Part 17 (2/2)
_Son tremil' anni._
Through full three thousand years the world reveres Blind Love that bears the quiver and hath wings: Now too he's deaf, and to the sufferings Of folk in anguish turns impiteous ears.
Of gold he's greedy, and dark raiment wears; A child no more, that naked sports and sings, But a sly greybeard; no gold shaft he flings, Now that fire-arms have cursed these latter years.
Charcoal and sulphur, thunder, lead, and smoke, That leave the flesh with plagues of h.e.l.l diseased, And drive the craving spirit deaf and blind, These are his weapons. But my bell hath broke Her silence. Yield, thou deaf, blind, tainted beast, To the wise fervour of a blameless mind!
XXIV.
_TRUE AND FALSE n.o.bILITY._
_In noi dal senno._
Valour and mind form real n.o.bility, The which bears fruit and shows a fair increase By doughty actions: these and nought but these Confer true patents of gentility.
Money is false and light unless it be Bought by a man's own worthy qualities; And blood is such that its corrupt disease And ignorant pretence are foul to see.
Honours that ought to yield more true a type, Europe, thou measurest by fortune still, To thy great hurt; and this thy foe perceives: He rates the tree by fruits mature and ripe, Not by mere shadows, roots, and verdant leaves:-- Why then neglect so grave a cause of ill?
XXV.
_THE PEOPLE._
_Il popolo e una bestia._
The people is a beast of muddy brain, That knows not its own force, and therefore stands Loaded with wood and stone; the powerless hands Of a mere child guide it with bit and rein: One kick would be enough to break the chain; But the beast fears, and what the child demands, It does; nor its own terror understands, Confused and stupefied by bugbears vain.
Most wonderful! with its own hand it ties And gags itself--gives itself death and war For pence doled out by kings from its own store.
Its own are all things between earth and heaven; But this it knows not; and if one arise To tell this truth, it kills him unforgiven.
XXVI.
_CONSCIENCE._
_Seco ogni coif a e doglia._
All crime is its own torment, bearing woe To mind or body or decrease of fame; If not at once, still step by step our name Or blood or friends or fortune it brings low.
But if our will do not resent the blow, We have not sinned. That penance hath no blame Which Magdalen found sweet: purging our shame, Self-punishment is virtue, all men know.
The consciousness of goodness pure and whole Makes a man fully blest; but misery Springs from false conscience, blinded in its pride.
This Simon Peter meant when he replied To Simon Magus, that the prescient soul Hath her own proof of immortality.
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