we can speak. The first of these in chronological order is Bernardo Tasso (1493–1568), whom we have already met as the author of the Amadigi. In his lyrical as in his epical attempts, Tasso is one of those provoking poets who are always trembling on the' verge of excellence, ever good, hardly ever quite good enough. Even the famous sonnet on his renunciation of his lady, which, Dolce tells us, thrilled Italy, is less eminent for the beauty of the poetry than the nobility of the sentiment. Once, however, straying within the domain of pastoral poetry, he found and polished a gem worthy of the Greek Anthology:
"The herb and floweret of my verdant shore,
Shepherd, thy pasturing flock's possession be;
And thine the olive and the mulberry
That mantle these fair hillocks o'er and o'er.
But be my fountain's fresh and sparkling store
Of gushing waters undisturbed by thee,
For they are vowed to Muses' ministry,
And whoso drinks is poet evermore.
Solely for these and for Apollo fit,
And Loves and Nymphs the sacred stream doth burst,
Or haply some fair swan may drink of it;
But thou, if not a swain untutored, first
Thy dues to Love in melody acquit,
Then with the bubbling coolness quench thy thirst."
Another poet of the time vies with Bernardo Tasso in nobility of character, evinced in his case by the fervour of his patriotism. The bulk of the verse of Guido Guidiccioni, Bishop of Fossombrone (1500–41), consists of insipid love-strains in the style of Bembo and Molza; but when he touches upon the wrongs and misfortunes of his country he becomes inspired, and speaks in tones of alternate majesty and pathos, to
