DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.61902#0118
TUR MAKERS OF FLORENCE.
98
“ seeming to weep the day as it dies/’ which brings tears
to the traveler’s eyes. Dante’s day was ending in prema-
ture night; and yet not premature ; for how long he had
lived in that half-century, a vita nouva all love and youth,
and after that how many lifetimes more I
He died at Ravenna in the month of September in the
year 1321, in his fifty-sixth year; dying in autumn with
everything that is lovely, as he had been born with every-
thing that was beautiful in May. “ There he rendered his
weary spirit to God,” says Boccaccio, “ not without great
sorrow, grandissimo dolore, of Guido and generally of all
the citizens. And there can be no doubt,” adds the sym-
pathetic historian, “that he was received into the arms of
his most noble Beatrice, with whom in the presence of
Him who is the chief good, leaving all miseries of the
present life, they now most lightsomely live in that happi-
ness to which there comes no end.”
Thus ended the mortal existence of the poet. Florence,
sdegnosa, like himself, folded her arms and averted her
head, making no signs even of a tardy penitence. “It is
usual that hatred ends with the death of the person hated,”
says good Boccaccio, “but this did not happen at the death
of Dante. The obstinate ill-will of his fellow citizens con-
tinued as rigid as ever; no sympathy was shown by any
one, no tears were given him by the city, no public
solemnity for his funeral. By which pertinacity it is evi-
dent that the Florentines were so destitute of knowledge
that among them no distinction was made between a vile
cobbler and an exalted poet.” But if it was any comfort
to Dante’s survivors, his gracious patron Guido, after
burying him reverentially, returned to his house, and there
made, in praise of the poet and for the consolation of his
children and friends, “uno exquisito e lungo sermone.”
This kind and liberal friend intended besides to build a
splendid tomb, egregia e notabile sepidtura for the poet, but
98
“ seeming to weep the day as it dies/’ which brings tears
to the traveler’s eyes. Dante’s day was ending in prema-
ture night; and yet not premature ; for how long he had
lived in that half-century, a vita nouva all love and youth,
and after that how many lifetimes more I
He died at Ravenna in the month of September in the
year 1321, in his fifty-sixth year; dying in autumn with
everything that is lovely, as he had been born with every-
thing that was beautiful in May. “ There he rendered his
weary spirit to God,” says Boccaccio, “ not without great
sorrow, grandissimo dolore, of Guido and generally of all
the citizens. And there can be no doubt,” adds the sym-
pathetic historian, “that he was received into the arms of
his most noble Beatrice, with whom in the presence of
Him who is the chief good, leaving all miseries of the
present life, they now most lightsomely live in that happi-
ness to which there comes no end.”
Thus ended the mortal existence of the poet. Florence,
sdegnosa, like himself, folded her arms and averted her
head, making no signs even of a tardy penitence. “It is
usual that hatred ends with the death of the person hated,”
says good Boccaccio, “but this did not happen at the death
of Dante. The obstinate ill-will of his fellow citizens con-
tinued as rigid as ever; no sympathy was shown by any
one, no tears were given him by the city, no public
solemnity for his funeral. By which pertinacity it is evi-
dent that the Florentines were so destitute of knowledge
that among them no distinction was made between a vile
cobbler and an exalted poet.” But if it was any comfort
to Dante’s survivors, his gracious patron Guido, after
burying him reverentially, returned to his house, and there
made, in praise of the poet and for the consolation of his
children and friends, “uno exquisito e lungo sermone.”
This kind and liberal friend intended besides to build a
splendid tomb, egregia e notabile sepidtura for the poet, but