The Decameron by Giovanni Boccaccio (best classic books of all time txt) π
Description
In the time of a devastating pandemic, seven women and three men withdraw to a country estate outside Florence to give themselves a diversion from the death around them. Once there, they decide to spend some time each day telling stories, each of the ten to tell one story each day. They do this for ten days, with a few other days of rest in between, resulting in the 100 stories of the Decameron.
The Decameron was written after the Black Plague spread through Italy in 1348. Most of the tales did not originate with Boccaccio; some of them were centuries old already in his time, but Boccaccio imbued them all with his distinctive style. The stories run the gamut from tragedy to comedy, from lewd to inspiring, and sometimes all of those at once. They also provide a detailed picture of daily life in fourteenth-century Italy.
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- Author: Giovanni Boccaccio
Read book online Β«The Decameron by Giovanni Boccaccio (best classic books of all time txt) πΒ». Author - Giovanni Boccaccio
All commended the queen of that which she had said, holding it sagely spoken, and rising to their feet, addressed themselves, this to one kind of diversion and that to another, the ladies to weaving garlands and to gambolling and the young men to gaming and singing. On this wise they passed the time until the supper-hour, which being come, they supped with mirth and good cheer about the fair fountain and after diverted themselves with singing and dancing according to the wonted usance. At last, the queen, to ensue the fashion of her predecessors, commanded Pamfilo to sing a song, notwithstanding those which sundry of the company had already sung of their free-will; and he readily began thus:
Such is thy pleasure, Love
And such the allegresse I feel thereby
That happy, burning in thy fire, am I.
The abounding gladness in my heart that glows,
For the high joy and dear
Whereto thou hast me led,
Unable to contain there, overflows
And in my faceβs cheer
Displays my happihead;
For being enamourΓ©d
In such a worship-worthy place and high
Makes eath to me the burning I aby.
I cannot with my finger what I feel
Limn, Love, nor do I know
My bliss in song to vent;
Nay, though I knew it, needs must I conceal,
For, once divulged, I trow
βTwould turn to dreariment.
Yet am I so content,
All speech were halt and feeble, did I try
The least thereof with words to signify.
Who might conceive it that these arms of mine
Should anywise attain
Whereas Iβve held them aye,
Or that my face should reach so fair a shrine
As that, of favour fain
And grace, Iβve won to? Nay,
Such fortune neβer a day
Believed me were; whence all afire am I,
Hiding the source of my liesse thereby.
This was the end of Pamfiloβs song, whereto albeit it had been completely responded of all, there was none but noted the words thereof with more attent solicitude than pertained unto him, studying to divine that which, as he sang, it behoved him to keep hidden from them; and although sundry went imagining various things, nevertheless none happened upon the truth of the case.424 But the queen, seeing that the song was ended and that both young ladies and men would gladly rest themselves, commanded that all should betake themselves to bed.
Here endeth the Eighth Day of the Decameron.
Day the Ninth Day the Ninth IntroductionHere beginneth the ninth day of the Decameron wherein under the governance of Emilia each discourseth according as it pleaseth him and of that which is most to his liking.
The light, from whose resplendence the night fleeth, had already changed all the eighth heaven425 from azure to watchet-colour426 and the flowerets began to lift their heads along the meads, when Emilia, uprising, let call the ladies her comrades and on like wise the young men, who, being come, fared forth, ensuing the slow steps of the queen, and betook themselves to a coppice but little distant from the palace. Therein entering, they saw the animals, wild goats and deer and others, as if assured of security from the hunters by reason of the prevailing pestilence, stand awaiting them no otherwise than as they were grown without fear or tame, and diverted themselves awhile with them, drawing near, now to this one and now to that, as if they would fain lay hands on them, and making them run and skip. But, the sun now waxing high, they deemed it well to turn back. They were all garlanded with oak leaves, with their hands full of flowers and sweet-scented herbs, and whoso encountered them had said no otherwhat than βOr these shall not be overcome of death or it will slay them merry.β On this wise, then, they fared on, step by step, singing and chatting and laughing, till they came to the palace, where they found everything orderly disposed and their servants full of mirth and joyous cheer. There having rested awhile, they went not to dinner till half a dozen canzonets, each
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