Or cross the lofty Alpine fells, to view
Great Cæsar's trophied fields, the Gallic Rhine,
The paint-smeared Briton race, grim-visaged crew,
Placed by earth's limit line:
To all prepared with me to brave the way,
To dare whate'er the eternal gods decree—
These few unwelcome words to her convey
Who once was all to me.
Still let her revel with her godless train,
Still clasp her hundred slaves to passion's thrall,
Still truly love not one, but ever drain
The life-blood of them all.
Nor let her more my once fond passion heed,
For by her faithlessness 'tis blighted now,
Like flow'ret on the verge of grassy mead
Crushed by the passing plow.
Translation of James Cranstoun.
BENVENUTO CELLINI
(1500-1571)
