And yet there are hells from out of whose clutch
There’s no escape to heaven;
No prayers there avail, and powerless too
Is the Saviour’s pardon even.
Is Dante’s hell to thee unknown,
With its terrible trinary verses?
The man whom the poet there has shut up
Will never escape from his curses.
He ne’er will be freed from those musical flames
By any god or Saviour;
So for fear we condemn thee to such a sad hell,
Thou hadst better mind thy behaviour!
ROMANCERO.
BOOK I.—HISTORIES.
When vex’d by slander’s treacherous breath,
Let thy faith soar the higher;
And when thy soul is sad unto death,
Then strike thou the lyre.
A flaming and glowing heroical song
The chords breathe discreetly!
All anger flies, and thy spirit ere long
Will bleed to death sweetly.
RHAMPSENITUS.[64]
When the King Rhampsenitus
Enter’d in the halls resplendent
Of his daughter, she was laughing,
As was also each attendant.