Cast out upon the steep path of the mountains,
Where Death had shut her in between hard stones.
Over her cheerless tomb Cino bent and mourned, as he has told us, when, after a prolonged absence spent partly in France, he returned through Tuscany on his way to Rome. He had not been with Selvaggia’s family at the time of her death; and it is probable that, on his return to the Sambuca, the fortress was already surrendered, and her grave almost the only record left there of the Vergiolesi.
Cino’s journey to Rome was on account of his having received a high office under Louis of Savoy, who preceded the Emperor Henry VII when he went thither to be crowned in 1310. In another three years the last blow was dealt to the hopes of the exiled and persecuted Ghibellines, by the death of the Emperor, caused almost surely by poison. This death Cina has lamented in a canzone. It probably determined him to abandon a cause which seemed dead, and return, when possible, to his native city. This he succeeded in doing before 1319, as in that year we find him deputed, together with six other citizens, by the government of Pistoia to take possession of a stronghold recently yielded to them. He had now been for some time married to Margherita degli Ughi, of a very noble Pistoiese family, who bore him a son named Mino, and four daughters, Diamante, Beatrice, Giovanna, and Lombarduccia. Indeed, this marriage must have taken place before the death of Selvaggia in 1310, as in 1325-6 his son Mino was one of those by whose aid from within the Ghibelline Castruccio Antelminelli obtained possession of Pistoia, which he held in spite of revolts till his death some two or three years afterwards, when it again reverted to the Guelfs.
After returning to Pistoia, Cino’s whole life was devoted to the attainment of legal and literary fame. In these pursuits he reaped the highest honours, and taught at the universities of Siena, Perugia, and Florence; having for his disciples men who afterwards became celebrated, among whom rumour has placed Petrarch, though on examination this seems very doubtful. A sonnet by Petrarch exits, however, commencing ‘Piangete donne e con voi pianga Amore’, written as a lament on Cino’s death, and bestowing the highest praise on him. He and his Selvaggia are also coupled with Dante and Beatrice in the same poet’s Trionfi d’Amore (cap. 4).
Though established again in Pistoia, Cino resided there but little till about the time of his death, which occurred in 1336-7. His monument, where he is represented as a professor among his disciples, still exists in the Cathedral of Pistoia, and is a mediaeval work of great interest. Messer Cino de’ Sinibuldi was a prosperous man, of whom we have ample records, from the details of his examinations as a student, to the inventory of his effects after death, and the curious items of his funeral expenses. Of his claims of a poet it may be said that he filled creditably the interval which elapsed between the death of Dante and the full blaze of Petrarch’s success. Most of his poems in honour of Selvaggia are full of an elaborate and mechanical tone of complaint which hardly reads like the expression of a real love; nevertheless there are some, and especially the sonnet on her tomb (at p. 180), which display feeling and power. The finest, as well as the most interesting, of all his pieces, is the very beautiful canzone in which he attempts to console Dante for the death of Beatrice. Though I have found much fewer among Cino’s poems than among Guido’s which seem to call for translation, the collection of the former is a larger one. Cino produced legal writings also, of which the chief one that has survived is a Commentary on the Statutes of Pistoia, said to have great merit, and whose production in the short space of two years was accounted an extraordinary achievement.
DANTE ALIGHIERI
SONNET: TO BRUNETTO LATINI
SENT WITH THE VITA NUOVA
Master Brunetto, this my little maid
Is come to spend her Easter-tide with you;
Not that she reckons feasting as her due, -
Whose need is hardly to be fed, but read.
Not in a hurry can her sense be weigh’d,
Nor mid the jests of any noisy crew:
Ah! and she wants a little coaxing too
Before she’ll get into another’s head.
But if you do not find her meaning clear,
You’ve many Brother Alberts hard at hand,
Whose wisdom will respond to any call.
Consult with them and do not laugh at her;
And if she still is hard to understand,
Apply to Master Giano last of all.
SONNET: OF BEATRICE DE’ PORTINARI, ON ALL SAINTS’ DAY
Last All Saints’ holy-day, even now gone by,
I met a gathering of damozels:
She that came first, as one doth who excels,
Had Love with her, bearing her company:
A flame burn’d forward through her steadfast eye,
As when in living fire a spirit dwells:
So, gazing with the boldness which prevails
O’er doubt, I saw an angel visibly.
As she pass’d on, she bow’d her mild approof
And salutation to all men of worth,
Lifting the soul to solemn thoughts aloof.
In Heaven itself that lady had her birth,
I think, and is with us for our behoof:
Blessed are they who meet her on the earth.
