Di stare sette anni nell’ aspro diserto. Pane non mangerò nè berò vino, Nè mai risguarderò il ciel scoperto, Non parlerò Hebraico nè Latino, Per fin che quel ch’ io dico non è certo, Che un fantin di sei di porga favella, “Perdonato t’ ha Dio; va alla tua cella.” That is, he swears that for seven years he will neither eat bread nor drink wine, nor look up in the face of heaven, nor speak either Hebrew or Latin, until it shall come to pass that an infant of seven days old shall open its mouth and say, “Heaven hath pardoned thee—go in peace.” So, stripping off his clothes, he crawls on hands and knees like the beasts of the field, eating grass and drinking water. ‘Nor did his resolution fail him—he persists in this “aspra penitenza” for seven years— Sette anni e sette giorni nel diserto; Come le bestie andava lui carpone, E mai non risguardò il ciel scoperto, Peloso egli era a modo d’ un montone; Spine e fango il suo letto era per certo, Del suo peccato havea contrizione; E ogni cosa facea con gran fervore, Per purgar il suo fallo e grand’ errore. In the meantime it came into the king’s head to draw the covers where the hermit was leading this life. The dogs of course _found_, but neither they nor the king could make anything of this new species of animal, “_che pareva un orso_.” So they took him home in a chain and deposited him in their zoological collection, where he refused meat and bread, and persisted in grazing. On new year’s day the queen gives birth to a son, who, on the seventh day after he is born, says distinctly to the hermit,— Torna alla tua cella, Che Dio t’ ha perdonato il tuo peccato, Levati su, Romito! ova favella! But the hermit does not _speak_ as commanded; he makes signs that he will write. The king orders the inkstand to be brought, but there is no ink in it: so Schitano at once earns his surname of Boccadoro (Chrysostom) by a simple expedient: he puts the pen to his mouth, wets it with his saliva, and writes in letters of gold— Onde la penna in bocca si metteva, E a scrivere cominciò senza dimoro, Col sputo, lettere che parevan d’ oro! ‘After seven years and seven days, he opens his golden mouth in speech, and confesses his foul crimes to the king; cavaliers are despatched in search of the body of the princess; as they approach the cavern they hear celestial music, and in the end they bring the donzella out of the cistern alive and well, and very sorry to leave the blessed Virgin and the angels, with whom she had been passing her time most agreeably: she is restored to her parents with universal _festa e allegrezza_, and she announces to the hermit that he is pardoned and may return to his cell, which he does forthwith, and ends in leading the life of a saint, and being beatified. The “_discreti auditori_” are invited to take example—