Note my — CANTO THE FOURTH[375]
Reading edition
Boccaccio to his parent earth, bequeathed The dust derived from thence—doth it not lie With many a sweet and solemn requiem breathed O'er him who formed the tongue of Italy That music in itself whose harmony Asks for no tune to make it song; No—torn From earth—and scattered while the silent sky Hushed its indignant Winds—with quiet scorn The Hyæna bigots thus forbade a World to mourn.—[D. erased.]