You are using an out of date browser. It may not display this or other websites correctly.
You should upgrade or use an alternative browser.
You should upgrade or use an alternative browser.
Summertime == Hail
- Thread starter Jeff Grossman
- Start date
Cole Kendall
Cole Kendall
Hail has been falling in this part of France for a long time; in my Italian class we are reading the "Vita" of Benvenuto Cellini and here is a bit (from the web, not my translation); this should be sometime in the 1540s...
We were one day distant from Lyons, and it was close upon the hour of twenty-two, when the heavens began to thunder with sharp rattling claps, although the sky was quite clear at the time. [2] I was riding a cross-bow shot before my comrades. After the thunder the heavens made a noise so great and horrible that I thought the last day had come; so I reined in for a moment, while a shower of hail began to fall without a drop of water. A first hail was somewhat larger than pellets from a popgun, and when these struck me, they hurt considerably. Little by little it increased in size, until the stones might be compared to balls from a crossbow. My horse became restive with fright; so I wheeled round, and returned at a gallop to where I found my comrades taking refuge in a fir-wood. The hail now grew to the size of big lemons. I began to sing a Miserere; and while I was devoutly uttering this psalm to God, there fell a stone so huge that it smashed the thick branches of the pine under which I had retired for safety. Another of the hailstones hit my horse upon the head, and almost stunned him; one struck me also, but not directly, else it would have killed me. In like manner, poor old Lionardo Tedaldi, who like me was kneeling on the ground, received so shrewd a blow that he fell grovelling upon all fours. When I saw that the fir bough offered no protection, and that I ought to act as well as to intone my Misereres, I began at once to wrap my mantle round my head. At the same time I cried to Lionardo, who was shrieking for succour, “Jesus! Jesus!” that Jesus would help him if he helped himself. I had more trouble in looking after this man’s safety than my own. The storm raged for some while, but at last it stopped; and we, who were pounded black and blue, scrambled as well as we could upon our horses. Pursuing the way to our lodging for the night, we showed our scratches and bruises to each other; but about a mile farther on we came upon a scene of devastation which surpassed what we had suffered, and defies description. All the trees were stripped of their leaves and shattered; the beasts in the field lay dead; many of the herdsmen had also been killed; we observed large quantities of hailstones which could not have been grasped with two hands. Feeling then that we had come well out of a great peril, we acknowledged that our prayers to God and Misereres had helped us more than we could have helped ourselves.
We were one day distant from Lyons, and it was close upon the hour of twenty-two, when the heavens began to thunder with sharp rattling claps, although the sky was quite clear at the time. [2] I was riding a cross-bow shot before my comrades. After the thunder the heavens made a noise so great and horrible that I thought the last day had come; so I reined in for a moment, while a shower of hail began to fall without a drop of water. A first hail was somewhat larger than pellets from a popgun, and when these struck me, they hurt considerably. Little by little it increased in size, until the stones might be compared to balls from a crossbow. My horse became restive with fright; so I wheeled round, and returned at a gallop to where I found my comrades taking refuge in a fir-wood. The hail now grew to the size of big lemons. I began to sing a Miserere; and while I was devoutly uttering this psalm to God, there fell a stone so huge that it smashed the thick branches of the pine under which I had retired for safety. Another of the hailstones hit my horse upon the head, and almost stunned him; one struck me also, but not directly, else it would have killed me. In like manner, poor old Lionardo Tedaldi, who like me was kneeling on the ground, received so shrewd a blow that he fell grovelling upon all fours. When I saw that the fir bough offered no protection, and that I ought to act as well as to intone my Misereres, I began at once to wrap my mantle round my head. At the same time I cried to Lionardo, who was shrieking for succour, “Jesus! Jesus!” that Jesus would help him if he helped himself. I had more trouble in looking after this man’s safety than my own. The storm raged for some while, but at last it stopped; and we, who were pounded black and blue, scrambled as well as we could upon our horses. Pursuing the way to our lodging for the night, we showed our scratches and bruises to each other; but about a mile farther on we came upon a scene of devastation which surpassed what we had suffered, and defies description. All the trees were stripped of their leaves and shattered; the beasts in the field lay dead; many of the herdsmen had also been killed; we observed large quantities of hailstones which could not have been grasped with two hands. Feeling then that we had come well out of a great peril, we acknowledged that our prayers to God and Misereres had helped us more than we could have helped ourselves.
Sharon Bowman
Sharon Bowman
originally posted by Cole Kendall:
balls from a crossbow
Arbalest?
Jeff Grossman
Jeff Grossman
Those racy Italians!originally posted by Cole Kendall:
Pursuing the way to our lodging for the night, we showed our scratches and bruises to each other...
Cole Kendall
Cole Kendall
originally posted by Sharon Bowman:
originally posted by Cole Kendall:
balls from a crossbow
Arbalest?
My kindle version has "pallottole d'una balestra" which is the Italian for Arbalète.
Cole Kendall
Cole Kendall
originally posted by Jeff Grossman:
Those racy Italians!originally posted by Cole Kendall:
Pursuing the way to our lodging for the night, we showed our scratches and bruises to each other...
You don't know the half of it; a few chapters earlier he goes on trial (in Paris) for sodomy, and there is an extended argument with a judge about whether the sin in question is the "Italian way" or the "French way".
Jeff Grossman
Jeff Grossman
Oh, but that was with a woman. It gets much racier than that.originally posted by Cole Kendall:
originally posted by Jeff Grossman:
Those racy Italians!originally posted by Cole Kendall:
Pursuing the way to our lodging for the night, we showed our scratches and bruises to each other...
You don't know the half of it; a few chapters earlier he goes on trial (in Paris) for sodomy, and there is an extended argument with a judge about whether the sin in question is the "Italian way" or the "French way".
Cole Kendall
Cole Kendall
originally posted by Jeff Grossman:
Oh, but that was with a woman. It gets much racier than that.originally posted by Cole Kendall:
originally posted by Jeff Grossman:
Those racy Italians!originally posted by Cole Kendall:
Pursuing the way to our lodging for the night, we showed our scratches and bruises to each other...
You don't know the half of it; a few chapters earlier he goes on trial (in Paris) for sodomy, and there is an extended argument with a judge about whether the sin in question is the "Italian way" or the "French way".
Of course.