Life is sweet for you, Lady
You with your mandolin
Gleaming from the Maestro’s making
Your palace cool within.
The tune reflects your beauty
A pure mind avoiding sin
The clamour of Florence about you
Yet free from its mighty din.
Plucked strings so sweetly singing
The Lord then touches your chin
Jewelled sword lies on the marble
As a courtship is due to begin.
Ah, in the cool and fragrant palace Florentine
I shall be yours, my Lady, if you’ll be mine.