. A masque of dead Florentines : wherein some of death's choicest pieces, and the great game that he played therewith, are fruitfully set forth. bunch of yellow and blue flowers in his hand. A Masque of Dead Florentines 45 Luca. Mine was a glad small spirit unafraid ; I breathed it out, the stone walls flowerd, and made Florence a garden. So without a dread I laid my tools aside and blossomd, dead. Chorus. Thou shalt be called the Son of ManAnd Spirit of the Earth,That met young Love and kissd herAnd wreathd her lips with mirth ;April with eyes aglister,Green May her buxom sister,Shy loves and
. A masque of dead Florentines : wherein some of death's choicest pieces, and the great game that he played therewith, are fruitfully set forth. bunch of yellow and blue flowers in his hand. A Masque of Dead Florentines 45 Luca. Mine was a glad small spirit unafraid ; I breathed it out, the stone walls flowerd, and made Florence a garden. So without a dread I laid my tools aside and blossomd, dead. Chorus. Thou shalt be called the Son of ManAnd Spirit of the Earth,That met young Love and kissd herAnd wreathd her lips with mirth ;April with eyes aglister,Green May her buxom sister,Shy loves and tender fruitageWere children of thy birth. With eyes seeking the Sun,And heart loving the Day,Knowing no evil to shun,Guileless, walking the way, Praise ofLUCA. Wherein, per-haps, the dirgeis answerd. 46 A Masque of Dead Florentines Breathing the secret of children and flowers Into thy clay ! Man with the faith of a child, Child with a strength superhuman ; Lover, that told of the Virgin most mild, Wedded to no man : Holy art thou, that could call her arise God, but a woman ! NJCCOLO MACCHIA- VELLI, bearing a skull wreathd with Macchiavel. That kings might feast I sweated God away;To insolent stripling feet I bowd my grey A Masque of Dead Florentines 47 Wise brows. A smirk, a shrug, a wagging head—I used this way : they use it on me dead. Benvenuto. The glory of their princedoms, and their powerWho go in purple, I knew my little time my brain-trap gript them all, I ledWhither I would. What profiteth me dead ? PULCI. Let who wins lau^h : I laughd at Heaven and saw Grief 2lXy& lovd her; I chose and I laughd till we were out of breath,And left one laughing still—the jester, Death. c H0RUS. A boy singingHis love and pain ;The watch-bell ringing,Blood shed like rain ! \ CELLINI, blindfold. LUIGIPULCI,.ing a stont. The burden ofFLORE.\ 48 A Masqtie of Dead Florentines A dreamy maid,And a voice like a cry- Betrayed, betrayed !Ho
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, bookpublishe, bookyear1895, death
