hurled from his seat of power, stripped of his ducal robes,
and beheaded like the meanest felon, he inveighs against his execution
as a public murder, in his letter on the subject to Guido Settimo.

Petrarch, since his establishment at Milan, had thought it his duty to
bring thither his son John, that he might watch over his education. John
was at this time eighteen years of age, and was studying at Verona.

The September of 1355 was a critical month for our poet. It was then
that the tertian ague commonly attacked him, and this year it obliged
him to pass a whole month in bed. He was just beginning to be
convalescent, when, on the 9th of September, 1355, a friar, from the
kingdom of Naples, entered his chamber, and gave him a letter from
Barbato di Salmone. This was a great joy to him, and tended to promote
the recovery of his health. Their correspondence had been for a long
time interrupted by the wars, and the unsafe state of the public roads.
This letter was full of enthusiasm and affection, and was addressed to
_Francis Petrarch, the king of poets_. The friar had told Barbato that
this title was given to Petrarch over all Italy. Our poet in his answer
affected to refuse it with displeasure as far beyond his deserts. "There
are only two king-poets," he says, "the one in Greece, the other in
Italy. The old bard of Maeonia occupies the former kingdom, the shepherd
of Mantua is in possession of the latter. As for me, I can only reign in
my transalpine solitude and on the banks of the Sorgue."

Petrarch continued rather languid during autumn, but his health was
re-established before the winter.

Early in the year 1356, whilst war was raging between Milan and the
Lombard and Ligurian league, a report was spread that the King of
Hungary had formed a league with the Emperor and the Duke of Austria, to
invade Italy. The Italians in alarm sent ambassadors to the King of
Hungary, who declared that he had no hostile intentions, except against
the Venetians, as they had robbed him of part of Sclavonia. This
declaration calmed the other princes, but not the Viscontis, who knew
that the Emperor would never forget the manner in which they had treated
him. They thought that it would be politic to send an ambassador to
Charles, in order to justify themselves before him, or rather to
penetrate into his designs, and no person seemed to be more fit for this
commission than Petrarch. Our poet had no great desire to journey into
the n