SONNET: TO CERTAIN LADIES; WHEN BEATRICE WAS LAMENTING HER FATHER’S DEATH
Whence come you, all of you so sorrowful?
An’ it may please you, speak for courtesy.
I fear for my dear lady’s sake, least she
Have made you to return thus fill’d with dule.
O gentle ladies, be not hard to school 5
In gentleness, but to some pause agree,
And something of my lady say to me,
For with a little my desire is full.
Howbeit it be a heavy thing to hear:
For love now utterly has thrust me forth, 10
With hand for ever lifted, striking fear.
See if I be not worn unto the earth:
Yea, and my spirit must fail from me here,
If, when you speak, your words are of no worth.
SONNET: TO THE SAME LADIES; WITH THEIR ANSWER
‘Ye ladies, walking past me piteous-eyed,
Who is the lady that lies prostrate here?
Can this be even she my heart holds dear?
Nay, if it be so, speak, and nothing hide.
Her very aspect seems itself beside, 5
And all her features of such alter’d cheer
That to my thinking they do not appear
Hers who makes others seem beatified.’
‘If thou forget to know our lady thus,
Whom grief o’ercomes, we wonder in no wise, 10
For also the same thing befalleth us.
Yet if thou watch the movement of her eyes,
Of her thou shalt be straightway conscious.
O weep no more! thou art all wan with sighs.’
BALLATA: HE WILL GAZE UPON BEATRICE
Because mine eyes can never have their fill
Of looking at my lady’s lovely face,
I will so fix my gaze
That I may become bless’d, beholding her.
Even as an angel, up at his great height 5
Standing amid the light,
Becometh bless’d by only seeing God: -
So, though I be a simple earthly wight,
Yet none the less I might,
Beholding her who is my heart’s dear load, 10
Be bless’d, and in the spirit soar abroad.
Such power abideth in that gracious one;
Albeit felt of none
Save of him who, desiring, honours her.
CANZONE: HE BESEECHES DEATH FOR THE LIFE OF BEATRICE
Death, since I find not one with whom to grieve,
Nor whom this grief of mine may move to tears,
Whereso I be or whitherso I turn:
Since it is thou who in my soul wilt leave
No single joy, but chill’st it with just fears
5
And makest it in fruitless hopes to burn:
Since thou, Death, and thou only canst discern
Wealth to my life, or want, at thy free choice: -
It is to thee that I lift up my voice,
Bowing my face that’s like a face just dead. 10
I come to thee, as to one pitying,
In grief for that sweet rest which nought can bring
Again, if thou but once be enterèd
Into her life whom my heart cherishes
Even as the only portal of its peace.- 15
Death, how most sweet the peace is that thy grace
Can grant to me, and that I pray thee for,
Thou easily mayst know by a sure sign,
If in mine eyes thou look a little space
And read in them the hidden dread they store, - 20
If upon all thou look which proves me thine.
Since the fear only maketh me to pine
After this sort, - what will mine anguish be
When her eyes close, of dreadful verity,
In whose light is the light of mine own eyes? 25
But now I know that thou wouldst have my life
As hers, and joy’st thee in my fruitless strife.
Yet I do think this which I feel implies
That soon, when I would die to flee from pain,
I shall find none by whom I may be slain. 30
Death, if indeed thou smite this gentle one,
Whose outward worth but tells the intellect
How wondrous is the miracle within, -
Thou biddest Virtue rise up and begone,
Thou dost away with Mercy’s best effect, 35
Thou spoil’st the mansion of God’s sojourning;
Yea, unto naught her beauty thou dost bring
Which is above all other beauties, even
In so much as befitteth one whom Heaven
Sent upon earth in token of its own. 40
Thou dost break through the perfect trust which hath
Been alway her companion in Love’s path:
The light once darken’d which was hers alone,
Love needs must say to them he ruleth o’er,
‘I have lost the noble banner that I bore. 45
Death, have some pity then for all the ill
Which cannot choose but happen if she die,
And which will be the sorest ever known.
Slacken the string, if so it be thy will,
That the sharp arrow leave it not, - thereby 50
Sparing her life, which if it flies is flown.
O Death, for God’s sake, be some pity shown!
Restrain within thyself, even at its height,
The cruel wrath which moveth thee to smite
Her in whom God hath set so much of grace. 55
Show now some ruth if ’tis a thing thou hast!
I seem to see Heaven’s gate, that is shut fast,
Open, and angels filling all the space
About me, - come to fetch her soul whose laud
Is sung by saints and angels before God. 60
Song, thou must surely see how fine a thread
This is that my last hope is holden by,
And what I should be brought to without her.
