The Sonnets, Triumphs, and Other Poems of Petrarch Part 19

MACGREGOR.

SONNET XXI.

_Amor piangeva, ed io con lui talvolta._

HE CONGRATULATES BOCCACCIO ON HIS RETURN TO THE RIGHT PATH.

Love grieved, and I with him at times, to see By what strange practices and cunning art, You still continued from his fetters free, From whom my feet were never far apart.

Since to the right way brought by G.o.d's decree, Lifting my hands to heaven with pious heart, I thank Him for his love and grace, for He The soul-prayer of the just will never thwart: And if, returning to the amorous strife, Its fair desire to teach us to deny, Hollows and hillocks in thy path abound, 'Tis but to prove to us with thorns how rife The narrow way, the ascent how hard and high, Where with true virtue man at last is crown'd.

MACGREGOR.

SONNET XXII.

_Piu di me lieta non si vede a terra._

ON THE SAME SUBJECT.

Than me more joyful never reach'd the sh.o.r.e A vessel, by the winds long tost and tried, Whose crew, late hopeless on the waters wide, To a good G.o.d their thanks, now prostrate, pour; Nor captive from his dungeon ever tore, Around whose neck the noose of death was tied, More glad than me, that weapon laid aside Which to my lord hostility long bore.

All ye who honour love in poet strain, To the good minstrel of the amorous lay Return due praise, though once he went astray; For greater glory is, in Heaven's blest reign, Over one sinner saved, and higher praise, Than e'en for ninety-nine of perfect ways.

MACGREGOR.

SONNET XXIII.

_Il successor di Carlo, che la chioma._

ON THE MOVEMENT OF THE EMPEROR AGAINST THE INFIDELS, AND THE RETURN OF THE POPE TO ROME.

The high successor of our Charles,[P] whose hair The crown of his great ancestor adorns, Already has ta'en arms, to bruise the horns Of Babylon, and all her name who bear; Christ's holy vicar with the honour'd load Of keys and cloak, returning to his home, Shall see Bologna and our n.o.ble Rome, If no ill fortune bar his further road.

Best to your meek and high-born lamb belongs To beat the fierce wolf down: so may it be With all who loyalty and love deny.

Console at length your waiting country's wrongs, And Rome's, who longs once more her spouse to see, And gird for Christ the good sword on thy thigh.

MACGREGOR.

[Footnote P: Charlemagne.]

CANZONE II.

_O aspettata in ciel, beata e bella._

IN SUPPORT OF THE PROPOSED CRUSADE AGAINST THE INFIDELS.

O spirit wish'd and waited for in heaven, That wearest gracefully our human clay, Not as with loading sin and earthly stain, Who lov'st our Lord's high bidding to obey,-- Henceforth to thee the way is plain and even By which from hence to bliss we may attain.

To waft o'er yonder main Thy bark, that bids the world adieu for aye To seek a better strand, The western winds their ready wings expand; Which, through the dangers of that dusky way, Where all deplore the first infringed command, Will guide her safe, from primal bondage free, Reckless to stop or stay, To that true East, where she desires to be.

Haply the faithful vows, and zealous prayers, And pious tears by holy mortals shed, Have come before the mercy-seat above: Yet vows of ours but little can bestead, Nor human orison such merit bears As heavenly justice from its course can move.

But He, the King whom angels serve and love, His gracious eyes hath turn'd upon the land Where on the cross He died; And a new Charlemagne hath qualified To work the vengeance that on high was plann'd, For whose delay so long hath Europe sigh'd.

Such mighty aid He brings his faithful spouse, That at its sound the pride Of Babylon with trembling terror bows.

All dwellers 'twixt the hills and wild Garonne, The Rhoda.n.u.s, and Rhine, and briny wave, Are banded under red-cross banners brave; And all who honour'd guerdon fain would have From Pyrenees to the utmost west, are gone, Leaving Iberia lorn of warriors keen, And Britain, with the islands that are seen Between the columns and the starry wain, (Even to that land where shone The far-famed lore of sacred Helicon,) Diverse in language, weapon, garb and strain, Of valour true, with pious zeal rush on.

What cause, what love, to this compared may be?

What spouse, or infant train E'er kindled such a righteous enmity?

There is a portion of the world that lies Far distant from the sun's all-cheering ray, For ever wrapt in ice and gelid snows; There under cloudy skies, in stinted day, A people dwell, whose heart their clime outvies By nature framed stern foemen of repose.

