There is much character about the following, which is spoken by the damo (p. 223):—­

  As yonder mountain height I trod,
  I chanced to think of your dear name;
  I knelt with clasped hands on the sod,
  And thought of my neglect with shame: 
  I knelt upon the stone, and swore
  Our love should bloom as heretofore.

Sometimes the language of affection takes a more imaginative tone, as in the following (p. 232):—­

  Dearest, what time you mount to heaven above,
  I’ll meet you holding in my hand my heart: 
  You to your breast shall clasp me full of love,
  And I will lead you to our Lord apart.

  Our Lord, when he our love so true hath known,
  Shall make of our two hearts one heart alone;
  One heart shall make of our two hearts, to rest
  In heaven amid the splendours of the blest.

This was the woman’s.  Here is the man’s (p. 113):—­

  If I were master of all loveliness,
  I’d make thee still more lovely than thou art: 
  If I were master of all wealthiness,
  Much gold and silver should be thine, sweetheart: 
  If I were master of the house of hell,
  I’d bar the brazen gates in thy sweet face;
  Or ruled the place where purging spirits dwell,
  I’d free thee from that punishment apace. 
  Were I in paradise and thou shouldst come,
  I’d stand aside, my love, to make thee room;
  Were I in paradise, well seated there,
  I’d quit my place to give it thee, my fair!

Sometimes, but very rarely, weird images are sought to clothe passion, as in the following (p. 136):—­

  Down into hell I went and thence returned: 
  Ah me! alas! the people that were there! 
  I found a room where many candles burned,
  And saw within my love that languished there. 
  When as she saw me, she was glad of cheer,
  And at the last she said:  Sweet soul of mine;
  Dost thou recall the time long past, so dear,
  When thou didst say to me, Sweet soul of mine? 
  Now kiss me on the mouth, my dearest, here;
  Kiss me that I for once may cease to pine! 
  So sweet, ah me, is thy dear mouth, so dear,
  That of thy mercy prithee sweeten mine! 
  Now, love, that thou hast kissed me, now, I say,
  Look not to leave this place again for aye.

Or again in this (p. 232):—­

  Methinks I hear, I hear a voice that cries: 
  Beyond the hill it floats upon the air. 
  It is my lover come to bid me rise,
  If I am fain forthwith toward heaven to fare. 
  But I have answered him, and said him No! 
  I’ve given my paradise, my heaven, for you: 
  Till we together go to paradise,
  I’ll stay on earth and love your beauteous eyes.

But it is not with such remote and eerie thoughts that the rustic muse of Italy can deal successfully.  Far better is the following half-playful description of love-sadness (p. 71):—­