 | Fra Cipolla, and other poems |  |
Hard was his look, and sad and saturnine,
As if beyond his power he would divine,
And pushed insatiate his searching art
Through nature's mazes with an iron heart.
Of crystal made, a visor oft he wore,
When he upon his crucibles would pore,
So quick the fumes flew off of poisonous evil,
And rose invisibly, as doth the devil,
Smooth and impenetrable as that he was,
But ready still with all who came to glose.
He could predict, they said, and fortunes tell,
But they knew best who tried it if 'twere well.
Yet sold he wine that gladdens every heart,
And drops balsamic for the dagger's smart,
And juice of herbs medicinally good,
And leaves distilled, the simples of the wood;
And rats he could for friends' and neighbours' bane,
He said not how, they never came again.
Strife waged he none, and with the notary
Kept league, that still 'twixt learned men should be.
As if beyond his power he would divine,
And pushed insatiate his searching art
Through nature's mazes with an iron heart.
Of crystal made, a visor oft he wore,
When he upon his crucibles would pore,
66
And rose invisibly, as doth the devil,
Smooth and impenetrable as that he was,
But ready still with all who came to glose.
He could predict, they said, and fortunes tell,
But they knew best who tried it if 'twere well.
Yet sold he wine that gladdens every heart,
And drops balsamic for the dagger's smart,
And juice of herbs medicinally good,
And leaves distilled, the simples of the wood;
And rats he could for friends' and neighbours' bane,
He said not how, they never came again.
Strife waged he none, and with the notary
Kept league, that still 'twixt learned men should be.
| Fra Cipolla, and other poems | |