“So may that light,” the spirit began to say,
“Which leads thee up, find in thine own free will
Sufficient wax to last thee all the way,
Even to th’ enamelled summit of the Hill.
If thou true news of Val di Magra know’st,
Or of those parts, inform me of the same,
For I was mighty once upon that coast,
And Conrad Malaspina was my name.
Not the old lord, but his descendant, I:
The love which once I to my kindred bore
Is here refined.” “O,” thus I made reply,
“That realm of yours I never travelled o’er;
But where throughout all Europe is the place
That knows it not? The honor Fame accords
Your house illustrates not alone the race,
But makes the land renowned as are its lords;
He knows that country who was never there:
Still the free purse they bear, and still bright swords
So mount my soul as this to thee I swear!
Custom and nature privilege them so,