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The intercourse between Lorenzo and Pulci was of the most familiar kind. Pulci was sixteen years older, but of a nature which makes no such differences felt between associates. He had known Lorenzo from the latter's youth, probably from his birth is spoken of in a tone of domestic intimacy by his wife and is enumerated by him among his companions in a very special and characteristic manner in his poem on Hawking (La Caccia col Falcone), when, calling his fellow-sportsmen about him, and missing Luigi, one of them says that he has strolled into a neighbouring wood, to put something which has struck his fancy into a sonnet: "'Luigi Pulci ov' è, che non si sente? 'Egli se n' andò dianzi in quel boschetto, Che qualche fantasia ha per la mente; Vorr
Yes, I must tell you who I am, seeing you are to sit down at my hearth;" and unaffected by the stranger's gesture of anger, which seemed to say he cared not to know who Joel was, the latter proceeded: "My name is Joel ... I am the son of Marik, who was the son of Kirio ... Kirio was the son of Tiras ... Tiras was the son of Gomer ... Gomer was the son of Vorr ... Vorr was the son of Glenan ... Glenan, son of Erer, who was the son of Roderik, chosen brenn of the confederated Gallic army, who two hundred and seventy-six years ago levied tribute upon Rome in order to punish the Romans for their treachery.
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