In store dispose you to forego the strife, Who takes exception? Only bear in mind, Ferrara's reached, Goito 's left behind: [Sidenote: If associates trouble you, stand off!] As you then were, as half yourself, desist! --The warrior-part of you may, an it list, Finding real falchions difficult to poise, Fling them afar and taste the cream of joys By wielding such in fancy,--what is bard Of you may spurn the vehicle that marred Elys so much, and in free fancy glut His sense, yet write no verses--you have but To please yourself for law, and once could please What once appeared yourself, by dreaming these Rather than doing these, in days gone by. But all is changed the moment you descry Mankind as half yourself,--then, fancy's trade Ends once and always: how may half evade The other half? men are found half of you. Out of a thousand helps, just one or two Can be accomplished presently: but flinch From these (as from the falchion, raised an inch, Elys, described a couplet) and make proof Of fancy,--then, while one half lolls aloof I' the vines, completing Rome to the tip-top-- See if, for that, your other half will stop [Sidenote: Should the new sympathies allow you.] A tear, begin a smile! The rabble's woes, Ludicrous in their patience as they chose To sit about their town and quietly Be slaughtered,--the poor reckless soldiery, With their ignoble rhymes on Richard, how 'Polt-foot,' sang they, 'was in a pitfall now,' Cheering each other from the engine-mounts,-- That crippled sprawling idiot who recounts How, lopped of limbs, he lay, stupid as stone, Till the pains crept from out him one by one, And wriggles round the archers on his head To earn a morsel of their chestnut bread,-- And Cino, always in the self-same place Weeping; beside that other wretch's case, Eyepits to ear, one gangrene since he plied The engine in his coat of raw sheep's hide A double watch in the noon sun; and see Lucchino, beauty, with the favors free, Trim hacqueton, spruce heard and scented hair, Campaigning it for the first time--cut there In two already, boy enough to crawl For latter orpine round the southern wall, Tomà, where Richard's kept, because that whore Marfisa, the fool never saw before, Sickened for flowers this wearisomest siege: And Tiso's wife--men liked their pretty liege, Cared for her least of whims once,--Berta, wed A twelvemonth gone, and, now poor Tiso's dead, Delivering herself of his first child On that chance heap of wet filth, reconciled To fifty gazers!"--(Here a wind below Made moody music augural of woe From the pine barrier)--"What if, now the scene Draws to a close, yourself have really been [Sidenote: Time having been lost, choose quick!]