The Sonnets, Triumphs, and Other Poems of Petrarch - LightNovelsOnl.com
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Why ceased she? Ah! my captive hand why freed?
Such of her soft and hallow'd tones the chain, From that delightful heaven my soul could scarcely move.
WRANGHAM.
Thither my ecstatic thought had rapt me, where She dwells, whom still on earth I seek in vain; And there, with those whom the third heavens contain, I saw her, much more kind, and much more fair.
My hand she took, and said: "Within this sphere, If hope deceive me not, thou shalt again With me reside: who caused thy mortal pain Am I, and even in summer closed my year.
My bliss no human thought can understand: Thee only I await; and, that erewhile You held so dear, the veil I left behind."-- She ceased--ah why? Why did she loose my hand?
For oh! her hallow'd words, her roseate smile In heaven had well nigh fix'd my ravish'd mind!
CHARLEMONT.
SONNET x.x.xV.
_Amor che meco al buon tempo ti stavi._
HE VENTS HIS SORROW TO ALL WHO WITNESSED HIS FORMER FELICITY.
Love, that in happier days wouldst meet me here Along these meads that nursed our kindred strains; And that old debt to clear which still remains, Sweet converse with the stream and me wouldst share: Ye flowers, leaves, gra.s.s, woods, grots, rills, gentle air, Low valleys, lofty hills, and sunny plains: The harbour where I stored my love-sick pains, And all my various chance, my racking care: Ye playful inmates of the greenwood shade; Ye nymphs, and ye that in the waves pursue That life its cool and gra.s.sy bottom lends:-- My days were once so fair; now dark and dread As death that makes them so. Thus the world through On each as soon as born his fate attends.
ANON., OX., 1795.
On these green banks in happier days I stray'd With Love, who whisper'd many a tender tale; And the glad waters, winding through the dale, Heard the sweet eloquence fond Love display'd.
You, purpled plain, cool grot, and arching glade; Ye hills, ye streams, where plays the silken gale; Ye pathless wilds, you rock-encircled vale Which oft have beard the tender plaints I made; Ye blue-hair'd nymphs, who ceaseless revel keep, In the cool bosom of the crystal deep; Ye woodland maids who climb the mountain's brow; Ye mark'd how joy once wing'd each hour so gay; Ah, mark how sad each hour now wears away!
So fate with human bliss blends human woe!
ANON. 1777.
SONNET x.x.xVI.
_Mentre che 'l cor dagli amorosi vermi._
HAD SHE NOT DIED SO EARLY, HE WOULD HAVE LEARNED TO PRAISE HER MORE WORTHILY.
While on my heart the worms consuming prey'd Of Love, and I with all his fire was caught; The steps of my fair wild one still I sought To trace o'er desert mountains as she stray'd; And much I dared in bitter strains to upbraid Both Love and her, whom I so cruel thought; But rude was then my genius, and untaught My rhymes, while weak and new the ideas play'd.
Dead is that fire; and cold its ashes lie In one small tomb; which had it still grown on E'en to old age, as oft by others felt, Arm'd with the power of rhyme, which wretched I E'en now disclaim, my riper strains had won E'en stones to burst, and in soft sorrows melt.
ANON., OX., 1795.
SONNET x.x.xVII.
_Anima bella, da quel nodo sciolta._
HE PRAYS LAURA TO LOOK DOWN UPON HIM FROM HEAVEN.
Bright spirit, from those earthly bonds released, The loveliest ever wove in Nature's loom, From thy bright skies compa.s.sionate the gloom Shrouding my life that once of joy could taste!
Each false suggestion of thy heart has ceased, That whilom bade thee stem disdain a.s.sume; Now, all secure, heaven's habitant become, List to my sighs, thy looks upon me cast.
Mark the huge rock, whence Sorga's waters rise; And see amidst its waves and borders stray One fed by grief and memory that ne'er dies But from that spot, oh! turn thy sight away Where I first loved, where thy late dwelling lies; That in thy friends thou nought ungrateful may'st survey!
NOTT.
Blest soul, that, loosen'd from those bands, art flown-- Bands than which Nature never form'd more fair, Look down and mark how changed to carking care From gladdest thoughts I pa.s.s my days unknown.
Each false opinion from my heart is gone, That once to me made thy sweet sight appear Most harsh and bitter; now secure from fear Here turn thine eyes, and listen to my moan.
Turn to this rock whence Sorga's waters rise, And mark, where through the mead its waters flow, One who of thee still mindful ceaseless sighs: But leave me there unsought for, where to glow Our flames began, and where thy mansion lies, Lest thou in thine shouldst see what grieved thee so.
ANON., OX., 1795.
SONNET x.x.xVIII.
_Quel sol che mi mostrava il cammin destro._
LOVE AND HE SEEK LAURA, BUT FIND NO TRACES OF HER EXCEPT IN THE SKY.
That sun, which ever signall'd the right road, Where flash'd her own bright feet, to heaven to fly, Returning to the Eternal Sun on high, Has quench'd my light, and cast her earthly load; Thus, lone and weary, my oft steps have trode, As some wild animal, the sere woods by, Fleeing with heavy heart and downcast eye The world which since to me a blank has show'd.
Still with fond search each well-known spot I pace Where once I saw her: Love, who grieves me so, My only guide, directs me where to go.
I find her not: her every sainted trace Seeks, in bright realms above, her parent star From grisly Styx and black Avernus far.
MACGREGOR.
SONNET x.x.xIX.
_Io pensava a.s.sai destro esser sull' ale._
UNWORTHY TO HAVE LOOKED UPON HER, HE IS STILL MORE SO TO ATTEMPT HER PRAISES.
I thought me apt and firm of wing to rise (Not of myself, but him who trains us all) In song, to numbers fitting the fair thrall Which Love once fasten'd and which Death unties.
Slow now and frail, the task too sorely tries, As a great weight upon a sucker small: "Who leaps," I said, "too high may midway fall: Man ill accomplishes what Heaven denies."
