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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:51:37 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:51:37 -0700 |
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diff --git a/17650-h/17650-h.htm b/17650-h/17650-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0af1ed7 --- /dev/null +++ b/17650-h/17650-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,30691 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Sonnets, Triumphs, and Other Poems of Petrarch. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + a img {border: none;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 1%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: left; + color: gray; + } /* page numbers */ + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin: 1em 2em; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:20%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.iname {display: block; margin-left: 16em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em; font-variant: small-caps; font-size: 110%;} + .poem span.i5 {display: block; margin-left: 5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i6 {display: block; margin-left: 6em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sonnets, Triumphs, and Other Poems of +Petrarch, by Petrarch + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Sonnets, Triumphs, and Other Poems of Petrarch + +Author: Petrarch + +Editor: Thomas Campbell + +Release Date: January 31, 2006 [EBook #17650] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SONNETS, TRIUMPHS, AND *** + + + + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Taavi Kalju and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a id="image01" name="image01"></a><a href="images/01large.jpg"> + <img src="images/01.jpg" + alt="PETRARCH." + title="PETRARCH." /></a><br /> + <span class="caption">PETRARCH.</span> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h1>THE SONNETS, TRIUMPHS,<br /> +AND OTHER POEMS</h1> + +<h3>OF</h3> + +<h1>PETRARCH.</h1> + + +<h3>NOW FIRST COMPLETELY TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH VERSE</h3> + +<h2>BY VARIOUS HANDS.</h2> + + +<h3>WITH A LIFE OF THE POET<br /> +BY THOMAS CAMPBELL.</h3> + + +<h4>ILLUSTRATED WITH SIXTEEN ENGRAVINGS ON STEEL.</h4> + + +<h5>LONDON: GEORGE BELL AND SONS, YORK STREET, +COVENT GARDEN. +1879. +</h5> + + +<p class="center">[<i>Reprinted from Stereotype plates.</i>]</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span></p> +<h2>PREFACE.</h2> + + +<p>The present translation of Petrarch completes the Illustrated Library +series of the Italian Poets emphatically distinguished as "I Quattro +Poeti Italiani."</p> + +<p>It is rather a singular fact that, while the other three Poets of this +world-famed series—Dante, Ariosto, and Tasso—have each found several +translators, no complete version of the fourth, and in Italy the most +popular, has hitherto been presented to the English reader. This lacune +becomes the more remarkable when we consider the great influence which +Petrarch has undoubtedly exercised on our poetry from the time of +Chaucer downwards.</p> + +<p>The plan of the present volume has been to select from all the known +versions those most distinguished for fidelity and rhythm. Of the more +favourite poems, as many as three or four are occasionally given; while +of others, and those by no means few, it has been difficult to find even +one. Indeed, many must have remained entirely unrepresented but for the +spirited efforts of Major Macgregor, who has recently translated nearly +the whole, and that with great closeness both as to matter and form. To +this gentleman we have to return our especial thanks for his liberal +permission to make free use of his labours.</p> + +<p>Among the translators will be found Chaucer, Spenser, Sir Thomas Wyatt, +Anna Hume, Sir John Harington,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</a></span> Basil Kennett, Anne Bannerman, Drummond +of Hawthornden, R. Molesworth, Hugh Boyd, Lord Woodhouselee, the Rev. +Francis Wrangham, the Rev. Dr. Nott, Dr. Morehead, Lady Dacre, Lord +Charlemont, Capel Lofft, John Penn, Charlotte Smith, Mrs. Wrottesley, +Miss Wollaston, J.H. Merivale, the Rev. W. Shepherd, and Leigh Hunt, +besides many anonymous.</p> + +<p>The order of arrangement is that adopted by Marsand and other recent +editors; but to prevent any difficulty in identification, the Italian +first lines have been given throughout, and repeated in an alphabetical +index.</p> + +<p>The Life of Petrarch prefixed is a condensation of the poet Campbell's +two octavo volumes, and includes all the material part of that work.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">York Street, Covent Garden,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">June 28, 1869.</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p> +<h2>LIST OF PLATES.</h2> + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='right'>PAGE</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1. <a href="#image01"><span class="smcap">Portrait of Petrarch</span></a></td> + <td align='right'>to face title.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>2. <a href="#image02"><span class="smcap">View of Naples</span></a></td> + <td align='right'>xliv</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>3. <a href="#image03"><span class="smcap">View of Nice</span></a></td> + <td align='right'>li</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>4. <a href="#image04"><span class="smcap">Coast of Genoa</span></a></td> + <td align='right'>lxvi</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>5. <a href="#image05"><span class="smcap">Bridge of Sighs, Venice</span></a></td> + <td align='right'>lxxviii</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>6. <a href="#image06"><span class="smcap">Vicenza</span></a></td> + <td align='right'>lxxxiii</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>7. <a href="#image07"><span class="smcap">Milan Cathedral</span></a></td> + <td align='right'>cvi</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>8. <a href="#image08"><span class="smcap">Library of St. Mark's, Venice</span></a></td> + <td align='right'>cxv</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>9. <a href="#image09"><span class="smcap">Ferrara. The Old Ducal Palace</span></a></td> + <td align='right'>cxxiii</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>10. <a href="#image10"><span class="smcap">Portrait of Laura</span></a></td> + <td align='right'>1</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>11. <a href="#image11"><span class="smcap">View of Rome—St. Peter's in the Distance</span></a></td> + <td align='right'>66</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>12. <a href="#image12"><span class="smcap">Solitudes of Vaucluse</span> (where Petrarch wrote most of his Sonnets)</a></td> + <td align='right'>105</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>13. <a href="#image13"><span class="smcap">Genoa and the Apennines</span></a></td> + <td align='right'>124</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>14. <a href="#image14"><span class="smcap">Avignon</span> (where Laura resided)</a></td> + <td align='right'>189</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>15. <a href="#image15"><span class="smcap">Selva Piana</span> (where Petrarch received the news of Laura's death)</a></td> + <td align='right'>232</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>16. <a href="#image16"><span class="smcap">Petrarch's House at Arqua</span> (where he wrote his Triumphs)</a></td> + <td align='right'>322</td> +</tr> +</table></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF PETRARCH'S LIFE.</h2> + +<div class = "mynote"><b>Transcriber's note:</b><br /><br /> +The index of poems is at the <a href="#Page_409">end of the document</a>. +</div> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr> + <td align='right'>A.D.</td> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='right'>PAGE</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1304.</td> + <td align='left'>Born at Arezzo, the 20th of July.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_ix">ix</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1305.</td> + <td align='left'>Is taken to Incisa at the age of seven months, where he remains seven years.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_x">x</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1312.</td> + <td align='left'>Is removed to Pisa, where he remains seven months.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_x">x</a></td> + </tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1313.</td> + <td align='left'>Accompanies his parents to Avignon.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_xi">xi</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1315.</td> + <td align='left'>Goes to live at Carpentras.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_xi">xi</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1319.</td> + <td align='left'>Is sent to Montpelier.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_xi">xi</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1323.</td> + <td align='left'>Is removed to Bologna.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_xii">xii</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1326.</td> + <td align='left'>Returns to Avignon—loses his parents—contracts a friendship with James Colonna.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_xiii">xiii</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1327.</td> + <td align='left'>Falls in love with Laura.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_xvii">xvii</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1330.</td> + <td align='left'>Goes to Lombes with James Colonna—forms acquaintance with Socrates and Lælius—and returns to Avignon to live in the house of Cardinal Colonna.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_xviii">xviii</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1331.</td> + <td align='left'>Travels to Paris—travels through Flanders and Brabant, and visits a part of Germany.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_xxiv">xxiv</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1333.</td> + <td align='left'>His first journey to Rome—his long navigation as far as the coast of England—his return to Avignon.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_xxxiii">xxxiii</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1337.</td> + <td align='left'>Birth of his son John—he retires to Vaucluse.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_xxxv">xxxv</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1339.</td> + <td align='left'>Commences writing his epic poem, "Africa."</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_xxxviii">xxxviii</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1340.</td> + <td align='left'>Receives an invitation from Rome to come and be crowned as Laureate—and another invitation, to the same effect, from Paris.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_xlii">xlii</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1341.</td> + <td align='left'>Goes to Naples, and thence to Rome, where he is crowned in the Capitol—repairs to Parma—death of Tommaso da Messina and James Colonna.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_xliii">xliii</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1342.</td> + <td align='left'>Goes as orator of the Roman people to Clement VI. at Avignon—Studies the Greek language under Barlaamo.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_xlviii">xlviii</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1343.</td> + <td align='left'>Birth of his daughter Francesca—he writes his dialogues "De secreto conflictu curarum suarum"—is sent to Naples by Clement VI. and Cardinal Colonna—goes to Rome for a third and a fourth time—returns from Naples to Parma.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_li">li</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1344.</td> + <td align='left'>Continues to reside in Parma.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_lviii">lviii</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1345.</td> + <td align='left'>Leaves Parma, goes to Bologna, and thence to Verona—returns to Avignon.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_lviii">lviii</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1346.</td> + <td align='left'>Continues to live at Avignon—is elected canon of Parma.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_lix">lix</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1347.</td> + <td align='left'>Revolution at Rome—Petrarch's connection with the Tribune—takes his fifth journey to Italy—repairs to Parma.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_lxiv">lxiv</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1348.</td> + <td align='left'>Goes to Verona—death of Laura—he returns again to Parma—his autograph memorandum in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span> Milan copy of Virgil—visits Manfredi, Lord of Carpi, and James Carrara at Padua.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_lxvii">lxvii</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1349.</td> + <td align='left'>Goes from Parma to Mantua and Ferrara—returns to Padua, and receives, probably in this year, a canonicate in Padua.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_lxxiii">lxxiii</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1350.</td> + <td align='left'>Is raised to the Archdeaconry of Parma—writes to the Emperor Charles IV.—goes to Rome, and, in going and returning, stops at Florence.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_lxxiii">lxxiii</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1351.</td> + <td align='left'>Writes to Andrea Dandolo with a view to reconcile the Venetians and Florentines—the Florentines decree the restoration of his paternal property, and send John Boccaccio to recall him to his country—he returns, for the sixth time, to Avignon—is consulted by the four Cardinals, who had been deputed to reform the government of Rome.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_lxxx">lxxx</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1352.</td> + <td align='left'>Writes to Clement VI. the letter which excites against him the enmity of the medical tribe—begins writing his treatise "De Vita Solitaria."</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_lxxxvii">lxxxvii</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1353.</td> + <td align='left'>Visits his brother in the Carthusian monastery of Monte Rivo—writes his treatise "De Otio Religiosorum"—returns to Italy—takes up his abode with the Visconti—is sent by the Archbishop Visconti to Venice, to negotiate a peace between the Venetians and Genoese.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_xc">xc</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1354.</td> + <td align='left'>Visits the Emperor at Mantua.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_xcix">xcix</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1355.</td> + <td align='left'>His embassy to the Emperor—publishes his "Invective against a Physician."</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_xcix">xcix</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1360.</td> + <td align='left'>His embassy to John, King of France.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_cxii">cxii</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1361.</td> + <td align='left'>Leaves Milan and settles at Venice—gives his library to the Venetians.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_cxiii">cxiii</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1364.</td> + <td align='left'>Writes for Lucchino del Verme his treatise "De Officio et Virtutibus Imperatoris."</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_cxvii">cxvii</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1366.</td> + <td align='left'>Writes to Urban V. imploring him to remove the Papal residence to Rome—finishes his treatise "De Remediis utriusque Fortunæ."</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_cxviii">cxviii</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1368.</td> + <td align='left'>Quits Venice—four young Venetians, either in this year or the preceding, promulgate a critical judgment against Petrarch—repairs to Pavia to negotiate peace between the Pope's Legate and the Visconti.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_cxix">cxix</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1370.</td> + <td align='left'>Sets out to visit the Pontiff—is taken ill at Ferrara—retires to Arquà among the Euganean hills.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_cxxii">cxxii</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1371.</td> + <td align='left'>Writes his "Invectiva contra Gallum," and his "Epistle to Posterity."</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_cxxiii">cxxiii</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1372.</td> + <td align='left'>Writes for Francesco da Carrara his essay "De Republica optime administranda."</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_cxxx">cxxx</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1373.</td> + <td align='left'>Is sent to Venice by Francesco da Carrara.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_cxxx">cxxx</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>1374.</td> + <td align='left'>Translates the Griseldis of Boccaccio—dies on the 18th of July in the same year.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_cxxxi">cxxxi</a></td> +</tr> +</table></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE LIFE OF PETRARCH.</h2> + + +<p>The family of Petrarch was originally of Florence, where his ancestors +held employments of trust and honour. Garzo, his great-grandfather, was +a notary universally respected for his integrity and judgment. Though he +had never devoted himself exclusively to letters, his literary opinion +was consulted by men of learning. He lived to be a hundred and four +years old, and died, like Plato, in the same bed in which he had been +born.</p> + +<p>Garzo left three sons, one of whom was the grandfather of Petrarch. +Diminutives being customary to the Tuscan tongue, Pietro, the poet's +father, was familiarly called Petracco, or little Peter. He, like his +ancestors, was a notary, and not undistinguished for sagacity. He had +several important commissions from government. At last, in the +increasing conflicts between the Guelphs and the Ghibellines—or, as +they now called themselves, the Blacks and the Whites—Petracco, like +Dante, was obliged to fly from his native city, along with the other +Florentines of the White party. He was unjustly accused of having +officially issued a false deed, and was condemned, on the 20th of +October, 1302, to pay a fine of one thousand lire, and to have his hand +cut off, if that sum was not paid within ten days from the time he +should be apprehended. Petracco fled, taking with him his wife, Eletta +Canigiani, a lady of a distinguished family in Florence, several of whom +had held the office of Gonfalonier.</p> + +<p>Petracco and his wife first settled at Arezzo, a very ancient city of +Tuscany. Hostilities did not cease between the Florentine factions till +some years afterwards; and, in an attempt made by the Whites to take +Florence by assault, Petracco was present with his party. They were +repulsed. This action, which was fatal to their cause, took place in the +night between the 19th and 20th days of July, 1304,—the precise date of +the birth of Petrarch.</p> + +<p>During our poet's infancy, his family had still to struggle with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</a></span> an +adverse fate; for his proscribed and wandering father was obliged to +separate himself from his wife and child, in order to have the means of +supporting them.</p> + +<p>As the pretext for banishing Petracco was purely personal, Eletta, his +wife, was not included in the sentence. She removed to a small property +of her husband's, at Ancisa, fourteen miles from Florence, and took the +little poet along with her, in the seventh month of his age. In their +passage thither, both mother and child, together with their guide, had a +narrow escape from being drowned in the Arno. Eletta entrusted her +precious charge to a robust peasant, who, for fear of hurting the child, +wrapt it in a swaddling cloth, and suspended it over his shoulder, in +the same manner as Metabus is described by Virgil, in the eleventh book +of the Æneid, to have carried his daughter Camilla. In passing the +river, the horse of the guide, who carried Petrarch, stumbled, and sank +down; and in their struggles to save him, both his sturdy bearer and the +frantic parent were, like the infant itself, on the point of being +drowned.</p> + +<p>After Eletta had settled at Ancisa, Petracco often visited her by +stealth, and the pledges of their affection were two other sons, one of +whom died in childhood. The other, called Gherardo, was educated along +with Petrarch. Petrarch remained with his mother at Ancisa for seven +years.</p> + +<p>The arrival of the Emperor, Henry VII., in Italy, revived the hopes of +the banished Florentines; and Petracco, in order to wait the event, went +to Pisa, whither he brought his wife and Francesco, who was now in his +eighth year. Petracco remained with his family in Pisa for several +months; but tired at last of fallacious hopes, and not daring to trust +himself to the promises of the popular party, who offered to recall him +to Florence, he sought an asylum in Avignon, a place to which many +Italians were allured by the hopes of honours and gain at the papal +residence. In this voyage, Petracco and his family were nearly +shipwrecked off Marseilles.</p> + +<p>But the numbers that crowded to Avignon, and its luxurious court, +rendered that city an uncomfortable place for a family in slender +circumstances. Petracco accordingly removed his household, in 1315, to +Carpentras, a small quiet town, where living was cheaper than at +Avignon. There, under the care of his mother, Petrarch imbibed his first +instruction, and was taught by one Convennole da Prato as much grammar +and logic as could be learned at his age, and more than could be learned +by an ordinary disciple from so common-place a preceptor. This poor +master, however, had sufficient intelligence to appreciate the genius of +Petrarch, whom he esteemed and honoured beyond all his other pupils. On +the other hand, his illustrious scholar aided him, in his old age and +poverty, out of his scanty income.</p> + +<p>Petrarch used to compare Convennole to a whetstone, which is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[Pg xi]</a></span> blunt +itself, but which sharpens others. His old master, however was sharp +enough to overreach him in the matter of borrowing and lending. When the +poet had collected a considerable library, Convennole paid him a visit, +and, pretending to be engaged in something that required him to consult +Cicero, borrowed a copy of one of the works of that orator, which was +particularly valuable. He made excuses, from time to time, for not +returning it; but Petrarch, at last, had too good reason to suspect that +the old grammarian had pawned it. The poet would willingly have paid for +redeeming it, but Convennole was so much ashamed, that he would not tell +to whom it was pawned; and the precious manuscript was lost.</p> + +<p>Petracco contracted an intimacy with Settimo, a Genoese, who was like +himself, an exile for his political principles, and who fixed his abode +at Avignon with his wife and his boy, Guido Settimo, who was about the +same age with Petrarch. The two youths formed a friendship, which +subsisted between them for life.</p> + +<p>Petrarch manifested signs of extraordinary sensibility to the charms of +nature in his childhood, both when he was at Carpentras and at Avignon. +One day, when he was at the latter residence, a party was made up, to +see the fountain of Vaucluse, a few leagues from Avignon. The little +Francesco had no sooner arrived at the lovely landscape than he was +struck with its beauties, and exclaimed, "Here, now, is a retirement +suited to my taste, and preferable, in my eyes, to the greatest and most +splendid cities."</p> + +<p>A genius so fine as that of our poet could not servilely confine itself +to the slow method of school learning, adapted to the intellects of +ordinary boys. Accordingly, while his fellow pupils were still plodding +through the first rudiments of Latin, Petrarch had recourse to the +original writers, from whom the grammarians drew their authority, and +particularly employed himself in perusing the works of Cicero. And, +although he was, at this time, much too young to comprehend the full +force of the orator's reasoning, he was so struck with the charms of his +style, that he considered him the only true model in prose composition.</p> + +<p>His father, who was himself something of a scholar, was pleased and +astonished at this early proof of his good taste; he applauded his +classical studies, and encouraged him to persevere in them; but, very +soon, he imagined that he had cause to repent of his commendations. +Classical learning was, in that age, regarded as a mere solitary +accomplishment, and the law was the only road that led to honours and +preferment. Petracco was, therefore, desirous to turn into that channel +the brilliant qualities of his son; and for this purpose he sent him, at +the age of fifteen, to the university of Montpelier. Petrarch remained +there for four years, and attended lectures on law from some of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[Pg xii]</a></span> the +most famous professors of the science. But his prepossession for Cicero +prevented him from much frequenting the dry and dusty walks of +jurisprudence. In his epistle to posterity, he endeavours to justify +this repugnance by other motives. He represents the abuses, the +chicanery, and mercenary practices of the law, as inconsistent with +every principle of candour and honesty.</p> + +<p>When Petracco observed that his son made no great progress in his legal +studies at Montpelier, he removed him, in 1323, to Bologna, celebrated +for the study of the canon and civil law, probably imagining that the +superior fame of the latter place might attract him to love the law. To +Bologna Petrarch was accompanied by his brother Gherardo, and by his +inseparable friend, young Guido Settimo.</p> + +<p>But neither the abilities of the several professors in that celebrated +academy, nor the strongest exhortations of his father, were sufficient +to conquer the deeply-rooted aversion which our poet had conceived for +the law. Accordingly, Petracco hastened to Bologna, that he might +endeavour to check his son's indulgence in literature, which +disconcerted his favourite designs. Petrarch, guessing at the motive of +his arrival, hid the copies of Cicero, Virgil, and some other authors, +which composed his small library, and to purchase which he had deprived +himself of almost the necessaries of life. His father, however, soon +discovered the place of their concealment, and threw them into the fire. +Petrarch exhibited as much agony as if he had been himself the martyr of +his father's resentment. Petracco was so much affected by his son's +tears, that he rescued from the flames Cicero and Virgil, and, +presenting them to Petrarch, he said, "Virgil will console you for the +loss of your other MSS., and Cicero will prepare you for the study of +the law."</p> + +<p>It is by no means wonderful that a mind like Petrarch's could but ill +relish the glosses of the Code and the commentaries on the Decretals.</p> + +<p>At Bologna, however, he met with an accomplished literary man and no +inelegant poet in one of the professors, who, if he failed in persuading +Petrarch to make the law his profession, certainly quickened his relish +and ambition for poetry. This man was Cino da Pistoia, who is esteemed +by Italians as the most tender and harmonious lyric poet in the native +language anterior to Petrarch.</p> + +<p>During his residence at Bologna, Petrarch made an excursion as far as +Venice, a city that struck him with enthusiastic admiration. In one of +his letters he calls it "<i>orbem alterum</i>." Whilst Italy was harassed, he +says, on all sides by continual dissensions, like the sea in a storm, +Venice alone appeared like a safe harbour, which overlooked the tempest +without feeling its commotion. The resolute and independent spirit of +that republic made an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[Pg xiii]</a></span> indelible impression on Petrarch's heart. The +young poet, perhaps, at this time little imagined that Venice was to be +the last scene of his triumphant eloquence.