The Sonnets, Triumphs, and Other Poems of Petrarch - LightNovelsOnl.com
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NOTT.
SONNET Lx.x.xIV.
_Morte ha spento quel Sol ch' abbagliar suolmi._
WEARY OF LIFE, NOW THAT SHE IS NO LONGER WITH HIM, HE DEVOTES HIMSELF TO G.o.d.
Death has the bright sun quench'd which wont to burn; Her pure and constant eyes his dark realms hold: She now is dust, who dealt me heat and cold; To common trees my chosen laurels turn; Hence I at once my bliss and bane discern.
None now there is my feelings who can mould From fire to frost, from timorous to bold, In grief to languish or with hope to yearn.
Out of his tyrant hands who harms and heals, Erewhile who made in it such havoc sore, My heart the bitter-sweet of freedom feels.
And to the Lord whom, thankful, I adore, The heavens who ruleth merely with his brow, I turn life-weary, if not satiate, now.
MACGREGOR.
SONNET Lx.x.xV.
_Tennemi Amor anni ventuno ardendo._
HE CONFESSES AND REGRETS HIS SINS, AND PRAYS G.o.d TO SAVE HIM FROM ETERNAL DEATH.
Love held me one and twenty years enchain'd, His flame was joy--for hope was in my grief!
For ten more years I wept without relief, When Laura with my heart, to heaven attain'd.
Now weary grown, my life I had arraign'd That in its error, check'd (to my belief) Blest virtue's seeds--now, in my yellow leaf, I grieve the misspent years, existence stain'd.
Alas! it might have sought a brighter goal, In flying troublous thoughts, and winning peace; O Father! I repentant seek thy throne: Thou, in this temple hast enshrined my soul, Oh, bless me yet, and grant its safe release!
Unjustified--my sin I humbly own.
WOLLASTON.
SONNET Lx.x.xVI.
_I' vo piangendo i miei pa.s.sati tempi._
HE HUMBLY CONFESSES THE ERRORS OF HIS PAST LIFE, AND PRAYS FOR DIVINE GRACE.
Weeping, I still revolve the seasons flown In vain idolatry of mortal things; Not soaring heavenward; though my soul had wings Which might, perchance, a glorious flight have shown.
O Thou, discerner of the guilt I own, Giver of life immortal, King of Kings, Heal Thou the wounded heart which conscience stings: It looks for refuge only to thy throne.
Thus, although life was warfare and unrest, Be death the haven of peace; and if my day Was vain--yet make the parting moment blest!
Through this brief remnant of my earthly way, And in death's billows, be thy hand confess'd; Full well Thou know'st, this hope is all my stay!
SHEPPARD.
Still do I mourn the years for aye gone by, Which on a mortal love I lavished, Nor e'er to soar my pinions balanced, Though wing'd perchance no humble height to fly.
Thou, Dread Invisible, who from on high Look'st down upon this suffering erring head, Oh, be thy succour to my frailty sped, And with thy grace my indigence supply!
My life in storms and warfare doom'd to spend, Harbour'd in peace that life may I resign: It's course though idle, pious be its end!
Oh, for the few brief days, which yet are mine, And for their close, thy guiding hand extend!
Thou know'st on Thee alone my heart's firm hopes recline.
WRANGHAM.
SONNET Lx.x.xVII.
_Dolci durezze e placide repulse._
HE OWES HIS OWN SALVATION TO THE VIRTUOUS CONDUCT OF LAURA.
O sweet severity, repulses mild, With chasten'd love, and tender pity fraught; Graceful rebukes, that to mad pa.s.sion taught Becoming mastery o'er its wishes wild; Speech dignified, in which, united, smiled All courtesy, with purity of thought; Virtue and beauty, that uprooted aught Of baser temper had my heart defiled: Eyes, in whose glance man is beatified-- Awful, in pride of virtue, to restrain Aspiring hopes that justly are denied, Then prompt the drooping spirit to sustain!
These, beautiful in every change, supplied Health to my soul, that else were sought in vain.
DACRE.
SONNET Lx.x.xVIII.
_Spirto felice, che s dolcemente._
BEHOLDING IN FANCY THE SHADE OF LAURA, HE TELLS HER THE LOSS THAT THE WORLD SUSTAINED IN HER DEPARTURE.
Blest spirit, that with beams so sweetly clear Those eyes didst bend on me, than stars more bright, And sighs didst breathe, and words which could delight Despair; and which in fancy still I hear;-- I see thee now, radiant from thy pure sphere O'er the soft gra.s.s, and violet's purple light, Move, as an angel to my wondering sight; More present than earth gave thee to appear.
Yet to the Cause Supreme thou art return'd: And left, here to dissolve, that beauteous veil In which indulgent Heaven invested thee.
Th' impoverish'd world at thy departure mourn'd: For love departed, and the sun grew pale, And death then seem'd our sole felicity.
CAPEL LOFFT.
O blessed Spirit! who those sun-like eyes So sweetly didst inform and brightly fill, Who the apt words didst frame and tender sighs Which in my fond heart have their echo still.
Erewhile I saw thee, glowing with chaste flame, Thy feet 'mid violets and verdure set, Moving in angel not in mortal frame, Life-like and light, before me present yet!
Her, when returning with thy G.o.d to dwell, Thou didst relinquish and that fair veil given For purpose high by fortune's grace to thee: Love at thy parting bade the world farewell; Courtesy died; the sun abandon'd heaven, And Death himself our best friend 'gan to be.
