The Decameron - Giovanni Boccaccio (best contemporary novels txt) 📗
- Author: Giovanni Boccaccio
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Cf. Artemus Ward’s “Natives of the Universe and other parts.” ↩
Mo vedi vu, Venetian for Or vedi tu, now dost thou see? I have rendered it by the equivalent old English form. ↩
I.e. not of the trap laid for him by the lady’s brothers-in-law, but of her indiscretion in discovering the secret. ↩
Che xe quel? Venetian for che c’e quella cosa, What is this thing? ↩
I.e. semble “an you would wish them nought but an ill end.” ↩
I.e. to anger. ↩
I.e. to the proposal I have to make. ↩
I.e. the possession of their mistresses. ↩
Sic (di che veleno fosse morto), but this is probably a copyist’s error for che di veleno fosse morto, i.e. that he had died of poison. ↩
I.e. that night. ↩
Or, in modern parlance, “laying certain plans.” ↩
I.e. for lack of wind. ↩
I.e. of each other. ↩
This is the proper name of the heroine of the story immortalized by Keats as “Isabella or the Pot of Basil,” and is one of the many forms of the name Elisabetta (Elizabeth), Isabetta and Isabella being others. Some texts of the Decameron call the heroine Isabetta, but in the heading only, all with which I am acquainted agreeing in the use of the form Lisabetta in the body of the story. ↩
I.e. to the place shown her in the dream. ↩
I.e. in their service. ↩
Lit. unhung (spiccò). ↩
The following is a translation of the whole of the song in question, as printed, from a MS. in the Medicean Library, in Fanfani’s edition of the Decameron.
Alack! ah, who can the ill Christian be,
That stole my pot away,
My pot of basil of Salern, from me?
’Twas thriv’n with many a spray
And I with mine own hand did plant the tree,
Even on the festal489 day.
’Tis felony to waste another’s ware.
’Tis felony to waste another’s ware;
Yea, and right grievous sin.
And I, poor lass, that sowed myself whilere
A pot with flowers therein,
Slept in its shade, so great it was and fair;
But folk, that envious bin,
Stole it away even from my very door.
’Twas stolen away even from my very door.
Full heavy was my cheer,
(Ah, luckless maid, would I had died tofore!)
Who brought490 it passing dear,
Yet kept ill ward thereon one day of fear.
For him I loved so sore,
I planted it with marjoram about.
I planted it with marjoram about,
When May was blithe and new;
Yea, thrice I watered it, week in, week out,
And watched how well it grew:
But now, for sure, away from me ’tis ta’en.
Ay, now, for sure, away from me ’tis ta’en;
I may ’t no longer hide.
Had I but known (alas, regret is vain!)
That which should me betide,
Before my door on guard I would have lain
To sleep, my flowers beside.
Yet might the Great God ease me at His will.
Yea, God Most High might ease me, at His will,
If but it liked Him well,
Of him who wrought me such unright and ill;
He into pangs of hell
Cast me who stole my basil-pot, that still
Was full of such sweet smell,
Its savour did all dole from me away.
All dole its savour did from me away;
It was so redolent,
When, with the risen sun, at early day
To water it I went,
The folk would marvel all at it and say,
“Whence comes the sweetest scent?”
And I for love of it shall surely die.
Yea, I for love of it shall surely die,
For love and grief and pain.
If one would tell me where it is, I’d buy
It willingly again.
Fivescore gold crowns, that in my pouch have I,
I’d proffer him full fain,
And eke a kiss, if so it liked the swain.
↩
I.e. these two classes of folk. ↩
I.e. to the encouragement of good and virtuous actions and purposes. ↩
Or “lap” (seno). ↩
Lit. what meaneth this? (che vuol dire questo?) ↩
Lit. complaining, making complaint (dolendosi). ↩
I.e. to attend the ecclesiastical function called a Pardon, with which word, used in this sense, Meyerbeer’s opera of Dinorah (properly Le Pardon de Ploërmel) has familiarized opera-goers. A Pardon is a sort of minor jubilee of the Roman Catholic Church, held in honour of some local saint, at which certain indulgences and remissions of sins (hence the name) are granted to the faithful attending the services of the occasion. ↩
I.e. bandy-legs. ↩
Ristretti in sè gli spiriti. An obscure passage; perhaps “holding his breath” is meant; but in this case we should read “lo spirito” instead of “gli spiriti.” ↩
I.e. what course she should take in the matter, consiglio used as before (see note 5 (Day 1 introduction), note 173 (fifth story of Day 3) in this special sense). ↩
I.e. her heart. ↩
Or surfeited (svogliato). ↩
This is the well-known story of the Troubadour Guillem de Cabestanh or Cabestaing, whose name Boccaccio alters to Guardastagno or Guardestaing. ↩
A proverbial
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