</p> + +<p>Soon after his return from Venice to Bologna, he received the melancholy +intelligence of the death of his mother, in the thirty-eighth year of +her age. Her age is known by a copy of verses which Petrarch wrote upon +her death, the verses being the same in number as the years of her life. +She had lived humble and retired, and had devoted herself to the good of +her family; virtuous amidst the prevalence of corrupted manners, and, +though a beautiful woman, untainted by the breath of calumny. Petrarch +has repaid her maternal affection by preserving her memory from +oblivion. Petracco did not long survive the death of this excellent +woman. According to the judgment of our poet, his father was a man of +strong character and understanding. Banished from his native country, +and engaged in providing for his family, he was prevented by the +scantiness of his fortune, and the cares of his situation, from rising +to that eminence which he might have otherwise attained. But his +admiration of Cicero, in an age when that author was universally +neglected, was a proof of his superior mind.</p> + +<p>Petrarch quitted Bologna upon the death of his father, and returned to +Avignon, with his brother Gherardo, to collect the shattered remains of +their father's property. Upon their arrival, they found their domestic +affairs in a state of great disorder, as the executors of Petracco's +will had betrayed the trust reposed in them, and had seized most of the +effects of which they could dispose. Under these circumstances, Petrarch +was most anxious for a MS. of Cicero, which his father had highly +prized. "The guardians," he writes, "eager to appropriate what they +esteemed the more valuable effects, had fortunately left this MS. as a +thing of no value." Thus he owed to their ignorance this treatise, which +he considered the richest portion of the inheritance left him by his +father.</p> + +<p>But, that inheritance being small, and not sufficient for the +maintenance of the two brothers, they were obliged to think of some +profession for their subsistence; they therefore entered the church; and +Avignon was the place, of all others, where preferment was most easily +obtained. John XXII. had fixed his residence entirely in that city since +October, 1316, and had appropriated to himself the nomination to all the +vacant benefices. The pretence for this appropriation was to prevent +simony—in others, not in his Holiness—as the sale of benefices was +carried by him to an enormous height. At every promotion to a bishopric, +he removed other bishops; and, by the meanest impositions, soon amassed +prodigious wealth. Scandalous emoluments, also, which arose from the +sale of indulgences, were enlarged, if not invented, under his papacy, +and every method of acquiring riches<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">[Pg xiv]</a></span> was justified which could +contribute to feed his avarice. By these sordid means, he collected such +sums, that, according to Villani, he left behind him, <i>in the sacred +treasury</i>, twenty-five millions of florins, a treasure which Voltaire +remarks is hardly credible.</p> + +<p>The luxury and corruption which reigned in the Roman court at Avignon +are fully displayed in some letters of Petrarch's, without either date +or address. The partizans of that court, it is true, accuse him of +prejudice and exaggeration. He painted, as they allege, the popes and +cardinals in the gloomiest colouring. His letters contain the blackest +catalogue of crimes that ever disgraced humanity.</p> + +<p>Petrarch was twenty-two years of age when he settled at Avignon, a scene +of licentiousness and profligacy. The luxury of the cardinals, and the +pomp and riches of the papal court, were displayed in an extravagant +profusion of feasts and ceremonies, which attracted to Avignon women of +all ranks, among whom intrigue and gallantry were generally +countenanced. Petrarch was by nature of a warm temperament, with vivid +and susceptible passions, and strongly attached to the fair sex. We must +not therefore be surprised if, with these dispositions, and in such a +dissolute city, he was betrayed into some excesses. But these were the +result of his complexion, and not of deliberate profligacy. He alludes +to this subject in his Epistle to Posterity, with every appearance of +truth and candour.</p> + +<p>From his own confession, Petrarch seems to have been somewhat vain of +his personal appearance during his youth, a venial foible, from which +neither the handsome nor the homely, nor the wise nor the foolish, are +exempt. It is amusing to find our own Milton betraying this weakness, in +spite of all the surrounding strength of his character. In answering one +of his slanderers, who had called him pale and cadaverous, the author of +Paradise Lost appeals to all who knew him whether his complexion was not +so fresh and blooming as to make him appear ten years younger than he +really was.</p> + +<p>Petrarch, when young, was so strikingly handsome, that he was frequently +pointed at and admired as he passed along, for his features were manly, +well-formed, and expressive, and his carriage was graceful and +distinguished. He was sprightly in conversation, and his voice was +uncommonly musical. His complexion was between brown and fair, and his +eyes were bright and animated. His countenance was a faithful index of +his heart.</p> + +<p>He endeavoured to temper the warmth of his constitution by the +regularity of his living and the plainness of his diet. He indulged +little in either wine or sleep, and fed chiefly on fruits and +vegetables.</p> + +<p>In his early days he was nice and neat in his dress, even to a degree of +affectation, which, in later life, he ridiculed when writing to his +brother Gherardo. "Do you remember," he says,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">[Pg xv]</a></span> "how much care we +employed in the lure of dressing our persons; when we traversed the +streets, with what attention did we not avoid every breath of wind which +might discompose our hair; and with what caution did we not prevent the +least speck of dirt from soiling our garments!"</p> + +<p>This vanity, however, lasted only during his youthful days. And even +then neither attention to his personal appearance, nor his attachment to +the fair sex, nor his attendance upon the great, could induce Petrarch +to neglect his own mental improvement, for, amidst all these +occupations, he found leisure for application, and devoted himself to +the cultivation of his favourite pursuits of literature.</p> + +<p>Inclined by nature to moral philosophy, he was guided by the reading of +Cicero and Seneca to that profound knowledge of the human heart, of the +duties of others and of our own duties, which shows itself in all his +writings. Gifted with a mind full of enthusiasm for poetry, he learned +from Virgil elegance and dignity in versification. But he had still +higher advantages from the perusal of Livy. The magnanimous actions of +Roman heroes so much excited the soul of Petrarch, that he thought the +men of his own age light and contemptible.</p> + +<p>His first compositions were in Latin: many motives, however, induced him +to compose in the vulgar tongue, as Italian was then called, which, +though improved by Dante, was still, in many respects, harsh and +inelegant, and much in want of new beauties. Petrarch wrote for the +living, and for that portion of the living who were least of all to be +fascinated by the language of the dead. Latin might be all very well for +inscriptions on mausoleums, but it was not suited for the ears of beauty +and the bowers of love. The Italian language acquired, under his +cultivation, increased elegance and richness, so that the harmony of his +style has contributed to its beauty. He did not, however, attach himself +solely to Italian, but composed much in Latin, which he reserved for +graver, or, as he considered, more important subjects. His compositions +in Latin are—Africa, an epic poem; his Bucolics, containing twelve +eclogues; and three books of epistles.</p> + +<p>Petrarch's greatest obstacles to improvement arose from the scarcity of +authors whom he wished to consult—for the manuscripts of the writers of +the Augustan age were, at that time, so uncommon, that many could not be +procured, and many more of them could not be purchased under the most +extravagant price. This scarcity of books had checked the dawning light +of literature. The zeal of our poet, however, surmounted all these +obstacles, for he was indefatigable in collecting and copying many of +the choicest manuscripts; and posterity is indebted to him for the +possession of many valuable writings, which were in danger of being lost +through the carelessness or ignorance of the possessors.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xvi" id="Page_xvi">[Pg xvi]</a></span></p> + +<p>Petrarch could not but perceive the superiority of his own understanding +and the brilliancy of his abilities. The modest humility which knows not +its own worth is not wont to show itself in minds much above mediocrity; +and to elevated geniuses this virtue is a stranger. Petrarch from his +youthful age had an internal assurance that he should prove worthy of +estimation and honours. Nevertheless, as he advanced in the field of +science, he saw the prospect increase, Alps over Alps, and seemed to be +lost amidst the immensity of objects before him. Hence the anticipation +of immeasurable labours occasionally damped his application. But from +this depression of spirits he was much relieved by the encouragement of +John of Florence, one of the secretaries of the Pope, a man of learning +and probity. He soon distinguished the extraordinary abilities of +Petrarch; he directed him in his studies, and cheered up his ambition. +Petrarch returned his affection with unbounded confidence. He entrusted +him with all his foibles, his disgusts, and his uneasinesses. He says +that he never conversed with him without finding himself more calm and +composed, and more animated for study.</p> + +<p>The superior sagacity of our poet, together with his pleasing manners, +and his increasing reputation for knowledge, ensured to him the most +flattering prospects of success. His conversation was courted by men of +rank, and his acquaintance was sought by men of learning. It was at this +time, 1326, that his merit procured him the friendship and patronage of +James Colonna, who belonged to one of the most ancient and illustrious +families of Italy.</p> + +<p>"About the twenty-second year of my life," Petrarch writes to one of his +friends, "I became acquainted with James Colonna. He had seen me whilst +I resided at Bologna, and was prepossessed, as he was pleased to say, +with my appearance. Upon his arrival at Avignon, he again saw me, when, +having inquired minutely into the state of my affairs, he admitted me to +his friendship. I cannot sufficiently describe the cheerfulness of his +temper, his social disposition, his moderation in prosperity, his +constancy in adversity. I speak not from report, but from my own +experience. He was endowed with a persuasive and forcible eloquence. His +conversation and letters displayed the amiableness of his sincere +character. He gained the first place in my affections, which he ever +afterwards retained."</p> + +<p>Such is the portrait which our poet gives of James Colonna. A faithful +and wise friend is among the most precious gifts of fortune; but, as +friendships cannot wholly feed our affections, the heart of Petrarch, at +this ardent age, was destined to be swayed by still tenderer feelings. +He had nearly finished his twenty-third year without having ever +seriously known the passion of love. In that year he first saw Laura. +Concerning this lady, at one time, when no life of Petrarch had been yet +written that was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xvii" id="Page_xvii">[Pg xvii]</a></span> not crude and inaccurate, his biographers launched +into the wildest speculations. One author considered her as an +allegorical being; another discovered her to be a type of the Virgin +Mary; another thought her an allegory of poetry and repentance. Some +denied her even allegorical existence, and deemed her a mere phantom +beauty, with which the poet had fallen in love, like Pygmalion with the +work of his own creation. All these caprices about Laura's history have +been long since dissipated, though the principal facts respecting her +were never distinctly verified, till De Sade, her own descendant, wrote +his memoirs of the Life of Petrarch.</p> + +<p>Petrarch himself relates that in 1327, exactly at the first hour of the +6th of April, he first beheld Laura in the church of St. Clara of +Avignon,<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> where neither the sacredness of the place, nor the solemnity +of the day, could prevent him from being smitten for life with human +love. In that fatal hour he saw a lady, a little younger than himself<a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a> +in a green mantle sprinkled with violets, on which her golden hair fell +plaited in tresses. She was distinguished from all others by her proud +and delicate carriage. The impression which she made on his heart was +sudden, yet it was never effaced.</p> + +<p>Laura, descended from a family of ancient and noble extraction, was the +daughter of Audibert de Noves, a Provençal nobleman, by his wife +Esmessenda. She was born at Avignon, probably in 1308. She had a +considerable fortune, and was married in 1325 to Hugh de Sade. The +particulars of her life are little known, as Petrarch has left few +traces of them in his letters; and it was still less likely that he +should enter upon her personal history in his sonnets, which, as they +were principally addressed to herself, made it unnecessary for him to +inform her of what she already knew.</p> + +<p>While many writers have erred in considering Petrarch's attachment as +visionary, others, who have allowed the reality of his passion, have +been mistaken in their opinion of its object. They allege that Petrarch +was a happy lover, and that his mistress was accustomed to meet him at +Vaucluse, and make him a full compensation for his fondness. No one at +all acquainted with the life and writings of Petrarch will need to be +told that this is an absurd fiction. Laura, a married woman, who bore +ten children to a rather morose husband, could not have gone to meet him +at Vaucluse without the most flagrant scandal. It is evident from his +writings that she repudiated his passion whenever it threatened to +exceed the limits of virtuous friendship. On one occasion,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xviii" id="Page_xviii">[Pg xviii]</a></span> when he +seemed to presume too far upon her favour, she said to him with +severity, "I am not what you take me for." If his love had been +successful, he would have said less about it.</p> + +<p>Of the two persons in this love affair, I am more inclined to pity Laura +than Petrarch. Independently of her personal charms, I cannot conceive +Laura otherwise than as a kind-hearted, loveable woman, who could not +well be supposed to be totally indifferent to the devotion of the most +famous and fascinating man of his age. On the other hand, what was the +penalty that she would have paid if she had encouraged his addresses as +far as he would have carried them? Her disgrace, a stigma left on her +family, and the loss of all that character which upholds a woman in her +own estimation and in that of the world. I would not go so far as to say +that she did not at times betray an anxiety to retain him under the +spell of her fascination, as, for instance, when she is said to have +cast her eyes to the ground in sadness when he announced his intention +to leave Avignon; but still I should like to hear her own explanation +before I condemned her. And, after all, she was only anxious for the +continuance of attentions, respecting which she had made a fixed +understanding that they should not exceed the bounds of innocence.</p> + +<p>We have no distinct account how her husband regarded the homage of +Petrarch to his wife—whether it flattered his vanity, or moved his +wrath. As tradition gives him no very good character for temper, the +latter supposition is the more probable. Every morning that he went out +he might hear from some kind friend the praises of a new sonnet which +Petrarch had written on his wife; and, when he came back to dinner, of +course his good humour was not improved by the intelligence. He was in +the habit of scolding her till she wept; he married seven months after +her death, and, from all that is known of him, appears to have been a +bad husband. I suspect that Laura paid dearly for her poet's idolatry.</p> + +<p>No incidents of Petrarch's life have been transmitted to us for the +first year or two after his attachment to Laura commenced. He seems to +have continued at Avignon, prosecuting his studies and feeding his +passion.</p> + +<p>James Colonna, his friend and patron, was promoted in 1328 to the +bishopric of Lombes in Gascony; and in the year 1330 he went from +Avignon to take possession of his diocese, and invited Petrarch to +accompany him to his residence. No invitation could be more acceptable +to our poet: they set out at the end of March, 1330. In order to reach +Lombes, it was necessary to cross the whole of Languedoc, and to pass +through Montpelier, Narbonne, and Toulouse. Petrarch already knew +Montpelier, where he had, or ought to have, studied the law for four +years.</p> + +<p>Full of enthusiasm for Rome, Petrarch was rejoiced to find at Narbonne +the city which had been the first Roman colony planted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xix" id="Page_xix">[Pg xix]</a></span> among the Gauls. +This colony had been formed entirely of Roman citizens, and, in order to +reconcile them to their exile, the city was built like a little image of +Rome. It had its capital, its baths, arches, and fountains; all which +works were worthy of the Roman name. In passing through Narbonne, +Petrarch discovered a number of ancient monuments and inscriptions.</p> + +<p>Our travellers thence proceeded to Toulouse, where they passed several +days. This city, which was known even before the foundation of Rome, is +called, in some ancient Roman acts, "Roma Garumnæ." It was famous in the +classical ages for cultivating literature. After the fall of the Roman +empire, the successive incursions of the Visigoths, the Saracens, and +the Normans, for a long time silenced the Muses at Toulouse; but they +returned to their favourite haunt after ages of barbarism had passed +away. De Sade says, that what is termed Provençal poetry was much more +cultivated by the Languedocians than by the Provençals, properly so +called. The city of Toulouse was considered as the principal seat of +this earliest modern poetry, which was carried to perfection in the +twelfth and thirteenth centuries, under the patronage of the Counts of +Toulouse, particularly Raimond V., and his son, Raimond VI. Petrarch +speaks with high praise of those poets in his Triumphs of Love. It has +been alleged that he owed them this mark of his regard for their having +been so useful to him in his Italian poetry; and Nostradamus even +accuses him of having stolen much from them. But Tassoni, who understood +the Provençal poets better than Nostradamus, defends him successfully +from this absurd accusation.</p> + +<p>Although Provençal poetry was a little on its decline since the days of +the Dukes of Aquitaine and the Counts of Toulouse, it was still held in +honour; and, when Petrarch arrived, the Floral games had been +established at Toulouse during six years.<a name="FNanchor_C_3" id="FNanchor_C_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_C_3" class="fnanchor">[C]</a></p> + +<p>Ere long, however, our travellers found less agreeable objects of +curiosity, that formed a sad contrast with the chivalric manners, the +floral games, and the gay poetry of southern France. Bishop Colonna and +Petrarch had intended to remain for some time at Toulouse; but their +sojourn was abridged by their horror at a tragic event<a name="FNanchor_D_4" id="FNanchor_D_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_D_4" class="fnanchor">[D]</a> in the +principal monastery of the place. There<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xx" id="Page_xx">[Pg xx]</a></span> lived in that monastery a young +monk, named Augustin, who was expert in music, and accompanied the +psalmody of the religious brothers with beautiful touches on the organ. +The superior of the convent, relaxing its discipline, permitted Augustin +frequently to mix with the world, in order to teach music, and to +improve himself in the art. The young monk was in the habit of +familiarly visiting the house of a respectable citizen: he was +frequently in the society of his daughter, and, by the express +encouragement of her father, undertook to exercise her in the practice +of music. Another young man, who was in love with the girl, grew jealous +of the monk, who was allowed to converse so familiarly with her, whilst +he, her lay admirer, could only have stolen glimpses of her as she +passed to church or to public spectacles. He set about the ruin of his +supposed rival with cunning atrocity; and, finding that the young woman +was infirm in health, suborned a physician, as worthless as himself, to +declare that she was pregnant. Her credulous father, without inquiring +whether the intelligence was true or false, went to the superior of the +convent, and accused Augustin, who, though thunderstruck at the +accusation, denied it firmly, and defended himself intrepidly. But the +superior was deaf to his plea of innocence, and ordered him to be shut +up in his cell, that he might await his punishment. Thither the poor +young man was conducted, and threw himself on his bed in a state of +horror.</p> + +<p>The superior and the elders among the friars thought it a meet fate for +the accused that he should be buried alive in a subterranean dungeon, +after receiving the terrific sentence of "<i>Vade in pace</i>." At the end of +several days the victim dashed out his brains against the walls of his +sepulchre. Bishop Colonna, who, it would appear, had no power to oppose +this hideous transaction, when he was informed of it, determined to +leave the place immediately; and Petrarch in his indignation exclaimed—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Heu! fuge crudeles terras, fuge littus avarum."—<span class="smcap">Virg.</span></p></div> + +<p>On the 26th of May, 1330, the Bishop of Lombes and Petrarch quitted +Toulouse, and arrived at the mansion of the diocese. Lombes—in Latin, +Lombarium—lies at the foot of the Pyrenees, only eight leagues from +Toulouse. It is small and ill-built, and offers no allurement to the +curiosity of the traveller. Till lately it had been a simple abbey of +the Augustine monks. The whole of the clergy of the little city, singing +psalms, issued out of Lombes to meet their new pastor, who, under a rich +canopy, was conducted to the principal church, and there, in his +episcopal robes, blessed the people, and delivered an eloquent +discourse. Petrarch beheld with admiration the dignified behaviour of +the youthful prelate. James Colonna, though accustomed to the wealth and +luxury of Rome, came to the Pyrenean rocks with a pleased countenance. +"His aspect," says Petrarch, "made it seem as if Italy had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxi" id="Page_xxi">[Pg xxi]</a></span> +transported into Gascony." Nothing is more beautiful than the patient +endurance of our destiny; yet there are many priests who would suffer +translation to a well-paid, though mountainous bishopric, with patience +and piety.</p> + +<p>The vicinity of the Pyrenees renders the climate of Lombes very severe; +and the character and conversation of the inhabitants were scarcely more +genial than their climate. But Petrarch found in the bishop's abode +friends who consoled him in this exile among the Lombesians. Two young +and familiar inmates of the Bishop's house attracted and returned his +attachment. The first of these was Lello di Stefani, a youth of a noble +and ancient family in Rome, long attached to the Colonnas. Lello's +gifted understanding was improved by study; so Petrarch tells us; and he +could have been no ordinary man whom our accomplished poet so highly +valued. In his youth he had quitted his studies for the profession of +arms; but the return of peace restored him to his literary pursuits. +Such was the attachment between Petrarch and Lello, that Petrarch gave +him the name of Lælius, the most attached companion of Scipio. The other +friend to whom Petrarch attached himself in the house of James Colonna +was a young German, extremely accomplished in music. De Sade says that +his name was Louis, without mentioning his cognomen. He was a native of +Ham, near Bois le Duc, on the left bank of the Rhine between Brabant and +Holland. Petrarch, with his Italian prejudices, regarded him as a +barbarian by birth; but he was so fascinated by his serene temper and +strong judgment, that he singled him out to be the chief of all his +friends, and gave him the name of Socrates, noting him as an example +that Nature can sometimes produce geniuses in the most unpropitious +regions.</p> + +<p>After having passed the summer of 1330 at Lombes, the Bishop returned to +Avignon, in order to meet his father, the elder Stefano Colonna, and his +brother the Cardinal.</p> + +<p>The Colonnas were a family of the first distinction in modern Italy. +They had been exceedingly powerful during the popedom of Boniface VIII., +through the talents of the late Cardinal James Colonna, brother of the +famous old Stefano, so well known to Petrarch, and whom he used to call +a phœnix sprung up from the ashes of Rome. Their house possessed also +an influential public character in the Cardinal Pietro, brother of the +younger Stefano. They were formidable from the territories and castles +which they possessed, and by their alliance and friendship with Charles, +King of Naples. The power of the Colonna family became offensive to +Boniface, who, besides, hated the two Cardinals for having opposed the +renunciation of Celestine V., which Boniface had fraudulently obtained. +Boniface procured a crusade against them. They were beaten, expelled +from their castles, and almost exterminated; they implored peace, but in +vain; they were driven from Rome, and obliged to seek refuge, some in +Sicily<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxii" id="Page_xxii">[Pg xxii]</a></span> and others in France. During the time of their exile, Boniface +proclaimed it a capital crime to give shelter to any of them.</p> + +<p>The Colonnas finally returned to their dignities and property, and +afterwards made successful war against the house of their rivals, the +Orsini.</p> + +<p>John Colonna, the Cardinal, brother of the Bishop of Lombes, and son of +old Stefano, was one of the very ablest men at the papal court. He +insisted on our poet taking up his abode in his own palace at Avignon. +"What good fortune was this for me!" says Petrarch. "This great man +never made me feel that he was my superior in station. He was like a +father or an indulgent brother; and I lived in his house as if it had +been my own." At a subsequent period, we find him on somewhat cooler +terms with John Colonna, and complaining that his domestic dependence +had, by length of time, become wearisome to him. But great allowance is +to be made for such apparent inconsistencies in human attachment. At +different times our feelings and language on any subject may be +different without being insincere. The truth seems to be that Petrarch +looked forward to the friendship of the Colonnas for promotion, which he +either received scantily, or not at all; so it is little marvellous if +he should have at last felt the tedium of patronage.</p> + +<p>For the present, however, this home was completely to Petrarch's taste. +It was the rendezvous of all strangers distinguished by their knowledge +and talents, whom the papal court attracted to Avignon, which was now +the great centre of all political negotiations.</p> + +<p>This assemblage of the learned had a powerful influence on Petrarch's +fine imagination. He had been engaged for some time in the perusal of +Livy, and his enthusiasm for ancient Rome was heightened, if possible, +by the conversation of old Stefano Colonna, who dwelt on no subject with +so much interest as on the temples and palaces of the ancient city, +majestic even in their ruins.