Eh? There, I Think, Is A Question That Would Puzzle Him!) Yet
Is It Much More Delectable, And Far Worthier
Of the immortal spirit of
man to soar into the empyrean of pure lying - that is, to lay the
bridle
On the neck of Pegasus and let him go forward, while in the
saddle meanwhile one sits well back, grips with the knee, takes the
race, and on the energy of that steed visits the wheeling stars.
This much, then, is worth telling of the valley of the Serchio, that
it is narrow, garrulous with water brawling, wooded densely, and
contained by fantastic mountains. That it has a splendid name, like
the clashing of cymbals - Garfagnana; that it leads to the Tuscan
plain, and that it is over a day's march long. Also, it is an oven.
Never since the early liars first cooked eggs in the sand was there
such heat, and it was made hotter by the consciousness of folly, than
which there is no more heating thing; for I think that not old
Championnet himself, with his Division of Iron, that fought one to
three and crushed the aged enormities of the oppressors as we would
crush an empty egg, and that found the summer a good time for fighting
in Naples, I say that he himself would not have marched men up the
Garfagnana in such a sun. Folly planned it, Pride held to it, and the
devils lent their climate. Garfagnana! Garfagnana! to have such a
pleasant name, and to be what you are!
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