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My Lord, do as he'd have done, put your feet where his went before so I shall see him alive again and undiminished, whole-- through you--answer my needs, make envious fate obey me. Your scorn and rare courage-- nothing was more valued by him--have slipped her sordid net, escaped his bitter end; when these are there, nothing can be wanting. Now that he's vanished except where you are, splendor from the earth, in Paradise lost amid radiance, it would give me joy to hear your heart has cast out anger and treacheries; that tired of all these, you live and build upon man's noblest thoughts. |
An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition |
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Notes: From V CXIII:113. See also B E2:204; R CX:319-20; MS L; 1538/9, 1540-2, 1552/59-60; 1760 Rota. Translation: Roscoe 235. To Alfonso d'Avalos, Marchese Del Vasto shortly after Pescara's death, 12/1526 into early 1526. Key |
