Writing in rhyme about Attilio Ariosti

In the courts of Europe, where music did soar,
Lived Attilio Ariosti, a composer of yore.
With a viola d'amore in his hands, he would play,
Crafting melodies sweet, in a magical way.

Born in Bologna, a city of art,
Young Attilio's talent quickly did start.
With strings at his fingertips, he enchanted the crowd,
His music resounding, both tender and proud.

But it was with the viola d'amore, a unique sound,
That Ariosti's genius truly was found.
With sympathetic strings and a gentle tone,
He composed music that was all his own.

In London's grand halls, his fame did extend,
As audiences marveled at the music he penned.
Sonatas and concertos, with melodies bright,
Filled the air with delight, morning and night.

Yet behind the scenes, a tale did unfold,
Of Ariosti's life, both courageous and bold.
A wanderer, a dreamer, with a heart full of song,
His music endured, both tender and strong.

So let us remember Attilio Ariosti's name,
His viola d'amore, his legacy's flame.
In notes that still echo through history's hall,
His music lives on, enchanting us all.