Gleaming reflections of fires off pale
armor. All I can see for miles around.
The noises of coming war, plaintive cries
replace this land's sweet song, the mother's laugh.
Oh, think again. Do not do this. Be like
Christ's first follower. Clothe yourself in his
mantle: show some humility. Shepherd,
yours ought to be works of noble beauty.
If pride didn't blind you, you'd see your sons:
we share an old culture, are bonded through
aeons of custom and good deeds done for
each other. Under one sky, from one womb
born, our grandparents sat down to eat in
the kind shade of one city together.
|An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition|
From V CXL:300. See also B E22:214; No MS; 1548 Valgrisi; 1586; 1760 Rota. Translations: Roscoe 346; Lawley 89-90; Bouchard 169; Thérault 476-7. To Pope Paul III (Alessandro Farnese), written between May and June 1541, during salt war, and destruction of Colonna strongholds by Pope Paul III's army; Tordi, "VC @ Orvieto," 501-2. Key