And goaded me on to madness, till
I lost all measure of good or ill,
Whose gift was it, pray? Oh, many a day
I've cursed it, yet whose is the blame, I say?
His name? How strange that you question so,
When I'm sure I have told it o'er and o'er,
And why should you care to hear it more?
III.
Well, as I was saying, Domenico
Was wont of my skill to make such light,