Sordello.
Whene’er is broken up the game of Zara, He who has lost remains behind despondent, The throws repeating, and in sadness learns; The people with the other all depart; One goes in front, and one behind doth pluck him, And at his side one brings himself to mind; He pauses not, and this and that one hears; They crowd no more to whom his hand he stretches, And from the throng he thus defends himself. Even such was I in that dense multitude, Turning to them this way and that my face, And, promising, I freed myself therefrom. There was the Aretine, who from the arms Untamed of Ghin di Tacco had his death, And he who fleeing from pursuit was drowned. There was imploring with his hands outstretched Frederick Novello, and that one of Pisa Who made the good Marzucco seem so strong. I saw Count Orso; and the soul divided By hatred and by envy from its body, As it declared, and not for crime committed, Pierre de la Brosse I say; and here provide While still on earth the Lady of Brabant, So that for this she be of no worse flock! As soon as I was free from all those shades Who only prayed that someone else may pray, So as to hasten their becoming holy, Began I: “It appears that thou deniest, O light of mine, expressly in some text, That orison can bend decree of Heaven; And ne’ertheless these people pray for this. Might then their expectation bootless be? Or is to me thy saying not quite clear?” And he to me: “My writing is explicit, And not fallacious is the hope of these, If with sane intellect ’tis well regarded; For top of judgment doth not vail itself, Because the fire of love fulfils at once What he must satisfy who here installs him. And there, where I affirmed that proposition, Defect was not amended by a prayer, Because the prayer from God was separate. Verily, in so deep a questioning Do not decide, unless she tell it thee, Who light ’twixt truth and intellect shall be. I know not if thou