"Duke o' the Rood, why not?" Shouted an Estian, "grudge ye such a lot? The hill-cat boasts some cunning of her own, Some stealthy trick to better beasts unknown, That quick with prey enough her hunger blunts, And feeds her fat while gaunt the lion hunts." "Taurello," quoth an envoy, "as in wane Dwelt at Ferrara. Like an osprey fain To fly but forced the earth his couch to make Far inland, till his friend the tempest wake, Waits he the Kaiser 's coming; and as yet That fast friend sleeps, and he too sleeps: but let Only the billow freshen, and he snuffs The aroused hurricane ere it enroughs The sea it means to cross because of him. Sinketh the breeze? His hope-sick eye grows dim; Creep closer on the creature! Every day Strengthens the Pontiff; Ecelin, they say, Dozes now at Oliero, with dry lips Telling upon his perished finger-tips How many ancestors are to depose Ere he be Satan's Viceroy when the doze Deposits him in hell. So, Guelfs rebuilt Their houses; not a drop of blood was spilt When Cino Bocchimpane chanced to meet Buccio Virtù--God's wafer, and the street Is narrow! Tutti Santi, think, a-swarm With Ghibellins, and yet he took no harm! This could not last. Off Salinguerra went To Padua, Podestà, 'with pure intent,' Said he, 'my presence, judged the single bar To permanent tranquillity, may jar No longer'--so! his back is fairly turned? The pair of goodly palaces are burned, The gardens ravaged, and our Guelfs laugh, drunk A week with joy. The next, their laughter sunk In sobs of blood, for they found, some strange way, [Sidenote: In their changed fortune at Ferrara:] Old Salinguerra back again--I say, Old Salinguerra in the town once more Uprooting, overturning, flame before, Blood fetlock-high beneath him. Azzo fled; Who 'scaped the carnage followed; then the dead Were pushed aside from Salinguerra's throne, He ruled once more Ferrara, all alone, Till Azzo, stunned awhile, revived, would pounce Coupled with Boniface, like lynx and ounce, On the gorged bird. The burghers ground their teeth To see troop after troop encamp beneath I' the standing-corn thick o'er the scanty patch It took so many patient months to snatch Out of the marsh; while just within their walls Men fed on men. At length Taurello calls A parley: 'let the Count wind up the war!' Richard, light-hearted as a plunging star, Agrees to enter for the kindest ends Ferrara, flanked with fifty chosen friends, No horse-boy more, for fear your timid sort Should fly Ferrara at the bare report. Quietly through the town they rode, jog-jog; 'Ten, twenty, thirty,--curse the catalogue Of burnt Guelf houses! Strange, Taurello shows Not the least sign of life'--whereat arose