</p> + +<p>During the bitter persecution raised against his family by Boniface +VIII., Stefano Colonna had been the chief object of the Pope's +implacable resentment. Though oppressed by the most adverse +circumstances, his estates confiscated, his palaces levelled with the +ground, and himself driven into exile, the majesty of his appearance, +and the magnanimity of his character, attracted the respect of strangers +wherever he went. He had the air of a sovereign prince rather than of an +exile, and commanded more regard than monarchs in the height of their +ostentation.</p> + +<p>In the picture of his times, Stefano makes a noble and commanding +figure. If the reader, however, happens to search into that period of +Italian history, he will find many facts to cool the romance of his +imagination respecting all the Colonna family. They were, in plain +truth, an oppressive aristocratic family. The portion of Italy which +they and their tyrannical rivals possessed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxiii" id="Page_xxiii">[Pg xxiii]</a></span> was infamously governed. The +highways were rendered impassable by banditti, who were in the pay of +contesting feudal lords; and life and property were everywhere insecure.</p> + +<p>Stefano, nevertheless, seems to have been a man formed for better times. +He improved in the school of misfortune—the serenity of his temper +remained unclouded by adversity, and his faculties unimpaired by age.</p> + +<p>Among the illustrious strangers who came to Avignon at this time was our +countryman, Richard de Bury, then accounted the most learned man of +England. He arrived at Avignon in 1331, having been sent to the Pope by +Edward III. De Sade conceives that the object of his embassy was to +justify his sovereign before the Pontiff for having confined the +Queen-mother in the castle of Risings, and for having caused her +favourite, Roger de Mortimer, to be hanged. It was a matter of course +that so illustrious a stranger as Richard de Bury should be received +with distinction by Cardinal Colonna. Petrarch eagerly seized the +opportunity of forming his acquaintance, confident that De Bury could +give him valuable information on many points of geography and history. +They had several conversations. Petrarch tells us that he entreated the +learned Englishman to make him acquainted with the true situation of the +isle of Thule, of which the ancients speak with much uncertainty, but +which their best geographers place at the distance of some days' +navigation from the north of England. De Bury was, in all probability, +puzzled with the question, though he did not like to confess his +ignorance. He excused himself by promising to inquire into the subject +as soon as he should get back to his books in England, and to write to +him the best information he could afford. It does not appear, however, +that he performed his promise.</p> + +<p>De Bury's stay at the court of Avignon was very short. King Edward, it +is true, sent him a second time to the Pope, two years afterwards, on +important business. The seeds of discord between France and England +began to germinate strongly, and that circumstance probably occasioned +De Bury's second mission. Unfortunately, however, Petrarch could not +avail himself of his return so as to have further interviews with the +English scholar. Petrarch wrote repeatedly to De Bury for his promised +explanations respecting Thule; but, whether our countryman had found +nothing in his library to satisfy his inquiries, or was prevented by his +public occupations, there is no appearance of his having ever answered +Petrarch's letters.</p> + +<p>Stephano Colonna the younger had brought with him to Avignon his son +Agapito, who was destined for the church, that he might be educated +under the eyes of the Cardinal and the Bishop, who were his uncles. +These two prelates joined with their father in entreating Petrarch to +undertake the superintendence of Agapito's studies. Our poet, avaricious +of his time, and jealous of his inde<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxiv" id="Page_xxiv">[Pg xxiv]</a></span>pendence, was at first reluctant to +undertake the charge; but, from his attachment to the family, at last +accepted it. De Sade tells us that Petrarch was not successful in the +young man's education; and, from a natural partiality for the hero of +his biography, lays the blame on his pupil. At the same time he +acknowledges that a man with poetry in his head and love in his heart +was not the most proper mentor in the world for a youth who was to be +educated for the church. At this time, Petrarch's passion for Laura +continued to haunt his peace with incessant violence. She had received +him at first with good-humour and affability; but it was only while he +set strict bounds to the expression of his attachment. He had not, +however, sufficient self-command to comply with these terms. His +constant assiduities, his eyes continually riveted upon her, and the +wildness of his looks, convinced her of his inordinate attachment; her +virtue took alarm; she retired whenever he approached her, and even +covered her face with a veil whilst he was present, nor would she +condescend to the slightest action or look that might seem to +countenance his passion.</p> + +<p>Petrarch complains of these severities in many of his melancholy +sonnets. Meanwhile, if fame could have been a balm to love, he might +have been happy. His reputation as a poet was increasing, and his +compositions were read with universal approbation.</p> + +<p>The next interesting event in our poet's life was a larger course of +travels, which he took through the north of France, through Flanders, +Brabant, and a part of Germany, subsequently to his tour in Languedoc. +Petrarch mentions that he undertook this journey about the twenty-fifth +year of his age. He was prompted to travel not only by his curiosity to +observe men and manners, by his desire of seeing monuments of antiquity, +and his hopes of discovering the MSS. of ancient authors, but also, we +may believe, by his wish, if it were possible, to escape from himself, +and to forget Laura.</p> + +<p>From Paris Petrarch wrote as follows to Cardinal Colonna. "I have +visited Paris, the capital of the whole kingdom of France. I entered it +in the same state of mind that was felt by Apuleias when he visited +Hypata, a city of Thessaly, celebrated for its magic, of which such +wonderful things were related, looking again and again at every object, +in solicitous suspense, to know whether all that he had heard of the +far-famed place was true or false. Here I pass a great deal of time in +observation, and, as the day is too short for my curiosity, I add the +night. At last, it seems to me that, by long exploring, I have enabled +myself to distinguish between the true and the false in what is related +about Paris. But, as the subject would be too tedious for this occasion, +I shall defer entering fully into particulars till I can do so <i>vivâ +voce</i>. My impatience, however, impels me to sketch for you briefly a +general idea of this so celebrated city, and of the character of its +inhabitants.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxv" id="Page_xxv">[Pg xxv]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Paris, though always inferior to its fame, and much indebted to the +lies of its own people, is undoubtedly a great city. To be sure I never +saw a dirtier place, except Avignon. At the same time, its population +contains the most learned of men, and it is like a great basket in which +are collected the rarest fruits of every country. From the time that its +university was founded, as they say by Alcuin, the teacher of +Charlemagne, there has not been, to my knowledge, a single Parisian of +any fame. The great luminaries of the university were all strangers; +and, if the love of my country does not deceive me, they were chiefly +Italians, such as Pietro Lombardo, Tomaso d'Aquino, Bonaventura, and +many others.</p> + +<p>"The character of the Parisians is very singular. There was a time when, +from the ferocity of their manners, the French were reckoned barbarians. +At present the case is wholly changed. A gay disposition, love of +society, ease, and playfulness in conversation now characterize them. +They seek every opportunity of distinguishing themselves; and make war +against all cares with joking, laughing, singing, eating, and drinking. +Prone, however, as they are to pleasure, they are not heroic in +adversity. The French love their country and their countrymen; they +censure with rigour the faults of other nations, but spread a +proportionably thick veil over their own defects."</p> + +<p>From Paris, Petrarch proceeded to Ghent, of which only he makes mention +to the Cardinal, without noticing any of the towns that lie between. It +is curious to find our poet out of humour with Flanders on account of +the high price of wine, which was not an indigenous article. In the +latter part of his life, Petrarch was certainly one of the most +abstemious of men; but, at this period, it would seem that he drank good +liquor enough to be concerned about its price.</p> + +<p>From Ghent he passed on to Liege. "This city is distinguished," he says, +"by the riches and the number of its clergy. As I had heard that +excellent MSS. might be found there, I stopped in the place for some +time. But is it not singular that in so considerable a place I had +difficulty to procure ink enough to copy two orations of Cicero's, and +the little that I could obtain was as yellow as saffron?"</p> + +<p>Petrarch was received at most of the places he visited, and more +particularly at Cologne, with marks of great respect; and he was +agreeably surprised to find that his reputation had acquired him the +partiality and acquaintance of several inhabitants. He was conducted by +his new friends to the banks of the Rhine, where the inhabitants were +engaged in the performance of a superstitious annual ceremony, which, +for its singularity, deserves to be recorded.</p> + +<p>"The banks of the river were crowded with a considerable number of +women, their persons comely, and their dress elegant.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxvi" id="Page_xxvi">[Pg xxvi]</a></span> This great +concourse of people seemed to create no confusion. A number of these +women, with cheerful countenances, crowned with flowers, bathed their +hands and arms in the stream, and uttered, at the same time, some +harmonious expressions in a language which I did not understand. I +inquired into the cause of this ceremony, and was informed that it arose +from a tradition among the people, and particularly among the women, +that the impending calamities of the year were carried away by this +ablution, and that blessings succeeded in their place. Hence this +ceremony is annually renewed, and the ablution performed with +unremitting diligence."</p> + +<p>The ceremony being finished, Petrarch smiled at their superstition, and +exclaimed, "O happy inhabitants of the Rhine, whose waters wash out your +miseries, whilst neither the Po nor the Tiber can wash out ours! You +transmit your evils to the Britons by means of this river, whilst we +send off ours to the Illyrians and the Africans. It seems that our +rivers have a slower course."</p> + +<p>Petrarch shortened his excursion that he might return the sooner to +Avignon, where the Bishop of Lombes had promised to await his return, +and take him to Rome.</p> + +<p>When he arrived at Lyons, however, he was informed that the Bishop had +departed from Avignon for Rome. In the first paroxysm of his +disappointment he wrote a letter to his friend, which portrays strongly +affectionate feelings, but at the same time an irascible temper. When he +came to Avignon, the Cardinal Colonna relieved him from his irritation +by acquainting him with the real cause of his brother's departure. The +flames of civil dissension had been kindled at Rome between the rival +families of Colonna and Orsini. The latter had made great preparations +to carry on the war with vigour. In this crisis of affairs, James +Colonna had been summoned to Rome to support the interests of his +family, and, by his courage and influence, to procure them the succour +which they so much required.</p> + +<p>Petrarch continued to reside at Avignon for several years after +returning from his travels in France and Flanders. It does not appear +from his sonnets, during those years, either that his passion for Laura +had abated, or that she had given him any more encouragement than +heretofore. But in the year 1334, an accident renewed the utmost +tenderness of his affections. A terrible affliction visited the city of +Avignon. The heat and the drought were so excessive that almost the +whole of the common people went about naked to the waist, and, with +frenzy and miserable cries, implored Heaven to put an end to their +calamities. Persons of both sexes and of all ages had their bodies +covered with scales, and changed their skins like serpents.</p> + +<p>Laura's constitution was too delicate to resist this infectious malady, +and her illness greatly alarmed Petrarch. One day he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxvii" id="Page_xxvii">[Pg xxvii]</a></span> asked her +physician how she was, and was told by him that her condition was very +dangerous: on that occasion he composed the following sonnet:<a name="FNanchor_E_5" id="FNanchor_E_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_E_5" class="fnanchor">[E]</a>—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This lovely spirit, if ordain'd to leave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its mortal tenement before its time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven's fairest habitation shall receive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And welcome her to breathe its sweetest clime.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If she establish her abode between<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mars and the planet-star of Beauty's queen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun will be obscured, so dense a cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of spirits from adjacent stars will crowd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To gaze upon her beauty infinite.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say that she fixes on a lower sphere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath the glorious sun, her beauty soon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will dim the splendour of inferior stars—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Mars, of Venus, Mercury, and the Moon.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She'll choose not Mars, but higher place than Mars;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She will eclipse all planetary light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Jupiter himself will seem less bright.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I trust that I have enough to say in favour of Petrarch to satisfy his +rational admirers; but I quote this sonnet as an example of the worst +style of Petrarch's poetry. I make the English reader welcome to rate my +power of translating it at the very lowest estimation. He cannot go much +further down than myself in the scale of valuation, especially if he has +Italian enough to know that the exquisite mechanical harmony of +Petrarch's style is beyond my reach. It has been alleged that this +sonnet shows how much the mind of Petrarch had been influenced by his +Platonic studies; but if Plato had written poetry he would never have +been so extravagant.</p> + +<p>Petrarch, on his return from Germany, had found the old Pope, John +XXII., intent on two speculations, to both of which he lent his +enthusiastic aid. One of them was a futile attempt to renew the +crusades, from which Europe had reposed for a hundred years. The other +was the transfer of the holy seat to Rome. The execution of this plan, +for which Petrarch sighed as if it were to bring about the millennium, +and which was not accomplished by another Pope without embroiling him +with his Cardinals, was nevertheless more practicable than capturing +Jerusalem. We are told by several Italian writers that the aged Pontiff, +moved by repeated entreaties from the Romans, as well as by the remorse +of his conscience, thought seriously of effecting this restoration; but +the sincerity of his intentions is made questionable by the fact that he +never fixed himself at Rome. He wrote, it is true, to Rome in 1333, +ordering his palaces and gardens to be repaired; but the troubles which +continued to agitate the city were alleged by him as too alarming for +his safety there, and he repaired to Bologna to wait for quieter times.</p> + +<p>On both of the above subjects, namely, the insane crusades and the more +feasible restoration of the papal court to Rome, Petrarch<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxviii" id="Page_xxviii">[Pg xxviii]</a></span> wrote with +devoted zeal; they are both alluded to in his twenty-second sonnet.</p> + +<p>The death of John XXII. left the Cardinals divided into two great +factions. The first was that of the French, at the head of which stood +Cardinal Taillerand, son of the beautiful Brunissende de Foix, whose +charms were supposed to have detained Pope Clement V. in France. The +Italian Cardinals, who formed the opposite faction, had for their chief +the Cardinal Colonna. The French party, being the more numerous, were, +in some sort, masters of the election; they offered the tiara to +Cardinal de Commenges, on condition that he would promise not to +transfer the papal court to Rome. That prelate showed himself worthy of +the dignity, by refusing to accept it on such terms.</p> + +<p>To the surprise of the world, the choice of the conclave fell at last on +James Founder, said to be the son of a baker at Savordun, who had been +bred as a monk of Citeaux, and always wore the dress of the order. Hence +he was called the White Cardinal. He was wholly unlike his portly +predecessor John in figure and address, being small in stature, pale in +complexion, and weak in voice. He expressed his own astonishment at the +honour conferred on him, saying that they had elected an ass. If we may +believe Petrarch, he did himself no injustice in likening himself to +that quadruped; but our poet was somewhat harsh in his judgment of this +Pontiff. He took the name of Benedict XII.</p> + +<p>Shortly after his exaltation, Benedict received ambassadors from Rome, +earnestly imploring him to bring back the sacred seat to their city; and +Petrarch thought he could not serve the embassy better than by +publishing a poem in Latin verse, exhibiting Rome in the character of a +desolate matron imploring her husband to return to her. Benedict +applauded the author of the epistle, but declined complying with its +prayer. Instead of revisiting Italy, his Holiness ordered a magnificent +and costly palace to be constructed for him at Avignon. Hitherto, it +would seem that the Popes had lived in hired houses. In imitation of +their Pontiff, the Cardinals set about building superb mansions, to the +unbounded indignation of Petrarch, who saw in these new habitations not +only a graceless and unchristian spirit of luxury, but a sure indication +that their owners had no thoughts of removing to Rome.</p> + +<p>In the January of the following year, Pope Benedict presented our poet +with the canonicate of Lombes, with the expectancy of the first prebend +which should become vacant. This preferment Petrarch is supposed to have +owed to the influence of Cardinal Colonna.</p> + +<p>The troubles which at this time agitated Italy drew to Avignon, in the +year 1335, a personage who holds a pre-eminent interest in the life of +Petrarch, namely, Azzo da Correggio, who was sent thither by the +Scaligeri of Parma. The State of Parma had be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxix" id="Page_xxix">[Pg xxix]</a></span>longed originally to the +popes; but two powerful families, the Rossis and the Correggios, had +profited by the quarrels between the church and the empire to usurp the +government, and during five-and-twenty years, Gilberto Correggio and +Rolando Rossi alternately lost and won the sovereignty, till, at last, +the confederate princes took the city, and conferred the government of +it on Guido Correggio, the greatest enemy of the Rossis.</p> + +<p>Gilbert Correggio left at his death a widow, the sister of Cane de la +Scala, and four sons, Guido, Simone, Azzo, and Giovanni. It is only with +Azzo that we are particularly concerned in the history of Petrarch.</p> + +<p>Azzo was born in the year 1303, being thus a year older than our poet. +Originally intended for the church, he preferred the sword to the +crozier, and became a distinguished soldier. He married the daughter of +Luigi Gonzagua, lord of Mantua. He was a man of bold original spirit, +and so indefatigable that he acquired the name of Iron-foot. Nor was his +energy merely physical; he read much, and forgot nothing—his memory was +a library. Azzo's character, to be sure, even with allowance for +turbulent times, is not invulnerable at all points to a rigid scrutiny; +and, notwithstanding all the praises of Petrarch, who dedicated to him +his Treatise on a Solitary Life in 1366, his political career contained +some acts of perfidy. But we must inure ourselves, in the biography of +Petrarch, to his over-estimation of favourites in the article of morals.</p> + +<p>It was not long ere Petrarch was called upon to give a substantial proof +of his regard for Azzo. After the seizure of Parma by the confederate +princes, Marsilio di Rossi, brother of Rolando, went to Paris to demand +assistance from the French king. The King of Bohemia had given over the +government of Parma to him and his brothers, and the Rossi now saw it +with grief assigned to his enemies, the Correggios. Marsilio could +obtain no succour from the French, who were now busy in preparing for +war with the English; so he carried to the Pope at Avignon his +complaints against the alleged injustice of the lords of Verona and the +Correggios in breaking an express treaty which they had made with the +house of Rossi.</p> + +<p>Azzo had the threefold task of defending, before the Pope's tribunal, +the lords of Verona, whose envoy he was; the rights of his family, which +were attacked; and his own personal character, which was charged with +some grave objections. Revering the eloquence and influence of Petrarch, +he importuned him to be his public defender. Our poet, as we have seen, +had studied the law, but had never followed the profession. "It is not +my vocation," he says, in his preface to his Familiar Epistles, "to +undertake the defence of others. I detest the bar; I love retirement; I +despise money; and, if I tried to let out my tongue for hire, my nature +would revolt at the attempt."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxx" id="Page_xxx">[Pg xxx]</a></span></p> + +<p>But what Petrarch would not undertake either from taste or motives of +interest, he undertook at the call of friendship. He pleaded the cause +of Azzo before the Pope and Cardinals; it was a finely-interesting +cause, that afforded a vast field for his eloquence. He brought off his +client triumphantly; and the Rossis were defeated in their demand.</p> + +<p>At the same time, it is a proud trait in Petrarch's character that he +showed himself on this occasion not only an orator and a lawyer, but a +perfect gentleman. In the midst of all his zealous pleading, he stooped +neither to satire nor personality against the opposing party. He could +say, with all the boldness of truth, in a letter to Ugolino di Rossi, +the Bishop of Parma, "I pleaded against your house for Azzo Correggio, +but you were present at the pleading; do me justice, and confess that I +carefully avoided not only attacks on your family and reputation, but +even those railleries in which advocates so much delight."</p> + +<p>On this occasion, Azzo had brought to Avignon, as his colleague in the +lawsuit, Guglielmo da Pastrengo, who exercised the office of judge and +notary at Verona. He was a man of deep knowledge in the law; versed, +besides, in every branch of elegant learning, he was a poet into the +bargain. In Petrarch's many books of epistles, there are few letters +addressed by him to this personage; but it is certain that they +contracted a friendship at this period which endured for life.</p> + +<p>All this time the Bishop of Lombes still continued at Rome; and, from +time to time, solicited his friend Petrarch to join him. "Petrarch would +have gladly joined him," says De Sade; "but he was detained at Avignon +by his attachment to John Colonna and his love of Laura:" a whimsical +junction of detaining causes, in which the fascination of the Cardinal +may easily be supposed to have been weaker than that of Laura. In +writing to our poet, at Avignon, the Bishop rallied Petrarch on the +imaginary existence of the object of his passion. Some stupid readers of +the Bishop's letter, in subsequent times, took it into their heads that +there was a literal proof in the prelate's jesting epistle of our poet's +passion for Laura being a phantom and a fiction. But, possible as it may +be, that the Bishop in reality suspected him to exaggerate the flame of +his devotion for the two great objects of his idolatry, Laura and St. +Augustine, he writes in a vein of pleasantry that need not be taken for +grave accusation. "You are befooling us all, my dear Petrarch," says the +prelate; "and it is wonderful that at so tender an age (Petrarch's +tender age was at this time thirty-one) you can deceive the world with +so much art and success. And, not content with deceiving the world, you +would fain deceive Heaven itself. You make a semblance of loving St. +Augustine and his works; but, in your heart, you love the poets and the +philosophers. Your Laura is a phantom created by your imagination for +the exercise of your poetry. Your verse, your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxxi" id="Page_xxxi">[Pg xxxi]</a></span> love, your sighs, are all +a fiction; or, if there is anything real in your passion, it is not for +the lady Laura, but for the laurel—<i>that is</i>, the crown of poets. I +have been your dupe for some time, and, whilst you showed a strong +desire to visit Rome, I hoped to welcome you there. But my eyes are now +opened to all your rogueries, which nevertheless, will not prevent me +from loving you."</p> + +<p>Petrarch, in his answer to the Bishop,<a name="FNanchor_F_6" id="FNanchor_F_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_F_6" class="fnanchor">[F]</a> says, "My father, if I love +the poets, I only follow, in this respect, the example of St. Augustine. +I take the sainted father himself to witness the sincerity of my +attachment to him. He is now in a place where he can neither deceive nor +be deceived. I flatter myself that he pities my errors, especially when +he recalls his own." St. Augustine had been somewhat profligate in his +younger days.</p> + +<p>"As to Laura," continues the poet, "would to Heaven that she were only +an imaginary personage, and my passion for her only a pastime! Alas! it +is a madness which it would be difficult and painful to feign for any +length of time; and what an extravagance it would be to affect such a +passion! One may counterfeit illness by action, by voice, and by manner, +but no one in health can give himself the true air and complexion of +disease. How often have you yourself been witness of my paleness and my +sufferings! I know very well that you speak only in irony: it is your +favourite figure of speech, but I hope that time will cicatrize these +wounds of my spirit, and that Augustine, whom I pretend to love, will +furnish me with a defence against a Laura who does not exist."</p> + +<p>Years had now elapsed since Petrarch had conceived his passion for +Laura; and it was obviously doomed to be a source of hopeless torment to +him as long as he should continue near her; for she could breathe no +more encouragement on his love than what was barely sufficient to keep +it alive; and, if she had bestowed more favour on him, the consequences +might have been ultimately most tragic to both of them. His own +reflections, and the advice of his friends, suggested that absence and +change of objects were the only means likely to lessen his misery; he +determined, therefore, to travel once more, and set out for Rome in +1335.</p> + +<p>The wish to assuage his passion, by means of absence, was his principal +motive for going again upon his travels; but, before he could wind up +his resolution to depart, the state of his mind bordered on distraction. +One day he observed a country girl washing the veil of Laura; a sudden +trembling seized him—and, though the heat of the weather was intense, +he grew cold and shivered. For some time he was incapable of applying to +study or business. His soul, he said, was like a field of battle, where +his passion and reason held continual conflict. In his calmer moments, +many agreeable motives for travelling suggested them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxxii" id="Page_xxxii">[Pg xxxii]</a></span>selves to his mind. +He had a strong desire to visit Rome, where he was sure of finding the +kindest welcome from the Bishop of Lombes. He was to pass through Paris +also; and there he had left some valued friends, to whom he had promised +that he would return. At the head of those friends were Dionisio dal +Borgo San Sepolcro and Roberto Bardi, a Florentine, whom the Pope had +lately made chancellor of the Church of Paris, and given him the +canonship of Nôtre Dame. Dionisio dal Borgo was a native of Tuscany, and +one of the Roberti family. His name in literature was so considerable +that Filippo Villani thought it worth while to write his life. Petrarch +wrote his funeral eulogy, and alludes to Dionisio's power of reading +futurity by the stars. But Petrarch had not a grain of faith in +astrology; on the contrary, he has himself recorded that he derided it. +After having obtained, with some difficulty, the permission of Cardinal +Colonna, he took leave of his friends at Avignon, and set out for +Marseilles. Embarking there in a ship that was setting sail for Civita +Vecchia, he concealed his name, and gave himself out for a pilgrim going +to worship at Rome. Great was his joy when, from the deck, he could +discover the coast of his beloved Italy. It was a joy, nevertheless, +chastened by one indomitable recollection—that of the idol he had left +behind. On his landing he perceived a laurel tree; its name seemed to +typify her who dwelt for ever in his heart: he flew to embrace it; but +in his transports overlooked a brook that was between them, into which +he fell—and the accident caused him to swoon. Always occupied with +Laura, he says, "On those shores washed by the Tyrrhene sea, I beheld +that stately laurel which always warms my imagination, and, through my +impatience, fell breathless into the intervening stream. I was alone, +and in the woods, yet I blushed at my own heedlessness; for, to the +reflecting mind, no witness is necessary to excite the emotion of +shame."</p> + +<p>It was not easy for Petrarch to pass from the coast of Tuscany to Rome; +for war between the Ursini and Colonna houses had been renewed with more +fury than ever, and filled all the surrounding country with armed men. +As he had no escort, he took refuge in the castle of Capranica, where he +was hospitably received by Orso, Count of Anguillara, who had married +Agnes Colonna, sister of the Cardinal and the Bishop. In his letter to +the latter, Petrarch luxuriates in describing the romantic and rich +landscape of Capranica, a country believed by the ancients to have been +the first that was cultivated under the reign of Saturn. He draws, +however, a frightful contrast to its rural picture in the horrors of war +which here prevailed. "Peace," he says, "is the only charm which I could +not find in this beautiful region. The shepherd, instead of guarding +against wolves, goes armed into the woods to defend himself against men. +The labourer, in a coat of mail, uses a lance instead of a goad, to +drive his cattle.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxxiii" id="Page_xxxiii">[Pg xxxiii]</a></span> The fowler covers himself with a shield as he draws +his nets; the fisherman carries a sword whilst he hooks his fish; and +the native draws water from the well in an old rusty casque, instead of +a pail. In a word, arms are used here as tools and implements for all +the labours of the field, and all the wants of men. In the night are +heard dreadful howlings round the walls of towns, and and in the day +terrible voices crying incessantly to arms. What music is this compared +with those soft and harmonious sounds which. I drew from my lute at +Avignon!"</p> + +<p>On his arrival at Capranica, Petrarch despatched a courier to the Bishop +of Lombes, informing him where he was, and of his inability to get to +Rome, all roads to it being beset by the enemy. The Bishop expressed +great joy at his friend's arrival in Italy, and went to meet him at +Capranica, with Stefano Colonna, his brother, senator of Rome. They had +with them only a troop of one hundred horsemen; and, considering that +the enemy kept possession of the country with five hundred men, it is +wonderful that they met with no difficulties on their route; but the +reputation of the Colonnas had struck terror into the hostile camp. They +entered Rome without having had a single skirmish with the enemy. +Stefano Colonna, in his quality of senator, occupied the Capitol, where +he assigned apartments to Petrarch; and the poet was lodged on that +famous hill which Scipio, Metellus, and Pompey, had ascended in triumph. +Petrarch was received and treated by the Colonnas Like a child of their +family. The venerable old Stefano, who had known him at Avignon, loaded +our poet with kindness. But, of all the family, it would seem that +Petrarch delighted most in the conversation of Giovanni da S. Vito, a +younger brother of the aged Stefano, and uncle of the Cardinal and +Bishop. Their tastes were congenial. Giovanni had made a particular +study of the antiquities of Rome; he was, therefore, a most welcome +cicerone to our poet, being, perhaps, the only Roman then alive, who +understood the subject deeply, if we except Cola di Rienzo, of whom we +shall soon have occasion to speak.</p> + +<p>In company with Giovanni, Petrarch inspected the relics of the "eternal +city:" the former was more versed than his companion in ancient history, +but the other surpassed him in acquaintance with modern times, as well +as with the objects of antiquity that stood immediately before them.</p> + +<p>What an interesting object is Petrarch contemplating the ruins of Rome! +He wrote to the Cardinal Colonna as follows:—"I gave you so long an +account of Capranica that you may naturally expect a still longer +description of Rome. My materials for this subject are, indeed, +inexhaustible; but they will serve for some future opportunity. At +present, I am so wonder-struck by so many great objects that I know not +where to begin. One circumstance, however, I cannot omit, which has +turned out contrary to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxxiv" id="Page_xxxiv">[Pg xxxiv]</a></span> your surmises. You represented to me that Rome +was a city in ruins, and that it would not come up to the imagination I +had formed of it; but this has not happened—on the contrary, my most +sanguine expectations have been surpassed. Rome is greater, and her +remains are more awful, than my imagination had conceived. It is not +matter of wonder that she acquired universal dominion. I am only +surprised that it was so late before she came to it."</p> + +<p>In the midst of his meditations among the relics of Rome, Petrarch was +struck by the ignorance about their forefathers, with which the natives +looked on those monuments. The veneration which they had for them was +vague and uninformed. "It is lamentable," he says, "that nowhere in the +world is Rome less known than at Rome."</p> + +<p>It is not exactly known in what month Petrarch left the Roman capital; +but, between his departure from that city, and his return to the banks +of the Rhone, he took an extensive tour over Europe. He made a voyage +along its southern coasts, passed the straits of Gibraltar, and sailed +as far northward as the British shores. During his wanderings, he wrote +a letter to Tommaso da Messina, containing a long geographical +dissertation on the island of Thule.</p> + +<p>Petrarch approached the British shores; why were they not fated to have +the honour of receiving him? Ah! but who was there, then, in England +that was capable of receiving him? Chaucer was but a child. We had the +names of some learned men, but our language had no literature. Time +works wonders in a few centuries; and England, <i>now</i> proud of her +Shakespeare and her Verulam, looks not with envy on the glory of any +earthly nation. During his excitement by these travels, a singular +change took place in our poet's habitual feelings. He recovered his +health and spirits; he could bear to think of Laura with equanimity, and +his countenance resumed the cheerfulness that was natural to a man in +the strength of his age. Nay, he became so sanguine in his belief that +he had overcome his passion as to jest at his past sufferings; and, in +this gay state of mind, he came back to Avignon. This was the crowning +misfortune of his life. He saw Laura once more; he was enthralled anew; +and he might now laugh in agony at his late self-congratulations on his +delivery from her enchantment. With all the pity that we bestow on +unfortunate love, and with all the respect that we owe to its constancy, +still we cannot look but with a regret amounting to impatience on a man +returning to the spot that was to rekindle his passion as recklessly as +a moth to the candle, and binding himself over for life to an affection +that was worse than hopeless, inasmuch as its success would bring more +misery than its failure. It is said that Petrarch, if it had not been +for this passion, would not have been the poet that he was. Not, +perhaps, so good an amatory poet; but I firmly believe that he would +have been a more various<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxxv" id="Page_xxxv">[Pg xxxv]</a></span> and masculine, and, upon the whole, <i>a greater +poet</i>, if he had never been bewitched by Laura. However, <i>he did</i> return +to take possession of his canonicate at Lombes, and to lose possession +of his peace of mind.</p> + +<p>In the April of the following year, 1336, he made an excursion, in +company with his brother Gherardo, to the top of Mount Ventoux, in the +neighbourhood of Avignon; a full description of which he sent in a +letter to Dionisio dal Borgo a San Sepolcro; but there is nothing +peculiarly interesting in this occurrence.</p> + +<p>A more important event in his life took place during the following year, +1337—namely, that he had a son born to him, whom he christened by the +name of John, and to whom he acknowledged his relationship of paternity. +With all his philosophy and platonic raptures about Laura, Petrarch was +still subject to the passions of ordinary men, and had a mistress at +Avignon who was kinder to him than Laura. Her name and history have been +consigned to inscrutable obscurity: the same woman afterwards bore him a +daughter, whose name was Francesca, and who proved a great solace to him +in his old age. His biographers extol the magnanimity of Laura for +displaying no anger at our poet for what they choose to call this +discovery of his infidelity to her; but, as we have no reason to suppose +that Laura ever bestowed one favour on Petrarch beyond a pleasant look, +it is difficult to perceive her right to command his unspotted faith. At +all events, she would have done no good to her own reputation if she had +stormed at the lapse of her lover's virtue.</p> + +<p>In a small city like Avignon, the scandal of his intrigue would +naturally be a matter of regret to his friends and of triumph to his +enemies. Petrarch felt his situation, and, unable to calm his mind +either by the advice of his friend Dionisio dal Borgo, or by the perusal +of his favourite author, St. Augustine, he resolved to seek a rural +retreat, where he might at least hide his tears and his mortification. +Unhappily he chose a spot not far enough from Laura—namely, Vaucluse, +which is fifteen Italian, or about fourteen English, miles from Avignon.</p> + +<p>Vaucluse, or Vallis Clausa, the shut-up valley, is a most beautiful +spot, watered by the windings of the Sorgue. Along the river there are +on one side most verdant plains and meadows, here and there shadowed by +trees. On the other side are hills covered with corn and vineyards. +Where the Sorgue rises, the view terminates in the cloud-capt ridges of +the mountains Luberoux and Ventoux. This was the place which Petrarch +had visited with such delight when he was a schoolboy, and at the sight +of which he exclaimed "that he would prefer it as a residence to the +most splendid city."</p> + +<p>It is, indeed, one of the loveliest seclusions in the world. It +terminates in a semicircle of rocks of stupendous height, that seem to +have been hewn down perpendicularly. At the head and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxxvi" id="Page_xxxvi">[Pg xxxvi]</a></span> centre of the vast +amphitheatre, and at the foot of one of its enormous rocks, there is a +cavern of proportional size, hollowed out by the hand of nature. Its +opening is an arch sixty feet high; but it is a double cavern, there +being an interior one with an entrance thirty feet high. In the midst of +these there is an oval basin, having eighteen fathoms for its longest +diameter, and from this basin rises the copious stream which forms the +Sorgue. The surface of the fountain is black, an appearance produced by +its depth, from the darkness of the rocks, and the obscurity of the +cavern; for, on being brought to light, nothing can be clearer than its +water. Though beautiful to the eye, it is harsh to the taste, but is +excellent for tanning and dyeing; and it is said to promote the growth +of a plant which fattens oxen and is good for hens during incubation. +Strabo and Pliny the naturalist both speak of its possessing this +property.</p> + +<p>The river Sorgue, which issues from this cavern, divides in its progress +into various branches; it waters many parts of Provence, receives +several tributary streams, and, after reuniting its branches, falls into +the Rhone near Avignon.</p> + +<p>Resolving to fix his residence here, Petrarch bought a little cottage +and an adjoining field, and repaired to Vaucluse with no other +companions than his books. To this day the ruins of a small house are +shown at Vaucluse, which tradition says was his habitation.</p> + +<p>If his object was to forget Laura, the composition of sonnets upon her +in this hermitage was unlikely to be an antidote to his recollections. +It would seem as if he meant to cherish rather than to get rid of his +love. But, if he nursed his passion, it was a dry-nursing; for he led a +lonely, ascetic, and, if it were not for his studies, we might say a +savage life. In one of his letters, written not long after his settling +at Vaucluse, he says, "Here I make war upon my senses, and treat them as +my enemies. My eyes, which have drawn me into a thousand difficulties, +see no longer either gold, or precious stones, or ivory, or purple; they +behold nothing save the water, the firmament, and the rocks. The only +female who comes within their sight is a swarthy old woman, dry and +parched as the Lybian deserts. My ears are no longer courted by those +harmonious instruments and voices which have so often transported my +soul: they hear nothing but the lowing of cattle, the bleating of sheep, +the warbling of birds, and the murmurs of the river.</p> + +<p>"I keep silence from noon till night. There is no one to converse with; +for the good people, employed in spreading their nets, or tending their +vines and orchards, are no great adepts at conversation. I often content +myself with the brown bread of the fisherman, and even eat it with +pleasure. Nay, I almost prefer it to white bread. This old fisherman, +who is as hard as iron, earnestly remonstrates against my manner of +life; and assures me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxxvii" id="Page_xxxvii">[Pg xxxvii]</a></span> that I cannot long hold out. I am, on the +contrary, convinced that it is easier to accustom one's self to a plain +diet than to the luxuries of a feast. But still I have my +luxuries—figs, raisins, nuts and almonds. I am fond of the fish with +which this stream abounds, and I sometimes amuse myself with spreading +the nets. As to my dress, there is an entire change; you would take me +for a labourer or a shepherd.</p> + +<p>"My mansion resembles that of Cato or Fabricius. My whole +house-establishment consists of myself, my old fisherman and his wife, +and a dog. My fisherman's cottage is contiguous to mine; when I want him +I call; when I no longer need him, he returns to his cottage.</p> + +<p>"I have made two gardens that please me wonderfully. I do not think they +are to be equalled in all the world. And I must confess to you a more +than female weakness with which I am haunted. I am positively angry that +there is anything so beautiful out of Italy.</p> + +<p>"One of these gardens is shady, formed for contemplation, and sacred to +Apollo. It overhangs the source of the river, and is terminated by +rocks, and by places accessible only to birds. The other is nearer my +cottage, of an aspect less severe, and devoted to Bacchus; and what is +extremely singular, it is in the midst of a rapid river. The approach to +it is over a bridge of rocks; and there is a natural grotto under the +rocks, which gives them the appearance of a rustic bridge. Into this +grotto the rays of the sun never penetrate. I am confident that it much +resembles the place where Cicero went to declaim. It invites to study. +Hither I retreat during the noontide hours; my mornings are engaged upon +the hills, or in the garden sacred to Apollo. Here I would most +willingly pass my days, were I not too near Avignon, and too far from +Italy. For why should I conceal this weakness of my soul? I love Italy, +and I hate Avignon. The pestilential influence of this horrid place +empoisons the pure air of Vaucluse, and will compel me to quit my +retirement."</p> + +<p>It is clear that he was not supremely contented in his solitude with his +self-drawn mental resources. His friends at Avignon came seldom to see +him. Travelling even short distances was difficult in those days. Even +we, in the present day, can remember when the distance of fourteen miles +presented a troublesome journey. The few guests who came, to him could +not expect very exquisite dinners, cooked by the brown old woman and her +husband the fisherman; and, though our poet had a garden consecrated to +Bacchus, he had no cellar devoted to the same deity. His few friends, +therefore, who visited him, thought their angel visits acts of charity. +If he saw his friends seldom, however, he had frequent visitants in +strangers who came to Vaucluse, as a place long celebrated for its +natural beauties, and now made illustrious by the character and +compositions of our poet. Among these<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxxviii" id="Page_xxxviii">[Pg xxxviii]</a></span> there were persons distinguished +for their rank or learning, who came from the farthest parts of France +and from Italy, to see and converse with Petrarch. Some of them even +sent before them considerable presents, which, though kindly meant, were +not acceptable.</p> + +<p>Vaucluse is in the diocese of Cavaillon, a small city about two miles +distant from our poet's retreat. Philip de Cabassoles was the bishop, a +man of high rank and noble family. His disposition, according to +Petrarch's usual praise of his friends, was highly benevolent and +humane; he was well versed in literature, and had distinguished +abilities. No sooner was the poet settled in his retirement, than he +visited the Bishop at his palace near Vaucluse. The latter gave him a +friendly reception, and returned his visits frequently. Another much +estimated, his friend since their childhood, Guido Sette, also repaired +at times to his humble mansion, and relieved his solitude in the shut-up +valley.<a name="FNanchor_G_7" id="FNanchor_G_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_G_7" class="fnanchor">[G]</a></p> + +<p>Without some daily and constant occupation even the bright mind of +Petrarch would have rusted, like the finest steel when it is left +unscoured. But he continued his studies with an ardour that commands our +wonder and respect; and it was at Vaucluse that he either meditated or +wrote his most important compositions. Here he undertook a history of +Rome, from Romulus down to Titus Vespasian. This Herculean task he never +finished; but there remain two fragments of it, namely, four books, De +Rebus Memorandis, and another tract entitled Vitarum Virorum Illustrium +Epitome, being sketches of illustrious men from the founder of Rome down +to Fabricius.</p> + +<p>About his poem, Africa, I shall only say for the present that he began +this Latin epic at Vaucluse, that its hero is his idolized Roman, Scipio +Africanus, that it gained him a reputation over Europe, and that he was +much pleased with it himself, but that his admiration of it in time +cooled down so much, that at last he was annoyed when it was mentioned +to him, and turned the conversation, if he could, to a different +subject. Nay, it is probable, that if it had not been for Boccaccio and +Coluccio Salutati, who, long after he had left Vaucluse, importuned him +to finish and publish it, his Africa would not have come down to +posterity.</p> + +<p>Petrarch alludes in one of his letters to an excursion which he made in +1338, in company with a man whose rank was above his wisdom. He does not +name him, but it seems clearly to have been Humbert II., Dauphin of the +Viennois. The Cardinal Colonna forced our poet into this pilgrimage to +Baume, famous for its adjacent cavern, where, according to the tradition +of the country, Mary Magdalen passed thirty years of repentance.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxxix" id="Page_xxxix">[Pg xxxix]</a></span> In +that holy but horrible cavern, as Petrarch calls it, they remained three +days and three nights, though Petrarch sometimes gave his comrades the +slip, and indulged in rambles among the hills and forests; he composed a +short poem, however, on St. Mary Magdalen, which is as dull as the cave +itself. The Dauphin Humbert was not a bright man; but he seems to have +contracted a friendly familiarity with our poet, if we may judge by a +letter which Petrarch indited to him about this time, frankly +reproaching him with his political neutrality in the affairs of Europe. +It was supposed that the Cardinal Colonna incited him to write it. A +struggle that was now impending between France and England engaged all +Europe on one side or other. The Emperor Lewis had intimated to Humbert +that he must follow him in this war, he, the Dauphin, being +arch-seneschal of Arles and Vienne. Next year, the arch-seneschal +received an invitation from Philip of Valois to join him with his troops +at Amiens as vassal of France. The Dauphin tried to back out of the +dilemma between his two suitors by frivolous excuses to both, all the +time determining to assist neither. In 1338 he came to Avignon, and the +Pope gave him his palace at the bridge of the Sorgue for his habitation. +Here the poor craven, beset on one side by threatening letters from +Philip of Valois, and on the other by importunities from the French +party at the papal court, remained in Avignon till July, 1339, after +Petrarch had let loose upon him his epistolary eloquence.</p> + +<p>This letter, dated April, 1339, is, according to De Sade's opinion, full +of powerful persuasion. I cannot say that it strikes me as such. After +calling Christ to witness that he writes to the Dauphin in the spirit of +friendship, he reminds him that Europe had never exhibited so mighty and +interesting a war as that which had now sprung up between the kings of +France and England, nor one that opened so vast a field of glory for the +brave. "All the princes and their people," he says, "are anxious about +its issue, especially those between the Alps and the ocean, who take +arms at the crash of the neighbouring tumult; whilst you alone go to +sleep amidst the clouds of the coming storm. To say the truth, if there +was nothing more than shame to awaken you, it ought to rouse you from +this lethargy. I had thought you," he continues, "a man desirous of +glory. You are young and in the strength of life. What, then, in the +name of God, keeps you inactive? Do you fear fatigue? Remember what +Sallust says—'Idle enjoyments were made for women, fatigue was made for +men.' Do you fear death? Death is the last debt we owe to nature, and +man ought not to fear it; certainly he ought not to fear it more than +sleep and sluggishness. Aristotle, it is true, calls death the last of +horrible things; but, mind, he does not call it the most horrible of +things." In this manner, our poet goes on moralizing on the blessings of +an early death, and the great advan<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xl" id="Page_xl">[Pg xl]</a></span>tage that it would have afforded to +some excellent Roman heroes if they had met with it sooner. The only +thing like a sensible argument that he urges is, that Humbert could not +expect to save himself even by neutrality, but must ultimately become +the prey of the victor, and be punished like the Alban Metius, whom +Tullus Hostilius caused to be torn asunder by horses that pulled his +limbs in different directions. The pedantic epistle had no effect on +Humbert.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Italy had no repose more than the rest of Europe, but its +troubles gave a happy occasion to Petrarch to see once more his friend, +Guglielmo Pastrengo, who, in 1338, came to Avignon, from Mastino della +Scala, lord of Verona.</p> + +<p>The moment Petrarch heard of his friend's arrival he left his hermitage +to welcome him; but scarcely had he reached the fatal city when he saw +the danger of so near an approach to the woman he so madly loved, and +was aware that he had no escape from the eyes of Laura but by flight. He +returned, therefore, all of a sudden to Vaucluse, without waiting for a +sight of Pastrengo. Shortly after he had quitted the house of Lælius, +where he usually lodged when he went to Avignon, Guglielmo, expecting to +find him there, knocked at the door, but no one opened it—called out, +but no one answered him. He therefore wrote him a little billet, saying, +"My dear Petrarch, where have you hid yourself, and whither have you +vanished? What is the meaning of all this?" The poet received this note +at Vaucluse, and sent an explanation of his flight, sincere indeed as to +good feelings, but prolix as usual in the expression of them. Pastrengo +sent him a kind reply, and soon afterwards did him the still greater +favour of visiting him at Vaucluse, and helping him to cultivate his +garden.</p> + +<p>Petrarch's flame for Laura was in reality unabated. One day he met her +in the streets of Avignon; for he had not always resolution enough to +keep out of the western Babylon. Laura cast a kind look upon him, and +said, "Petrarch, you are tired of loving me." This incident produced one +of the finest sonnets, beginning—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6"><i>Io non fut d' amar voi lassato unquanco.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tired, did you say, of loving you? Oh, no!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ne'er shall tire of the unwearying flame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I am weary, kind and cruel dame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With tears that uselessly and ceaseless flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scorning myself, and scorn'd by you. I long<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For death: but let no gravestone hold in view<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our names conjoin'd: nor tell my passion strong<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the dust that glow'd through life for you.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet this heart of amorous faith demands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deserves, a better boon; but cruel, hard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As is my fortune, I will bless Love's bands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ever, if you give me this reward.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In 1339, he composed among other sonnets, those three, the lxii., +lxxiv., and lxxv., which are confessedly master-pieces of their kind, as +well as three canzoni to the eyes of Laura, which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xli" id="Page_xli">[Pg xli]</a></span> the Italians call the +three sister Graces, and worship as divine.<a name="FNanchor_H_8" id="FNanchor_H_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_H_8" class="fnanchor">[H]</a> The critic Tassoni +himself could not censure them, and called them the queens of song. At +this period, however seldom he may have visited Avignon, he evidently +sought rather to cherish than subdue his fatal attachment. A celebrated +painter, Simone Martini of Siena, came to Avignon. He was the pupil of +Giotto, not exquisite in drawing, but famous for taking spirited +likenesses.