Analysis of Poem Fra Lippo Lippi by Robert Browning
Robert Browning and A Summary of Fra Lippo Lippi
Fra Lippo Lippi is one of Browning's best known poems, a long dramatic monologue in blank verse that brings painter and monk, brother Lippo, centre stage.
Based on a real life Florentine painter who lived from 1406 -1469, this speaker exemplifies Browning's ability to create authentic characters for his longer poems. Lippo is capable of developing complex arguments whilst bringing a personal slant to all the goings on in his life.
He is an artist who passionately wants to paint simple beauty of human form but is put off by the constant criticism and demands of the Prior and the learned who cry: Paint the soul, never mind the legs and arms!
- So the main theme of this poem is that of artistic honesty - should Lippo paint real people, flesh and all, or paint the souls of men in an attempt to lift them above things of the flesh?
- Basically the question being posed is: Should religious art portray humans as refined creatures with soul or should religious art reflect reality, warts and all?
- Browning's gift is to bring Lippo colourfully alive through dynamic use of language and ally this with genuine interaction on the street as the monk meets and tells of various people, working his way through the subject of art and personal history.
- Lippo's character is subtle, crafty, gossipy, astute, knowledgeable. It's difficult to tell just exactly what he's been up to in the city but he is keen to impress his opinion on the watchmen/policemen who stop him.
In one sense this is a slice of drama disguised as a poem - it could have been taken straight out of a play, such is the quality of the monologue, the storyline and the involvement of Lippo in real life and in the arguments with his religious elders.
The reader is taken in immediately because the first person speaker gets straight into action when he's apprehended by two city policemen at midnight. They grab hold of him thinking he's a monk (in the vicinity of the red light district) but he soon reveals all - in line 39 - when he declares Yes, I'm the painter.
Lippo goes on to tell them his life story, how he was abandoned as a child and taken in by those at the monastery. Most thought him an 'urchin', a good for nothing who should be thrown out, but Lippo got used to monastic life and eventually started to draw and paint.
A great many lines in this poem deal with the subject of religious art and what it should represent and why, according to Lippo or his elders. The fascination comes in the characterful expression of Lippo which, when delved into, provides added universal interest for the reader as the monologue progresses.
In some respects Lippo is the mouthpiece of Browning himself, who preferred the earthy and realistic in art rather than the ideal.
It was first published in 1855 in the book Men and Women.
Fra Lippo Lippi - Brief Summary
Lines 1 - 38 Brother Lippo caught at midnight by city policemen. Gives his excuses, tries a bribe.
Lines 39 - 80 Declares himself the painter. He's been working on a saints and saints and saints painting for 6 weeks and has gone a bit loopy, hence his escape. Start of debate: realism or idealism in art?
Lines 81 - 128 Details personal history and time spent on streets and in monastery.
Lines 129 - 392 More detailed argument on merits of art. Religious elders want soul, he loves to paint flesh.
Fra Lippo Lippi
2. You need not clap your torches to my face.
3. Zooks, what's to blame? you think you see a monk!
4. What, 'tis past midnight, and you go the rounds,
5. And here you catch me at an alley's end
6. Where sportive ladies leave their doors ajar?
7. The Carmine's my cloister: hunt it up,
8. Do,--harry out, if you must show your zeal,
9. Whatever rat, there, haps on his wrong hole,
10. And nip each softling of a wee white mouse,
11. Weke, weke, that's crept to keep him company!
12. Aha, you know your betters! Then, you'll take
13. Your hand away that's fiddling on my throat,
14. And please to know me likewise. Who am I?
15. Why, one, sir, who is lodging with a friend
16. Three streets off--he's a certain . . . how d'ye call?
18. I' the house that caps the corner. Boh! you were best!
19. Remember and tell me, the day you're hanged,
20. How you affected such a gullet's-gripe!
21. But you, sir, it concerns you that your knaves
22. Pick up a manner nor discredit you:
23. Zooks, are we pilchards, that they sweep the streets
24. And count fair price what comes into their net?
25. He's Judas to a tittle, that man is!
26. Just such a face! Why, sir, you make amends.
27. Lord, I'm not angry! Bid your hang-dogs go
28. Drink out this quarter-florin to the health
29. Of the munificent House that harbours me
30. (And many more beside, lads! more beside!)
