THE FIFTH STORY
[Day the Fourth]
LISABETTA'S[240] BROTHERS SLAY HER LOVER, WHO APPEARETH TO HER IN A DREAM AND SHOWETH HER WHERE HE IS BURIED, WHEREUPON SHE PRIVILY DISINTERRETH HIS HEAD AND SETTETH IT IN A POT OF BASIL. THEREOVER MAKING MOAN A GREAT WHILE EVERY DAY, HER BROTHERS TAKE IT FROM HER AND SHE FOR GRIEF DIETH A LITTLE THEREAFTERWARD
[Footnote 240: This is the proper name of the heroine of the storyimmortalized by Keats as "Isabella or the Pot of Basil," and is one ofthe many forms of the and name _Elisabetta_ (Elizabeth), _Isabetta_and _Isabella_ being others. Some texts of the Decameron call theheroine _Isabetta_, but in the heading only, all with which I amacquainted agreeing in the use of the form _Lisabetta_ in the body ofthe story.]
Elisa's tale being ended and somedele commended of the king, Filomenawas bidden to discourse, who, full of compassion for the wretchedGerbino and his mistress, after a piteous sigh, began thus: "My story,gracious ladies, will not treat of folk of so high condition as werethose of whom Elisa hath told, yet peradventure it will be no lesspitiful; and what brought me in mind of it was the mention, a littlebefore, of Messina, where the case befell.
There were then in Messina three young brothers, merchants and leftvery rich by their father, who was a man of San Gimignano, and theyhad an only sister, Lisabetta by name, a right fair and well-manneredmaiden, whom, whatever might have been the reason thereof, they hadnot yet married. Now these brothers had in one of their warehouses ayouth of Pisa, called Lorenzo, who did and ordered all their affairsand was very comely and agreeable of person; wherefore, Lisabettalooking sundry times upon him, it befell that he began strangely toplease her; of which Lorenzo taking note at one time and another, hein like manner, leaving his other loves, began to turn his thoughts toher; and so went the affair, that, each being alike pleasing to theother, it was no great while before, taking assurance, they did thatwhich each of them most desired.
Continuing on this wise and enjoying great pleasure and delight one ofthe other, they knew not how to do so secretly but that, one night,Lisabetta, going whereas Lorenzo lay, was, unknown to herself, seen ofthe eldest of her brothers, who, being a prudent youth, for all theannoy it gave him to know this thing, being yet moved by morehonourable counsel, abode without sign or word till the morning,revolving in himself various things anent the matter. The day beingcome, he recounted to his brothers that which he had seen the pastnight of Lisabetta and Lorenzo, and after long advisement with them,determined (so that neither to them nor to their sister should anyreproach ensue thereof) to pass the thing over in silence and feign tohave seen and known nothing thereof till such time as, without hurt orunease to themselves, they might avail to do away this shame fromtheir sight, ere it should go farther. In this mind abiding anddevising and laughing with Lorenzo as was their wont, it befell thatone day, feigning to go forth the city, all three, a-pleasuring, theycarried him with them to a very lonely and remote place; and there,the occasion offering, they slew him, whilst he was off his guard, andburied him on such wise that none had knowledge of it; then, returningto Messina, they gave out that they had despatched him somewhither fortheir occasions, the which was the lightlier credited that they wereoften used to send him abroad about their business.
Lorenzo returning not and Lisabetta often and instantly questioningher brothers of him, as one to whom the long delay was grievous, itbefell one day, as she very urgently enquired of him, that one of themsaid to her, 'What meaneth this? What hast thou to do often of him? Anthou question of him with Lorenzo, that thou askest thus more, wewill make thee such answer as thou deservest.' Wherefore the girl, sadand grieving and fearful she knew not of what, abode without moreasking; yet many a time anights she piteously called him and prayedhim come to her, and whiles with many tears she complained of his longtarrying; and thus, without a moment's gladness, she abode expectinghim alway, till one night, having sore lamented Lorenzo for that hereturned not and being at last fallen asleep, weeping, he appeared toher in a dream, pale and all disordered, with clothes all rent andmouldered, and herseemed he bespoke her thus: 'Harkye, Lisabetta; thoudost nought but call upon me, grieving for my long delay and cruellyimpeaching me with thy tears. Know, therefore, that I may never morereturn to thee, for that, the last day thou sawest me, thy brothersslew me.' Then, having discovered to her the place where they hadburied him, he charged her no more call him nor expect him anddisappeared; whereupon she awoke and giving faith to the vision, weptbitterly.