</p> + +<p>Petrarch persuaded Simone to favour him with a miniature likeness of +Laura; and this treasure the poet for ever carried about with him. In +gratitude he addressed two sonnets to the artist, whose fame, great as +it was, was heightened by the poetical reward. Vasari tells us that +Simone also painted the pictures of both lovers in the chapel of St. +Maria Novella at Florence; that Simone was a sculptor as well as a +painter, and that he copied those pictures in marbles which, according +to Baldelli, are still extant in the house of the Signore Pruzzi.</p> + +<p>An anecdote relating to this period of Petrarch's life is given by De +Sade, which, if accepted with entire credence, must inspire us with +astonishment at the poet's devotion to his literary pursuits. He had +now, in 1339, put the first hand to his epic poem, the Scipiade; and one +of his friends, De Sade believes that it was the Bishop of Lombes, +fearing lest he might injure his health by overzealous application, went +to ask him for the key of his library, which the poet gave up. The +Bishop then locked up his books and papers, and commanded him to abstain +from reading and writing for ten days. Petrarch obeyed; but on the first +day of this literary Ramazan, he was seized with ennui, on the second +with a severe headache, and on the third with symptoms of fever; the +Bishop relented, and permitted the student to return to his books and +papers.</p> + +<p>Petrarch was at this time delighted, in his solitude of Vaucluse, to +hear of the arrival at Avignon of one of his dearest friends. This was +Dionisio dal Borgo a San Sepolcro, who, being now advanced in years, had +resigned his pulpit in the University of Paris, in order to return to +his native country, and came to Avignon with the intention of going by +sea to Florence. Petrarch pressed him strongly to visit him at Vaucluse, +interspersing his persuasion with many compliments to King Robert of +Naples, to whom he knew that Dionisio was much attached; nor was he +without hopes that his friend would speak favourably of him to his +Neapolitan Majesty. In a letter from Vaucluse he says:—"Can nothing +induce you to come to my solitude? Will not my ardent request, and the +pity you must have for my condition, bring you to pass some days with +your old disciple? If these motives are not sufficient, permit me to +suggest another inducement. There is in this place a poplar-tree of so +immense a size that it covers with its shade not only the river and its +banks, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xlii" id="Page_xlii">[Pg xlii]</a></span> also a considerable extent beyond them. They tell us that +King Robert of Naples, invited by the beauty of this spot, came hither +to unburthen his mind from the weight of public affairs, and to enjoy +himself in the shady retreat." The poet added many eulogies on his +Majesty of Naples, which, as he anticipated, reached the royal ear. It +seems not to be clear that Father Dionisio ever visited the poet at +Vaucluse; though they certainly had an interview at Avignon. To +Petrarch's misfortune, his friend's stay in that city was very short. +The monk proceeded to Florence, but he found there no shady retreat like +that of the poplar at Vaucluse. Florence was more than ever agitated by +internal commotions, and was this year afflicted by plague and famine. +This dismal state of the city determined Dionisio to accept an +invitation from King Robert to spend the remainder of his days at his +court.</p> + +<p>This monarch had the happiness of giving additional publicity to +Petrarch's reputation. That the poet sought his patronage need not be +concealed; and if he used a little flattery in doing so, we must make +allowance for the adulatory instinct of the tuneful tribe. We cannot +live without bread upon bare reputation, or on the prospect of having +tombstones put over our bones, prematurely hurried to the grave by +hunger, when they shall be as insensible to praise as the stones +themselves. To speak seriously, I think that a poet sacrifices his +usefulness to himself and others, and an importance in society which may +be turned to public good, if he shuns the patronage that can be obtained +by unparasitical means.</p> + +<p>Father Dionisio, upon his arrival at Naples, impressed the King with so +favourable an opinion of Petrarch that Robert wrote a letter to our +poet, enclosing an epitaph of his Majesty's own composition, on the +death of his niece Clementina. This letter is unhappily lost; but the +answer to it is preserved, in which Petrarch tells the monarch that his +epitaph rendered his niece an object rather of envy than of lamentation. +"O happy Clementina!" says the poet, "after passing through a transitory +life, you have attained a double immortality, one in heaven, and another +on earth." He then compares the posthumous good fortune of the princess +to that of Achilles, who had been immortalized by Homer. It is possible +that King Robert's letter to Petrarch was so laudatory as to require a +flattering answer. But this reverberated praise is rather overstrained.</p> + +<p>Petrarch was now intent on obtaining the honour of Poet Laureate. His +wishes were at length gratified, and in a manner that made the offer +more flattering than the crown itself.</p> + +<p>Whilst he still remained at Vaucluse, at nine o'clock in the morning of +the 1st of September, 1340, he received a letter from the Roman Senate, +pressingly inviting him to come and receive the crown of Poet Laureate +at Rome. He must have little notion<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xliii" id="Page_xliii">[Pg xliii]</a></span> of a poet's pride and vanity, who +cannot imagine the flushed countenance, the dilated eyes, and the +joyously-throbbing heart of Petrarch, whilst he read this letter. To be +invited by the Senate of Rome to such an honour might excuse him for +forgetting that Rome was not now what she had once been, and that the +substantial glory of his appointment was small in comparison with the +classic associations which formed its halo.</p> + +<p>As if to keep up the fever of his joy, he received the same day, in the +afternoon, at four o'clock, another letter with the same offer, from +Roberto Bardi, Chancellor of the University of Paris, in which he +importuned him to be crowned as Poet Laureate at Paris. When we consider +the poet's veneration for Rome, we may easily anticipate that he would +give the preference to that city. That he might not, however, offend his +friend Roberto Bardi and the University of Paris, he despatched a +messenger to Cardinal Colonna, asking his advice upon the subject, +pretty well knowing that his patron's opinion would coincide with his +own wishes. The Colonna advised him to be crowned at Rome.</p> + +<p>The custom of conferring this honour had, for a long time, been +obsolete. In the earliest classical ages, garlands were given as a +reward to valour and genius. Virgil exhibits his conquerors adorned with +them. The Romans adopted the custom from Greece, where leafy honours +were bestowed on victors at public games. This coronation of poets, it +is said, ceased under the reign of the Emperor Theodosius. After his +death, during the long subsequent barbarism of Europe, when literature +produced only rhyming monks, and when there were no more poets to crown, +the discontinuance of the practice was a natural consequence.</p> + +<p>At the commencement of the thirteenth century, according to the Abbé +Resnel, the universities of Europe began to dispense laurels, not to +poets, but to students distinguished by their learning. The doctors in +medicine, at the famous university of Salerno, established by the +Emperor Frederic II., had crowns of laurel put upon their heads. The +bachelors also had their laurels, and derived their name from a baculus, +or stick, which they carried.</p> + +<p>Cardinal Colonna, as we have said, advised him, "<i>nothing loth</i>," to +enjoy his coronation at Rome. Thither accordingly he repaired early in +the year 1341. He embarked at Marseilles for Naples, wishing previously +to his coronation to visit King Robert, by whom he was received with all +possible hospitality and distinction.</p> + +<p>Though he had accepted the laurel amidst the general applause of his +contemporaries, Petrarch was not satisfied that he should enjoy this +honour without passing through an ordeal as to his learning, for laurels +and learning had been for one hundred years habitually associated in +men's minds. The person whom Petrarch selected for his examiner in +erudition was the King of Naples. Robert <i>the Good</i>, as he was in some +respects deservedly called, was, for his age, a well-instructed man, +and, for a king, a prodigy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xliv" id="Page_xliv">[Pg xliv]</a></span> He had also some common sense, but in +classical knowledge he was more fit to be the scholar of Petrarch than +his examiner. If Petrarch, however, learned nothing from the King, the +King learned something from Petrarch. Among the other requisites for +examining a Poet Laureate which Robert possessed, was <i>an utter +ignorance of poetry</i>. But Petrarch couched his blindness on the subject, +so that Robert saw, or believed he saw, something useful in the divine +art. He had heard of the epic poem, Africa, and requested its author to +recite to him some part of it. The King was charmed with the recitation, +and requested that the work might be dedicated to him. Petrarch +assented, but the poem was not finished or published till after King +Robert's death.</p> + +<p>His Neapolitan Majesty, after pronouncing a warm eulogy on our poet, +declared that he merited the laurel, and had letters patent drawn up, by +which he certified that, after a <i>severe</i> examination (it lasted three +days), Petrarch was judged worthy to receive that honour in the Capitol. +Robert wished him to be crowned at Naples; but our poet represented that +he was desirous of being distinguished on the same theatre where Virgil +and Horace had shone. The King accorded with his wishes; and, to +complete his kindness, regretted that his advanced age would not permit +him to go to Rome, and crown Petrarch himself. He named, however, one of +his most eminent courtiers, Barrilli, to be his proxy. Boccaccio speaks +of Barrilli as a good poet; and Petrarch, with exaggerated politeness, +compares him to Ovid.</p> + +<p>When Petrarch went to take leave of King Robert, the sovereign, after +engaging his promise that he would visit him again very soon, took off +the robe which he wore that day, and, begging Petrarch's acceptance of +it, desired that he might wear it on the day of his coronation. He also +bestowed on him the place of his almoner-general, an office for which +great interest was always made, on account of the privileges attached to +it, the principal of which were an exemption from paying the tithes of +benefices to the King, and a dispensation from residence.</p> + +<p>Petrarch proceeded to Rome, where he arrived on the 6th of April, 1341, +accompanied by only one attendant from the court of Naples, for Barrilli +had taken another route, upon some important business, promising, +however, to be at Rome before the time appointed. But as he had not +arrived on the 7th, Petrarch despatched a messenger in search of him, +who returned without any information. The poet was desirous to wait for +his arrival; but Orso, Count of Anguillara, would not suffer the +ceremony to be deferred. Orso was joint senator of Rome with Giordano +degli Orsini; and, his office expiring on the 8th of April, he was +unwilling to resign to his successor the pleasure of crowning so great a +man.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a id="image02" name="image02"></a><a href="images/02large.jpg"> + <img src="images/02.jpg" + alt="NAPLES." + title="NAPLES." /></a><br /> + <span class="caption">NAPLES.</span> +</div> + +<p>Petrarch was afterwards informed that Barrilli, hastening towards Rome, +had been beset near Anaguia by robbers, from whom<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xlv" id="Page_xlv">[Pg xlv]</a></span> he escaped with +difficulty, and that he was obliged for safety to return to Naples. In +leaving that city, Petrarch passed the tomb traditionally said to be +that of Virgil. His coronation took place without delay after his +arrival at Rome.</p> + +<p>The morning of the 8th of April, 1341, was ushered in by the sound of +trumpets; and the people, ever fond of a show, came from all quarters to +see the ceremony. Twelve youths selected from the best families of Rome, +and clothed in scarlet, opened the procession, repeating as they went +some verses, composed by the poet, in honour of the Roman people. They +were followed by six citizens of Rome, clothed in green, and bearing +crowns wreathed with different flowers. Petrarch walked in the midst of +them; after him came the senator, accompanied by the first men of the +council. The streets were strewed with flowers, and the windows filled +with ladies, dressed in the most splendid manner, who showered perfumed +waters profusely on the poet<a name="FNanchor_I_9" id="FNanchor_I_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_I_9" class="fnanchor">[I]</a>. He all the time wore the robe that had +been presented to him by the King of Naples. When they reached the +Capitol, the trumpets were silent, and Petrarch, having made a short +speech, in which he quoted a verse from Virgil, cried out three times, +"Long live the Roman people! long live the Senators! may God preserve +their liberty!" At the conclusion of these words, he knelt before the +senator Orso, who, taking a crown of laurel from his own head, placed it +on that of Petrarch, saying, "This crown is the reward of virtue." The +poet then repeated a sonnet in praise of the ancient Romans. The people +testified their approbation by shouts of applause, crying, "Long +flourish the Capitol and the poet!" The friends of Petrarch shed tears +of joy, and Stefano Colonna, his favourite hero, addressed the assembly +in his honour.</p> + +<p>The ceremony having been finished at the Capitol, the procession, amidst +the sound of trumpets and the acclamations of the people, repaired +thence to the church of St. Peter, where Petrarch offered up his crown +of laurel before the altar. The same day the Count of Anguillara caused +letters patent to be delivered to Petrarch, in which the senators, after +a flattering preamble, declared that he had merited the title of a great +poet and historian; that, to mark his distinction, they had put upon his +head a laurel crown, not only by the authority of Kong Robert, but by +that of the Roman Senate and people; and that they gave him, at Rome and +elsewhere, the privilege to read, to dispute, to explain ancient books, +to make new ones, to compose poems, and to wear a crown according to his +choice, either of laurel, beech, or myrtle, as well<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xlvi" id="Page_xlvi">[Pg xlvi]</a></span> as the poetic +habit. At that time a particular dress was affected by the poets. Dante +was buried in this costume.</p> + +<p>Petrarch continued only a few days at Rome after his coronation; but he +had scarcely departed when he found that there were banditti on the road +waiting for him, and anxious to relieve him of any superfluous wealth +which he might have about him. He was thus obliged to return to Rome +with all expedition; but he set out the following day, attended by a +guard of armed men, and arrived at Pisa on the 20th of April.</p> + +<p>From Pisa he went to Parma, to see his friend Azzo Correggio, and soon +after his arrival he was witness to a revolution in that city of which +Azzo had the principal direction. The Scalas, who held the sovereignty +of Parma, had for some time oppressed the inhabitants with exorbitant +taxes, which excited murmurs and seditions. The Correggios, to whom the +city was entrusted in the absence of Mastino della Scala, profited by +the public discontent, hoisted the flag of liberty, and, on the 22nd of +May, 1341, drove out the garrison, and made themselves lords of the +commonwealth. On this occasion, Azzo has been accused of the worst +ingratitude to his nephews, Alberto and Mastino. But, if the people were +oppressed, he was surely justified in rescuing them from misgovernment. +To a great degree, also, the conduct of the Correggios sanctioned the +revolution. They introduced into Parma such a mild and equitable +administration as the city had never before experienced. Some +exceptionable acts they undoubtedly committed; and when Petrarch extols +Azzo as another Cato, it is to be hoped that he did so with some mental +reservation. Petrarch had proposed to cross the Alps immediately, and +proceed to Avignon; but he was prevailed upon by the solicitations of +Azzo to remain some time at Parma. He was consulted by the Correggios on +their most important affairs, and was admitted to their secret councils. +In the present instance, this confidence was peculiarly agreeable to +him; as the four brothers were, at that time, unanimous in their +opinions; and their designs were all calculated to promote the welfare +of their subjects.</p> + +<p>Soon after his arrival at Parma, he received one of those tokens, of his +popularity which are exceedingly expressive, though they come from a +humble admirer. A blind old man, who had been a grammar-school master at +Pontremoli, came to Parma, in order to pay his devotions to the +laureate. The poor man had already walked to Naples, guided in his +blindness by his only son, for the purpose of finding Petrarch. The poet +had left that city; but King Robert, pleased with his enthusiasm, made +him a present of some money. The aged pilgrim returned to Pontremoti, +where, being informed that Petrarch was at Parma, he crossed the +Apennines, in spite of the severity of the weather, and travelled +thither, having sent before him a tolerable copy of verses. He was +presented to Petrarch, whose hand he kissed with devotion and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xlvii" id="Page_xlvii">[Pg xlvii]</a></span> +exclamations of joy. One day, before many spectators, the blind man said +to Petrarch, "Sir, I have come far to see you." The bystanders laughed, +on which the old man replied, "I appeal to you, Petrarch, whether I do +not see you more clearly and distinctly than these men who have their +eyesight." Petrarch gave him a kind reception, and dismissed him with a +considerable present.</p> + +<p>The pleasure which Petrarch had in retirement, reading, and reflection, +induced him to hire a house on the outskirts of the city of Parma, with +a garden, beautifully watered by a stream, a <i>rus in urbe</i>, as he calls +it; and he was so pleased with this locality, that he purchased and +embellished it.</p> + +<p>His happiness, however, he tells us, was here embittered by the loss of +some friends who shared the first place in his affections. One of these +was Tommaso da Messina, with whom he had formed a friendship when they +were fellow-students at Bologna, and ever since kept up a familiar +correspondence. They were of the same age, addicted to the same +pursuits, and imbued with similar sentiments. Tommaso wrote a volume of +Latin poems, several of which were published after the invention of +printing. Petrarch, in his Triumphs of Love, reckons him an excellent +poet.</p> + +<p>This loss was followed by another which affected Petrarch still more +strongly. Having received frequent invitations to Lombes from the +Bishop, who had resided some time in his diocese, Petrarch looked +forward with pleasure to the time when he should revisit him. But he +received accounts that the Bishop was taken dangerously ill. Whilst his +mind was agitated by this news, he had the following dream, which he has +himself related. "Methought I saw the Bishop crossing the rivulet of my +garden alone. I was astonished at this meeting, and asked him whence he +came, whither he was going in such haste, and why he was alone. He +smiled upon me with his usual complacency, and said, 'Remember that when +you were in Gascony the tempestuous climate was insupportable to you. I +also am tired of it. I have quitted Gascony, never to return, and I am +going to Rome.' At the conclusion of these words, he had reached the end +of the garden, and, as I endeavoured to accompany him, he in the kindest +and gentlest manner waved his hand; but, upon my persevering, he cried +out in a more peremptory manner, 'Stay! you must not at present attend +me.' Whilst he spoke these words, I fixed my eyes upon him, and saw the +paleness of death upon his countenance. Seized with horror, I uttered a +loud cry, which awoke me. I took notice of the time. I told the +circumstance to all my friends; and, at the expiration of +five-and-twenty days, I received accounts of his death, which happened +in the very same night in winch he had appeared to me."</p> + +<p>On a little reflection, this incident will not appear to be +supernatural. That Petrarch, oppressed as he was with anxiety about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xlviii" id="Page_xlviii">[Pg xlviii]</a></span> his +friend, should fall into fanciful reveries during his sleep, and imagine +that he saw him in the paleness of death, was nothing wonderful—nay, +that he should frame this allegory in his dream is equally conceivable. +The sleeper's imagination is often a great improvisatore. It forms +scenes and stories; it puts questions, and answers them itself, all the +time believing that the responses come from those whom it interrogates.</p> + +<p>Petrarch, deeply attached to Azzo da Correggio, now began to consider +himself as settled at Parma, where he enjoyed literary retirement in the +bosom of his beloved Italy. But he had not resided there a year, when he +was summoned to Avignon by orders he considered that he could not +disobey. Tiraboschi, and after him Baldelli, ascribe his return to +Avignon to the commission which he received in 1342, to go as advocate +of the Roman people to the new Pope, Clement VI., who had succeeded to +the tiara on the death of Benedict XII., and Petrarch's own words +coincide with what they say. The feelings of joy with which Petrarch +revisited Avignon, though to appearance he had weaned himself from +Laura, may be imagined. He had friendship, however, if he had not love, +to welcome him. Here he met, with reciprocal gladness, his friends +Socrates and Lælius, who had established themselves at the court of the +Cardinal Colonna. "Socrates," says De Sade, "devoted himself entirely to +Petrarch, and even went with him to Vaucluse." It thus appears that +Petrarch had not given up his peculium on the Sorgue, nor had any one +rented the field and cottage in his absence.</p> + +<p>Benedict's successor, Clement VI., was conversant with the world, and +accustomed to the splendour of courts. Quite a contrast to the plain +rigidity of Benedict, he was courteous and munificent, but withal a +voluptuary; and his luxury and profusion gave rise to extortions, to +rapine, and to boundless simony. His artful and arrogant mistress, the +Countess of Turenne, ruled him so absolutely, that all places in his +gift, which had escaped the grasp of his relations, were disposed of +through her interest; and she amassed great wealth by the sale of +benefices.</p> + +<p>The Romans applied to Clement VI., as they had applied to Benedict XII., +imploring him to bring back the sacred seat to their capital; and they +selected Petrarch to be among those who should present their +supplication. Our poet appealed to his Holiness on this subject, both in +prose and verse. The Pope received him with smiles, complimented him on +his eloquence, bestowed on him the priory of Migliorino, but, for the +present, consigned his remonstrance to oblivion.</p> + +<p>In this mission to Clement at Avignon there was joined with Petrarch the +famous Nicola Gabrino, better known by the name Cola di Rienzo, who, +very soon afterwards, attached the history of Rome to his biography. He +was for the present comparatively<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xlix" id="Page_xlix">[Pg xlix]</a></span> little known; but Petrarch, thus +coming into connection with this extraordinary person, was captivated +with his eloquence, whilst Clement complimented Rienzo, admitted him +daily to his presence, and conversed with him on the wretched state of +Rome, the tyranny of the nobles, and the sufferings of the people.</p> + +<p>Cola and Petrarch were the two chiefs of this Roman embassy to the Pope; +and it appears that the poet gave precedency to the future tribune on +this occasion. They both elaborately exposed the three demands of the +Roman people, namely, that the Pope, already the acknowledged patron of +Rome, should assume the title and functions of its senator, in order to +extinguish the civil wars kindled by the Roman barons; that he should +return to his pontifical chair on the banks of the Tiber; and that he +should grant permission for the jubilee, instituted by Boniface VIII., +to be held every fifty years, and not at the end of a century, as its +extension to the latter period went far beyond the ordinary duration of +human life, and cut off the greater part of the faithful from enjoying +the institution.</p> + +<p>Clement praised both orators, and conceded that the Romans should have a +jubilee every fifty years; but he excused himself from going to Rome, +alleging that he was prevented by the disputes between France and +England. "Holy Father," said Petrarch, "how much it were to be wished +that you had known Italy before you knew France." "I wish I had," said +the Pontiff, very coldly.</p> + +<p>Petrarch gave vent to his indignation at the papal court in a writing, +entitled, "A Book of Letters without a Title," and in several severe +sonnets. The "Liber Epistolarum sine Titulo" contains, as it is printed +in his works (Basle edit., 1581), eighteen letters, fulminating as +freely against papal luxury and corruption as if they had been penned by +Luther or John Knox. From their contents, we might set down Petrarch as +the earliest preacher of the Reformation, if there were not, in the +writings of Dante, some passages of the same stamp. If these epistles +were really circulated at the time when they were written, it is matter +of astonishment that Petrarch never suffered from any other flames than +those of love; for many honest reformers, who have been roasted alive, +have uttered less anti-papal vituperation than our poet; nor, although +Petrarch would have been startled at a revolution in the hierarchy, can +it be doubted that his writings contributed to the Reformation.</p> + +<p>It must be remembered, at the same time, that he wrote against the +church government of Avignon, and not that of Rome. He compares Avignon +with the Assyrian Babylon, with Egypt under the mad tyranny of Cambyses; +or rather, denies that the latter empires can be held as parallels of +guilt to the western Babylon; nay, he tells us that neither Avernus nor +Tartarus can be confronted with this infernal place.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_l" id="Page_l">[Pg l]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The successors of a troop of fishermen," he says, "have forgotten their +origin. They are not contented, like the first followers of Christ, who +gained their livelihood by the Lake of Gennesareth, with modest +habitations, but they must build themselves splendid palaces, and go +about covered with gold and purple. They are fishers of men, who catch a +credulous multitude, and devour them for their prey." This "Liber +Epistolarum" includes some descriptions of the debaucheries of the +churchmen, which are too scandalous for translation. They are +nevertheless curious relics of history.</p> + +<p>In this year, Gherardo, the brother of our poet, retired, by his advice, +to the Carthusian monastery of Montrieux, which they had both visited in +the pilgrimage to Baume three years before. Gherardo had been struck +down with affliction by the death of a beautiful woman at Avignon, to +whom he was devoted. Her name and history are quite unknown, but it may +be hoped, if not conjectured, that she was not married, and could be +more liberal in her affections than the poet's Laura.</p> + +<p>Amidst all the incidents of this period of his life, the attachment of +Petrarch to Laura continued unabated. It appears, too, that, since his +return from Parma, she treated him with more than wonted complacency. He +passed the greater part of the year 1342 at Avignon, and went to +Vaucluse but seldom and for short intervals.