31. And all's come square again. I'd like his face--
32. His, elbowing on his comrade in the door
33. With the pike and lantern,--for the slave that holds
34. John Baptist's head a-dangle by the hair
35. With one hand ("Look you, now," as who should say)
36. And his weapon in the other, yet unwiped!
37. It's not your chance to have a bit of chalk,
38. A wood-coal or the like? or you should see!
39. Yes, I'm the painter, since you style me so.
40. What, brother Lippo's doings, up and down,
41. You know them and they take you? like enough!
42. I saw the proper twinkle in your eye--
43. 'Tell you, I liked your looks at very first.
44. Let's sit and set things straight now, hip to haunch.
45. Here's spring come, and the nights one makes up bands
46. To roam the town and sing out carnival,
47. And I've been three weeks shut within my mew,
48. A-painting for the great man, saints and saints
49. And saints again. I could not paint all night--
50. Ouf! I leaned out of window for fresh air.
51. There came a hurry of feet and little feet,
52. A sweep of lute strings, laughs, and whifts of song, --
54. Take away love, and our earth is a tomb!
55. Flower o' the quince,
56. I let Lisa go, and what good in life since?
57. Flower o' the thyme--and so on. Round they went.
58. Scarce had they turned the corner when a titter
59. Like the skipping of rabbits by moonlight,--three slim shapes,
60. And a face that looked up . . . zooks, sir, flesh and blood,
61. That's all I'm made of! Into shreds it went,
62. Curtain and counterpane and coverlet,
63. All the bed-furniture--a dozen knots,
64. There was a ladder! Down I let myself,
65. Hands and feet, scrambling somehow, and so dropped,
66. And after them. I came up with the fun
68. Flower o' the rose,
69. If I've been merry, what matter who knows?
70. And so as I was stealing back again
71. To get to bed and have a bit of sleep
72. Ere I rise up to-morrow and go work
74. With his great round stone to subdue the flesh,
75. You snap me of the sudden. Ah, I see!
76. Though your eye twinkles still, you shake your head--
77. Mine's shaved--a monk, you say--the sting 's in that!
78. If Master Cosimo announced himself,
79. Mum's the word naturally; but a monk!
80. Come, what am I a beast for? tell us, now!
Fra Lippo Lippi by Robert Browning
- Fra Lippo Lippi by Robert Browning | Poetry Foundation
I am poor brother Lippo, by your leave!
Summary Analysis of Fra Lippo Lippi - Lines 1 - 269
Fra Lippo Lippi focuses on the life of one poor brother monk Lippo, also a painter living in Florence during the 15th century.
He is the speaker, the voice, created by Browning to put forward the argument for realistic religious art, legs and arms and flesh, as opposed to the saintly portrayal of the soul, which his monastic elders demand.
- The first thirty eight lines focus on the excitable character of Lippo, caught by one of the city's night watchmen (guards or policemen) who apprehend him around midnight.
- The fact that he's close to the red light district must have raised their suspicions.
- This is a first person narrative throughout.
Lippo is somewhat shocked by their actions - in lines 13 and 20 he refers to the fact that a hand is around his throat, which doesn't anger him but inspires him to say that he, Lippo, is the equivalent of a pilchard, caught up in a net.
Browning's keen sense of humour and farce begins to show its face. His diction is full of colour and texture and of course, drama.
Lippo then tries to bribe the watchmen with a quarter-florin (a coin first struck in Florence in the 13th century) which will make amends for their physical approach to him but nothing seems to come of this.
Eventually Lippo focuses in on the face of one of the watchmen, comparing it to that of Judas, and asks if any of them have a piece of chalk or charcoal (wood-coal) handy? Because he presumably would like to sketch him.
- So it is that in line 39 Lippo admits to being the painter and sits down to tell the watchmen how he came to be out on the street at such a late hour.
- This explanation stretches out up to line 80.
It appears that Lippo has spent three weeks in his mew (cage) cooped up painting saints and saints and saints again....for the great man, which must be the Prior or God.
No doubt fatigued by this burdensome toil he happened to be distracted by a passing band of musicians. They sounded so full of fun and mirth that, on impulse, Lippo there and then decided that he must join them.
So without hesitation he tore up his bed furniture and made an escape ladder down from the window to the street.
Basically Lippo his claiming his innocence - all he wanted was a bit of fun, some light relief from all the painting, so he joined the band for some late night laughs and was just on his way back home when they, the policemen, caught him.
- Lippo now outlines his personal history, his life story, beginning in line 81. This develops into the story of his artistic endeavours and his growing up in the monastery.
