360 Quelantiquo mio dolce empio signore

That ancient sweet cruel lord of minebeing summoned before the queenwho holds the divine placein our being, seated in the head,there, I present myself blind with grief,and fear and horror, like goldbeing refined in the fire,like a man who fears death and begs for justice:and I begin: My lady, I set footwhen young in this kingdom,in which I received onlyanger and disdain: and the torments I sufferedhere were such and so variedthat at last my infinite patiencewas overcome, and I held life in contempt.So that my life till now has been passedin flame and pain: and how many worthyhonest roads Ive scorned,how many feasts, to serve this cruel flatterer!And what wit has speech ready enoughto express my unhappy state,and, since he is ungrateful to me,so many grave and just complaints?O little sweetness, much gall with him!How much bitterness he added to my lifewith his false sweetnessthat drew me to the crowd of lovers!So if Im not mistaken, he was disposedto raise me high above the earth:and snatched away my peace and brought me war.He has made me love God lessthan I should, and care less for myself:for a ladys sake equallyhe has made me careless of every thought.In this he is my only counselloralways sharpening my youthful desirewith a wicked edge, so thatI long for rest from his cruel and bitter yoke.Wretch, why did heaven give methis bright high wit, and my other gifts?So that my hair is altering,but I cant alter my obstinate will:so that this cruel oneI accuse robs me of my freedom,and turns my bitter life to a sweet habit.He has made me search out desert places,fierce rapacious thieves, bristling thorns,harsh peoples and customs,and every error that traps the traveller,hills, valleys, marshes, seas and rivers,a thousand nets stretched out in every place:winter in a strange month,with present danger and fatigue:neither he nor my other enemywhom I fled, left me alone a single moment:so if Ive not yet meta harsh and bitter death,heavenly mercy has caredfor my salvation and not that tyrantwho feeds on my grief and my hurt.So I have never had a peaceful hour from him,nor hope to have, and sleep is banishedfrom my nights, and cant be wonby herbs or magic incantations.By force and deception he has been made lordover my spirit: and no hourly bell has soundedwherever Ive been, in whatever town,that Ive not heard. He knows I speak the truth:and no woodworms ever gnawed old woodas he my heart, in which he nests,and threatens me with death.So the tears and suffering were born,the words and sighs,that weary me, and others too perhaps.You judge, who know both me and him.My adversary speaks with bitterness,saying; O lady, hear the other side,so that the truth, this ungrateful onedeviates from, is heard complete.In his youth this man was given to the artof selling words, or rather lies:nor seemed to feel any shame,snatched from that harm to my delight,complaining of me, who kept him pure and clean,against his will that often wished him ill,now he grieves,in this sweet life that he calls misery:he leapt to fame of sortspurely through me, who inspired his intellectwhich he could never have inspired himself.He knows that Agamemnon and noble Achillesand Hannibal, bitter foe to your country,and Scipio, the brightest star of allin valour and destiny,like men of ordinary fortune,allowed themselves to love lowly servants:while from a thousandchoice women, of excellence, I selected one,whose like will not be seen beneath the moon,though Lucretia were to return to Rome:and I gave her suchsweet speech, so soft a singing voice,that base or heavy thoughtcould not last long before her.These were all my tricks against him.This was the wormwood, the anger and disdain,sweeter yet than any others all.I gather evil fruit from good seed:so are those who serve ingratitude rewarded.I took him under my wing,that ladies and knights were pleased with his words:and made him riseso high, that among keen and fervent witsI made his name and his versescelebrated, with delight, in every place:who might have been a hoarsemutterer now in this court, a common man:I exalted him and made him knownfor the things he learnt from her, and those I taught,from her who was unique in this world.And to explain my great service to him, complete,I drew him back from a thousand dishonest actions,he who could never nowbe pleased with anything vile:a reticent young man, modest in actionand thought, now hes made a man ruledby her so that her nobletraits stamp his heart, and make him like her.What he has of the pilgrim and the noblemancame from her, and me, whom he blames.No nocturnal phantomwas ever to us as full of error as him:who ever since hes known ushas been blessed by God and man.Of this the proud man laments and complains.Yet, and this says it all, I gave him wingsto fly towards the heavens, by meansof those mortal things,that are steps to the Maker, for he who values them:and if hed gazed intently at the numberand quality of virtues in that hope of his,he could have been lifted by onein anothers guise to the high Primal Cause.and that he has often said in his rhymes.Now hes forgotten me, and that ladywho I gave him as a columnto support his fragile life. At this I raisea tearful cry, and shouted:He gave me her, true, but took her back too soon.He replies: Not I, but He took her to Himself.At last both speak to the Judges chair,I with trembling, he with high cruel voice,each concluding, for his part, with:Noble Lady, I await your judgement.Then smilingly she says:I am pleased to have heard your pleas,but need more time for such a verdict.