PAGE 57. l. 124. _lazar_, leper, or any wretched beggar; from the
parable of Dives and Lazarus.

_stairs_, steps on which they sat to beg.

l. 125. _red-lin'd accounts_, vividly picturing their neat
account-books, and at the same time, perhaps, suggesting the human blood
for which their accumulation of wealth was responsible.

l. 130. _gainful cowardice._ A telling expression for the dread of loss
which haunts so many wealthy people.

l. 133. _hawks . . . forests._ As a hawk pounces on its prey, so they
fell on the trading-vessels which put into port.

ll. 133-4. _the untired . . . lies._ They were always ready for any
dishonourable transaction by which money might be made.

l. 134. _ducats._ Italian pieces of money worth about 4_s._ 4_d._ Cf.
Shylock, _Merchant of Venice_, II. vii. 15, 'My ducats.'

l. 135. _Quick . . . away._ They would undertake to fleece unsuspecting
strangers in their town.

PAGE 58. l. 137. _ledger-men._ As if they only lived in their
account-books. Cf. l. 142.

l. 140. _Hot Egypt's pest_, the plague of Egypt.

ll. 145-52. As in _Lycidas_ Milton apologizes for the introduction of
his attack on the Church, so Keats apologizes for the introduction of
this outburst of indignation against cruel and dishonourable dealers,
which he feels is unsuited to the tender and pitiful story.

l. 150. _ghittern_, an instrument like a guitar, strung with wire.

PAGE 59. ll. 153-60. Keats wants to make it clear that he is not trying
to surpass Boccaccio, but to give him currency amongst English-speaking
people.

l. 159. _stead thee_, do thee service.

l. 168. _olive-trees._ In which (through the oil they yield) a great
part of the wealth of the Italians lies.

PAGE 60. l. 174. _Cut . . . bone._ This is not only a vivid way of
describing the banishment of all their natural pity. It also, by the
metaphor used, gives us a sort of premonitory shudder as at Lorenzo's
death. Indeed, in that moment the murder is, to all intents and
purposes, done. In stanza xxvii they are described as riding 'with their
murder'd man'.

PAGE 61. ll. 187-8. _ere . . . eglantine._ The sun, drying up the dew
drop by drop from the sweet-briar is pictured as passing beads along a
string, as the Roman Catholics do when they say their prayers.

PAGE 62. l. 209. _their . . . man._ Cf. l. 174, note. Notice the
extraordinary vividness of the picture here--the quiet rural scene and
the intrusion of human passion with the reflecti