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From An Anthology of Italian Poems 13th-19th Century selected and translated by Lorna de’ Lucchi, Alfred A. Knopf, New York; 1922; pp. 116-117, 352.
Elf.Ed. To conform to modern tastes, I have taken the liberty of changing thou, to you, hath, to has, etc. 100 years ago these forms were not irritating to people who read poetry. Now it is. That emotion was in no way what any translator wishes to inspire, so I expect that she wouldn’t object, nor would Machiavelli, I hope. The original Italian, and the original English (with the thou’s and thee’s and hath’s, etc., and a brief biography by Ms. de’ Lucchi follow this very slight modernization.
[117]
NICCOLÒ MACHIAVELLI, 1469-1527
Capitolo L’Occasïone
Updated by S. Rhoads
“WHO are you? Mortal woman is less sweet;
The Heavens have richly decked and dowered you! Why
So restless? Why these wings upon your feet?”
“Few know me, Opportunity am I.
The reason that I never can be still
Is because on a wheel my foot does lie;
Unto my course no flight but matches ill,
Because, all are so dazzled as I run,
Wings on my feet I have maintained; I spill
My tresses forward that they flow as spun
Veil covering over face and bosom, so
In passing I be recognized by none;
Behind my head no single hair does grow,
So that he gazes vainly when maybe
I hasten by or look back as I go.”
“Tell me, who is it that does accompany you?”
“She is called Penitence: O take good care,
He does keep her who cannot capture me!
And you who chattering does waste time so rare,
Immersed in matters vain and manifold,
Alas, have you not seen, nor are aware
That I meanwhile have slipped out of your hold!”
Elf.Ed. Interestingly, there was an ancient Greek statue of Kairos, or Opportunity, by Lysippos, who was personified as a man. On this site, there is a poem describing it in much the same terms: XIV, On A Figure of Luck by Poseidippos, trans. by Edward Storer.
Lorna De’ Lucchi’s Original Version
Capitolo L’Occasïone
“WHO art thou? Mortal woman were less sweet;
The Heavens have richly decked and dowered thee! Why
So restless? Whence these wings upon thy feet?”
“Few know me, Opportunity am I.
The reason that I never can be still
Is because on a wheel my foot doth lie;
Unto my course no flight but matcheth ill,
Nathless, so all be dazzled as I run,
Wings on my feet I have maintained; I spill
My tresses forwards that they flow as spun
Veil covering over face and bosom, so
In passing I be recognized by none;
Behind my head no single hair doth grow,
Wherefore he gazeth vainly when maybe
I hasten by or look back as I go.”
“Tell me, who is it that accompanieth thee?”
“She is called Penitence: O take good care,
He keepeth her who cannot capture me!
And thou who chattering wastest time so rare,
Immersed in matters vain and manifold,
Alas, hast thou not seen, nor art aware
That I meanwhile have slipped out of thy hold!”
[116]
NICCOLÒ MACHIAVELLI, 1469-1527
Capitolo L’Occasïone
“CHI sei tu, che non par donna mortale,
di tanta grazia il ciel t’adorna e dota?
perchè non posi? e erchèa’ piedi hai l’ ale?”
“Io son l’ Occasïone, a pochi nota;
e la cagion che sempre mi travagli
è perchè io tengo un piè sopra una rota.
Volar non è ch’ al mio correr s’ agguagli;
e però l’ ale a’ piedi mi mantengo,
acciò nel corso mio ciascuno abbagli.
Gli sparsi miei capei dinanzi io tengo;
con essi mi ricopro il pette e ’l volto,
perch’ un non mi conosca quando io vengo.
Dietro dal capo ogni capel m’ è tolto,
onde in van si affatica un, se gli avviene
ch’ io l’ abbia trapassato, o s’ io mi volto.”
“Dimmi: chi è colei che teco viene?”
“È Penitenza; e però nota e intendi:
chi non sa prender me, costei ritiene.
E tu, mentre parlando il tempo spendi,
occupato da molti pensier vani,
già non t’ avvedi, lasso! e non comprendi
com’ io ti son fuggita tra le mani!”
[352]
NOTES
NICCOLÒ MACHIAVELLI, born at Florence; served the Republic as Secretary in 1498; went on various missions; was dismissed on the return of the Medici in 1512, and persecuted and imprisoned by them; in 1519 regained their favour and was invested with some minor offices; of the fall of the Medici in 1527 he lost all these and died in poverty; is buried in Santa Croce, at Florence. His works are: Il Principe, Arte della Guerra, Discorsi sopra la prima Deca di T. Livio, Le Istorie Fiorentine, La Mandragola, a comedy, I Decennali, some rhymes and capitoli. He was one of the most powerful political intellects of all time; a pioneer of Italian historical science; he attempted to organize the Florentine militia, and insisted on its necessity and on the folly of employing mercenaries; a master of prose style.
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