entered the small circuit by a gate Which from the Della Pera took its name! Each one that bears the beautiful escutcheon Of the great baron whose renown and name The festival of Thomas keepeth fresh, Knighthood and privilege from him received; Though with the populace unites himself And still more quiet would the Borgo be The house from which is born your lamentation, 120 125 130 135 Through just disdain that death among you brought Was honoured in itself and its companions. O Buondelmonte, how in evil hour 140 Thou fled'st the bridal at another's promptings! Many would be rejoicing who are sad, The first time that thou camest to the city. But it behoved the mutilated stone If God had thee surrendered to the Ema 145 Which guards the bridge, that Florence should provide |