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"Deja la ney encrumis la naturo, Tout es tranquille et tout cargo lou dol; Dins lou clouche la brezago murmuro, Et lou tuquet succedo al rossignol: Del mal, helas! bebi jusq'a la ligo, Moun co gemis sans espouer de gari; Plus de bounhur, ey perdut moun amigo, Me cal mouri! me cal mouri!"
"Weep, Pistoja," says Petrarch, in not the least musical of his perfect sonnets, in celebrating the death of his master "Pianga Pistoia e i cittadin perversi Che perdut' hanno si dolce vicino; E rallegres' il ciel or' ello è gito."
All these as displayed in conversation, were known to few while he lived, and are now silent in the tomb: 'Ahi orbo mondo ingrato! Gran cagion hai di dever pianger meco; Che quel ben ch' era in te, perdut' hai seco. Shelley loved the People; and respected them as often more virtuous, as always more suffering, and therefore more deserving of sympathy, than the great.
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