Mid guarding thorns and many a tufted spray;
And in yourself while springtide freshly glows,
Dear heart, with some sweet bloom my love repay:
Soon winter comes, all flowers to nip and close,
Nor love itself can hinder time's decay.
No poet is more determined to deal out his compliments in a liberal, open-handed way than is the Sicilian. While the Venetians and the Tuscans are content with claiming seven distinctive beauties for the object of their affection, the Sicilian boldly asserts that his bedda possesses no less than thirty-three biddizzi. In the same manner, when he is about sending his salutations, he sends them without stint:
Many the stars that sparkle in the sky,
Many the grains of sand and pebbles small;
And in the ocean's plains the finny fry
And leaves that flourish in the woods and fall,