The cities of Lamone and Santerno
Governs the Lioncel of the white lair,Who changes sides ’twixt summer-time and winter;
And that of which the Savio bathes the flank,Even as it lies between the plain and mountain,Lives between tyranny and a free state.
Now I entreat thee tell us who thou art;Be not more stubborn than the rest have been,So may thy name hold front there in the world.”
After the fire a little more had roaredIn its own fashion, the sharp point it movedThis way and that, and then gave forth such breath:
“If I believed that my reply were madeTo one who to the world would e’er return,This flame without more flickering would stand still;
But inasmuch as never from this depthDid any one return, if I hear true,Without the fear of infamy I answer,
I was a man of arms, then Cordelier,Believing thus begirt to make amends;And truly my belief had been fulfilled
But for the High Priest, whom may ill betide,Who put me back into my former sins;And how and wherefore I will have thee hear.
While I was still the form of bone and pulpMy mother gave to me, the deeds I didWere not those of a lion, but a fox.
The machinations and the covert waysI knew them all, and practised so their craft,That to the ends of earth the sound went forth.
When now unto that portion of mine ageI saw myself arrived, when each one oughtTo lower the sails, and coil away the ropes,
That which before had pleased me then displeased me;And penitent and confessing I surrendered,Ah woe is me! and it would have bestead me;