Not always do fierce tempests vex the sea,
    Nor always clinging clouds offend the sky;
  Cold snows before the sunbeams haste to flee,
    Disclosing flowers that ’neath their whiteness lie;
  The saints each one doth wait his day to see,
    And time makes all things change; so, therefore, I
  Ween that ’tis wise to wait my turn, and say,
  That who subdues himself, deserves to sway.

It will be observed that the tone of these poems is not passionate nor elevated.  Love, as understood in Florence of the fifteenth century, was neither; nor was Poliziano the man to have revived Platonic mysteries or chivalrous enthusiasms.  When the octave stanzas, written with this amorous intention, were strung together into a continuous poem, this form of verse took the title of Rispetto Gontinuato.  In the collection of Poliziano’s poems there are several examples of the long Rispetto, carelessly enough composed, as may be gathered from the recurrence of the same stanzas in several poems.  All repeat the old arguments, the old enticements to a less than lawful love.  The one which I have chosen for translation, styled Serenata ovvero Lettera in Istrambotti, might be selected as an epitome of Florentine convention in the matter of love-making.

  O thou of fairest fairs the first and queen,
    Most courteous, kind, and honourable dame,
  Thine ear unto thy servant’s singing lean,
    Who loves thee more than health, or wealth, or fame;
  For thou his shining planet still hast been,
    And day and night he calls on thy fair name: 
  First wishing thee all good the world can give,
  Next praying in thy gentle thoughts to live.

  He humbly prayeth that thou shouldst be kind
    To think upon his pure and perfect faith,
  And that such mercy in thy heart and mind
    Should reign, as so much beauty argueth: 
  A thousand, thousand hints, or he were blind,
    Of thy great courtesy he reckoneth: 
  Wherefore thy loyal subject now doth sue
  Such guerdon only as shall prove them true.

  He knows himself unmeet for love from thee,
    Unmeet for merely gazing on thine eyes;
  Seeing thy comely squires so plenteous be,
    That there is none but ’neath thy beauty sighs: 
  Yet since thou seekest fame and bravery,
    Nor carest aught for gauds that others prize,
  And since he strives to honour thee alway,
  He still hath hope to gain thy heart one day.

  Virtue that dwells untold, unknown, unseen,
    Still findeth none to love or value it;
  Wherefore his faith, that hath so perfect been,
    Not being known, can profit him no whit: 
  He would find pity in thine eyes, I ween,
    If thou shouldst deign to make some proof of it;
  The rest may flatter, gape, and stand agaze;
  Him only faith above the crowd doth raise.