The lamp whose oil's run out, in the moment

The lamp whose oil's run out, in the moment
of extinction, will glow suddenly, and
most brilliantly as it fails in those last
hours--this dying light's ardour, was yours

good Frederigo; in life you never
lost heart, seemed defeated; in death,
your belief became suddenly so strong,
radiant, sustained by an absolute

integrity. Anger, insults, countless traps
everywhere you strode on alone, truthful,
at peace, glad to be despised, your armor,

justice. Well now you're under a just king,
see you've won--nothing's hidden--the Sun's made
His clear day yours to dwell in forever.

An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition
From V CLXIV:324. See also B E21:213; MS PaI; 1548 Valgrisi; 1586; 1760 Rota. A third on the death of Fregoso. Key

Amaro Lagrimar
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