Farther upward will I clamber, To the terrace slowly wending. Woe to me, for from the garden Are my neighbour's songs ascending. Even next the roof I cannot Find the rest for which I'm pining; Near me dwells a crazy poet, His own verses ever whining. When despairing to the cellar Down I rush the noise escaping; Ah, above me they are dancing, To the pipes, and fiddles' scraping. Harmless tribe! Your lyric madness You'll continue, while there yonder, In the East, the clouds are gathering, Soon to burst in tragic thunder. VII. May has come now. To the thinker, Who the causes of phenomena Searches, 'tis a natural sequence: In the centre of creation Are two aged white cats standing, Who the world turn on its axis; And their labour there produces The recurring change of seasons. But why is it in the May month That my eyes are ever ogling, That my heart is so impassioned? And why is it that I daily Must be leering sixteen hours From the terrace, as if nailed there, At the fair cat Apollonia, At the black-haired Jewess Rachel? VIII. A strong bulwark 'gainst enticements I have built on good foundations; But to the most virtuous even Sometimes come unsought temptations. And more ardent than in youth's time, The old dream comes o'er me stealing; I on memory's pinions soar up, Filled with burning amorous feeling. Oh fair Naples, land of beauty, With thy nectar-cup thou cheerest! To Sorrento I'd be flying. To a roof to me the dearest. Old Vesuvius and the white sails On the bay are greeting bringing, And the olive-woods are gladdened By the spring-birds' joyous singing. To the Loggia slinks Carmela, Strokes my beard with soft caresses; Of all cats by far the fairest, Lovingly my paw she presses. And she looks on me with longing, But now hark! there is a howling; Is the surf thus loudly roaring? Or is old Vesuvius growling? 'Tis not old Vesuvius growling, For he holds now his vacation. In the yard, destruction vowing, Barks the worst dog in creation-- Barks the worst dog in creation-- Barks Francesco, loudly yelling; And my lovely dream's enchantment He thus rudely is dispelling. IX. Hiddigeigei strictly shunneth What his conscience might be hurting; But he oft connives benignly At his fellow-cats' gay flirting. Hiddigeigei with great ardour Makes the mice-hunt his chief duty; And he frets not if another With sweet music worships beauty.