- Soon the reader becomes aware of the tensions arising from the needs and demands of the Prior and the learned regarding religious art, (174-198) and the personal preferences of Lippo.
- By line 222 Lippo has given his life story and basic foundation for his artistic argument.
- By line 269 more detail emerges about his take on why art should be realistic and the personal strain he's under to fulfil his role.
Fra Lippo Lippi Lines 81-269
81.I was a baby when my mother died
82And father died and left me in the street.
83I starved there, God knows how, a year or two
84On fig-skins, melon-parings, rinds and shucks,
85Refuse and rubbish. One fine frosty day,
86My stomach being empty as your hat,
87The wind doubled me up and down I went.
88Old Aunt Lapaccia trussed me with one hand,
89(Its fellow was a stinger as I knew)
90And so along the wall, over the bridge,
91By the straight cut to the convent. Six words there,
92While I stood munching my first bread that month:
93"So, boy, you're minded," quoth the good fat father
94Wiping his own mouth, 'twas refection-time,--
95"To quit this very miserable world?
96Will you renounce" . . . "the mouthful of bread?" thought I;
97By no means! Brief, they made a monk of me;
98I did renounce the world, its pride and greed,
99Palace, farm, villa, shop, and banking-house,
100Trash, such as these poor devils of Medici
101Have given their hearts to--all at eight years old.
102Well, sir, I found in time, you may be sure,
103'Twas not for nothing--the good bellyful,
104The warm serge and the rope that goes all round,
105And day-long blessed idleness beside!
106"Let's see what the urchin's fit for"--that came next.
107Not overmuch their way, I must confess.
108Such a to-do! They tried me with their books:
109Lord, they'd have taught me Latin in pure waste!
110Flower o' the clove.
111All the Latin I construe is, "amo" I love!
112But, mind you, when a boy starves in the streets
113Eight years together, as my fortune was,
114Watching folk's faces to know who will fling
115The bit of half-stripped grape-bunch he desires,
116And who will curse or kick him for his pains,--
118Holding a candle to the Sacrament,
119Will wink and let him lift a plate and catch
120The droppings of the wax to sell again,
122How say I?--nay, which dog bites, which lets drop
123His bone from the heap of offal in the street,--
124Why, soul and sense of him grow sharp alike,
125He learns the look of things, and none the less
126For admonition from the hunger-pinch.
127I had a store of such remarks, be sure,
128Which, after I found leisure, turned to use.
129I drew men's faces on my copy-books,
131Joined legs and arms to the long music-notes,
132Found eyes and nose and chin for A's and B's,
133And made a string of pictures of the world
134Betwixt the ins and outs of verb and noun,
135On the wall, the bench, the door. The monks looked black.
136"Nay," quoth the Prior, "turn him out, d'ye say?
137In no wise. Lose a crow and catch a lark.
138What if at last we get our man of parts,
139We Carmelites, like those Camaldolese
141And put the front on it that ought to be!"
142And hereupon he bade me daub away.
143Thank you! my head being crammed, the walls a blank,
144Never was such prompt disemburdening.
145First, every sort of monk, the black and white,
146I drew them, fat and lean: then, folk at church,
147From good old gossips waiting to confess
148Their cribs of barrel-droppings, candle-ends,--
149To the breathless fellow at the altar-foot,
150Fresh from his murder, safe and sitting there
151With the little children round him in a row
152Of admiration, half for his beard and half
153For that white anger of his victim's son
154Shaking a fist at him with one fierce arm,
155Signing himself with the other because of Christ
156(Whose sad face on the cross sees only this
157After the passion of a thousand years)
158Till some poor girl, her apron o'er her head,
159(Which the intense eyes looked through) came at eve
160On tiptoe, said a word, dropped in a loaf,
161Her pair of earrings and a bunch of flowers
162(The brute took growling), prayed, and so was gone.
163I painted all, then cried " `T#is ask and have;
164Choose, for more's ready!"--laid the ladder flat,
165And showed my covered bit of cloister-wall.
166The monks closed in a circle and praised loud
167Till checked, taught what to see and not to see,
168Being simple bodies,--"That's the very man!
169Look at the boy who stoops to pat the dog!
170That woman's like the Prior's niece who comes
171To care about his asthma: it's the life!''
173Their betters took their turn to see and say:
174The Prior and the learned pulled a face
175And stopped all that in no time. "How? what's here?
177Faces, arms, legs, and bodies like the true
178As much as pea and pea! it's devil's-game!
