Had not the folk

And as unto mine eyes it grew more fair,
  With voice more sweet and tender, but not in
  This modern dialect, it said to me:

"From uttering of the 'Ave,' till the birth
  In which my mother, who is now a saint,
  Of me was lightened who had been her burden,

Unto its Lion had this fire returned
  Five hundred fifty times and thirty more,
  To reinflame itself beneath his paw.

My ancestors and I our birthplace had
  Where first is found the last ward of the city
  By him who runneth in your annual game.

Suffice it of my elders to hear this;
  But who they were, and whence they thither came,
  Silence is more considerate than speech.

All those who at that time were there between
  Mars and the Baptist, fit for bearing arms,
  Were a fifth part of those who now are living;

But the community, that now is mixed
  With Campi and Certaldo and Figghine,
  Pure in the lowest artisan was seen.

O how much better 'twere to have as neighbours
  The folk of whom I speak, and at Galluzzo
  And at Trespiano have your boundary,

Than have them in the town, and bear the stench
  Of Aguglione's churl, and him of Signa
  Who has sharp eyes for trickery already.

Had not the folk, which most of all the world
  Degenerates, been a step-dame unto Caesar,
  But as a mother to her son benignant,