. A masque of dead Florentines : wherein some of death's choicest pieces, and the great game that he played therewith, are fruitfully set forth. ars. So the widowd turtle may Give her heart relief; So the fainting snowy swan, So the nightingale, All their sorrows, utter lonely passion, do bewail. Woe for us, and woe, and woe !Grief is bowd and grey;Jove hath carvd our goodly TreeWith his thunderblow !Woe the Muses broken lay,Woe the melody !Woe, Apollo, woe God Pan,Woe, ye Sisters Nine, 4o A Masque of Dead Florentines Woe, green-kirtled Dryads, woe, my Bacchus, to thy vineMourning let me quenc
. A masque of dead Florentines : wherein some of death's choicest pieces, and the great game that he played therewith, are fruitfully set forth. ars. So the widowd turtle may Give her heart relief; So the fainting snowy swan, So the nightingale, All their sorrows, utter lonely passion, do bewail. Woe for us, and woe, and woe !Grief is bowd and grey;Jove hath carvd our goodly TreeWith his thunderblow !Woe the Muses broken lay,Woe the melody !Woe, Apollo, woe God Pan,Woe, ye Sisters Nine, 4o A Masque of Dead Florentines Woe, green-kirtled Dryads, woe, my Bacchus, to thy vineMourning let me quench the years,And my grief to drown,Grant me, gods, a waternood,Grant a fount of tears. ToLORENZO. Chorus. One there was Who, loving much, did weep for thee. So pass : Death may not smite The lamp to shiver quite That little flame within that was a Poets light. Next comes CO SIMO, PA TER PATRIAE, an old man richly habited, having the ears of MIDAS. c OSIMO. Laboured I well, that bound the state to mineIn gyves that chafed, but held throughout the line ?They crownd me with a name our foes might dread,But cursd me for my sons when I was Chorus. Blind, blind, blind! As a bird in the snow. Blind as the kino- that did cherish The son that wrought him a woe. Savonarola. God set in me a heart to burn like pain,And Florence fed the fire. In vain, in vain, The littleGreat. SAVOh KOLA,ing a smoulder-in torch. 42 A Masque of Dead Florentines Following is hisenemy, FRAFRAN-CESCO theMINORITE,carrying a dis-torting glass. Next the FratesChampion,FRA DOME- NICO, cowled in white, with an anchor. SANDROBOTTI-CELLI, hold-ing a holloivsphere. I augur d life; the fire was heapd ; I led The way for Florence: Florence mockd me dead. Fra Francesco. For Francis sake I spurnd him of Saint Mark:Is that soul sure that dareth him embarkOn deaths dull sea that death may serve hatred ?I know not what they won, nor care, being dead. Fra Domenico. I trusted in the prophet sent from God;Side to his side t
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, bookpublisherlondo, bookyear1895