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, love, that makes other people idle, interfered not with +Petrarch's fondness for study. He found an opportunity of commencing the +study of Greek, and seized it with avidity. That language had never been +totally extinct in Italy; but at the time on which we are touching, +there were not probably six persons in the whole country acquainted with +it. Dante had quoted Greek authors, but without having known the Greek +alphabet. The person who favoured Petrarch with this coveted instruction +was Bernardo Barlaamo, a Calabrian monk, who had been three years before +at Avignon, having come as envoy from Andronicus, the eastern Emperor, +on pretext of proposing a union between the Greek and Roman churches, +but, in reality for the purpose of trying to borrow money from the Pope +for the Emperor. Some of Petrarch's biographers date his commencement of +the study of Greek from the period of Barlaamo's first visit to Avignon; +but I am inclined to postpone it to 1342, when Barlaamo returned to the +west and settled at Avignon. Petrarch began studying Greek by the +reading of Plato. He never obtained instruction sufficient to make him a +good Grecian, but he imbibed much of the spirit of Plato from the labour +which he bestowed on his works. He was very anxious to continue his +Greek readings with Barlaamo; but his stay in Avignon was very short; +and, though it was his interest to detain him as his preceptor, +Petrarch, finding that he was anxious for a settlement<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_li" id="Page_li">[Pg li]</a></span> in Italy, helped +him to obtain the bishopric of Geraci, in Calabria.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a id="image03" name="image03"></a><a href="images/03large.jpg"> + <img src="images/03.jpg" + alt="NICE." + title="NICE." /></a><br /> + <span class="caption">NICE.</span> +</div> + +<p>The next year was memorable in our poet's life for the birth of his +daughter Francesca. That the mother of this daughter was the same who +presented him with his son John there can be no doubt. Baldelli +discovers, in one of Petrarch's letters, an obscure allusion to her, +which seems to indicate that she died suddenly after the birth of +Francesca, who proved a comfort to her father in his old age.</p> + +<p>The opening of the year 1343 brought a new loss to Petrarch in the death +of Robert, King of Naples. Petrarch, as we have seen, had occasion to be +grateful to this monarch; and we need not doubt that he was much +affected by the news of his death; but, when we are told that he +repaired to Vaucluse to bewail his irreparable loss, we may suppose, +without uncharitableness, that he retired also with a view to study the +expression of his grief no less than to cherish it. He wrote, however, +an interesting letter on the occasion to Barbato di Sulmona, in which he +very sensibly exhibits his fears of the calamities which were likely to +result from the death of Robert, adding that his mind was seldom true in +prophecy, unless when it foreboded misfortunes; and his predictions on +this occasion were but too well verified.</p> + +<p>Robert was succeeded by his granddaughter Giovanna, a girl of sixteen, +already married to Andrew of Hungary, her cousin, who was but a few +months older. Robert by his will had established a council of regency, +which was to continue until Giovanna arrived at the age of twenty-five. +The Pope, however, made objections to this arrangement, alleging that +the administration of affairs during the Queen's minority devolved upon +him immediately as lord superior. But, as he did not choose to assert +his right till he should receive more accurate information respecting +the state of the kingdom, he gave Petrarch a commission for that +purpose; and entrusted him with a negotiation of much importance and +delicacy.</p> + +<p>Petrarch received an additional commission from the Cardinal Colonna. +Several friends of the Colonna family were, at that time, confined in +prison at Naples, and the Cardinal flattered himself that Petrarch's +eloquence and intercession would obtain their enlargement. Our poet +accepted the embassy. He went to Nice, where he embarked; but had nearly +been lost in his passage. He wrote to Cardinal Colonna the following +account of his voyage.</p> + +<p>"I embarked at Nice, the first maritime town in Italy (he means the +nearest to France). At night I got to Monaco, and the bad weather +obliged me to pass a whole day there, which by no means put me into +good-humour. The next morning we re-embarked, and, after being tossed +all day by the tempest, we arrived very late at Port Maurice. The night +was dreadful; it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lii" id="Page_lii">[Pg lii]</a></span> was impossible to get to the castle, and I was obliged +to put up at a little village, where my bed and supper appeared +tolerable from extreme weariness. I determined to proceed by land; the +perils of the road appeared less dreadful to me than those by sea. I +left my servants and baggage in the ship, which set sail, and I remained +with only one domestic on shore. By accident, upon the coast of Genoa, I +found some German horses which were for sale; they were strong and +serviceable. I bought them; but I was soon afterwards obliged to take +ship again; for war was renewed between the Pisans and the Milanese. +Nature has placed limits to these States, the Po on one side, and the +Apennines on the other. I must have passed between their two armies if I +had gone by land; this obliged me to re-embark at Lerici. I passed by +Corvo, that famous rock, the ruins of the city of Luna, and landed at +Murrona. Thence I went the next day on horseback to Pisa, Siena, and +Rome. My eagerness to execute your orders has made me a night-traveller, +contrary to my character and disposition. I would not sleep till I had +paid my duty to your illustrious father, who is always my hero. I found +him the same as I left him seven years ago, nay, even as hale and +sprightly as when I saw him at Avignon, which is now twelve years. What +a surprising man! What strength of mind and body! How firm his voice! +How beautiful his face! Had he been a few years younger, I should have +taken him for Julius Cæsar, or Scipio Africanus. Rome grows old; but not +its hero. He was half undressed, and going to bed; so I stayed only a +moment, but I passed the whole of the next day with him. He asked me a +thousand questions about you, and was much pleased that I was going to +Naples. When I set out from Rome, he insisted on accompanying me beyond +the walls.</p> + +<p>"I reached Palestrina that night, and was kindly received by your nephew +John. He is a young man of great hopes, and follows the steps of his +ancestors.</p> + +<p>"I arrived at Naples the 11th of October. Heavens, what a change has the +death of one man produced in that place! No one would know it now. +Religion, Justice, and Truth are banished. I think I am at Memphis, +Babylon, or Mecca. In the stead of a king so just and so pious, a little +monk, fat, rosy, barefooted, with a shorn head, and half covered with a +dirty mantle, bent by hypocrisy more than by age, lost in debauchery +whilst proud of his affected poverty, and still more of the real wealth +he has amassed—this man holds the reins of this staggering empire. In +vice and cruelty he rivals a Dionysius, an Agathocles, or a Phalaris. +This monk, named Roberto, was an Hungarian cordelier, and preceptor of +Prince Andrew, whom he entirely sways. He oppresses the weak, despises +the great, tramples justice under foot, and treats both the dowager and +the reigning Queen with the greatest insolence. The court and city +tremble<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_liii" id="Page_liii">[Pg liii]</a></span> before him; a mournful silence reigns in the public assemblies, +and in private they converse by whispers. The least gesture is punished, +and <i>to think</i> is denounced as a crime. To this man I have presented the +orders of the Sovereign Pontiff, and your just demands. He behaved with +incredible insolence. Susa, or Damascus, the capital of the Saracens, +would have received with more respect an envoy from the Holy See. The +great lords imitate his pride and tyranny. The Bishop of Cavaillon is +the only one who opposes this torrent; but what can one lamb do in the +midst of so many wolves? It is the request of a dying king alone that +makes him endure so wretched a situation. How small are the hopes of my +negotiation! but I shall wait with patience; though I know beforehand +the answer they will give me."</p> + +<p>It is plain from Petrarch's letter that the kingdom of Naples was now +under a miserable subjection to the Hungarian faction, aid that the +young Queen's situation was anything but enviable. Few characters in +modern history have been drawn in such contrasted colours as that of +Giovanna, Queen of Naples. She has been charged with every vice, and +extolled for every virtue. Petrarch represents her as a woman of weak +understanding, disposed to gallantry, but incapable of greater crimes. +Her history reminds us much of that of Mary Queen of Scots. Her youth +and her character, gentle and interesting in several respects, entitle +her to the benefit of our doubts as to her assent to the death of +Andrew. Many circumstances seem to me to favour those doubts, and the +opinion of Petrarch is on the side of her acquittal.</p> + +<p>On his arrival in Naples, Petrarch had an audience with the Queen +Dowager; but her grief and tears for the loss of her husband made this +interview brief and fruitless with regard to business. When he spoke to +her about the prisoners, for whose release the Colonnas had desired him +to intercede, her Majesty referred him to the council. She was now, in +reality, only a state cypher.</p> + +<p>The principal prisoners for whom Petrarch was commissioned to plead, +were the Counts Minervino, di Lucera, and Pontenza. Petrarch applied to +the council of state in their behalf, but he was put off with perpetual +excuses. While the affair was in agitation he went to Capua, where the +prisoners were confined. "There," he writes to the Cardinal Colonna, "I +saw your friends; and, such is the instability of Fortune, that I found +them in chains. They support their situation with fortitude. Their +innocence is no plea in their behalf to those who have shared in the +spoils of their fortune. Their only expectations rest upon you. I have +no hopes, except from the intervention of some superior power, as any +dependence on the clemency of the council is out of the question. The +Queen Dowager, now the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_liv" id="Page_liv">[Pg liv]</a></span> most desolate of widows, compassionates their +case, but cannot assist them."</p> + +<p>Petrarch, wearied with the delays of business, sought relief in +excursions to the neighbourhood. Of these he writes an account to +Cardinal Colonna.</p> + +<p>"I went to Baiæ," he says, "with my friends, Barbato and Barrilli. +Everything concurred to render this jaunt agreeable—good company, the +beauty of the scenes, and my extreme weariness of the city I had +quitted. This climate, which, as far as I can judge, must be +insupportable in summer, is delightful in winter. I was rejoiced to +behold places described by Virgil, and, what is more surprising, by +Homer before him. I have seen the Lucrine lake, famous for its fine +oysters; the lake Avernus, with water as black as pitch, and fishes of +the same colour swimming in it; marshes formed by the standing waters of +Acheron, and the mountain whose roots go down to hell. The terrible +aspect of this place, the thick shades with which it is covered by a +surrounding wood, and the pestilent odour which this water exhales, +characterize it very justly as the Tartarus of the poets. There wants +only the boat of Charon, which, however, would be unnecessary, as there +is only a shallow ford to pass over. The Styx and the kingdom of Pluto +are now hid from our sight. Awed by what I had heard and read of these +mournful approaches to the dead, I was contented to view them at my feet +from the top of a high mountain. The labourer, the shepherd, and the +sailor, dare not approach them nearer. There are deep caverns, where +some pretend that a great deal of gold is concealed; covetous men, they +say, have been to seek it, but they never return; whether they lost +their way in the dark valleys, or had a fancy to visit the dead, being +so near their habitations.</p> + +<p>"I have seen the ruins of the grotto of the famous Cumæan sybil; it is a +hideous rock, suspended in the Avernian lake. Its situation strikes the +mind with horror. There still remain the hundred mouths by which the +gods conveyed their oracles; these are now dumb, and there is only one +God who speaks in heaven and on earth. These uninhabited ruins serve as +the resort of birds of unlucky omen. Not far off is that dreadful cavern +which leads, <i>they say</i>, to the infernal regions. Who would believe +that, close to the mansions of the dead, Nature should have placed +powerful remedies for the preservation of life? Near Avernus and Acheron +are situated that barren land whence rises continually a salutary +vapour, which is a cure for several diseases, and those hot-springs that +vomit hot and sulphureous cinders. I have seen the baths which Nature +has prepared; but the avarice of physicians has rendered them of +doubtful use. This does not, however, prevent them from being visited by +the invalids of all the neighbouring towns. These hollowed moun<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lv" id="Page_lv">[Pg lv]</a></span>tains +dazzle us with the lustre of their marble circles, on which are engraved +figures that point out, by the position of their hands, the part of the +body which each fountain is proper to cure.</p> + +<p>"I saw the foundations of that admirable reservoir of Nero, which was to +go from Mount Misenus to the Avernian lake, and to enclose all the hot +waters of Baiæ.</p> + +<p>"At Pozzuoli I saw the mountain of Falernus, celebrated for its grapes, +whence the famous Falernian wine. I saw likewise those enraged waves of +which Virgil speaks in his Georgics, on which Cæsar put a bridle by the +mole which he raised there, and which Augustus finished. It is now +called the Dead Sea. I am surprised at the prodigious expense the Romans +were at to build houses in the most exposed situations, in order to +shelter them from the severities of the weather; for in the heats of +summer the valleys of the Apennines, the mountains of Viterbo, and the +woods of Umbria, furnished them with charming shades; and even the ruins +of the houses which they built in those places are superb."</p> + +<p>Our poet's residence at Naples was evidently disagreeable to him, in +spite of the company of his friends, Barrilli and Barbato. His +friendship with the latter was for a moment overcast by an act of +indiscretion on the part of Barbato, who, by dint of importunity, +obtained from Petrarch thirty-four lines of his poem of Africa, under a +promise that he would show them to nobody. On entering the library of +another friend, the first thing that struck our poet's eyes was a copy +of the same verses, transcribed with a good many blunders. Petrarch's +vanity on this occasion, however, was touched more than his anger—he +forgave his friend's treachery, believing it to have arisen from +excessive admiration. Barbato, as some atonement, gave him a little MS. +of Cicero, which Petrarch found to contain two books of the orator's +Treatise on the Academics, "a work," as he observes, "more subtle than +useful."</p> + +<p>Queen Giovanna was fond of literature. She had several conversations +with Petrarch, which increased her admiration of him. After the example +of her grandfather, she made him her chaplain and household clerk, both +of which offices must be supposed to have been sinecures. Her letters +appointing him to them are dated the 25th of November, 1343, the very +day before that nocturnal storm of which I shall speedily quote the +poet's description.</p> + +<p>Voltaire has asserted that the young Queen of Naples was the pupil of +Petrarch; "but of this," as De Sade remarks, "there is no proof." It +only appears that the two greatest geniuses of Italy, Boccaccio and +Petrarch, were both attached to Giovanna, and had a more charitable +opinion of her than most of their contemporaries.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lvi" id="Page_lvi">[Pg lvi]</a></span></p> + +<p>Soon after his return from the tour to Baiæ, Petrarch was witness to a +violent tempest at Naples, which most historians have mentioned, as it +was memorable for having threatened the entire destruction of the city.</p> + +<p>The night of the 25th of November, 1343, set in with uncommonly still +weather; but suddenly a tempest rose violently in the direction of the +sea, which made the buildings of the city shake to their very +foundations. "At the first onset of the tempest," Petrarch writes to the +Cardinal Colonna, "the windows of the house were burst open. The lamp of +my chamber"—he was lodged at a monastery—"was blown out—I was shaken +from my bed with violence, and I apprehended immediate death. The friars +and prior of the convent, who had risen to pay their customary +devotions, rushed into my room with crucifixes and relics in their +hands, imploring the mercy of the Deity. I took courage, and accompanied +them to the church, where we all passed the night, expecting every +moment to be our last. I cannot describe the horrors of that dreadful +night; the bursts of lightning and the roaring of thunder were blended +with the shrieks of the people. The night itself appeared protracted to +an unnatural length; and, when the morning arrived, which we discovered +rather by conjecture than by any dawning of light, the priests prepared +to celebrate the service; but the rest of us, not having yet dared to +lift up our eyes towards the heavens, threw ourselves prostrate on the +ground. At length the day appeared—a day how like to night! The cries +of the people began to cease in the upper part of the city, but were +redoubled from the sea-shore. Despair inspired us with courage. We +mounted our horses and arrived at the port. What a scene was there! the +vessels had suffered shipwreck in the very harbour; the shore was +covered with dead bodies, which were tossed about and dashed against the +rocks, whilst many appeared struggling in the agonies of death. +Meanwhile, the raging ocean overturned many houses from their very +foundations. Above a thousand Neapolitan horsemen were assembled near +the shore to assist, as it were, at the obsequies of their countrymen. I +caught from them a spirit of resolution, and was less afraid of death +from the consideration that we should all perish together. On a sudden a +cry of horror was heard; the sea had sapped the foundations of the +ground on which we stood, and it was already beginning to give way. We +immediately hastened to a higher place, where the scene was equally +impressive. The young Queen, with naked feet and dishevelled hair, +attended by a number of women, was rushing to the church of the Virgin, +crying out for mercy in this imminent peril. At sea, no ship escaped the +fury of the tempest: all the vessels in the harbour—one only +excepted—sunk before our eyes, and every soul on board perished."</p> + +<p>By the assiduity and solicitations of Petrarch, the council of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lvii" id="Page_lvii">[Pg lvii]</a></span> Naples +were at last engaged in debating about the liberation of Colonna's +imprisoned friends; and the affair was nearly brought to a conclusion, +when the approach of night obliged the members to separate before they +came to a final decision. The cause of this separation is a sad proof of +Neapolitan barbarism at that period. It will hardly, at this day, seem +credible that, in the capital of so flourishing a kingdom, and the +residence of a brilliant court, such savage licentiousness could have +prevailed. At night, all the streets of the city were beset by the young +nobility, who were armed, and who attacked all passengers without +distinction, so that even the members of the council could not venture +to appear after a certain hour. Neither the severity of parents, nor the +authority of the magistrates, nor of Majesty itself, could prevent +continual combats and assassinations.</p> + +<p>"But can it be astonishing," Petrarch remarks, "that such disgraceful +scenes should pass in the night, when the Neapolitans celebrate, even in +the face of day, games similar to those of the gladiators, and with more +than barbarian cruelty? Human blood is shed here with as little remorse +as that of brute animals; and, while the people join madly in applause, +sons expire in the very sight of their parents; and it is considered the +utmost disgrace not to die with becoming fortitude, as if they were +dying in the defence of their religion and country. I myself, ignorant +of these customs was once carried to the Carbonara, the destined place +of butchery. The Queen and her husband, Andrew, were present; the +soldiery of Naples were present, and the people flocked thither in +crowds. I was kept in suspense by the appearance of so large and +brilliant an assembly, and expected some spectacle worthy of my +attention, when I suddenly heard a loud shout of applause, as for some +joyous incident. What was my surprise when I beheld a beautiful young +man pierced through with a sword, and ready to expire at my feet! Struck +with horror, I put spurs to my horse, and fled from the barbarous sight, +uttering execrations on the cruel spectators.</p> + +<p>"This inhuman custom has been derived from their ancestors, and is now +so sanctioned by inveterate habit, that their very licentiousness is +dignified with the name of liberty.</p> + +<p>"You will cease to wonder at the imprisonment of your friends in this +city, where the death of a young man is considered as an innocent +pastime. As to myself, I will quit this inhuman country before three +days are past, and hasten to you who can make all things agreeable to me +except a sea-voyage."</p> + +<p>Petrarch at length brought his negotiations respecting the prisoners to +a successful issue; and they were released by the express authority of +Andrew. Our poet's presence being no longer necessary, he left Naples, +in spite of the strong solicitations of his friends Barrilli and +Barbato. In answer to their request that he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lviii" id="Page_lviii">[Pg lviii]</a></span> would remain, he said, "I +am but a satellite, and follow the directions of a superior planet; +quiet and repose are denied to me."</p> + +<p>From Naples he went to Parma, where Azzo Correggio, with his wonted +affection, pressed him to delay; and Petrarch accepted the invitation, +though he remarked with sorrow that harmony no longer reigned among the +brothers of the family. He stopped there, however, for some time, and +enjoyed such tranquillity that he could revise and polish his +compositions. But, in the following year, 1345, his friend Azzo, having +failed to keep his promise to Luchino Visconti, as to restoring to him +the lordship of Parma—Azzo had obtained it by the assistance of the +Visconti, who avenged himself by making war on the Correggios—he +invested Parma, and afflicted it with a tedious siege. Petrarch, +foreseeing little prospect of pursuing his studies quietly in a +beleaguered city, left the place with a small number of his companions; +but, about midnight, near Rheggio, a troop of robbers rushed from an +ambuscade, with cries of "Kill! kill!" and our handful of travellers, +being no match for a host of brigands, fled and sought to save +themselves under favour of night. Petrarch, during this flight, was +thrown from his horse. The shock was so violent that he swooned; but he +recovered, and was remounted by his companions. They had not got far, +however, when a violent storm of rain and lightning rendered their +situation almost as bad as that from which they had escaped, and +threatened them with death in another shape. They passed a dreadful +night without finding a tree or the hollow of a rock to shelter them, +and had no expedient for mitigating their exposure to the storm but to +turn their horses' backs to the tempest.</p> + +<p>When the dawn permitted them to discern a path amidst the brushwood, +they pushed on to Scandiano, a castle occupied by the Gonzaghi, friends +of the lords of Parma, which they happily reached, and where they were +kindly received. Here they learned that a troop of horse and foot had +been waiting for them in ambush near Scandiano, but had been forced by +the bad weather to withdraw before their arrival; thus "<i>the pelting of +the pitiless storm</i>" had been to them a merciful occurrence. Petrarch +made no delay here, for he was smarting under the bruises from his fall, +but caused himself to be tied upon his horse, and went to repose at +Modena. The next day he repaired to Bologna, where he stopped a short +time for surgical assistance, and whence he sent a letter to his friend +Barbato, describing his misadventure; but, unable to hold a pen himself, +he was obliged to employ the hand of a stranger. He was so impatient, +however, to get back to Avignon, that he took the road to it as soon as +he could sit his horse. On approaching that city he says he felt a +greater softness in the air, and saw with delight the flowers that adorn +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lix" id="Page_lix">[Pg lix]</a></span> neighbouring woods. Everything seemed to announce the vicinity of +Laura. It was seldom that Petrarch spoke so complacently of Avignon.</p> + +<p>Clement VI. received Petrarch with the highest respect, offered him his +choice among several vacant bishoprics, and pressed him to receive the +office of pontifical secretary. He declined the proffered secretaryship. +Prizing his independence above all things, excepting Laura, he remarked +to his friends that the yoke of office would not sit lighter on him for +being gilded.</p> + +<p>In consequence of the dangers he had encountered, a rumour of his death +had spread over a great part of Italy. The age was romantic, with a good +deal of the fantastical in its romance. If the news had been true, and +if he had been really dead and buried, it would be difficult to restrain +a smile at the sort of honours that were paid to his memory by the less +brain-gifted portion of his admirers. One of these, Antonio di Beccaria, +a physician of Ferrara, when he ought to have been mourning for his own +deceased patients, wrote a poetical lamentation for Petrarch's death. +The poem, if it deserve such a name, is allegorical; it represents a +funeral, in which the following personages parade in procession and +grief for the Laureate's death. Grammar, Rhetoric, and Philosophy are +introduced with their several attendants. Under the banners of Rhetoric +are ranged Cicero, Geoffroy de Vinesauf, and Alain de Lisle. It would +require all Cicero's eloquence to persuade us that his comrades in the +procession were quite worthy of his company. The Nine Muses follow +Petrarch's body; eleven poets, crowned with laurel, support the bier, +and Minerva, holding the crown of Petrarch, closes the procession.</p> + +<p>We have seen that Petrarch left Naples foreboding disastrous events to +that kingdom. Among these, the assassination of Andrew, on the 18th of +September, 1345, was one that fulfilled his augury. The particulars of +this murder reached Petrarch on his arrival at Avignon, in a letter from +his friend Barbato.</p> + +<p>From the sonnets which Petrarch wrote, to all appearance, in 1345 and +1346, at Avignon or Vaucluse, he seems to have suffered from those +fluctuations of Laura's favour that naturally arose from his own +imprudence. When she treated him with affability, he grew bolder in his +assiduities, and she was again obliged to be more severe. See Sonnets +cviii., cix., and cxiv.</p> + +<p>During this sojourn, though he dates some of his pleasantest letters +from Vaucluse, he was projecting to return to Italy, and to establish +himself there, after bidding a final adieu to Provence. When he +acquainted his nominal patron, John Colonna, with his intention, the +Cardinal rudely taxed him with madness and ingratitude. Petrarch frankly +told the prelate that he was conscious of no ingratitude, since, after +fourteen years passed in his service, he had received no provision for +his future livelihood.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lx" id="Page_lx">[Pg lx]</a></span> This quarrel with the proud churchman is, with +fantastic pastoral imagery, made the subject of our poet's eighth +Bucolic, entitled Divortium. I suspect that Petrarch's free language in +favour of the Tribune Rienzo was not unconnected with their alienation.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding Petrarch's declared dislike of Avignon, there is every +reason to suppose that he passed the greater part of the winter of 1346 +in his western Babylon; and we find that he witnessed many interesting +scenes between the conflicting cardinals, as well as the brilliant fêtes +that were given to two foreign princes, whom an important affair now +brought to Avignon. These were the King of Bohemia, and his son Charles, +Prince of Moravia, otherwise called Charles of Luxemburg.