st, O Madonna! that many who have a perfect
and unwavering faith in thee, yet do cover up their cheese from the
nibblings of vermin.'

Whereupon, he turned round again, threw himself on his back at full
length, and feeling the sheets cool, smooth, and refreshing, folded
his arms, and slept instantaneously. The consequence of his wholesome
slumber was a calm alacrity: and the idea that his visitor would be
happy at seeing him on his feet again, made him attempt to get up: at
which he succeeded, to his own wonder. And it was increased by the
manifestation of his strength in opening the casement, stiff from
being closed, and swelled by the continuance of the rains. The morning
was warm and sunny: and it is known that on this occasion he composed
the verses below:

My old familiar cottage-green!
I see once more thy pleasant sheen;
The gossamer suspended over
Smart celandine by lusty clover;
And the last blossom of the plum
Inviting her first leaves to come;
Which hang a little back, but show
'Tis not their nature to say no.
I scarcely am in voice to sing
How graceful are the steps of Spring;
And ah! it makes me sigh to look
How leaps along my merry brook,
The very same to-day as when
He chirrupt first to maids and men.

_Petrarca._ I can rejoice at the freshness of your feelings: but the
sight of the green turf reminds me rather of its ultimate use and
destination.

For many serves the parish pall,
The turf in common serves for all.

_Boccaccio._ Very true; and, such being the case, let us carefully
fold it up, and lay it by until we call for it.

Francesco, you made me quite light-headed yesterday. I am rather too
old to dance either with Spring, as I have been saying, or with
Vanity: and yet I accepted her at your hand as a partner. In future,
no more of comparisons for me! You not only can do me no good, but you
can leave me no pleasure: for here I shall remain the few days I have
to live, and shall see nobody who will be disposed to remind me of
your praises. Beside, you yourself will get hated for them. We neither
can deserve praise nor receive it with impunity.

_Petrarca._ Have you never remarked that it is into quiet water that
children throw pebbles to disturb it? and that it is into deep caverns
that the idle drop sticks and dirt? We must expect such treatment.

_Boccaccio._ Your admonition shall have it