In the morning, being risen and daring not say aught to her brothers,she determined to go to the place appointed and see if the thing weretrue, as it had appeared to her in the dream. Accordingly, havingleave to go somedele without the city for her disport, she betookherself thither,[241] as quickliest she might, in company of one whohad been with them[242] otherwhiles and knew all her affairs; andthere, clearing away the dead leaves from the place, she dug whereasherseemed the earth was less hard. She had not dug long before shefound the body of her unhappy lover, yet nothing changed nor rotted,and thence knew manifestly that her vision was true, wherefore she wasthe most distressful of women; yet, knowing that this was no place forlament, she would fain, an she but might, have borne away the wholebody, to give it fitter burial; but, seeing that this might not be,she with a knife did off[243] the head from the body, as best shecould, and wrapping it in a napkin, laid it in her maid's lap. Then,casting back the earth over the trunk, she departed thence, withoutbeing seen of any, and returned home, where, shutting herself in herchamber with her lover's head, she bewept it long and bitterly,insomuch that she bathed it all with her tears, and kissed it athousand times in every part. Then, taking a great and goodly pot, ofthose wherein they plant marjoram or sweet basil, she set the headtherein, folded in a fair linen cloth, and covered it with earth, inwhich she planted sundry heads of right fair basil of Salerno; nor didshe ever water these with other water than that of her tears or roseor orange-flower water. Moreover she took wont to sit still near thepot and to gaze amorously upon it with all her desire, as upon thatwhich held her Lorenzo hid; and after she had a great while lookedthereon, she would bend over it and fall to weeping so sore and solong that her tears bathed all the basil, which, by dint of long andassiduous tending, as well as by reason of the fatness of the earth,proceeding from the rotting head that was therein, waxed passing fairand very sweet of savour.
[Footnote 241: _i.e._ to the place shown her in the dream.]
[Footnote 242: _i.e._ in their service.]
[Footnote 243: Lit. unhung (_spicco_).]
The damsel, doing without cease after this wise, was sundry times seenof her neighbours, who to her brothers, marvelling at her waste beautyand that her eyes seemed to have fled forth her head [for weeping],related this, saying, 'We have noted that she doth every day aftersuch a fashion.' The brothers, hearing and seeing this and having onceand again reproved her therefor, but without avail, let secretly carryaway from her the pot, which she, missing, with the utmost instancemany a time required, and for that it was not restored to her, stintednot to weep and lament till she fell sick; nor in her sickness did sheask aught other than the pot of basil. The young men marvelled greatlyat this continual asking and bethought them therefor to see what wasin this pot. Accordingly, turning out the earth, they found the clothand therein the head, not yet so rotted but they might know it, by thecurled hair, to be that of Lorenzo. At this they were mightily amazedand feared lest the thing should get wind; wherefore, burying thehead, without word said, they privily departed Messina, having takenorder how they should withdraw thence, and betook themselves toNaples. The damsel, ceasing never from lamenting and still demandingher pot, died, weeping; and so her ill-fortuned love had end. But,after a while the thing being grown manifest unto many, there was onewho made thereon the song that is yet sung, to wit:
Alack! ah, who can the ill Christian be, That stole my pot away?" etc.[244]
[Footnote 244: The following is a translation of the w
hole of the songin question, as printed, from a MS. in the Medicean Library, inFanfani's edition of the Decameron.
Alack! ah, who can the ill Christian be, That stole my pot away,My pot of basil of Salern, from me? 'Twas thriv'n with many a sprayAnd I with mine own hand did plant the tree, Even on the festal[A] day.'Tis felony to waste another's ware.
'Tis felony to waste another's ware; Yea, and right grievous sin.And I, poor lass, that sowed myself whilere A pot with flowers therein,Slept in its shade, so great it was and fair; But folk, that envious bin,Stole it away even from my very door.
'Twas stolen away even from my very door. Full heavy was my cheer,(Ah, luckless maid, would I had died tofore!) Who brought[B] it passing dear,Yet kept ill ward thereon one day of fear. For him I loved so sore,I planted it with marjoram about.
I planted it with marjoram about, When May was blithe and new;Yea, thrice I watered it, week in, week out, And watched how well it grew:But now, for sure, away from me 'tis ta'en.
Ay, now, for sure, away from me 'tis ta'en; I may 't no longer hide.Had I but known (alas, regret is vain!) That which should me betide,Before my door on guard I would have lain To sleep, my flowers beside.Yet might the Great God ease me at His will.
Yea, God Most High might ease me, at His will, If but it liked Him well,Of him who wrought me such unright and ill; He into pangs of hellCast me who stole my basil-pot, that still Was full of such sweet smell,Its savour did all dole from me away.
All dole its savour did from me away; It was so redolent,When, with the risen sun, at early day To water it I went,The folk would marvel all at it and say, "Whence comes the sweetest scent?"And I for love of it shall surely die.
Yea, I for love of it shall surely die, For love and grief and pain.If one would tell me where it is, I'd buy It willingly again.Fivescore gold crowns, that in my pouch have I, I'd proffer him full fain,And eke a kiss, if so it liked the swain.]
[Footnote A: Quaere--natal?--perhaps meaning her birthday (_lo giornodella festa_).]
[Footnote B: Or "purchased" in the old sense of obtained, acquired(_accattai_).]