175

Burningly it came on me all at once, This was the place! those two hills on the right,

Crouched like two bulls locked horn in horn in fight;

While to the left, a tall scalped mountain ... Dunce,

Fool, to be dozing at the very nonce,

After a life spent training for the sight! 180

What in the midst lay but the Tower itself? The round squat turret, blind as the fool's heart,

Built of brown stone, without a counterpart

In the whole world. The tempest's mocking elf

Points to the shipman thus the unseen shelf

185

Where sportive ladies leave their doors ajar?
The Carmine's my cloister: hunt it up,
Do, harry out, if you must show your
zeal,

Whatever rat, there, haps on his wrong hole,
And nip each softling of a wee white mouse, 10
Weke, weke, that's crept to keep him com-
pany!

Aha, you know your betters? Then, you'll take

Your hand away that 's fiddling on my throat, And please to know me likewise. Who am I? Why, one, sir, who is lodging with a friend 15 Three streets off he's a certain . . . how

You know them and they take you? like enough!

I saw the proper twinkle in your eye "Tell you, I liked your looks at very first. Let's sit and set things straight now, hip to haunch.

Here's spring come, and the nights one makes up bands

5

To roam the town and sing out carnival,

45

If Master Cosimo announced himself,
Mum's the word naturally; but a monk!
Come, what am I a beast for? tell us, now! 80
I was a baby when my mother died
And father died and left me in the street.
I starved there, God knows how, a year or
two

On fig skins, melon-parings, rinds and shucks,
Refuse and rubbish. One fine frosty day 85
My stomach being empty as your hat,
The wind doubled me up and down I went.
Old Aunt Lapaccia trussed me with one
hand,

(Its fellow was a stinger as I knew)

And so along the wall, over the bridge, 90

I did renounce the world, its pride and greed, Palace, farm, villa, shop and banking-house, Trash, such as these poor devils of Medici 100 Have given their hearts to all at eight years old.

Well, sir, I found in time, you may be sure, 'T was not for nothing - the good bellyful. The warm serge and the rope that goes all round,

And day-long blessèd idleness beside! 105 'Let's see what the urchin 's fit for' - that came next.

Not overmuch their way, I must confess. Such a to-do! they tried me with their books. Lord, they'd have taught me Latin in pure

And can't fare worse! Thus, yellow does for white

When what you put for yellow's simply black,

And any sort of meaning looks intense When all beside itself means and looks nought.

Why can't a painter lift each foot in turn, 205 Left foot and right foot, go a double step, Make his flesh liker and his soul more like, Both in their order? Take the prettiest face,

The Prior's niece . . . patron-saint - is it so pretty

You can't discover if it means hope, fear, 210 Sorrow or joy? won't beauty go with these? Suppose I've made her eyes all right and

blue,

drop

275

His name is Guidi - he'll not mind the monks

They call him Hulking Tom, he lets them talk

He picks my practice up - he'll paint apace, I hope so though I never live so long,

I know what's sure to follow. You be judge! 280

You speak no Latin more than I, belike— However, you're my man, you've seen the world

-The beauty and the wonder and the power,

The shapes of things, their colours, lights and shades,

Changes, surprises, and God made it

all!

285

For what? do you feel thankful, ay or no, For this fair town's face, yonder river's line, The mountain round it and the sky above, Much more the figures of man, woman, child, These are the frame to? What's it all about?

290

To be passed over, despised? or dwelt upon,