Frederic and James now o’er those kingdoms lord,
In whom that better heritage lies dead.
Rarely doth human goodness rise again
Through the tree’s branches: He hath willed it so
Who gives this boon of excellence, that men
Should ask of him who can alone bestow.”
“Not more these words of mine at Peter glance
Than him he sings with (of the large nose there)
Whose death Apulia mourneth, and Provènce,
So ill the tree doth with its stock compare!
Even so much more of her good lord his wife
Constance yet vaunts herself, than Margaret may,
Or Beatrice. That king of simplest life,
Harry of England, sitting there survey
All by himself: his branches are more blest!
The one who sits there with uplifted gaze
Among the group, but lower than the rest,
Is Marquis William, in whose cause the frays
Of Alexandria have with grief oppressed
Both Monferrato and the Canavese.”