179Your business is not to catch men with show,
180With homage to the perishable clay,
181But lift them over it, ignore it all,
182Make them forget there's such a thing as flesh.
183Your business is to paint the souls of men--
184Man's soul, and it's a fire, smoke . . . no, it's not . . .
185It's vapour done up like a new-born babe--
186(In that shape when you die it leaves your mouth)
187It's . . . well, what matters talking, it's the soul!
188Give us no more of body than shows soul!
190That sets us praising--why not stop with him?
191Why put all thoughts of praise out of our head
192With wonder at lines, colours, and what not?
193Paint the soul, never mind the legs and arms!
194Rub all out, try at it a second time.
195Oh, that white smallish female with the breasts,
197Who went and danced and got men's heads cut off!
198Have it all out!" Now, is this sense, I ask?
199A fine way to paint soul, by painting body
200So ill, the eye can't stop there, must go further
201And can't fare worse! Thus, yellow does for white
202When what you put for yellow's simply black,
203And any sort of meaning looks intense
204When all beside itself means and looks nought.
205Why can't a painter lift each foot in turn,
206Left foot and right foot, go a double step,
207Make his flesh liker and his soul more like,
208Both in their order? Take the prettiest face,
209The Prior's niece . . . patron-saint--is it so pretty
210You can't discover if it means hope, fear,
211Sorrow or joy? won't beauty go with these?
212Suppose I've made her eyes all right and blue,
213Can't I take breath and try to add life's flash,
214And then add soul and heighten them three-fold?
215Or say there's beauty with no soul at all--
216(I never saw it--put the case the same--)
217If you get simple beauty and nought else,
218You get about the best thing God invents:
219That's somewhat: and you'll find the soul you have missed,
220Within yourself, when you return him thanks.
221"Rub all out!" Well, well, there's my life, in short,
222And so the thing has gone on ever since.
223I'm grown a man no doubt, I've broken bounds:
224You should not take a fellow eight years old
225And make him swear to never kiss the girls.
226I'm my own master, paint now as I please--
228Lord, it's fast holding by the rings in front--
229Those great rings serve more purposes than just
230To plant a flag in, or tie up a horse!
231And yet the old schooling sticks, the old grave eyes
232Are peeping o'er my shoulder as I work,
233The heads shake still--"It's art's decline, my son!
234You're not of the true painters, great and old;
237Fag on at flesh, you'll never make the third!"
238Flower o' the pine,
239You keep your mistr ... manners, and I'll stick to mine!
240I'm not the third, then: bless us, they must know!
241Don't you think they're the likeliest to know,
242They with their Latin? So, I swallow my rage,
243Clench my teeth, suck my lips in tight, and paint
244To please them--sometimes do and sometimes don't;
245For, doing most, there's pretty sure to come
246A turn, some warm eve finds me at my saints--
247A laugh, a cry, the business of the world--
248(Flower o' the peach
249Death for us all, and his own life for each!)
250And my whole soul revolves, the cup runs over,
251The world and life's too big to pass for a dream,
252And I do these wild things in sheer despite,
253And play the fooleries you catch me at,
254In pure rage! The old mill-horse, out at grass
255After hard years, throws up his stiff heels so,
256Although the miller does not preach to him
257The only good of grass is to make chaff.
258What would men have? Do they like grass or no--
259May they or mayn't they? all I want's the thing
260Settled for ever one way. As it is,
261You tell too many lies and hurt yourself:
262You don't like what you only like too much,
263You do like what, if given you at your word,
264You find abundantly detestable.
265For me, I think I speak as I was taught;
266I always see the garden and God there
267A-making man's wife: and, my lesson learned,
268The value and significance of flesh,
269I can't unlearn ten minutes afterwards.
Analysis of Fra Lippo Lippi Lines 270 - 335
Lippo continues his argument for realism, addressed to the watchmen. He gives as example the surrounds of the city, the landscape, and asks if it is to be passed over, despised or wondered at?
The idea is that as humans we do not see for real until an artist depicts what is naturally all around us - we take it for granted - God's own handiwork - but when painted we fall in love with it.
In line 315 Lippo sums up his approach to painting - as a means to understand the world he lives in:
To find its meaning is my meat and drink.
Lippo then mocks the church elders by saying that if the purpose of a painting is to get the followers to come to morning prayers (matins) or to fast on a Friday...then:
What need of art at all? A skull and bones,
Two bits of stick nailed crosswise, or, what's best,
A bell to chime the hour with, does as well.
In the end, in line 335, Lippo becomes exasperated, exclaiming Hang the fools!
