Classic Poem

CANTO XVI.

Argument.

Cacciaguida discourses concerning the noble families of Florence, and alludes to different events in its history.

O SMALL nobility of human birth,
If thou dost make men plume themselves on thee,
Below, where hearts are weak and little worth,
No thought of wonder thence shall rise in me;
For in my soul some pride thereof did stray,
In Heaven, where never ill desire may be.
Sooth, thou'rt a mantle which, if day by day,
It hath not some addition, we discern
Time with his scissors clipping all away.
Then with the you that Romans first did learn,
And which but little now in Rome we hear,
Once more did I to my discourse return:
Whence Beatrice, who stood apart, with clear
Bright smile, appear'd like her who made the sign
At the first fault we read of Guinivere.
Thus I began my speech: " You, father mine,
You in my words much boldness do instil,
You bear me with you to such heights divine,
That I am more than I. Such bliss doth fill
My soul from many streams, that since I may
Receive it, all unshatter'd, do I still
Rejoice. My honour'd ancestor, then say
Who were your sires, and what the years that shone
Upon the gladness of your boyish day:
And tell me of the sheepfold of St. John,
Its amplitude, and who therein did go,
Most worthy of high praise. " As, breathed upon
By a strong wind, the coal in flame doth glow,
Thus at my words I saw the heavenly light
Yet fairer in resplendent glory show.
And, as before mine eyes it grew more bright,
Thus with a voice of sweeter, softer power,
But not with modern speech, it spake aright:
" Since Ave first was said, until the hour
In which my mother, now a saint in Heaven,
Brought forth the heavy burden which she bore,
Five hundred, fifty times, and three, was given
This planet to the course it aye doth trace,
And glowing 'neath the Lion's feet was driven
My sires and I were born within the place
Where first the sixth division doth appear,
Of those through which doth run your annual race
This of my ancestors enough to hear;
For who they were, and whence they came, it well
May be 'tis best unwhisper'd to thine ear.
All those who fit for bearing arms did dwell,
Then, 'twixt the Baptist and the God of War,
Were but a fifth of those whom now ye tell;
But yet the citizens who mingled are,
With Campi and Certaldo and Figghine,
Even to the meanest, then, were pure. How far
'Twere better that ye had but neighbours been
To those I speak of, now ye well may think,
And at Gallutz and Trespian, I ween,
Your bound'ry stablish'd, than endure the stink
Of Aguglioni's boor within your wall,
And him of Signa, whose sharp eyes do wink
At all injustice. Sooth, if those who fall
Most from their first estate, to Caesar's line
Were not a step-dame, deaf to loving call,
But as a mother to her son benign,
One, who in Florence now doth buy and sell,
Should hie to Semifonti, 'neath whose vine
His grandsire begg'd for alms. And still it well
Might be the Count should Montemurlo sway,
The Cerchi in Aconi yet might dwell,
In Valdigrevi Buondelmonte. Yea,
A mixture of the citizens hath been
Aye the beginning of the city's day
Of woe, as food unto our health, I ween
The blinded bull doth yet more quickly die,
Than blinded lamb; and many times 'tis seen
One sword strikes more than five. Cast thou thine eye
On Urbisaglia's and on Luna's might,
How they have gone, and how like them do lie
Chiusi and Sinigaglia: thou aright
Shalt learn how families perish, and each fort
And city crumble slowly from its height.
All earthly things do sail unto the port
Of death, as ye yourselves: but some do hide
This fate, enduring long; and life is short.
And as the moon with her unresting tide
Doth now conceal and now reveal the shore,
Even thus of Florence ebbs and flows the pride.
Therefore thou should'st not marvel at the lore
I tell of the great Florentines, whose fame
Is hid by Time since those old days of yore.
I saw the Ughi, Catellini's name,
Filippi, Greci, Orman, Alberic,
How from their height to low estate they came
Dell' Arca saw I, and Sannella eke,
In greatness equal to their lineage old,
With Soldanier, Ardinghi, and Bostic.
Above the gate which now, in sooth, doth hold
Guilt which so heavy on the bark hath lain,
That o'er it soon the billows shall have roll'd,
The Ravignani dwelt; from whom a train
Came forth, Count Guido, and whoe'er the name
Of Bellincioni hath thereafter ta'en.
Already Pressa well fulfill'd his claim
Of skill in governing; and Galigai
A gilded sword-hilt wore. Great was the fame,
Already, of the Ermine column high;
Giuochi, Sifanti, and Barucci; those
Who blush for the false measure now for aye;
Sacchetti, Galli: and the plant, whence grows
Calfucci, flourished; to the curule chair
Sizi and Arrigucci then arose.
How many saw I erst of those who were
Undone by pride! And in each greatest deed
Of Florence flower'd, like golden blossoms fair,
The gilded balls. Even so, such lives did lead
The sires of those who, when your see doth stand
Unoccupied, grow fat the while they feed,
Deliberating. The presumptuous band,
Fierce chasing those who fly, and to the men
Who show their teeth or purse, most soft and bland,
And gentle as a lamb, arose e'en then;
But from such low degree as put to shame
Hubert Donato, deeming it a stain
To be with them allied. Already came
The Caponsacchi from Fiesoli,
To dwell within the Market-place: the name
Of citizen was held, e'en at that day,
By Jude and Infangato. Now I tell
A thing incredible, but true; the way
Within the lesser circle where ye dwell
Was by a gate which had its name, of old,
From him of Pera. Those to whom it fell
To wear the blazon of the Baron bold,
(Whose high renown e'en still ye celebrate
When comes St. Thomas' festival,) do hold
From thence their privilege and knightly state;
Though with the people now he casts his lot,
Who bears it bound with gold. Already great
Were Importuni then and Gualterot;
And in the Borgo, sooth, more peace were rife,
If by new neighbours they were hinder'd not.
The house whence came your sorrow and your strife,
From the just anger that your sons hath slain,
And ended all the gladness of your life,
Then with its scions did much honour gain.
O Buondelmonti! to what evil sad
Thou from thy nuptials then didst flee amain,
By others' counsel! Many had been glad
Who now do grieve, if unto Ema's stream,
When to the city first thy footsteps sped,
God had but granted thee: yet did it seem
That Florence owed unto the shatter'd stone
Which guards the bridge, a victim, in the gleam
Of her last peace. With these great spirits gone,
And such as these, fair Florence then I saw
In such repose that none did weep nor moan.
From these did she such grace and glory draw
Of righteous deeds, that, sooth, the lily-flower
Ne'er on its stem did then inverted grow,
Nor wear a vermeil hue by fell Division's power. "