Jacopo de' Benedetti da Todi [pp. 630-642]

1883.] JACOPO DE' BEArEDETTI DA ToD!. 635
ing at least on the mutability of earthly things in the change
which had come over his destiny.
Meanwhile the thought of death left him no peace. He
sought consolation in the ceaseless study of the Holy Scriptures,
which he read again and again from beginning to end, dwelling
particularly on the warnings and denunciations of the prophets,
which he frequently imitated in his discourses. Of a less healthy
nature were the researches which led him from the study of
theology into the obscurities of mysticism-~n error which, while
it had its root in the dangerous sophistry of his past life, was not
without some influence on his subsequent career.
He had become a tertiary of St. Francis, but he longed for
a rule more austere, for an authority more complete; and the
strength and independence of his character required both. In
the year 1278 we find him knocking at the door of the Franciscan monastery, humbly asking for admittance. Day after day
lie was sent away, and at last it was represented to him that the
disturbed state of his mind did not allow of his becoming a friar.
Then for the first time Jacopo's eye lost its wild expression; he
looked steadily and calmly into the venerable face of the religious, drew from the folds of his ragged garment a sheet of
paper, and handed it to him with the words, "These are the
thoughts of mad Jacopo," then turned away and disappeared.
It was a poem in Latin, the first he is supposed to have wn'tten, of which the following is a translation:
Why doth the world so fierce for idle pomp contend,
Whose utmost happiness ere night must have an end?
Not sooner than its pride is to destruction brought
The earthen vessel which the potter's hand hath wrought.
"Rather thy trust in word written in snow repose
Than on such promise as the wodd unto thee shows:
`Tis but deceit whate'er it bids thee look upon
As virtue's best reward; trust in it place thou none!
Far better`twere to place thy trust in brittle glass
Than in earth's empty j~ys, which must so quickly pass
Dreams only. idle dreams, are all it gives to thee,
And all its wisdom is deceit and vanity.
"Say, where is Solomon, who once so mighty stood?
And where is Samson, whom no enemy subdued?
And where is Absalom, with his long, flowing hair?
And where is Jonathan, wofthy all love to share?