More Analysis of Fra Lippo Lippi Lines 336 - 392
Lippo now goes on to confess to the watchmen that the church knows all about his reservations when it comes to painting and that he now wants to make amends for all the trouble he has caused them.
He plans to paint something special in Sant' Ambrogio's (Coronation of the Virgin) which will please both himself and the church. He urges the watchmen to go visit in six months time.
He'll paint God, the Madonna and baby and saints and even Job out of the old testament. This will hopefully keep the Prior and the betters quiet. In addition, to satisfy himself and his quest for realism, he will paint....himself!
Lippo manages to have a pop at the traditionalists and make a joke at the expense of Saint John, whilst also incorporating the Prior's niece (perhaps he has a crush on her, or suspects her? After all, she's mentioned three times) who will be a sweet angelic slip of a thing and speak up for him.
So, with a handshake and a goodbye, Lippo slips off into the dawn, having got much off his chest regarding religious art done soulfully, which he detests, but puts up with, because that's how he makes a living and keeps on the right side of God, and his immediate elders.
Off he goes home for a good night's sleep through the hushed streets of Florence.
Browning's mouthpiece Lippo finds beauty, truth and authenticity in realism, in the flesh, legs and arms, profiles and landscapes wherein resides the soul, the natural soul you could say, as opposed to the false, pious, saintly approach to art upheld by the Prior and the establishment, which is a surface only used to dupe the followers into more prayer and fasting.
Blank Verse of Fra Lippo Lippi
Fra Lippo Lippi is written in blank verse which traditionally has lines of iambic pentameter, that is, with a steady rhythm based on the iambic foot - daDUM daDUM daDUM daDUM daDUM - so five feet with the first syllable unstressed and the second stressed.
- But, as will become immediately clear to the reader, Browning doesn't stick to the iambic pentameter rhythm throughout as this would make the poem sound ridiculous and not be a true reflection of real and active speech.
Everyday speech is a mix of all kinds of rhythms and stresses and Browning's lines echo this faithfully.
Let's take a closer look at some of the lines:
I am / poor broth / er Lip / po, by / your leave!
You need / not clap / your tor / ches to / my face.
The first line has a trochee and a spondee in the first two feet which alter the iambic beat. Iambs complete the rest of the line.
The second line is pure iambic pentameter, with a steady rhythm.
Scarce had / they turned / the cor / ner when / a titter
Like the skip / ping of rab / bits by moon / light - three / slim shapes,
The first line (58) starts off with a spondee, two stresses, and ends with an extra beat, often called a hyperbeat, the eleventh beat.
The following line (59) starts off with three anapaests (dadaDUM) which create a tripping rising rhythm to boost the rabbit movement. There are 13 syllables in total, the final three all stressed.
This metrical mix continues throughout, with the template iambic, but broken here and there as the syntax challenges.
Browning took inspiration from previous masters of blank verse such as Milton, Shakespeare and Wordsworth, bringing his own inimitable touch to a form that is still commonly used.
Fra Lippo Lippi - Browning's Syntax
In Fra Lippo Lippi, Browning's use of syntax to reinforce meaning and develop character shines through. Syntax is the way words are sequenced within the poem as a whole; it's to do with clauses and grammar, how they work together to produce a poetic effect.
Certain passages within the poem illustrate how Browning skilfully orders words and sentences (along with punctuation and poetic device) to create rich, absorbing and characterful lines.
Look at this section, lines 58 - 69, which develops Lippo's telling of how, cooped up in his room for three weeks solid, painting saintly pictures for the Prior, he hears some musicians down on the street:
Scarce had they turned the corner when a titter
Like the skipping of rabbits by moonlight, - three slim shapes,
And a face that looked up . . . zooks, sir, flesh and blood,
That's all I'm made of! Into shreds it went,
Curtain and counterpane and coverlet,
All the bed-furniture - a dozen knots,
There was a ladder! Down I let myself,
Hands and feet, scrambling somehow, and so dropped,
And after them. I came up with the fun
Hard by Saint Laurence, hail fellow, well met -
Flower o' the rose,
If I've been merry, what matter who knows?
That first line is enjambed (enjambment), without punctuation, and runs into the next line which happens to be the longest in the whole poem, 13 syllables, contains a simile and then a dash - pausing the reader with a comma.
