06.05.2009, 06:03
FOLCO PORTINARI.
If, Folco Portinari, to thy name
But this had been affixed, to wit, that thou
Ruildedst a hospital *, and didst ondow
With a large gift, like a river still the same ;
Whence many centuries of poor, and lame,
Prayers from pale lips, and looks from speechless brow.
Have blest thee, o'er the blue abyss, where now,
And long ago thou waitcst ; earthly fame
Scantly had been of thy great use : but she
Who on thy branches like a short-lived flower
Flourished, and fell, the frailest of the tree,
Beatrice, with such sweetness breathed, that power
Grew from it like a spirit, thence to be
Thy witness here, till the all-summoning hour.
If, Folco Portinari, to thy name
But this had been affixed, to wit, that thou
Ruildedst a hospital *, and didst ondow
With a large gift, like a river still the same ;
Whence many centuries of poor, and lame,
Prayers from pale lips, and looks from speechless brow.
Have blest thee, o'er the blue abyss, where now,
And long ago thou waitcst ; earthly fame
Scantly had been of thy great use : but she
Who on thy branches like a short-lived flower
Flourished, and fell, the frailest of the tree,
Beatrice, with such sweetness breathed, that power
Grew from it like a spirit, thence to be
Thy witness here, till the all-summoning hour.