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take the lovely words of Beatrice to Virgil "Io son fatta da Dio, sua mercè, tale, Che la vostra miseria non mi tange, Nè fiamma d'esto incendio non m'assale ..." take the simple, but perfect, single line "In la sua volontade è nostra pace." Take of Shakespeare a line or two of Henry the Fourth's expostulation with sleep
Io son fatta da Dio, sua merce, tale, Che la vostra miseria non mi tange Ne fiamma d' esto incendio non m' assale. In the tragic hour the soul is thus vouchsafed a deeper vision, discerns a remoter, serener, mightier ideal which henceforth it pursues unalterably, undeviatingly, as if swept on by a law of Nature itself.
In the Milanese annals of Galvano Fiamma and Mussi, on the other hand, the advantages of a despotic sovereignty in giving national coherence, the crimes of the Papacy, which promoted anarchy in its ill-governed States, and the prospect of a comprehensive Italian tyranny under the great house of the Visconti, are eloquently pleaded.
But to continue: that I might not appear to act in mine own cause, I ordered the prisoner to be tried in my absence. "Ay, and you changed colour." "Well I might: in his trial, I say, he has confessed that nine of the loftiest lords of Rome were his instigators. They sup with me tonight! Vicar, forwards!" "Questo ha acceso 'i fuoco e la fiamma laquale non la par spotegnere."
The graceful lines of Petrarch are inscribed on the sarcophagus they are full of feeling and the country, and make one pause and dream: "Non come fiamma, che per forza è spenta, Ma che per se medesma si consuma, Se n'andò in pace, l'anima contenta." No epitaph could be better. New Monthly Magazine.
And now the woman, having willed beyond the power of mortal flesh to endure an anguish that now flames before her in its supreme reality, strains in the irrationality of utter fear backward into the midst of those clutching hands that are holding her up in the attitude of her death, and, with a shiver in which the soul, succumbing to the body, wrings its last triumph out of an ignominious glory, she cries, shrieking, feeling the flames eternally upon her: "La fiamma e bella! la fiamma e bella!" and thereat all evil seems to have been judged suddenly, and obliterated, as if God had laughed once, and wiped out the world.
Non credo io, no, che ardente fiamma Il cor ti avvampi." The ineffable grace of her action, simple without redundancy, her exquisite elocution, her deep yet controlled passion, and the magic of a voice thrilling even in a whisper this form of Phidias with the genius of Sophocles entirely enraptured a fastidious audience.
In her last cry before she is dragged to the stake, "La fiamma e bella! la fiamma e bella!" d'Annunzio, I have no doubt, meant no more than the obvious rhetoric suited to a situation of heroism. Out of his rhetoric this woman has created the horror and beauty of a supreme irony of anguish.
"Mentre che io canto, o Dio redentore, Vedo l'Italia tutta a fiamma e foco, Per questi Galli, che con gran valore Vengon, per disertar non so che loco: Però vi lascio in questo vano amore Di Fiordespina ardente poco a poco Un' altra volta, se mi fia concesso, Racconterovvi il tutto per espresso."
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