I

I dedicate the elegant new little book

That I polished off not a moment ago

With dry pumice stone to who,

But you, Cornelius. For you always did think

That my ramblings were something,

Though you were the only man of Italy brave enough

In those days to unravel our whole history in three volumes –

Learned ones, by Jupiter, and exhaustive.

So have this little book, whatever it is

And whatever its worth; only please, virgin muse,

May it survive unceasing for over a hundred years.