 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
BOCCACCIO AND CERTALDO.
The world's blind pilgrims tendering praise for blame,Passing Certaldo, point and smile and stare
And with Boccaccio's triumph din the air:—
Ah, but for him how high had soared thy fame
Italian Song! False Pleasure is a flame
That brands the Muses' pleasaunce; burns it bare
As some volcanic isle with barren glare:
O Italy! exult not in thy shame!
'Twas here, 'twas here thy Song's crystalline river
Lost its last sight of hoar Parnassus' head
And swerved through flowery meads to sandy bar:
Its saintly mission here it spurned for ever:
It sighed to Laura, and with Tancred bled
But caught no second flash from Dante's star!
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |