Sigismondo Boldoni
Appearance
Sigismondo Boldoni (Bellano, July 5, 1597 – Pavia, July 3, 1630) was an Italian writer and poet, who inspired Alessandro Manzoni and The Betrothed.
Quotes
[edit]- It is Lierna who ennobles all of Lake Como.
- È Lierna che nobilita tutto il Lago di Como.
- Sigismondo Boldoni cited in p. 145, Maurizio Monti, Storia antica di Como, vol. 1, Società tipografica de' classici italiani, Storia antica di Como, 1860.
- È Lierna che nobilita tutto il Lago di Como.
- Odono a destra il suon, vedon le spume Del fiume che dal Latte il nome prende. Che quando dei Rifei l’orrida bruma Col pruinoso crin gelata scende, Fugge nell’alto speco, u’ non alluma Nè mai dall’altra solia egli discende Nè la canuta testa osa scoprire, Sì teme egli del verno i colpi e l’ire. Ma quando poi ride vezzoso il cielo E coi zeffiri scherza il lito e l’onda, E fugge in stille liquefatto il gelo Movei dalla caverna alta e profonda, E mugge orrendo, e fa da bianco velo Spumosi i sassi, e l’erto colle inonda, E di gelato umore al monte aprico Sparge gli omeri eccelsi e ’l mento antico
- On the right they hear the sound, they see the foam Of the river that takes its name from Milk. For when the dreadful frost of the Rifei Descends with its frosty mane, It flees into the high cave, where it does not illuminate Nor does it ever descend from the other sole Nor does the hoary head dare to uncover itself, So it fears the blows and the anger of winter. But when then the sky, charming, laughs And plays with the shore and the wave with the zephyrs, And the frozen ice melts into still drops It moves from the high and deep cavern, And it bellows horribly, and makes a white veil Foaming the rocks, and floods the steep hill, And with its frozen moisture to the sunny mountain It spreads its lofty shoulders and its ancient chin.
- Sigismondo Boldoni, La caduta dei Longobardi. Canto IV, Milano, 1656
- On the right they hear the sound, they see the foam Of the river that takes its name from Milk. For when the dreadful frost of the Rifei Descends with its frosty mane, It flees into the high cave, where it does not illuminate Nor does it ever descend from the other sole Nor does the hoary head dare to uncover itself, So it fears the blows and the anger of winter. But when then the sky, charming, laughs And plays with the shore and the wave with the zephyrs, And the frozen ice melts into still drops It moves from the high and deep cavern, And it bellows horribly, and makes a white veil Foaming the rocks, and floods the steep hill, And with its frozen moisture to the sunny mountain It spreads its lofty shoulders and its ancient chin.