Of miseries?—the fool's who passed a gibe
'On thee,' jeered he, so wedded to thy tribe,
Thou carriest green and yellow tokens in
Thy very face that thou art Ghibellin!'
Much hold on you that fool obtained! Nay mount
Yet higher—and upon men's own account
How much of ill ought to be removed?
Must evil stay: for, what is joy?—to heave
Up one obstruction more, and common leave
What was peculiar, by such act destroy