y of that
happy time when she was fain to call herself my Laura moved me to ride
forth to Treviso, where, in the chapel of the Franciscan Brethren, there
may be seen a head of the true Laura done by the limner Simone di
Martino, the friend of Petrarca, a right worthy work of art. Methought
she drew me to her with voice and becks. And yet, and yet--woe, woe is
me!

"My pen has had a long rest, for meseemed I saw first Petrarca's lady
with her fair braids, and then Ann with her black hair, which shone with
such lustrous, soft waves, and lay so nobly on the snow-white brow. Her
eyes and mien are verily those of Laura; both alike pure and lofty. But
here my full heart over-flows; it cannot forget how far Ann exceeds Laura
in sweet woman's grace.

"Day is breaking, and I can but sigh forth to the morning: 'Lost, lost! I
have lost the fairest and the best!'

"Then I sat long, sunk in thought, looking out of window, across the bare
tree-tops in the garden, at the grey mist which seems as though it ended
only at the edge of the world. It drips from the leafless boughs, and
mine eyes--I need not hide it--will not be kept dry. It is as though the
leaves from the tree of my life had all dropped on the ground--nay, as
though my own guilty hand had torn them from the stem."

"I have but now come home from a right merry company! It is of a truth a
merciful fashion which turns night into day. Yes, Margery, for one whose
first desire is to forget many matters, this Paris is a place of delight.
I have drunk deep of the wine-cup, but I would call any man villain who
should say that I am drunk. Can I not write as well as ever another--and
this I know, that if I sold myself it was not cheap. It has cost me my
love, and whereas it was great the void is great to fill. Wherefore I
say: 'Bring hither all that giveth joy, wine and love-making, torches and
the giddy dame in velvet and silk, dice and gaming, and mad rides, the
fresh greenwood and bloody frays!' Is this nothing? Is it even a trivial
thing?

"How, when all is said and done, shall we answer the question as to which
is the better lot: heavenly love, soaring on white swan's wings far above
all that is common dust, as Ann was wont to sing of it, or earthly joys,
bold and free, which we can know only with both feet on the clod?

"I have made choice and can never turn back. Long life to every pleasure,
call it by what name you will! You have a gleeful, rich, and magnificent
brothe