That's yours: I tell you, towards some such design
Have I worked blindly, yes, and idly, yes,
And for another, yes—but worked no less
With instinct at my heart; I else had swerved,
While now—look round! My cunning has preserved
Samminiato—that's a central place
Secures us Florence, boy,—in Pisa's case,
By land as she by sea; with Pisa ours,
And Florence, and Pistoia, one devours
The land at leisure! Gloriously dispersed—