62 BROWN : FLORKNCE. 



Child of my child, child of Antonio's child — bend down and let me 

 kiss your wondering face. ' Tis a strange tale to tell a rose like you. 

 But time is short, and had I told you not haply the story might have met 

 your ears from them, the Amieri, my own blood, now turned to gall, 

 whose foul and bitter tongues will wag with lies when once my lips are 

 dumb. Pardon me, Virgin, I was gentle once, and thou hast seen my 

 wrongs. Now go, my darling ; when they waken thee to tell thee I am 

 dead be not too sad. I that have died once ilo not fear to die. Close by 

 Heaven's gate my own Antonio sits, waiting, and spite of all the frati 

 say I know I shall not stand long at that gate, or knock and be denied 

 an entrance there. For he will start up when he hears my voice. The 

 saints will smile and he will open quick. Only a night to part me from 

 that joy ! Jesu Maria, let the dawning come ! 



