The Sonnets, Triumphs, and Other Poems of Petrarch - LightNovelsOnl.com
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SONNET LXX.
_La bella donna che cotanto amavi._
TO HIS BROTHER GERARDO, ON THE DEATH OF A LADY TO WHOM HE WAS ATTACHED.
The beauteous lady thou didst love so well Too soon hath from our regions wing'd her flight, To find, I ween, a home 'mid realms of light; So much in virtue did she here excel Thy heart's twin key of joy and woe can dwell No more with her--then re-a.s.sume thy might, Pursue her by the path most swift and right, Nor let aught earthly stay thee by its spell.
Thus from thy heaviest burthen being freed, Each other thou canst easier dispel, And an unfreighted pilgrim seek thy sky; Too well, thou seest, how much the soul hath need, (Ere yet it tempt the shadowy vale) to quell Each earthly hope, since all that lives must die.
WOLLASTON.
The lovely lady who was long so dear To thee, now suddenly is from us gone, And, for this hope is sure, to heaven is flown, So mild and angel-like her life was here!
Now from her thraldom since thy heart is clear, Whose either key she, living, held alone, Follow where she the safe short way has shown, Nor let aught earthly longer interfere.
Thus disenc.u.mber'd from the heavier weight, The lesser may aside be easier laid, And the freed pilgrim win the crystal gate; So teaching us, since all things that are made Hasten to death, how light must be his soul Who treads the perilous pa.s.s, unscathed and whole!
MACGREGOR.
SONNET LXXI.
_Piangete, donne, e con voi pianga Amore._
ON THE DEATH OF CINO DA PISTOIA.
Weep, beauteous damsels, and let Cupid weep, Of every region weep, ye lover train; He, who so skilfully attuned his strain To your fond cause, is sunk in death's cold sleep!
Such limits let not my affliction keep, As may the solace of soft tears restrain; And, to relieve my bosom of its pain, Be all my sighs tumultuous, utter'd deep!
Let song itself, and votaries of verse, Breathe mournful accents o'er our Cino's bier, Who late is gone to number with the blest!
Oh! weep, Pistoia, weep your sons perverse; Its choicest habitant has fled our sphere, And heaven may glory in its welcome guest!
NOTT.
Ye damsels, pour your tears! weep with you. Love!
Weep, all ye lovers, through the peopled sphere!
Since he is dead who, while he linger'd here, With all his might to do you honour strove.
For me, this tyrant grief my prayers shall move Not to contest the comfort of a tear, Nor check those sighs, that to my heart are dear, Since ease from them alone it hopes to prove.
Ye verses, weep!--ye rhymes, your woes renew!
For Cino, master of the love-fraught lay, E'en now is from our fond embraces torn!
Pistoia, weep, and all your thankless crew!
Your sweetest inmate now is reft away-- But, heaven, rejoice, and hail your son new-born!
CHARLEMONT.
SONNET LXXII.
_Piu volte Amor m' avea gia detto: scrivi._
HE WRITES WHAT LOVE BIDS HIM.
White--to my heart Love oftentimes had said-- Write what thou seest in letters large of gold, That livid are my votaries to behold, And in a moment made alive and dead.
Once in thy heart my sovran influence spread A public precedent to lovers told; Though other duties drew thee from my fold, I soon reclaim'd thee as thy footsteps fled.
And if the bright eyes which I show'd thee first, If the fair face where most I loved to stay, Thy young heart's icy hardness when I burst, Restore to me the bow which all obey, Then may thy cheek, which now so smooth appears, Be channell'd with my daily drink of tears.
MACGREGOR.
SONNET LXXIII.
_Quando giugne per gli occhi al cor profondo._
HE DESCRIBES THE STATE OF TWO LOVERS, AND RETURNS IN THOUGHT TO HIS OWN SUFFERINGS.
When reaches through the eyes the conscious heart Its imaged fate, all other thoughts depart; The powers which from the soul their functions take A dead weight on the frame its limbs then make.
From the first miracle a second springs, At times the banish'd faculty that brings, So fleeing from itself, to some new seat, Which feeds revenge and makes e'en exile sweet.
Thus in both faces the pale tints were rife, Because the strength which gave the glow of life On neither side was where it wont to dwell-- I on that day these things remember'd well, Of that fond couple when each varying mien Told me in like estate what long myself had been.
MACGREGOR.
SONNET LXXIV.
_Cos potess' io ben chiuder in versi._
HE COMPLAINS THAT TO HIM ALONE IS FAITH HURTFUL.
Could I, in melting verse, my thoughts but throw, As in my heart their living load I bear, No soul so cruel in the world was e'er That would not at the tale with pity glow.
But ye, blest eyes, which dealt me the sore blow, 'Gainst which nor helm nor s.h.i.+eld avail'd to spare Within, without, behold me poor and bare, Though never in laments is breathed my woe.
But since on me your bright glance ever s.h.i.+nes, E'en as a sunbeam through transparent gla.s.s, Suffice then the desire without the lines.
Faith Peter bless'd and Mary, but, alas!
It proves an enemy to me alone, Whose spirit save by you to none is known.
MACGREGOR.
