The Sonnets, Triumphs, and Other Poems of Petrarch - LightNovelsOnl.com
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Believe, dear friend! I saw the wanton boy; Bent was his bow to wound my tender soul; Yet, ah! once more I'd view the dang'rous joy.
ANON. 1777.
Sun never rose so beautiful and bright When skies above most clear and cloudless show'd, Nor, after rain, the bow of heaven e'er glow'd With tints so varied, delicate, and light, As in rare beauty flash'd upon my sight, The day I first took up this am'rous load, That face whose fellow ne'er on earth abode-- Even my praise to paint it seems a slight!
Then saw I Love, who did her fine eyes bend So sweetly, every other face obscure Has from that hour till now appear'd to me.
The boy-G.o.d and his bow, I saw them, friend, From whom life since has never been secure, Whom still I madly yearn again to see.
MACGREGOR.
SONNET CXIII.
_Pommi ove 'l sol occide i fiori e l' erba._
HIS INVINCIBLE CONSTANCY.
Place me where herb and flower the sun has dried, Or where numb winter's grasp holds sterner sway: Place me where Phoebus sheds a temperate ray, Where first he glows, where rests at eventide.
Place me in lowly state, in power and pride, Where lour the skies, or where bland zephyrs play Place me where blind night rules, or lengthened day, In age mature, or in youth's boiling tide: Place me in heaven, or in the abyss profound, On lofty height, or in low vale obscure, A spirit freed, or to the body bound; Bank'd with the great, or all unknown to fame, I still the same will be! the same endure!
And my tril.u.s.tral sighs still breathe the same!
DACRE.
Place me where Phoebus burns each herb, each flower; Or where cold snows, and frost o'ercome his rays: Place me where rolls his car with temp'rate blaze; In climes that feel not, or that feel his power.
Place me where fortune may look bright, or lour; Mid murky airs, or where soft zephyr plays: Place me in night, in long or short-lived days, Where age makes sad, or youth gilds ev'ry hour: Place me on mountains high, in vallies drear, In heaven, on earth, in depths unknown to-day; Whether life fosters still, or flies this clay: Place me where fame is distant, where she's near: Still will I love; nor shall those sighs yet cease, Which thrice five years have robb'd this breast of peace.
ANON. 1777.
Place me where angry t.i.tan burns the Moor, And thirsty Afric fiery monsters brings, Or where the new-born phoenix spreads her wings, And troops of wond'ring birds her flight adore: Place me by Gange, or Ind's empamper'd sh.o.r.e, Where smiling heavens on earth cause double springs: Place me where Neptune's quire of Syrens sings, Or where, made hoa.r.s.e through cold, he leaves to roar: Me place where Fortune doth her darlings crown, A wonder or a spark in Envy's eye, Or late outrageous fates upon me frown, And pity wailing, see disaster'd me.
Affection's print my mind so deep doth prove, I may forget myself, but not my love.
DRUMMOND.
SONNET CXIV.
_O d' ardente virtute ornata e calda._
HE CELEBRATES LAURA'S BEAUTY AND VIRTUE.
O mind, by ardent virtue graced and warm'd.
To whom my pen so oft pours forth my heart; Mansion of n.o.ble probity, who art A tower of strength 'gainst all a.s.sault full arm'd.
O rose effulgent, in whose foldings, charm'd, We view with fresh carnation snow take part!
O pleasure whence my wing'd ideas start To that bless'd vision which no eye, unharm'd, Created, may approach--thy name, if rhyme Could bear to Bactra and to Thule's coast, Nile, Tanas, and Calpe should resound, And dread Olympus.--But a narrower bound Confines my flight: and thee, our native clime Between the Alps and Apennine must boast.
CAPEL LOFFT.
With glowing virtue graced, of warm heart known, Sweet Spirit! for whom so many a page I trace, Tower in high worth which foundest well thy base!
Centre of honour, perfect, and alone!
O blushes! on fresh snow like roses thrown, Wherein I read myself and mend apace; O pleasures! lifting me to that fair face Brightest of all on which the sun e'er shone.
Oh! if so far its sound may reach, your name On my fond verse shall travel West and East, From southern Nile to Thule's utmost bound.
But such full audience since I may not claim, It shall be heard in that fair land at least Which Apennine divides, which Alps and seas surround.
MACGREGOR.
SONNET CXV.
_Quando 'l voler, che con duo sp.r.o.ni ardenti._
HER LOOKS BOTH COMFORT AND CHECK HIM.
When, with two ardent spurs and a hard rein, Pa.s.sion, my daily life who rules and leads, From time to time the usual law exceeds That calm, at least in part, my spirits may gain, It findeth her who, on my forehead plain, The dread and daring of my deep heart reads, And seeth Love, to punish its misdeeds, Lighten her piercing eyes with worse disdain.
Wherefore--as one who fears the impending blow Of angry Jove--it back in haste retires, For great fears ever master great desires; But the cold fire and shrinking hopes which so Lodge in my heart, transparent as a gla.s.s, O'er her sweet face at times make gleams of grace to pa.s.s.
MACGREGOR.
SONNET CXVI.
_Non Tesin, Po, Varo, Arno, Adige e Tebro._
HE EXTOLS THE LAUREL AND ITS FAVOURITE STREAM.
Not all the streams that water the bright earth, Not all the trees to which its breast gives birth, Can cooling drop or healing balm impart To slack the fire which scorches my sad heart, As one fair brook which ever weeps with me, Or, which I praise and sing, as one dear tree.
This only help I find amid Love's strife; Wherefore it me behoves to live my life In arms, which else from me too rapid goes.
Thus on fresh sh.o.r.e the lovely laurel grows; Who planted it, his high and graceful thought 'Neath its sweet shade, to Sorga's murmurs, wrote.
MACGREGOR.
[IMITATION.]
Nor Arne, nor Mincius, nor stately Tiber, Sebethus, nor the flood into whose streams He fell who burnt the world with borrow'd beams; Gold-rolling Tagus, Munda, famous Iber, Sorgue, Rhone, Loire, Garron, nor proud-bank'd Seine, Peneus, Phasis, Xanthus, humble Ladon, Nor she whose nymphs excel her who loved Adon, Fair Tamesis, nor Ister large, nor Rhine, Euphrates, Tigris, Indus, Hermus, Gange, Pearly Hydaspes, serpent-like Meander,-- The gulf bereft sweet Hero her Leander-- Nile, that far, far his hidden head doth range, Have ever had so rare a cause of praise As Ora, where this northern Phoenix stays.
