He
has shown up Roland as a love-sick knight, though, which is out of
all accord with Archbishop Turpin. Wilt have him?"
"When we were together, we used to love tales of chivalry."
"Ah! Or wilt have the stern old Ghibelline Florentine, who explored
the three realms of the departed? Deep lore, and well-nigh
unsearchable, is his; but I love him for the sake of his Beatrice,
who guided him. May we find such guides in our day!"
"I have heard of him," said Ebbo. "If he will tell me where my
Friedel walks in light, then, my lord, I would read him with all my
heart."
"Or wouldst thou have rare Franciscus Petrarca? I wot thou art too
young as yet for the yearnings of his sonnets, but their voice is
sweet to the bereft heart."
And he murmured over, in their melodious Italian flow, the lines on
Laura's death
"Not pallid, but yet whiter than the snow
By wind unstirred that on a hillside lies;
Rest seemed as on a weary frame to grow,
A gentle slumber pressed her lovely eyes."
"Ah!" he added aloud to himself, "it is ever to me as though the poet
had watched in that chamber at Ghent.
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