The poem was written in 1844, and addressed to Gino Capponi, the
life-long friend in whose house Giusti died, and the descendant of
the great Gino Capponi who threatened the threatening Frenchmen when
Charles VIII occupied Florence: "If you sound your trumpets," as a
call to arms against the Florentines, "we will ring our bells," he
said.
Giusti speaks of the part which he bears as a spectator and critic of
passing events, and then apostrophizes himself:
Who art thou that a scourge so keen dost bear
And pitilessly dost the truth proclaim,
And that so loath of praise for good and fair,
So eager art with bitter songs of blame?
Hast thou achieved, in thine ideal's pursuit,
The secret and the ministry of art?
Did'st thou seek first to kill and to uproot
All pride and folly out of thine own heart
Ere turning to teach other men their part?
* * * * *
O wretched scorn! from which alone I sing,
Thou weariest and saddenest my soul!
O butterfly that joyest on thy wing,
Pausing from bloom to bloom, without a goal--
And thou, that singing of love for evermore,
Fond nightingale! from wood to wood dost go,
My life is as a never-ending war
Of doubts, when likened to the peace ye know,
And wears what seems a smile and is
a throe!
There is another famous poem of Giusti's in quite a different mood.
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