</p> + +<p>The Emperor Lewis of Bavaria, who had previously made several but +fruitless attempts to reconcile himself with the Church, on learning the +election of Clement VI., sent ambassadors with unlimited powers to +effect a reconcilement; but the Pope proposed conditions so hard and +humbling that the States of the German Empire peremptorily rejected +them. On this, his Holiness confirmed the condemnations which he had +already passed on Lewis of Bavaria, and enjoined the Electors of the +empire to proceed to a new choice of the King of the Romans. "John of +Luxemburg," says Villani, "would have been emperor if he had not been +blind." A wish to secure the empire for his son and to further his +election, brought him to the Pope at Avignon.</p> + +<p>Prince Charles had to thank the Pontiff for being elected, but first his +Holiness made him sign, on the 22nd of April, 1346, in presence of +twelve cardinals and his brother William Roger, a declaration of which +the following is the substance:—</p> + +<p>"If, by the grace of God, I am elected King of the Romans, I will fulfil +all the promises and confirm all the concessions of my grandfather Henry +VII. and of his predecessors. I will revoke the acts made by Lewis of +Bavaria. I will occupy no place, either in or out of Italy, belonging to +the Church. I will not enter Rome before the day appointed for my +coronation. I will depart from thence the same day with all my +attendants, and I will never return without the permission of the Holy +See." He might as well have declared that he would give the Pope all his +power, as King of the Romans, provided he was allowed the profits; for, +in reality, Charles had no other view with regard to Italy than to make +money.</p> + +<p>This concession, which contrasts so poorly with the conduct of Charles +on many other occasions, excited universal indignation in Germany, and a +good deal even in Italy. Petrarch exclaimed against it as mean and +atrocious; for, Catholic as he was, he was not so much a churchman as to +see without indignation the papal tiara exalted above the imperial +crown.</p> + +<p>In July, 1346, Charles was elected, and, in derision, was called "the +Emperor of the Priests." The death of his rival, Lewis of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lxi" id="Page_lxi">[Pg lxi]</a></span> Bavaria, +however, which happened in the next year, prevented a civil war, and +Charles IV. remained peaceable possessor of the empire.</p> + +<p>Among the fêtes that were given to Charles, a ball was held at Avignon, +in a grand saloon brightly illuminated. Thither came all the beauties of +the city and of Provence. The Prince, who had heard much of Laura, +through her poetical fame, sought her out and saluted her in the French +manner.</p> + +<p>Petrarch went, according to his custom, to pass the term of Lent at +Vaucluse. The Bishop of Cavaillon, eager to see the poet, persuaded him +to visit his recluse residence, and remained with Petrarch as his guest +for fifteen days, in his own castle, on the summit of rocks, that seemed +more adapted for the perch of birds than the habitation of men. There is +now scarcely a wreck of it remaining.</p> + +<p>It would seem, however, that the Bishop's conversation made this +retirement very agreeable to Petrarch; for it inspired him with the idea +of writing a "Treatise on a Solitary Life." Of this work he made a +sketch in a short time, but did not finish it till twenty years +afterwards, when he dedicated and presented it to the Bishop of +Cavaillon.</p> + +<p>It is agreeable to meet, in Petrarch's life at the shut-up valley, with +any circumstance, however trifling, that indicates a cheerful state of +mind; for, independently of his loneliness, the inextinguishable passion +for Laura never ceased to haunt him; and his love, strange to say, had +mad, momentary hopes, which only deepened at their departure the +returning gloom of despair. Petrarch never wrote more sonnets on his +beloved than during the course of this year. Laura had a fair and +discreet female friend at Avignon, who was also the friend of Petrarch, +and interested in his attachment. The ideas which this amiable +confidante entertained of harmonizing success in misplaced attachment +with honour and virtue must have been Platonic, even beyond the feelings +which Petrarch, in reality, cherished; for, occasionally, the poet's +sonnets are too honest for pure Platonism. This lady, however, whose +name is unknown, strove to convince Laura that she ought to treat her +lover with less severity. "She pushed Laura forward," says De Sade, "and +kept back Petrarch." One day she recounted to the poet all the proofs of +affection, and after these proofs she said, "You infidel, can you doubt +that she loves you?" It is to this fair friend that he is supposed to +have addressed his nineteenth sonnet.</p> + +<p>This year, his Laura was seized with a defluxion in her eyes, which made +her suffer much, and even threatened her with blindness. This was enough +to bring a sonnet from Petrarch (his 94th), in which he laments that +those eyes which were the sun of his life should be for ever eclipsed. +He went to see her during her illness, having now the privilege of +visiting her at her own house,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lxii" id="Page_lxii">[Pg lxii]</a></span> and one day he found her perfectly +recovered. Whether the ophthalmia was infectious, or only endemic, I +know not; but so it was, that, whilst Laura's eyes got well, those of +her lover became affected with the same defluxion. It struck his +imagination, or, at least, he feigned to believe poetically, that the +malady of her eyes had passed into his; and, in one of his sonnets, he +exults at this welcome circumstance.<a name="FNanchor_J_10" id="FNanchor_J_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_J_10" class="fnanchor">[J]</a> "I fixed my eyes," he said, "on +Laura; and that moment a something inexpressible, like a shooting star, +darted from them to mine. This is a present from love, in which I +rejoice. How delightful it is thus to cure the darling object of one's +soul!"</p> + +<p>Petrarch received some show of complacency from Laura, which his +imagination magnified; and it was some sort of consolation, at least, +that his idol was courteous to him; but even this scanty solace was +interrupted. Some malicious person communicated to Laura that Petrarch +was imposing upon her, and that he was secretly addressing his love and +his poetry to another lady under a borrowed name. Laura gave ear to the +calumny, and, for a time, debarred him from her presence. If she had +been wholly indifferent to him, this misunderstanding would have never +existed; for jealousy and indifference are a contradiction in terms. I +mean true jealousy. There is a pseudo species of it, with which many +wives are troubled who care nothing about their husbands' affection; a +plant of ill nature that is reared merely to be a rod of conjugal +castigation. Laura, however, discovered at last, that her admirer was +playing no double part. She was too reasonable to protract so unjust a +quarrel, and received him again as usual.</p> + +<p>I have already mentioned that Clement VI. had made Petrarch Canon of +Modena, which benefice he resigned in favour of his friend, Luca +Christino, and that this year his Holiness had also conferred upon him +the prebend of Parma. This preferment excited the envy of some persons, +who endeavoured to prejudice Ugolino de' Rossi, the bishop of the +diocese, against him. Ugolino was of that family which had disputed for +the sovereignty of Parma with the Correggios, and against whom Petrarch +had pleaded in favour of their rivals. From this circumstance it was +feared that Ugolino might be inclined to listen to those maligners who +accused Petrarch of having gone to Avignon for the purpose of +undermining the Bishop in the Pope's favour. Petrarch, upon his +promotion, wrote a letter to Ugolino, strongly repelling this +accusation. This is one of the manliest epistles that ever issued from +his pen. "Allow me to assure you," he says, "that I would not exchange +my tranquillity for your troubles, nor my poverty for your riches. Do +not imagine, however, that I despise your particular situation. I only +mean that there is no person of your rank whose preferment I desire; nor +would I accept such prefer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lxiii" id="Page_lxiii">[Pg lxiii]</a></span>ment if it were offered to me. I should not +say thus much, if my familiar intercourse with the Pope and the +Cardinals had not convinced me that happiness in that rank is more a +shadow than a substance. It was a memorable saying of Pope Adrian IV., +'that he knew no one more unhappy than the Sovereign Pontiff; his throne +is a seat of thorns; his mantle is an oppressive weight; his tiara +shines splendidly indeed, but it is not without a devouring fire.' If I +had been ambitious," continues Petrarch, "I might have been preferred to +a benefice of more value than yours;" and he refers to the fact of the +Pope having given him his choice of several high preferments.</p> + +<p>Petrarch passed the winter of 1346-47 chiefly at Avignon, and made but +few and short excursions to Vaucluse. In one of these, at the beginning +of 1347, when he had Socrates to keep him company at Vaucluse, the +Bishop of Cavaillon invited them to his castle. Petrarch returned the +following answer:—</p> + +<p>"Yesterday we quitted the city of storms to take refuge in this harbour, +and taste the sweets of repose. We have nothing but coarse clothes, +suitable to the season and the place we live in; but in this rustic +dress we will repair to see you, since you command us; we fear not to +present ourselves in this rustic dress; our desire to see you puts down +every other consideration. What matters it to us how we appear before +one who possesses the depth of our hearts? If you wish to see us often +you will treat us without ceremony."</p> + +<p>His visits to Vaucluse were rather infrequent; business, he says, +detained him often at Avignon, in spite of himself; but still at +intervals he passed a day or two to look after his gardens and trees. On +one of these occasions, he wrote a pleasing letter to William of +Pastrengo, dilating on the pleasures of his garden, which displays +liveliness and warmth of heart.</p> + +<p>Petrarch had not seen his brother since the latter had taken the cowl in +the Carthusian monastery, some five years before. To that convent he +paid a visit in February, 1347, and he was received like an angel from +heaven. He was delighted to see a brother whom he loved so much, and to +find him contented with the life which he had embraced. The Carthusians, +who had heard of Petrarch, renowned as the finest spirit of the age, +were flattered by his showing a strong interest in their condition; and +though he passed but a day and a night with them, they parted so +mutually well pleased, that he promised, on taking leave, to send them a +treatise on the happiness of the life which they led. And he kept his +word; for, immediately upon his return to Vaucluse, he commenced his +essay "<i>De Otio Religioso</i>—On the Leisure of the Religious," and he +finished it in a few weeks. The object of this work is to show the +sweets and advantages of their retired state, compared with the +agitations of life in the world.</p> + +<p>From these monkish reveries Petrarch was awakened by an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lxiv" id="Page_lxiv">[Pg lxiv]</a></span> astounding +public event, namely, the elevation of Cola di Rienzo to the tribuneship +of Rome. At the news of this revolution, Petrarch was animated with as +much enthusiasm as if he had been himself engaged in the enterprise. +Under the first impulse of his feelings, he sent an epistolary +congratulation and advice to Rienzo and the Roman people. This letter +breathes a strongly republican spirit. In later times, we perceive that +Petrarch would have been glad to witness the accomplishment of his +darling object—Rome restored to her ancient power and magnificence, +even under an imperial government. Our poet received from the Tribune an +answer to his epistolary oration, telling him that it had been read to +the Roman people, and received with applause. A considerable number of +letters passed between Petrarch and Cola.</p> + +<p>When we look back on the long connection of Petrarch with the Colonna +family, his acknowledged obligations, and the attachment to them which +he expresses, it may seem, at first sight, surprising that he should +have so loudly applauded a revolution which struck at the roots of their +power. But, if we view the matter with a more considerate eye, we shall +hold the poet in nobler and dearer estimation for his public zeal than +if he had cringed to the Colonnas. His personal attachment to <i>them</i>, +who were quite as much honoured by <i>his</i> friendship as <i>he</i> was by +<i>theirs</i>, was a consideration subservient to that of the honour of his +country and the freedom of his fellow-citizens; "for," as he says in his +own defence, "we owe much to our friends, still more to our parents, but +everything to our country."</p> + +<p>Retiring during this year for some time to Vaucluse, Petrarch composed +an eclogue in honour of the Roman revolution, the fifth in his Bucolics. +It is entitled "La Pieta Pastorale," and has three speakers, who +converse about their venerable mother Rome, but in so dull a manner, +that, if Petrarch had never written better poetry, we should not, +probably, at this moment, have heard of his existence.</p> + +<p>In the midst of all this political fervour, the poet's devotion to Laura +continued unabated; Petrarch never composed so many sonnets in one year +as during 1347, but, for the most part, still indicative of sadness and +despair. In his 116th sonnet, he says:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Soleo onde, e 'n rena fondo, e serivo in vento."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I plough in water, build on sand, and write on air.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>If anything were wanting to convince us that Laura had treated him, +during his twenty years' courtship, with sufficient rigour, this and +other such expressions would suffice to prove it. A lover, at the end of +so long a period, is not apt to speak thus despondingly of a mistress +who has been kind to him.</p> + +<p>It seems, however, that there were exceptions to her extreme reserve. On +one occasion, this year, when they met, and when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lxv" id="Page_lxv">[Pg lxv]</a></span> Petrarch's eyes were +fixed on her in silent reverie, she stretched out her hand to him, and +allowed him to detain it in his for some time. This incident is alluded +to in his 218th sonnet.</p> + +<p>If public events, however, were not enough to make him forget his +passion for Laura, they were sufficiently stirring to keep his interest +in them alive. The head of Rienzo was not strong enough to stand the +elevation which he had attained. Petrarch had hitherto regarded the +reports of Rienzo's errors as highly exaggerated by his enemies; but the +truth of them, at last, became too palpable; though our poet's +charitable opinion of the Tribune considerably outlasted that of the +public at large.</p> + +<p>When the papal court heard of the multiplied extravagances of Rienzo, +they recovered a little from the panic which had seized them. They saw +that they had to deal with a man whose head was turned. His summonses +had enraged them; and they resolved to keep no measures with him. +Towards the end of August, 1347, one of his couriers arrived without +arms, and with only the symbol of his office, the silver rod, in his +hand. He was arrested near Avignon; his letters were taken from him and +torn to pieces; and, without being permitted to enter Avignon, he was +sent back to Rome with threats and ignominy. This proceeding appeared +atrocious in the eyes of Petrarch, and he wrote a letter to Rienzo on +the subject, expressing his strongest indignation at the act of outrage.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a id="image04" name="image04"></a><a href="images/04large.jpg"> + <img src="images/04.jpg" + alt="COAST OF GENOA." + title="COAST OF GENOA." /></a><br /> + <span class="caption">COAST OF GENOA.</span> +</div> + +<p>Petrarch passed almost the whole of the month of September, 1347, at +Avignon. On the 9th of this month he obtained letters of legitimation +for his son John, who might now be about ten years old. John is +entitled, in these letters, "a scholar of Florence." The Pope empowers +him to possess any kind of benefice without being obliged, in future, to +make mention of his illegitimate birth, or of the obtained dispensation. +It appears from these letters that the mother of John was not married. +He left his son at Verona under the tuition of Rinaldo di Villa Franca. +Before he had left Provence in this year, for the purpose of visiting +Italy, he had announced his intention to the Pope, who wished to retain +him as an honour to his court, and offered him his choice of several +church preferments. But our poet, whose only wish was to obtain some +moderate benefice that would leave him independent and at liberty, +declined his Holiness's <i>vague</i> offers. If we consider that Petrarch +made no secret of his good wishes for Rienzo, it may seem surprisingly +creditable to the Pontiff's liberality that he should have even +<i>professed</i> any interest in the poet's fortune; but in a letter to his +friend Socrates, Petrarch gives us to understand that he thought the +Pope's professions were merely verbal. He says: "To hold out treasures +to a man who demands a small sum is but a polite mode of refusal." In +fact, the Pope offered him <i>some</i> bishopric,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lxvi" id="Page_lxvi">[Pg lxvi]</a></span> knowing that he wanted +only <i>some</i> benefice that should be a sinecure.</p> + +<p>If it be asked what determined him now to leave Avignon, the +counter-question may be put, what detained him so long from Italy? It +appears that he had never parted with his house and garden at Parma; he +hated everything in Avignon excepting Laura; and of the solitude of +Vaucluse he was, in all probability, already weary.</p> + +<p>Before he left Avignon, he went to take leave of Laura. He found her at +an assembly which she often frequented. "She was seated," he says, +"among those ladies who are generally her companions, and appeared like +a beautiful rose surrounded with flowers smaller and less blooming." Her +air was more touching than usual. She was dressed perfectly plain, and +without pearls or garlands, or any gay colour. Though she was not +melancholy, she did not appear to have her wonted cheerfulness, but was +serious and thoughtful. She did not sing, as usual, nor speak with that +voice which used to charm every one. She had the air of a person who +fears an evil not yet arrived. "In taking leave of her," says Petrarch, +"I sought in her looks for a consolation of my own sufferings. Her eyes +had an expression which I had never seen in them before. What I saw in +her face seemed to predict the sorrows that threatened me."</p> + +<p>This was the last meeting that Petrarch and Laura ever had.</p> + +<p>Petrarch set out for Italy, towards the close of 1347, having determined +to make that country his residence for the rest of his life.</p> + +<p>Upon his arrival at Genoa he wrote to Rienzo, reproaching him for his +follies, and exhorting him to return to his former manly conduct. This +advice, it is scarcely necessary to say, was like dew and sunshine +bestowed upon barren sands.</p> + +<p>From Genoa he proceeded to Parma, where he received the first +information of the catastrophe of the Colonna family, six of whom had +fallen in battle with Rienzo's forces. He showed himself deeply affected +by it, and, probably, was so sincerely. But the Colonnas, though his +former patrons, were still the enemies of a cause which he considered +sacred, much as it was mismanaged and disgraced by the Tribune; and his +grief cannot be supposed to have been immoderate. Accordingly, the +letter which he wrote to Cardinal Colonna on this occasion is quite in +the style of Seneca, and more like an ethical treatise than an epistle +of condolence.</p> + +<p>It is obvious that Petrarch slowly and reluctantly parted with his good +opinion of Rienzo. But, whatever sentiments he might have cherished +respecting him, he was now doomed to hear of his tragic fall.</p> + +<p>The revolution which overthrew the Tribune was accomplished on the 15th +of December, 1347. That his fall was, in a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lxvii" id="Page_lxvii">[Pg lxvii]</a></span> considerable degree, owing +to his faults, is undeniable; and to the most contemptible of all +faults—personal vanity. How hard it is on the great mass of mankind, +that this meanness is so seldom disjoined from the zeal of popular +championship! New power, like new wine, seems to intoxicate the +strongest heads. How disgusting it is to see the restorer of Roman +liberty dazzled like a child by a scarlet robe and its golden trimming! +Nevertheless, with all his vanity, Rienzo was a better friend to the +republic than those who dethroned him. The Romans would have been wise +to have supported Rienzo, taking even his foibles into the account. They +re-admitted their oligarchs; and, if they repented of it, as they did, +they are scarcely entitled to our commiseration.</p> + +<p>Petrarch had set out late in 1347 to visit Italy for the fifth time. He +arrived at Genoa towards the end of November, 1347, on his way to +Florence, where he was eagerly expected by his friends. They had +obtained from the Government permission for his return; and he was +absolved from the sentence of banishment in which he had been included +with his father. But, whether Petrarch was offended with the Florentines +for refusing to restore his paternal estate, or whether he was detained +by accident in Lombardy, he put off his expedition to Florence and +repaired to Parma. It was there that he learned the certainty of the +Tribune's fall.</p> + +<p>From Parma he went to Verona, where he arrived on the evening of the +25th of January, 1348. His son, we have already mentioned, was placed at +Verona, under the tuition of Rinaldo di Villa Franca. Here, soon after +his arrival, as he was sitting among his books, Petrarch felt the shock +of a tremendous earthquake. It seemed as if the whole city was to be +overturned from its foundations. He rushed immediately into the streets, +where the inhabitants were gathered together in consternation; and, +whilst terror was depicted in every countenance, there was a general cry +that the end of the world was come. All contemporary historians mention +this earthquake, and agree that it originated at the foot of the Alps. +It made sad ravages at Pisa, Bologna, Padua, and Venice, and still more +in the Frioul and Bavaria. If we may trust the narrators of this event, +sixty villages in one canton were buried under two mountains that fell +and filled up a valley five leagues in length. A whole castle, it is +added, was exploded out of the earth from its foundation, and its ruins +scattered many miles from the spot. The latter anecdote has undoubtedly +an air of the marvellous; and yet the convulsions of nature have +produced equally strange effects. Stones have been thrown out of Mount +Ætna to the distance of eighteen miles.</p> + +<p>The earthquake was the forerunner of awful calamities; and it is +possible that it might be physically connected with that memo<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lxviii" id="Page_lxviii">[Pg lxviii]</a></span>rable +plague in 1348, which reached, in succession, all parts of the known +world, and thinned the population of every country which it visited. +Historians generally agree that this great plague began in China and +Tartary, whence, in the space of a year, it spread its desolation over +the whole of Asia. It extended itself over Italy early in 1348; but its +severest ravages had not yet been made, when Petrarch returned from +Verona to Parma in the month of March, 1348. He brought with him his son +John, whom he had withdrawn from the school of Rinaldo di Villa Franca, +and placed under Gilberto di Parma, a good grammarian. His motive for +this change of tutorship probably was, that he reckoned on Parma being +henceforward his own principal place of residence, and his wish to have +his son beside him.</p> + +<p>Petrarch had scarcely arrived at Parma when he received a letter from +Luchino Visconti, who had lately received the lordship of that city. +Hearing of Petrarch's arrival there, the Prince, being at Milan, wrote +to the poet, requesting some orange plants from his garden, together +with a copy of verses. Petrarch sent him both, accompanied with a +letter, in which he praises Luchino for his encouragement of learning +and his cultivation of the Muses.</p> + +<p>The plague was now increasing in Italy; and, after it had deprived +Petrarch of many dear friends, it struck at the root of all his +affections by attacking Laura. He describes his apprehensions on this +occasion in several of his sonnets. The event confirmed his melancholy +presages; for a letter from his friend Socrates informed him that Laura +had died of the plague on the 1st of April, 1348. His biographers may +well be believed, when they tell us that his grief was extreme. Laura's +husband took the event more quietly, and consoled himself by marrying +again, when only seven months a widower.</p> + +<p>Petrarch, when informed of her death, wrote that marginal note upon his +copy of Virgil, the authenticity of which has been so often, though +unjustly, called in question. His words were the following:—</p> + +<p>"Laura, illustrious for her virtues, and for a long time celebrated in +my verses, for the first time appeared to my eyes on the 6th of April, +1327, in the church of St. Clara, at the first hour of the day. I was +then in my youth. In the same city, and at the same hour, in the year +1348, this luminary disappeared from our world. I was then at Verona, +ignorant of my wretched situation. Her chaste and beautiful body was +buried the same day, after vespers, in the church of the Cordeliers. Her +soul returned to its native mansion in heaven. I have written this with +a pleasure mixed with bitterness, to retrace the melancholy remembrance +of '<span class="smcap">my great loss</span>.' This loss convinces me that I have nothing +now left worth living for, since the strongest cord of my life is +broken. By the grace of God, I shall easily renounce<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lxix" id="Page_lxix">[Pg lxix]</a></span> a world where my +hopes have been vain and perishing. It is time for me to fly from +Babylon when the knot that bound me to it is untied."</p> + +<p>This copy of Virgil is famous, also, for a miniature picture expressing +the subject of the Æneid; which, by the common consent of connoisseurs +in painting, is the work of Simone Memmi. Mention has already been made +of the friendly terms that subsisted between that painter and our poet; +whence it may be concluded that Petrarch, who received this precious MS. +in 1338, requested of Simone this mark of his friendship, to render it +more valuable.</p> + +<p>When the library of Pavia, together with the city, was plundered by the +French in 1499, and when many MSS. were carried away to the library of +Paris, a certain inhabitant of Pavia had the address to snatch this copy +of Virgil from the general rapine. This individual was, probably, +Antonio di Pirro, in whose hands or house the Virgil continued till the +beginning of the sixteenth century, as Vellutello attests in his article +on the origin of Laura. From him it passed to Antonio Agostino; +afterwards to Fulvio Orsino, who prized it very dearly. At Orsino's +death it was bought at a high price by Cardinal Federigo Borromeo, and +placed in the Ambrosian library, which had been founded by him with much +care and at vast expense.</p> + +<p>Until the year 1795, this copy of Virgil was celebrated only on account +of the memorandum already quoted, and a few short marginal notes, +written for illustrations of the text; but, a part of the same leaf +having been torn and detached from the cover, the librarians, by chance, +perceived some written characters. Curiosity urged them to unglue it +with the greatest care; but the parchment was so conglutinated with the +board that the letters left their impression on the latter so palely and +weakly, that the librarians had great difficulty in making out the +following notice, written by Petrarch himself: "Liber hic furto mihi +subreptus fuerat, anno domini mcccxxvi., in Kalend. Novembr., ac deinde +restitutus, anno mcccxxxvii., die xvii. Aprilis, apud Aivin<sup>o</sup>."