Therefore for thy plain speech and lowlihead
Make thou no pause; but go immediately, 65
(Knowing thyself for my heart’s minister,)
And with that very meek and piteous air
Thou hast, stand up before the face of Death,
To wrench away the bar that prisoneth
And win unto the place of the good fruit. 70
And if indeed thou shake by thy soft voice
Death’s mortal purpose, - haste thee and rejoice
Our lady with the issue of thy suit.
So yet awhile our earthly nights and days
Shall keep the blessed spirit that I praise. 75
SONNET: ON THE 9TH OF JUNE, 1290
Upon a day, came Sorrow in to me,
Saying, ‘I’ve come to stay with thee a while;’
And I perceived that she had usher’d Bile
And Pain into my house for company.
Wherefore I said, ‘Go forth, - away with thee!’ 5
But like a Greek she answer’d, full of guile,
And went on arguing in an easy style.
Then, looking, I saw Love come silently,
Habited in black raiment, smooth and new,
Having a black hat set upon his hair; 10
And certainly the tears he shed were true.
So that I ask’d, ‘What ails thee, trifler?’
Answering he said; ‘A grief to be gone through;
For our own lady’s dying, brother dear.’
TO CINA DA PISTOIA
SONNET. HE REBUKES CINO FOR FICKLENESS
I thought to be for ever separate,
Fair Master Cino, from these rhymes of yours;
Since further from the coast, another course,
My vessel now must journey with her freight.
Yet still, because I hear men name your state 5
As his whom every lure doth straight beguile,
I pray you lend a very little while
Unto my voice your ear grown obdurate.
The man after this measure amorous,
Who still at his own will is bound and loosed, 10
How slightly Love him wounds is lightly known.
If on this wise your heart in homage bows,
I pray you for God’s sake it be disused,
So that the deed and the sweet words be one.
CINO DA PISTOIA TO DANTE ALIGHIERI
SONNET: HE ANSWERS DANTE, CONFESSING HIS UNSTEADFAST HEART
Dante, since I from my own native place
In heavy exile have turn’d wanderer,
Far distant from the purest joy which e’er
Had issued from the Fount of joy and grace,
I have gone weeping through the world’s dull space,
And me proud Death, as one too mean, doth spare;
Yet meeting Love, Death’s neighbour, I declare
That still his arrows hold my heart in chase.
Nor from his pitiless aim can I get free,
Nor from the hope which comforts my weak will,
Though no true aid exists which I could share.
One pleasure ever binds and looses me;
That so, by one same Beauty lured, I still
Delight in many women here and there.
DANTE ALIGHIERI TO CINO DA PISTOIA
SONNET: WRITTEN IN EXILE
Because I find not whom to speak withal
Anent that lord whose I am as thou art,
Behoves that in thine ear I tell some part
Of this whereof I gladly would say all.
And deem thou nothing else occasional 5
Of my long silence while I kept apart,
Except this place, so guilty at the heart
That the right has not who will give it stall.
Love comes not here to any woman’s face,
Nor any man here for his sake will sigh, 10
For unto such ‘thou fool’ were straightway said.
Ah! Master Cino, how the time turns base,
And mocks at us, and on our rhymes says fie,
Since truth has been thus thinly harvested.
CINO DA PISTOIA TO DANTE ALIGHIERI
SONNET: HE ANSWERS THE FOREGOING SONNET, AND PRAYS DANTE, IN THE NAME OF BEATRICE, TO CONTINUE HIS GREAT POEM
I know not, Dante, in what refuge dwells
The truth, which with all men is out of mind;
For long ago it left this place behind,
Till in its stead at last God’s thunder swells.
Yet if our shifting life too clearly tells 5
That here the truth has no reward assign’d, -
’Twas God, remember, taught it to mankind,
And even among the fiends preach’
d nothing else.
Then, though the kingdoms of the earth be torn,
Where’er thou set thy feet, from Truth’s control, 10
Y et unto me thy friend this prayer accord: -
Beloved, O my brother, sorrow-worn,
Even in that lady’s name who is thy goal,
Sing on till thou redeem thy plighted word!
DANTE ALIGHIERI
SONNET: OF BEAUTY AND DUTY
Two ladies to the summit of my mind
Have clomb, to hold an argument of love.
The one has wisdom with her from above,
For every noblest virtue well design’d:
The other, beauty’s tempting power refined 5
And the high charm of perfect grace approve:
And I, as my sweet Master’s will doth move,
Complete Poetical Works of Dante Gabriel Rossetti Page 42