The next several lines are awash with dots, dashes, commas, caesurae (pauses mid-line) and alliteration...Curtains, counterpane, coverlet...the excitement of Lippo enhanced as the lines reflect a stuttery speech pattern. Lippo tears up his bedding to make a ladder so that he can descend and join in with the fun and frolics of the musicians.
Reading through these lines is to be right alongside the monk Lippo, sorry, the painter Lippo, as he first hears the fun-loving musicians, then sees them and is so sparked by their titters decides to escape.
The poem settles down, relatively speaking, after line 69 but you're never left completely at ease as the narrative shifts so and the syntax once again threatens to burst its seams.
Footnotes - Fra Lippo Lippi - Explanations
Lippo - Florentine painter 1406 - 1469. Browning had read a biography during his years in Florence.
by your leave! - with your permission.
Zooks - short for Gadzooks, an exclamation of mild shock. (archaic)
Carmine - cloister of monastery Santa Maria del Carmine. Lippo ended up here as a boy and became a monk.
harry out - chase out
Weke, weke - the sound of a softling mouse.
Cosimo of the Medici - wealthy patron and politician of Florence 1389 - 1464
gullet's-gripe -the grip on the throat.
Judas - one of the watchmen (policemen) looks like Judas (the traitor of Christ) in the picture.
quarter-florin - coin minted first in Florence
pike - long spear
John Baptist's - from the bible, John the Baptist prophesied the coming of Christ.
my mew - mew is an old word meaning cage or enclosure.
whifts of song - whifts means hints of
counterpane - old word for bedspread, a top cover or spread.
Saint Laurence - the church of San Lorenzo, close to the Medici palace.
Jerome - a painting of Saint Jerome in the desert.
Mum's the word - say nothing
shucks - outer coverings of pod, especially ear of maize.
Old Aunt Lapaccia - Mona Lapaccia, his father's sister.
stinger - refers to the other hand of Aunt Lapaccia which must have slapped him a few times, hence the sting.
refection-time - meal time.
Flower o' the clove...etc - small verse of song related to the others.
holla for the Eight - call for the magistrates (known as I Santi, the Saints) made up of citizens.
antiphonary's marge - margin of the book containing antiphons, responses chanted during the liturgy.
We Carmelites, like those Camaldolese - Carmelites belong to the order of the brothers of the blessed virgin Mary of Mount Carmel...Camaldolese are members of a Benedictine order at Camaldoli in the Appennines.
Preaching Friars - of the Dominican order.
Giotto - Florentine painter Giotto di Bondone (1267 - 1337)
funked - expired in smoke.
Herodias - Salome's mother, wife of Herod Antipas. The mother demanded John the Baptist be imprisoned and it was after Salome had danced for Herod that he promised her anything. She asked for John's head on a platter (Matthew 14, 1 - 12)
Corner-house - Medici palace.
Brother Angelico - Fra Angelico, painter 1395 - 1455
Brother Lorenzo - Fra Lorenzo Monaco, painter and illustrator, 1370 - 1425
Fag on - keep toiling
Guidi/Hulking Tom - born Tommaso di Ser Giovanni di Simone aka Masaccio, painter 1401 - 1428
let's no atom drop - doesn't miss a thing, is one for small detail
Your cullions...- cullion is an archaic word meaning rascal.
matins - Christian morning prayer service
Saint Laurence - one of the seven deacons of Rome, martyred.
Prato - small town close to Florence where Lippo painted.
phiz - short for phizzog, slang term for face.
Deacon - reference to St Laurence and his death by roasting on a gridiron. He is said to have urged his executioners to turn him over because he was toasted on one side.
God wot - God knows
Chianti wine - wine from the region of Chianti in Tuscany
Sant' Ambrogio's…- a church in Florence where Lippo painted the Coronation of the Virgin in 1439 - 1447
orris-root - root of the flower which is made into smooth powder for the face.
Saint John - San Giovanni, patron saint of Florence
Saint Ambrose - saint, bishop of Milan 4th century AD
Job - character from the bible, a righteous man tested by God.
The man of Uz - Job lived in the land of Uz according to the Book of Job from the bible's old terstament.
Iste perfecit opus - latin for This man made the work!
kirtles - in middle ages a garment or tunic
play hot cockles - a game where a 'penitent' buries their head into the lap of another and holds a hand out flat on the back. Others come and slap the hand and the penitent has to guess and accuse someone.
Saint Lucy - or Lucia, Christian martyr of Syracuse
Norton Anthology, Norton, 2005
The Poetry Handbook, John Lennard, OUP, 2005
© 2019 Andrew Spacey