Am fitter far, with quiver and with bow,
To roam the forest, than 'neath love's soft reign
To do a husband's will; and if thou go
In memory back, thou must in mind retain
How harder face than granite did we show
'Gainst headlong Venus' law, based not on reason,
But headlong passion, to its promptings treason.
'And if it be my better fate to stay
A little maid amid thy vestal throng,
The fierce and burning fumes do thou allay
Sprung from desires so passionate and strong
Of both the enamoured youths my love who pray,
And both for joy of love from me do long,
Let peace supplant between them war's contention,
Since grief to me, thou know'st, is their dissension.
'And if it be reserved for me by fate
To Juno's law subjected now to be,
Ah, pardon thou my lapse from maiden state,
Nor therefore be my prayer refused by thee;
On others' will, thou seest, condemned to wait,
My actions must conform to their decree:
Then help me, Goddess, hear my prayer thus lowly,
Who still deserve thy favour high and holy.'"
Boccaccio thought little of his own poetry, would have destroyed his sonnets but for the remonstrances of Petrarch, and laments that even the incitement of Fiammetta is unavailing to spur him on to the Temple of Fame. Yet in another place he says that he has spared no pains to excel:
"Study I have not spared, or scanted time:
Now rest unto my labour I permit,
Lamenting this so little could avail
To reuse me to that eminence sublime."
This judgment was unreasonably severe. It is true, nevertheless, that Boccaccio would have gained more
