It ill befits the sweet fig to bear fruit. Old rumor in the world proclaims them blind; 214 A people avaricious, envious, proud; Take heed that of their customs thou do cleanse thee. Thy fortune so much honor doth reserve thee, One party and the other shall be hungry For thee; but far from goat shall be the grass. Their litter let the beasts of Fesole Make of themselves, nor let them touch the plant, If any still upon their dunghill rise, In which may yet revive the consecrated Seed of those Romans, who remained there when The nest of such great malice it became.” “If my entreaty wholly were fulfilled,” Replied I to him, “not yet would you be In banishment from human nature placed; For in my mind is fixed, and touches now My heart the dear and good paternal image Of you, when in the world from hour to hour You taught me how a man becomes eternal; And how much I am grateful, while I live Behoves that in my language be discerned. What you narrate of my career I write,