le and in the final triumph of unity remained unshaken
and sublime in the midst of every reverse.

His mastery of the Tuscan dialect and his elegance of idiom won him
membership in the Accademia della Crusca; but his love for Tuscany was
always subservient to his love for Italy. To those who favored the
division of the peninsula, he used to reply that he had but one
fatherland, and that was a unit. He died in Florence, March 31, 1850, at
the home of his devoted friend the Marquis Gino Capponi. In the teeth of
Austrian prohibition, a throng of grateful and loving citizens followed
his body to the church of San Miniato al Monte, remembering that at a
time when freedom of thought was deemed treason, this man had fearlessly
raised the battle-cry and prepared the way for the insurrection of 1848.
Besides his satires, Giusti has left us a life of the poet Giuseppe
Parini, a collection of Tuscan proverbs, and an unedited essay on the
'Divine Comedy.'

LULLABY

From 'Gingillino'

[The poem of 'Gingillino,' one of Giusti's finest satires, is
full of personal hits, greatly enjoyed by the author's
countrymen. The 'Lullaby' is sung by a number of personified
Vices round the cradle of the infant Gingillino, who, having
come into the world naked and possessed of nothing, is
admonished how to behave if he would go out of it well dressed
and rich. A few verses only are given out of the many. The
whole poem was one of the most popular of all Giusti's
satires.]

Cry not, dear baby,
Of nothing possessed;
But if thou wouldst, dear,
Expire well dressed....

Let nothing vex thee,--
Love's silly story,
Ghosts of grand festivals
Spectres of glory;

Let naught annoy thee:
The burdens of fame,
The manifold perils
That wait on a name.

Content thyself, baby,
With learning to read:
Don't be vainglorious;
That's all thou canst need.

All promptings of genius
Confine in thy breast,
If thou wouldst, baby,
Expire well dressed....

Let not God nor Devil
Concern thy poor wits,
And tell no more truth
Than politeness permits.

With thy soul and thy body,
Still worship the Real;
Nor ever attempt
To pursue the Ideal.

As for thy scruples,
Let them be suppressed,
If thou wouldst, baby,
Expire well dressed.

Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature.'

THE STE