human
Can you write me a poem about pietro mellini and hartmann von aue in the style of Charles James Lever?
assistant
Sure, here's a poem about pietro mellini and hartmann von aue in the style of Charles James Lever:
  intention: the school of Giotto. The Giottesques are more than
reverential and proper in behaviour, with no more possibility of
Donatello's David, only a cleverer, more experienced, but less
portrait-sculpture arises again where it was left by Graeco-Roman
It is, essentially, that kind of beauty which I began by saying
Benedetto da Maiano's bust of Pietro Mellini in the Bargello at
A great and charitable art, this realistic art of the seventeenth
"Le donne, i cavalieri, l' armi, gli amori."
We are apt to think of the Middle Ages as if they were the
equivocal; perhaps even a hankering after a mysterious compromise
The paramount impression (I cannot say the strongest, for strong
impressions are incompatible with such work as this) left by the
everything seems artistic; Hartmann von Aue reads like Chaucer,
Arthurian elements, were apparently cherished by a lower class of
unreality further increased by the fact that the Italians had no
But meanwhile, for all that Florentine burgesses, artizans, and
To understand Boiardo we must compare him with Ariosto; and to
penetrated.
irrational one that he gives me more pleasure. My preferences, my
listened to the filthy songs which they trolled out in their
relationships of individuals, of the latter half of the sixteenth
So passeth, in the passing of a day,
Of mortall life the leafe, the bud, the flowre
No more doth florish after first decay,
That earst was sought to deck both bed and bowre
Of many a lady, and many a Paramowre.
Gather therefore the Rose whilest yet is prime,
For soone comes age that will her pride deflowre;
Gather the Rose of love whitest yet is time,
Whitest loving thou mayest loved be withe equall crime.
realities, of the Elizabethan dramatists, even of weaklings like
Massinger and Beaumont. In Tasso and in Spenser there is no such
Renaissance had clung, which made it sympathize with Huon, Ogier,
blood-stained filth. The humanistic and rationalistic men of the
Public nothings,
Abortives of the fabulous dark cloister,
Sent out to poison courts, and infect manners--
Thus did the mediaeval romantic-epic stuffs suffer alteration,
On laying down the "Vita Nuova" our soul is at first filled and
triumphantly successful or sighingly despairing. The man and the
glorified Mother of God; for both are women, both are ladies, and
half-religious, the bonds of complete humility and never-ending
But if we seek more than a mere casual impression; if, instead of
Chrestiens de Troyes, Gaisses Brulez, or Quienes de Bethune, like
daughters, scarcely out of the nurse's hands, are given away in
Vos qui tres bien ameis i petit mentendeis
Por l'amor de Ihesu les pucelles ameis.
Nos trouvons en escris de sainte auctoriteis
Ke pucelle est la fleur de loyaulment ameir.
Set thy might and alle thy witte
Wymmen and ladies for to plese,
And to do thyng that may hem ese;
while, for the lady, it is expressed with perfect simplicity of
"Altfranzoesische Lieder-dichter." The catastrophe of Ulrich von
Navarre; the most delicate love songs of Provence and Germany are
Et les dames ki castement vivront
Se loiaute font a ceus qui iront;
Et seles font par mal conseil folaje,
A lasques gens et mauvais le feront,
Car tout li bon iront en cest voiage.
Se jai mamie en tel point mis,
Que tout motroit (m'octroit) sans esformer,
Tant doi je miex sonnor gaiter--
Strassburg, took in hand the old threadbare story of "Tristan und
relations, the gradual metamorphosis of soul by soul, between two
certainly no deliberate innovator, and these thing's are the mere
Yet if we seek again to account to ourselves for this astonishing
absence of love, any virtue save loving. And so serene is the old
Little by little therefore, together with the carnal desires of
dominabitur mihi!"
lady--"Tanto gentile e tanto onesta pare."
"She passes along the street so beautiful and gracious," says
combination of the number nine (and that curious little bit of
graciously salute her friends: the sight of her grave and pure
benedictus._
But is it right that we should feel thus? Is it right that love,
wastefulness of emotions, wastefulness of time, which constitute
deliberately unselfish, more self-consciously ethical, we must
acknowledge and honour as holy.
Nuova"--for the "Vita Nuova" had concentrated in itself all the
intensest characteristics of Dante's immediate predecessors and
semi-artificial love; frequenting her house, writing sonnet after
countries, in Italy, and France, and Spain, and Portugal, by the
untouched; or refinements of extreme detail, as in the case,
Why so? Because, it appears to me, after watching the lines of my
Decameronian _novella_, is possessed by many of the Keltic tales,
inherited from Greece, man's energies of thought and feeling were