strike so characteristic a note in the works of the
satirical Mantuan, and seem so out of place in the
songs of Spenser and Milton. In one eclogue the
poet mourns over the ruin and desolation of Rome, as
a mother deserted of her children; another is a dialogue
between two shepherds, in which St. Peter, under the
pastoral disguise of Pamphilus, upbraids the licentious
Clement VI with the ignoble servitude in which he is
content to abide; a third shows us Clement wantoning
with the shameless mistress of a line of pontifical
shepherds, a figure allegorical of the corruption of
the Church[25]; in yet a fourth Petrarch laments his
estrangement from his patron Giovanni Colonna, a cardinal
in favour at the papal court, whom it would appear
his outspoken censures had offended. Petrarch’s
was not the only voice that was raised urging the
Pope to return from the ’Babylonian captivity,’
but the protest had peculiar significance from the
mouth of one who stood forth as the embodiment of
the new age still struggling in the throes of birth.
When ‘the first Italian’ accepted the laurel
crown at the Capitol, he dreamed of Rome as once more
the heart of the world, the city which should embody
that early Italian idea of nationality, the ideal
of the humanistic commonwealth. The course urged
alike by Petrarch and by St. Catherine was in the
end followed, but the years of exile were yet to bear
their bitterest fruit of mortification and disgrace.
In 1377 Gregory XI transferred the seat of the papacy
from Avignon to Rome, with the resuit that the world
was treated to the edifying spectacle of three prelates
each claiming to be the vicar of Christ and sole father
of the Church.
These ecclesiastical eclogues form the most important
contribution made by Italy’s greatest lyric
poet to pastoral. Others, one in honour of Robert
of Sicily, another recording the defeat of Pan by Articus
on the field of Poitiers, follow already existing
pastoral convention. Some few, again, of less
importance in literary history, are of greater personal
or poetic interest. In one we see Francesco and
his brother Gherardo wandering in the realm of shepherds,
and there exchanging their views concerning religious
verse. A group of three, standing apart from the
rest, connect themselves with the subject of the Canzoniere.
The first describes the ravages of the plague at Avignon;
the second mourns over the death of poetry in the
person of Laura, who fell a victim on April 6, 1348;
the third is a dirge sung by the shepherdesses over
her grave. One, lastly, a neo-classic companion
to Theocritus’ tale of Galatea, recounts the
poet’s unrequited homage to Daphne of the Laurels,
thus again suggesting the idealized source of Petrarch’s
inspiration. This poem is not only the gem of
the series, but embodies the mythopoeic spirit of classical
imagination in a manner unknown in the later days
of the renaissance.