I am Omberto

I am Omberto; and not to me alone
  Has pride done harm, but all my kith and kin
  Has with it dragged into adversity.

And here must I this burden bear for it
  Till God be satisfied, since I did not
  Among the living, here among the dead."

Listening I downward bent my countenance;
  And one of them, not this one who was speaking,
  Twisted himself beneath the weight that cramps him,

And looked at me, and knew me, and called out,
  Keeping his eyes laboriously fixed
  On me, who all bowed down was going with them.

"O," asked I him, "art thou not Oderisi,
  Agobbio's honour, and honour of that art
  Which is in Paris called illuminating?"

"Brother," said he, "more laughing are the leaves
  Touched by the brush of Franco Bolognese;
  All his the honour now, and mine in part.

In sooth I had not been so courteous
  While I was living, for the great desire
  Of excellence, on which my heart was bent.

Here of such pride is paid the forfeiture;
  And yet I should not be here, were it not
  That, having power to sin, I turned to God.

O thou vain glory of the human powers,
  How little green upon thy summit lingers,
  If't be not followed by an age of grossness!