360 ‘Quel’antiquo mio dolce empio signore’

That ancient sweet cruel lord of mine

being summoned before the queen

who holds the divine place

in our being, seated in the head,

there, I present myself blind with grief,

and fear and horror, like gold

being refined in the fire,

like a man who fears death and begs for justice:

and I begin: ‘My lady, I set foot

when young in this kingdom,

in which I received only

anger and disdain: and the torments I suffered

here were such and so varied

that at last my infinite patience

was overcome, and I held life in contempt.

So that my life till now has been passed

in flame and pain: and how many worthy

honest roads I’ve scorned,

how many feasts, to serve this cruel flatterer!

And what wit has speech ready enough

to express my unhappy state,

and, since he is ungrateful to me,

so many grave and just complaints?

O little sweetness, much gall with him!

How much bitterness he added to my life

with his false sweetness

that drew me to the crowd of lovers!

So if I’m not mistaken, he was disposed

to raise me high above the earth:

and snatched away my peace and brought me war.

He has made me love God less

than I should, and care less for myself:

for a lady’s sake equally

he has made me careless of every thought.

In this he is my only counsellor

always sharpening my youthful desire

with a wicked edge, so that

I long for rest from his cruel and bitter yoke.

Wretch, why did heaven give me

this bright high wit, and my other gifts?

So that my hair is altering,

but I can’t alter my obstinate will:

so that this cruel one

I accuse robs me of my freedom,

and turns my bitter life to a sweet habit.

He has made me search out desert places,

fierce rapacious thieves, bristling thorns,

harsh peoples and customs,

and every error that traps the traveller,

hills, valleys, marshes, seas and rivers,

a thousand nets stretched out in every place:

winter in a strange month,

with present danger and fatigue:

neither he nor my other enemy

whom I fled, left me alone a single moment:

so if I’ve not yet met

a harsh and bitter death,

heavenly mercy has cared

for my salvation and not that tyrant

who feeds on my grief and my hurt.

So I have never had a peaceful hour from him,

nor hope to have, and sleep is banished

from my nights, and can’t be won

by herbs or magic incantations.

By force and deception he has been made lord

over my spirit: and no hourly bell has sounded

wherever I’ve been, in whatever town,

that I’ve not heard. He knows I speak the truth:

and no woodworm’s ever gnawed old wood

as he my heart, in which he nests,

and threatens me with death.

So the tears and suffering were born,

the words and sighs,

that weary me, and others too perhaps.

You judge, who know both me and him.’

My adversary speaks with bitterness,

saying; ‘O lady, hear the other side,

so that the truth, this ungrateful one

deviates from, is heard complete.

In his youth this man was given to the art

of selling words, or rather lies:

nor seemed to feel any shame,

snatched from that harm to my delight,

complaining of me, who kept him pure and clean,

against his will that often wished him ill,

now he grieves,

in this sweet life that he calls misery:

he leapt to fame of sorts

purely through me, who inspired his intellect

which he could never have inspired himself.

He knows that Agamemnon and noble Achilles

and Hannibal, bitter foe to your country,

and Scipio, the brightest star of all

in valour and destiny,

like men of ordinary fortune,

allowed themselves to love lowly servants:

while from a thousand

choice women, of excellence, I selected one,

whose like will not be seen beneath the moon,

though Lucretia were to return to Rome:

and I gave her such

sweet speech, so soft a singing voice,

that base or heavy thought

could not last long before her.

These were all my tricks against him.

This was the wormwood, the anger and disdain,

sweeter yet than any other’s all.

I gather evil fruit from good seed:

so are those who serve ingratitude rewarded.

I took him under my wing,

that ladies and knights were pleased with his words:

and made him rise

so high, that among keen and fervent wits

I made his name and his verses

celebrated, with delight, in every place:

who might have been a hoarse

mutterer now in this court, a common man:

I exalted him and made him known

for the things he learnt from her, and those I taught,

from her who was unique in this world.

And to explain my great service to him, complete,

I drew him back from a thousand dishonest actions,

he who could never now

be pleased with anything vile:

a reticent young man, modest in action

and thought, now he’s made a man ruled

by her so that her noble

traits stamp his heart, and make him like her.

What he has of the pilgrim and the nobleman

came from her, and me, whom he blames.

No nocturnal phantom

was ever to us as full of error as him:

who ever since he’s known us

has been blessed by God and man.

Of this the proud man laments and complains.

Yet, and this says it all, I gave him wings

to fly towards the heavens, by means

of those mortal things,

that are steps to the Maker, for he who values them:

and if he’d gazed intently at the number

and quality of virtues in that hope of his,

he could have been lifted by one

in another’s guise to the high Primal Cause.

and that he has often said in his rhymes.

Now he’s forgotten me, and that lady

who I gave him as a column

to support his fragile life.’ – At this I raise

a tearful cry, and shouted:

‘He gave me her, true, but took her back too soon.’

He replies: ‘Not I, but He took her to Himself.’

At last both speak to the Judge’s chair,

I with trembling, he with high cruel voice,

each concluding, for his part, with:

‘Noble Lady, I await your judgement.’

Then smilingly she says:

‘I am pleased to have heard your pleas,

but need more time for such a verdict.’