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Augustine, where he speaks of his own early love for Virgil, shows in its half-hysterical renunciation how great the charm of the Virgilian art had been, and still was, to him: Quid miserius misero, he cries, non miserante se ipsum, et flente Didonis mortem quae fiebat amando Aeneam, non flente autem mortem meam quae flebat non amando te?
"Chi puo dir com' egli arde, a in picciol fuoco," say the Innamoratos, when they would represent an 'insupportable passion. "Misero quod omneis Eripit sensus mihi: nam simul te, Lesbia, aspexi, nihil est super mi, Quod loquar amens. Lingua sed torpet: tenuis sub artus Flamma dimanat; sonitu suopte Tintinant aures; gemina teguntur Lumina nocte."
A collection of sentences which passes under the name of the latter was formed out of his works under the Empire, and enlarged from other sources in the Middle Ages. It supplies many admirable instances of the terse vigour of the Roman popular philosophy; some of these lines, like the famous Bene vixit is qui potuit cum voluit mori, or or O vitam misero longam, felici brevem!
A moment of silence followed, which was broken by the cry of Vinicius, "Væ misero mihi!" And the young man, casting his toga aside, rushed forth in his tunic. Nero raised his hands and exclaimed, "Woe to thee, sacred city of Priam!"
What a lot of pocket- handkerchiefs he must have used that day to dry the tears he shed for you! He no doubt, too, swallowed at least three ounces of cream of tartar to drive away the horrid evil humors in his body. Just before beginning this letter I composed an air from the "Demetrio" of Metastasio, which begins thus, "Misero tu non sei." The opera at Mantua was very good. They gave "Demetrio."
"Vae tibi, vae misero, nisi circumspexeris artes Femineas, nam nulla salus quin femina possit Tradere, nulla fides quin" "Quin," he repeated. In writing soliloquies, his trouble was to curb inspiration. The thought that he was addressing his heir-presumptive now heir-only-too-apparent gave him pause. Nor, he reflected, was he addressing this brute only, but a huge posthumous audience.
In that case Lygia was lost to him forever. It was possible to wrest her from the hands of any one else, but not from the hands of Cæsar. Now, with greater truth than ever, could he exclaim, "Væ misero mihi!" His imagination represented Lygia in Nero's arms, and, for the first time in life, he understood that there are thoughts which are simply beyond man's endurance.
Perdone usted, Matilde, si absorbido en mis tristes meditaciones ... perdone usted ... la desgracia hace injusto al mísero a quien agobia ... y yo ya me había rendido al desaliento, persuadido a que usted persistiría en su cruel negativa.
There is no action can betide me, or imagination possesse me, but I heare him saying, as indeed he would have done to me: for even as he did excell me by an infinite distance in all other sufficiencies and vertues, so did he in all offices and duties of friendship. What modesty or measure may I beare, In want and wish of him that was so deare? O misero frater adempte mihi!
Sometimes, as in the episode of Ugolino, it even rises to something like the grandeur of the original: "When he had said this, with his eyes distorted, The wretched skull resumed he with his teeth, Which, as a dog's, upon the bone were strong." "Quand' ebbe detto cio, eon gli occhi torti Riprese il teschio misero coi denti, Che furo all' osso, come d'un can, forti." Inferno, XXXIII. 76.
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