er
rosy walls between the river and the hills; I shall see that lonely,
beautiful, and heroic figure, Matilda the great Countess; I shall suffer
the dream that consumes her, and watch Germany humble in the snow. And
the Latin cause will tower a red lily beside Arno; one by one the great
nobles will go by with cruel alien faces, prisoners, to serve the Lily
or to die. Out of their hatred will spring that mongrel cause of Guelph
and Ghibelline, and I shall see the Amidei slay Buondelmonte
Buondelmonti. Through the year of victories I shall rejoice, when
Pistoja falls, when Siena falls, when Volterra is taken, and Pisa forced
to make peace. Then in tears I shall see the flight at Monteaperti, I
shall hear the thunder of the horses, and with hate in my heart I shall
search for Bocca degli Abati, the traitor, among the ten thousand dead.
And in the council I shall be by when they plot the destruction of the
city, and I shall be afraid: then I shall hear the heroic, scornful
words of Farinata degli Uberti, when in his pride he spared Florence for
the sake of his birth. And I shall watch the banners at Campaldino, I
shall hear the intoxicating words of Corso Donati, I shall look into his
very face and read the truth.

And at dawn I shall walk with Dante, and I shall know by the softness of
his voice when Beatrice passeth, but I shall not dare to lift my eyes. I
shall walk with him through the city, I shall hear Giotto speak to him
of St. Francis, and Arnolfo will tell us of his dreams. And at evening
Petrarch will lead me into the shadow of S. Giovanni and tell me of
Madonna Laura. But it will be a morning of spring when I meet
Boccaccio, ah, in S. Maria Novella, and as we come into the sunshine I
shall laugh and say, "Tell me a story." And Charles of Valois will pass
by, who sent Dante on that long journey; and Henry VII, for whom he had
prayed; and I shall hear the trumpets of Montecatini, and I shall
understand the hate Uguccione had for Castracani. And I shall watch the
entry of the Duke of Athens, and I shall see his cheek flush at the
thought of a new tyranny. Then for the first time I shall hear the
sinister, fortunate name Medici. Under the banners of the Arti I shall
hear the rumour of their names, Silvestro who urged on the Ciompi, Vieri
who once made peace; nor will the death of Gian Galeazzo of Milan, nor
the tragedy of Pisa, hinder their advent, for I shall see Giovanni di
Bicci de' Medici proclaimed Gonfaloniere