At the Befana everyone in Firenze goes mad with good intentions.
Firenze la Bella—or Florence as the average Englishman knows it—is surely a city of strange people and of strange moods.
It hath come from Firenze, and was made by Nicolo Pedrini himself.
He was a very holy man, and was afterwards burned at the stake in the Grand-ducal Square at Firenze.
Even when he lifts up his voice to curse them, as he curses his own Firenze, it is but an inversion of the same mood.
Rubieri, Storia della poesia popolare italiana, Firenze, 1877.
“Firenze—Florence,” she said, deigning to translate; and finding her own reply.
All the verdurous, gently rolling hills which are heaped about Firenze la bella are visible at once.
Marchesini, Quello si convenga a una donna che abbia marito (Firenze, 1890, per nozze).
Here there is peace; not too far from the city nor too near the gate, as I said: and so to Firenze in the twilight.