284' Leaves Torn out of a Cvmmon Place-Book. [March 



" Chi cei tu, che non par donna mortale ? 

 Di tantagrazia il del, t'adorna e dola ! 

 I'erche non posi ? Perche a'piedi hai I'ale? 



lo son rOccasione, a pochi nota ; 



E la cagion, che senpre mi travagli, 



E, perch' io tengo un pie sopra una rdta^ 

 Volar non e, che al mio correr s'agguagli ; 



E pero Tale a'piedi mi mantengo, 



Accio nel corse mio ciascuno abbagli. 



Gli sparsi miei copei dinangi io tengo ; 

 Con essi mi ricopro il petto e'l volto, 

 Perch' nn non mi conosca quando vengo. 



Dietro del capo ogni copel mi e tolto ; 

 Onde in van si affatica un, se gli avviene 

 Ch' io I'abbia trapassato, o s' io mi volto. 



Dimmi; chi e colei, che teco viene? 

 E Penitenza ; e pero nota e intendi ; 

 Chi non sa prender voce, costei ritiene. 



E tu, mentre parlando il tempo spendi, 

 Occiipato da molti pensieri vani, 

 Gia non t'avvedi lasso e non comprendi 



Com' io ti gon' fuggita dalle mani. 



" Who art thou that no mortal dame appearest. 



So graced by Heaven ? Why rest'st not on thy heeV 

 • \ Say, why and wherefore thou those pinions wearest ! 



'■•' ' Occasion, that to few myself reveal 



Am I J repose from motion have I none. 



Because my foot is planted on a wheel. 

 There is no flight which overtakes my run ; 



And therefore wings upon my feet I wear. 

 That my swift course may dazzle every one. 

 - Dishevelled, from my forehead hangs my h:iir 



O'er face and breast, lest any me discern 



For what I am when I to him repair. 

 Behind my head is every ringlet shorn : 



Whence each to take me struggles fruitlessly, 



If I outstrip him in the course, or turn. 

 Say who is that who come? alone with thee? 



'Tis penitence; and, mark, the wight must wend. 

 Accompanied by her, who misses me ; 



And thou, who dost thy time thus idly spend. 

 Like one who, in vain thoughts indulging, stands 



Thou do'st not see, alas I nor comprehend, 

 I, while I speak, am vanished from thy bands — " 



It is not, however, as a poet that Machiavel most shines. Verse was 

 with him only tlie amusement of an idle hour, and Is princiiially worth 

 our consideration, as showing of how energetic a description were even 

 the relaxations of this marvellous man. 



To return to his moral and political speculations ; it is curious to 

 observe how many of these, besides that which I have cited respecting 

 fortified places, will not upon examination appear lightly founded 

 though vulgarly considered as paradoxical. There is none which has 

 been more objected to, for instance : yet there is no opinion, I believe, 

 more unimpeachable, than thrat which he has advanced upon the indeli- 

 bility of national character. What has, I think principally led to a 



