I had a book of Messer Petrarca's poems.

It had been Gutierrez's, who left it behind when he broke forth to the mountains.
Beltran's voice suddenly ceased.

Diego the archer above him on wall had cried down, "Hush, will you, a moment!" Diego de Arana came up.

"What is it ?" "I thought," said the archer, "that I heard a strange shouting from toward village.

Hark ye! There!" We heard it, a confused sound.