_Luigi._ No need that sort of king should ever die!
_Among the rocks his city was:_ _Before his palace, in the sun,_ 180 _He sat to see his people pass,_ _And judge them every one_ _From its threshold of smooth stone._ _They haled him many a valley-thief_ _Caught in the sheep-pens, robber-chief_ 185 _Swarthy and shameless, beggar-cheat,_ _Spy-prowler, or rough pirate found_ _On the sea-sand left aground;_ _And sometimes clung about his feet,_ _With bleeding lid and burning cheek,_ 190 _A woman, bitterest wrong to speak_ _Of one with sullen thickset brows:_ _And sometimes from the prison-house_ _The angry priests a pale wretch brought,_ _Who through some chink had pushed and pressed_ 195 _On knees and elbows, belly and breast,_ _Worm-like into the temple--caught_ _He was by the very god,_ _Whoever in the darkness strode_ _Backward and forward, keeping watch_ 200 _O'er his brazen bowls, such rogues to catch!_ _These, all and everyone,_ _The king judged, sitting in the sun._
_Luigi._ That king should still judge sitting in the sun!
_His councilors, on left and right,_ 205 _Looked anxious up--but no surprise_ _Disturbed the king's old smiling eyes,_ _Where the very blue had turned to white._ _'Tis said, a Python scared one day_ _The breathless city, till he came,_ 210 _With forky tongue and eyes on flame,_ _Where the old king sat to judge alway;_ _But when he saw the sweepy hair_ _Girt with a crown of berries rare_ _Which the god will hardly give to wear_ 215 _To the maiden who singeth, dancing bare_ _In the altar-smoke by the pine-torch lights,_ _At his wondrous forest rites--_ _Seeing this, he did not dare_ _Approach that threshold in the sun,_ 220 _Assault the old king smiling there._ _Such grace had kings when the world begun!_
_Luigi._ And such grace have they, now that the world ends! The Python at the city, on the throne, And brave men, God would crown for slaying him, 225 Lurk in by-corners lest they fall his prey. Are crowns yet to be won in this late time, Which weakness makes me hesitate to reach? Tis God's voice calls; how could I stay? Farewell!
_Talk by the way, while_ PIPPA _is passing from the Turret to the Bishop's Brother's House, close to the Duomo S. Maria. Poor_ Girls _sitting on the steps._