Now new devotion in their bosom glows, With Gothic fury now they grasp the sword.

Turk, Arab, and Chaldee, With all between us and that sanguine sea, Who trust in idol-G.o.ds, and slight the Lord, Thou know'st how soon their feeble strength would yield; A naked race, fearful and indolent, Unused the brand to wield, Whose distant aim upon the wind is sent.

Now is the time to shake the ancient yoke From off our necks, and rend the veil aside That long in darkness hath involved our eyes; Let all whom Heaven with genius hath supplied, And all who great Apollo's name invoke, With fiery eloquence point out the prize, With tongue and pen call on the brave to rise; If Orpheus and Amphion, legends old, No marvel cause in thee, It were small wonder if Ausonia see Collecting at thy call her children bold, Lifting the spear of Jesus joyfully.

Nor, if our ancient mother judge aright, Doth her rich page unfold Such n.o.ble cause in any former fight.

Thou who hast scann'd, to heap a treasure fair, Story of ancient day and modern time, Soaring with earthly frame to heaven sublime, Thou know'st, from Mars' bold son, her ruler prime, To great Augustus, he whose waving hair Was thrice in triumph wreathed with laurel green, How Rome hath of her blood still lavish been To right the woes of many an injured land; And shall she now be slow, Her grat.i.tude, her piety to show?

In Christian zeal to buckle on the brand, For Mary's glorious Son to deal the blow?

What ills the impious foeman must betide Who trust in mortal hand, If Christ himself lead on the adverse side!

And turn thy thoughts to Xerxes' rash emprize, Who dared, in haste to tread our Europe's sh.o.r.e, Insult the sea with bridge, and strange caprice; And thou shalt see for husbands then no more The Persian matrons robed in mournful guise, And dyed with blood the seas of Salamis, Nor sole example this: (The ruin of that Eastern king's design), That tells of victory nigh: See Marathon, and stern Thermopylae, Closed by those few, and chieftain leonine, And thousand deeds that blaze in history.

Then bow in thankfulness both heart and knee Before his holy shrine, Who such bright guerdon hath reserved for thee.

Thou shalt see Italy and that honour'd sh.o.r.e, O song! a land debarr'd and hid from me By neither flood nor hill!

But love alone, whose power hath virtue still To witch, though all his wiles be vanity, Nor Nature to avoid the snare hath skill.

Go, bid thy sisters hush their jealous fears, For other loves there be Than that blind boy, who causeth smiles and tears.

MISS * * * (FOSCOLO'S ESSAY).

O thou, in heaven expected, bright and blest, Spirit! who, from the common frailty free Of human kind, in human form art drest, G.o.d's handmaid, dutiful and dear to thee Henceforth the pathway easy lies and plain, By which, from earth, we bless eternal gain: Lo! at the wish, to waft thy venturous prore From the blind world it fain would leave behind And seek that better sh.o.r.e, Springs the sweet comfort of the western wind, Which safe amid this dark and dangerous vale, Where we our own, the primal sin deplore, Right on shall guide her, from her old chains freed, And, without let or fail, Where havens her best hope, to the true East shall lead.

Haply the suppliant tears of pious men, Their earnest vows and loving prayers at last Unto the throne of heavenly grace have past; Yet, breathed by human helplessness, ah! when Had purest orison the skill and force To bend eternal justice from its course?

But He, heaven's bounteous ruler from on high, On the sad sacred spot, where erst He bled, Will turn his pitying eye, And through the spirit of our new Charles spread Thirst of that vengeance, whose too long delay From general Europe wakes the bitter sigh; To his loved spouse such aid will He convey, That, his dread voice to hear, Proud Babylon shall shrink a.s.sail'd with secret fear.

All, by the gay Garonne, the kingly Rhine, Between the blue Rhone and salt sea who dwell, All in whose bosoms worth and honour swell, Eagerly haste the Christian cross to join; Spain of her warlike sons, from the far west Unto the Pyrenee, pours forth her best: Britannia and the Islands, which are found Northward from Calpe, studding Ocean's breast, E'en to that land renown'd In the rich lore of sacred Helicon, Various in arms and language, garb and guise, With pious fury urge the bold emprize.

What love was e'er so just, so worthy, known?

Or when did holier flame Kindle the mind of man to a more n.o.ble aim?