GARDENS OF FLORENTINE HUMANISTS 
green meadow full of flowers, a rivulet murmuring in 
the grass, and a single bird pouring out its love-song 
in the hedge. 
Lorenzo’s friend, Angelo Poliziano, weaves the same 
thoughts into still sweeter verse. For delicate charm 
and grace no poem of the century equals his Ballata 
“ I’ mi trovai, fanciulle, un bel mattino,” 1 in which, 
forestalling our English poet, he bids fair maidens 
“ gather the roses while they may.” 
“ Sicche, fanciulle, mentre e piu fiorita, 
Cogliam la bella rosa del giardino.” 
Poliziano was the most distinguished of all the 
brilliant circle which flourished “ in the balmy airs of 
Careggi as in the shade of the Elysian myrtles.” His 
fame drew visitors from all parts of Italy, and his 
poetic gifts were in constant requisition. 
“ Does a man want a motto for a sword-hilt,” he writes 
from Fiesole to his friend Donato, “ a posy for a ring, 
a device for his bed, his plate, or even his pots and 
pans, he runs like all the world to Poliziano. There is 
hardly a wall that I have not besmeared, like a snail, 
with the effusions of my brain. One man teases me 
for a glee or a drinking song, another asks for a grave 
discourse, a third begs for a serenade, a fourth for a 
carnival ballad.” 
1 “ I went a roaming, maiden, one bright day, 
In a green garden, in mid month of May.” 
J. A Symonds. 
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