</p> + +<p>Then follows a note by the poet himself, regarding his son: "Johannes +noster, natus ad laborem et dolorem meum, et vivens gravibus atque +perpetuis me curis exercuit, et acri dolore moriens vulneravit, qui cum +paucos et lætos dies vidisset in vita sua, decessit in anno domini 1361, +ætatis suæ xxv., die Julii x. seu ix. medio noctis inter diem veneris et +sabbati. Rumor ad me pervenerat xiii<sup>o</sup> mensis ad vesperam, obiit autem +Mlni illo publico excidio pestis insolito, quæ urbem illam, hactenus +immunem, talibus malis nunc reperit atque invasit. Rumor autem primus +ambiguus 8<sup>vo.</sup> Augusti, eodem anno, per famulum meum Mlno redeuntem, +mox certus, per famulum Dom<sup>ni</sup> Theatini Roma venientem 18<sup>me.</sup> mensis +ejusdem Mercurii, sero ad me pervenit<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lxx" id="Page_lxx">[Pg lxx]</a></span> de obitu Socratis mei amici, +socii fratrisque optimi, qui obiisse dicitur Babilone seu Avenione, die +mense Maii proximo. Amisi comitem ac solatium vitæ meæ. Recipe Xte Ihu, +hos duos et reliquos quinque in eterna tabernacula tua."<a name="FNanchor_K_11" id="FNanchor_K_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_K_11" class="fnanchor">[K]</a> He alludes +to the death of other friends; but the entire note is too long to be +quoted, and, in many places, is obscured by contractions which make its +meaning doubtful.</p> + +<p>The perfect accordance of these memoranda with the other writings of the +poet, conjoined with historical facts, show them incontestably to have +come from the hand of Petrarch.</p> + +<p>The precious MS. of Virgil, containing the autograph of Petrarch, is no +longer in Italy. Like many other relics held sacred by the Italians, it +was removed by the French during the last conquest of Italy.</p> + +<p>Among the incidents of Petrarch's life, in 1348, we ought to notice his +visits to Giacomo da Carrara, whose family had supplanted the Della +Scalas at Padua, and to Manfredi Pio, the Padrone of Carpi, a beautiful +little city, of the Modenese territory, situated on a fine plain, on the +banks of the Secchio, about four miles from Correggio. Manfredi ruled it +with reputation for twenty years. Petrarch was magnificently received by +the Carraras; and, within two years afterwards, they bestowed upon him +the canonicate of Padua, a promotion which was followed in the same year +by his appointment to the archdeaconry of Parma, of which he had been +hitherto only canon.</p> + +<p>Not long after the death of Laura, on the 3rd of July of the same year, +Petrarch lost Cardinal Colonna, who had been for so many years his +friend and patron. By some historians it is said that this prelate died +of the plague; but Petrarch thought that he sank under grief brought on +by the disasters of his family. In the space of five years the Cardinal +had lost his mother and six brothers.</p> + +<p>Petrarch still maintained an interest in the Colonna family, though that +interest was against his own political principles, during the good +behaviour of the Tribune. After the folly and fall of Rienzo, it is +probable that our poet's attachment to his old friends of the Roman +aristocracy revived. At least, he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lxxi" id="Page_lxxi">[Pg lxxi]</a></span> thought it decent to write, on the +death of Cardinal Colonna, a letter of condolence to his father, the +aged Stefano, who was now verging towards his hundredth year. Soon after +this letter reached him, old Stefano fell into the grave.</p> + +<p>The death of Cardinal Colonna was extremely felt at Avignon, where it +left a great void, his house having been the rendezvous of men of +letters and genius. Those who composed his court could not endure +Avignon after they had lost their Mæcenas. Three of them were the +particular friends of Petrarch, namely, Socrates, Luca Christine and +Mainardo Accursio. Socrates, though not an Italian, was extremely +embarrassed by the death of the Cardinal. He felt it difficult to live +separated from Petrarch, and yet he could not determine to quit France +for Italy. He wrote incessantly the most pressing letters to induce our +poet to return and settle in Provence. Luca and Mainardo resolved to go +and seek out Petrarch in Italy, in order to settle with him the place on +which they should fix for their common residence, and where they should +spend the rest of their lives in his society. They set out from Avignon +in the month of March, 1349, and arrived at Parma, but did not find the +poet, as he was gone on an excursion to Padua and Verona. They passed a +day in his house to rest themselves, and, when they went away, left a +letter in his library, telling him they had crossed the Alps to come and +see him, but that, having missed him, as soon as they had finished an +excursion which they meant to make, they would return and settle with +him the means of their living together. Petrarch, on his return to +Parma, wrote several interesting letters to Mainardo. In one of them he +says, "I was much grieved that I had lost the pleasure of your company, +and that of our worthy friend, Luca Christino. However, I am not without +the consoling hope that my absence may be the means of hastening your +return. As to your apprehensions about my returning to Vaucluse, I +cannot deny that, at the entreaties of Socrates, I should return, +provided I could procure an establishment in Provence, which would +afford me an honourable pretence for residing there, and, at the same +time, enable me to receive my friends with hospitality; but at present +circumstances are changed. The Cardinal Colonna is dead, and my friends +are all dispersed, excepting Socrates, who continues inviolably attached +to Avignon.</p> + +<p>"As to Vaucluse, I well know the beauties of that charming valley, and +ten years' residence is a proof of my affection for the place. I have +shown my love of it by the house which I built there. There I began my +Africa, there I wrote the greater part of my epistles in prose and +verse, and there I nearly finished all my eclogues. I never had so much +leisure, nor felt so much enthusiasm, in any other spot. At Vaucluse I +conceived the first idea of giving an epitome of the Lives of +Illustrious Men, and there I wrote my Treatise on a Solitary Life, as +well as that on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lxxii" id="Page_lxxii">[Pg lxxii]</a></span> religious retirement. It was there, also, that I sought +to moderate my passion for Laura, which, alas, solitude only cherished. +In short, this lonely valley will for ever be pleasing to my +recollections. There is, nevertheless, a sad change, produced by time. +Both the Cardinal and everything that is dear to me have perished. The +veil which covered my eyes is at length removed. I can now perceive the +difference between Vaucluse and the rich mountains and vales and +flourishing cities of Italy. And yet, forgive me, so strong are the +prepossessions of youth, that I must confess I pine for Vaucluse, even +whilst I acknowledge its inferiority to Italy."</p> + +<p>Whilst Petrarch was thus flattering his imagination with hopes that were +never to be realized, his two friends, who had proceeded to cross the +Apennines, came to an untimely fate. On the 5th of June, 1349, a +servant, whom Petrarch had sent to inquire about some alarming accounts +of the travellers that had gone abroad, returned sooner than he was +expected, and showed by his face that he brought no pleasant tidings. +Petrarch was writing—the pen fell from his hand. "What news do you +bring?" "Very bad news! Your two friends, in crossing the Apennines, +were attacked by robbers." "O God! what has happened to them?" The +messenger replied, "Mainardo, who was behind his companions, was +surrounded and murdered. Luca, hearing of his fate, came back sword in +hand. He fought alone against ten, and he wounded some of the +assailants, but at last he received many wounds, of which he lies almost +dead. The robbers fled with their booty. The peasants assembled, and +pursued, and would have captured them, if some gentlemen, unworthy of +being called so, had not stopped the pursuit, and received the villains +into their castles. Luca was seen among the rocks, but no one knows what +is become of him." Petrarch, in the deepest agitation, despatched fleet +couriers to Placenza, to Florence, and to Rome, to obtain intelligence +about Luca.</p> + +<p>These ruffians, who came from Florence, were protected by the Ubaldini, +one of the most powerful and ancient families in Tuscany. As the murder +was perpetrated within the territory of Florence, Petrarch wrote +indignantly to the magistrates and people of that State, intreating them +to avenge an outrage on their fellow citizens. Luca, it appears, expired +of his wounds.</p> + +<p>Petrarch's letter had its full effect. The Florentine commonwealth +despatched soldiers, both horse and foot, against the Ubaldini and their +banditti, and decreed that every year an expedition should be sent out +against them till they should be routed out of their Alpine caverns. The +Florentine troops directed their march to Monte Gemmoli, an almost +impregnable rock, which they blockaded and besieged. The banditti issued +forth from their strongholds, and skirmished with overmuch confidence in +their vantage ground. At this crisis, the Florentine cavalry, having<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lxxiii" id="Page_lxxiii">[Pg lxxiii]</a></span> +ascended the hill, dismounted from their horses, pushed forward on the +banditti before they could retreat into their fortress, and drove them, +sword in hand, within its inmost circle. The Florentines thus possessed +themselves of Monte Gemmoli, and, in like manner, of several other +strongholds. There were others which they could not take by storm, but +they laid waste the plains and cities which supplied the robbers with +provisions; and, after having done great damage to the Ubaldini, they +returned safe and sound to Florence.</p> + +<p>While Petrarch was at Mantua, in February, 1350, the Cardinal Guy of +Boulogne, legate of the holy see, arrived there after a papal mission to +Hungary. Petrarch was much attached to him. The Cardinal and several +eminent persons who attended him had frequent conversations with our +poet, in which they described to him the state of Germany and the +situation of the Emperor.</p> + +<p>Clement VI., who had reason to be satisfied with the submissiveness of +this Prince, wished to attract him into Italy, where he hoped to oppose +him to the Visconti, who had put themselves at the head of the Ghibeline +party, and gave much annoyance to the Guelphs. His Holiness strongly +solicited him to come; but Charles's situation would not permit him for +the present to undertake such an expedition. There were still some +troubles in Germany that remained to be appeased; besides, the Prince's +purse was exhausted by the largesses which he had paid for his election, +and his poverty was extreme.</p> + +<p>It must be owned that a prince in such circumstances could hardly be +expected to set out for the subjugation of Italy. Petrarch, however, +took a romantic view of the Emperor's duties, and thought that the +restoration of the Roman empire was within Charles's grasp. Our poet +never lost sight of his favourite chimera, the re-establishment of Rome +in her ancient dominion. It was what he called one of his principles, +that Rome had a right to govern the world. Wild as this vision was, he +had seen Rienzo attempt its realization; and, if the Tribune had been +more prudent, there is no saying how nearly he might have approached to +the achievement of so marvellous an issue. But Rienzo was fallen +irrecoverably, and Petrarch now desired as ardently to see the Emperor +in Italy, as ever he had sighed for the success of the Tribune. He wrote +to the Emperor a long letter from Padua, a few days after the departure +of the Cardinal.</p> + +<p>"I am agitated," he says, "in sending this epistle, when I think from +whom it comes, and to whom it is addressed. Placed as I am, in +obscurity, I am dazzled by the splendour of your name; but love has +banished fear: this letter will at least make known to you my fidelity, +and my zeal. Read it, I conjure you! You will not find in it the insipid +adulation which is the plague of monarchs. Flattery is an art unknown to +me. I have to offer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lxxiv" id="Page_lxxiv">[Pg lxxiv]</a></span> you only complaints and regrets. You have forgotten +us. I say more—you have forgotten yourself in neglecting Italy. We had +high hopes that Heaven had sent you to restore us our liberty; but it +seems that you refuse this mission, and, whilst the time should be spent +in acting, you lose it in deliberating.</p> + +<p>"You see, Cæsar, with what confidence an obscure man addresses you, a +man who has not even the advantage of being known to you. But, far from +being offended with the liberty I take, you ought rather to thank your +own character, which inspires me with such confidence. To return to my +subject—wherefore do you lose time in consultation? To all appearance, +you are sure of the future, if you will avail yourself of the present. +You cannot be ignorant that the success of great affairs often hangs +upon an instant, and that a day has been frequently sufficient to +consummate what it required ages to undo. Believe me, your glory and the +safety of the commonwealth, your own interests, as well as ours, require +that there be no delay. You are still young, but time is flying; and old +age will come and take you by surprise when you are at least expecting +it. Are you afraid of too soon commencing an enterprise for which a long +life would scarcely suffice?</p> + +<p>"The Roman empire, shaken by a thousand storms, and as often deceived by +fallacious calms, places at last its whole hopes in you. It recovers a +little breath even under the shelter of your name; but hope alone will +not support it. In proportion as you know the grandeur of the +undertaking, consummate it the sooner. Let not the love of your +Transalpine dominions detain you longer. In beholding Germany, think of +Italy. If the one has given you birth, the other has given you +greatness. If you are king of the one, you are king and emperor of the +other. Let me say, without meaning offence to other nations, that here +is the head of your monarchy. Everywhere else you will find only its +members. What a glorious project to unite those members to their head!</p> + +<p>"I am aware that you dislike all innovation; but what I propose would be +no innovation on your part. Italy is as well known to you as Germany. +Brought hither in your youth by your illustrious sire, he made you +acquainted with our cities and our manners, and taught you here the +first lessons of war. In the bloom of your youth, you have obtained +great victories. Can you fear at present to enter a country where you +have triumphed since your childhood?</p> + +<p>"By the singular favour of Heaven we have regained the ancient right of +being governed by a prince of our own nation.<a name="FNanchor_L_12" id="FNanchor_L_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_L_12" class="fnanchor">[L]</a> Let Germany say what +she will, Italy is veritably your country * * * * * Come with haste to +restore peace to Italy. Behold<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lxxv" id="Page_lxxv">[Pg lxxv]</a></span> Rome, once the empress of the world, now +pale, with scattered locks and torn garments, at your feet, imploring +your presence and support!" Then follows a dissertation on the history +and heroes of Rome, which might be wearisome if transcribed to a modern +reader. But the epistle, upon the whole, is manly and eloquent.</p> + +<p>A few days after despatching his letter to the Emperor, Petrarch made a +journey to Verona to see his friends. There he wrote to Socrates. In +this letter, after enumerating the few friends whom the plague had +spared, he confesses that he could not flatter himself with the hope of +being able to join them in Provence. He therefore invokes them to come +to Italy, and to settle either at Parma or at Padua, or any other place +that would suit them. His remaining friends, here enumerated, were only +Barbato of Sulmona, Francesco Rinucci, John Boccaccio, Lælius, Guido +Settimo, and Socrates.</p> + +<p>Petrarch had returned to Padua, there to rejoin the Cardinal of +Boulogne. The Cardinal came back thither at the end of April, 1350, and, +after dispensing his blessings, spiritual and temporal, set out for +Avignon, travelling by way of Milan and Genoa. Petrarch accompanied the +prelate out of personal attachment on a part of his journey. The +Cardinal was fond of his conversation, but sometimes rallied the poet on +his enthusiasm for his native Italy. When they reached the territory of +Verona, near the lake of Guarda, they were struck by the beauty of the +prospect, and stopped to contemplate it. In the distance were the Alps, +topped with snow even in summer. Beneath was the lake of Guarda, with +its flux and reflux, like the sea, and around them were the rich hills +and fertile valleys. "It must be confessed," said the Legate to +Petrarch, "that your country is more beautiful than ours." The face of +Petrarch brightened up. "But you must agree," continued the Cardinal, +perhaps to moderate the poet's exultation, "that ours is more tranquil." +"That is true," replied Petrarch, "but we can obtain tranquillity +whenever we choose to come to our senses, and desire peace, whereas you +cannot procure those beauties which nature has lavished <i>on us</i>."</p> + +<p>Petrarch here took leave of the Cardinal, and set out for Parma. Taking +Mantua in his way, he set out from thence in the evening, in order to +sleep at Luzora, five leagues from the Po. The lords of that city had +sent a courier to Mantua, desiring that he would honour them with his +presence at supper. The melting snows and the overflowing river had made +the roads nearly impassable; but he reached the place in time to avail +himself of the invitation. His hosts gave him a magnificent reception. +The supper was exquisite, the dishes rare, the wines delicious, and the +company full of gaiety. But a small matter, however, will spoil the +finest feast. The supper was served up in a damp, low hall, and all +sorts of insects annoyed the convivials. To crown their misfor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lxxvi" id="Page_lxxvi">[Pg lxxvi]</a></span>tune an +army of frogs, attracted, no doubt, by the odour of the meats, crowded +and croaked about them, till they were obliged to leave their unfinished +supper.</p> + +<p>Petrarch returned next day for Parma. We find, from the original +fragments of his poems, brought to light by Ubaldini, that he was +occupied in retouching them during the summer which he passed at Parma, +waiting for the termination of the excessive heats, to go to Rome and +attend the jubilee. With a view to make the journey pleasanter, he +invited Guglielmo di Pastrengo to accompany him, in a letter written in +Latin verse. Nothing would have delighted Guglielmo more than a journey +to Rome with Petrarch; but he was settled at Verona, and could not +absent himself from his family.</p> + +<p>In lieu of Pastrengo, Petrarch found a respectable old abbot, and +several others who were capable of being agreeable, and from their +experience, useful companions to him on the road. In the middle of +October, 1350, they departed from Florence for Rome, to attend the +jubilee. On his way between Bolsena and Viterbo, he met with an accident +which threatened dangerous consequences, and which he relates in a +letter to Boccaccio.</p> + +<p>"On the 15th of October," he says, "we left Bolsena, a little town +scarcely known at present; but interesting from having been anciently +one of the principal places in Etruria. Occupied with the hopes of +seeing Rome in five days, I reflected on the changes in our modes of +thinking which are made by the course of years. Fourteen years ago I +repaired to the great city from sheer curiosity to see its wonders. The +second time I came was to receive the laurel. My third and fourth +journey had no object but to render services to my persecuted friends. +My present visit ought to be more happy, since its only object is my +eternal salvation." It appears, however, that the horses of the +travellers had no such devotional feelings; "for," he continues, "whilst +my mind was full of these thoughts, the horse of the old abbot, which +was walking upon my left, kicking at my horse, struck me upon the leg, +just below the knee. The blow was so violent that it sounded as if a +bone was broken. My attendants came up. I felt an acute pain, which made +me, at first, desirous of stopping; but, fearing the dangerousness of +the place, I made a virtue of necessity, and went on to Viterbo, where +we arrived very late on the 16th of October. Three days afterwards they +dragged me to Rome with much trouble. As soon as I arrived at Rome, I +called for doctors, who found the bone laid bare. It was not, however, +thought to be broken; though the shoe of the horse had left its +impression."</p> + +<p>However impatient Petrarch might be to look once more on the beauties of +Rome, and to join in the jubilee, he was obliged to keep his bed for +many days.</p> + +<p>The concourse of pilgrims to this jubilee was immense. One<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lxxvii" id="Page_lxxvii">[Pg lxxvii]</a></span> can scarcely +credit the common account that there were about a million pilgrims at +one time assembled in the great city. "We do not perceive," says +Petrarch, "that the plague has depopulated the world." And, indeed, if +this computation of the congregated pilgrims approaches the truth, we +cannot but suspect that the alleged depopulation of Europe, already +mentioned, must have been exaggerated. "The crowds," he continues, +"diminished a little during summer and the gathering-in of the harvest; +but recommenced towards the end of the year. The great nobles and ladies +from beyond the Alps came the last."</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a id="image05" name="image05"></a><a href="images/05large.jpg"> + <img src="images/05.jpg" + alt="BRIDGE OF SIGHS,--VENICE." + title="BRIDGE OF SIGHS,--VENICE." /></a><br /> + <span class="caption">BRIDGE OF SIGHS,—VENICE.</span> +</div> + +<p>Many of the female pilgrims arrived by way of the marshes of Ancona, +where Bernardino di Roberto, Lord of Ravenna, waited for them, and +scandal whispered that his assiduities and those of his suite were but +too successful in seducing them. A contemporary author, in allusion to +the circumstance, remarks that journeys and indulgences are not good for +young persons, and that the fair ones had better have remained at home, +since the vessel that stays in port is never shipwrecked.</p> + +<p>The strangers, who came from all countries, were for the most part +unacquainted with the Italian language, and were obliged to employ +interpreters in making their confession, for the sake of obtaining +absolution. It was found that many of the pretended interpreters were +either imperfectly acquainted with the language of the foreigners, or +were knaves in collusion with the priestly confessors, who made the poor +pilgrims confess whatever they chose, and pay for their sins +accordingly. A better subject for a scene in comedy could scarcely be +imagined. But, to remedy this abuse, penitentiaries were established at +Rome, in which the confessors understood foreign languages.</p> + +<p>The number of days fixed for the Roman pilgrims to visit the churches +was thirty; and fifteen or ten for the Italians and other strangers, +according to the distance of the places from which they came.</p> + +<p>Petrarch says that it is inconceivable how the city of Rome, whose +adjacent fields were untilled, and whose vineyards had been frozen the +year before, could for twelve months support such a confluence of +people. He extols the hospitality of the citizens, and the abundance of +food which prevailed; but Villani and others give us more disagreeable +accounts—namely, that the Roman citizens became hotel-keepers, and +charged exorbitantly for lodgings, and for whatever they sold. Numbers +of pilgrims were thus necessitated to live poorly; and this, added to +their fatigue and the heats of summer, produced a great mortality.</p> + +<p>As soon as Petrarch, relieved by surgical skill from the wound in his +leg, was allowed to go out, he visited all the churches.</p> + +<p>After having performed his duties at the jubilee, Petrarch returned to +Padua, taking the road by Arezzo, the town which had the honour of his +birth. Leonardo Aretino says that his fellow-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lxxviii" id="Page_lxxviii">[Pg lxxviii]</a></span>townsmen crowded around +him with delight, and received him with such honours as could have been +paid only to a king.</p> + +<p>In the same month of December, 1350, he discovered a treasure which made +him happier than a king. Perhaps a royal head might not have equally +valued it. It was a copy of Quintilian's work "De Institutione +Oratoria," which, till then, had escaped all his researches. On the very +day of the discovery he wrote a letter to Quintilian, according to his +fantastic custom of epistolizing the ancients. Some days afterwards, he +left Arezzo to pursue his journey. The principal persons of the town +took leave of him publicly at his departure, after pointing out to him +the house in which he was born. "It was a small house," says Petrarch, +"befitting an exile, as my father was." They told him that the +proprietors would have made some alterations in it; but the town had +interposed and prevented them, determined that the place should remain +the same as when it was first consecrated by his birth. The poet related +what had been mentioned to a young man who wrote to him expressly to ask +whether Arezzo could really boast of being his birthplace. Petrarch +added, that Arezzo had done more for him as a stranger than Florence as +a citizen. In truth, his family was of Florence; and it was only by +accident that he was born at Arezzo. He then went to Florence, where he +made but a short stay. There he found his friends still alarmed about +the accident which had befallen him in his journey to Rome, the news of +which he had communicated to Boccaccio.</p> + +<p>Petrarch went on to Padua. On approaching it, he perceived a universal +mourning. He soon learned the foul catastrophe which had deprived the +city of one of its best masters.</p> + +<p>Jacopo di Carrara had received into his house his cousin Guglielmo. +Though the latter was known to be an evil-disposed person, he was +treated with kindness by Jacopo, and ate at his table. On the 21st of +December, whilst Jacopo was sitting at supper, in the midst of his +friends, his people and his guards, the monster Guglielmo plunged a +dagger into his breast with such celerity, that even those who were +nearest could not ward off the blow. Horror-struck, they lifted him up, +whilst others put the assassin to instant death.</p> + +<p>The fate of Jacopo Carrara gave Petrarch a dislike for Padua, and his +recollections of Vaucluse bent his unsettled mind to return to its +solitude; but he tarried at Padua during the winter. Here he spent a +great deal of his time with Ildebrando Conti, bishop of that city, a man +of rank and merit. One day, as he was dining at the Bishop's palace, two +Carthusian monks were announced: they were well received by the Bishop, +as he was partial to their order. He asked them what brought them to +Padua. "We are going," they said, "to Treviso, by the direction of our +general, there to remain and establish a monastery." Ilde<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lxxix" id="Page_lxxix">[Pg lxxix]</a></span>brando asked +if they knew Father Gherardo, Petrarch's brother. The two monks, who did +not know the poet, gave the most pleasing accounts of his brother.</p> + +<p>The plague, they said, having got into the convent of Montrieux, the +prior, a pious but timorous man, told his monks that flight was the only +course which they could take: Gherardo answered with courage, "Go +whither you please! As for myself I will remain in the situation in +which Heaven has placed me." The prior fled to his own country, where +death soon overtook him. Gherardo remained in the convent, where the +plague spared him, and left him alone, after having destroyed, within a +few days, thirty-four of the brethren who had continued with him. He +paid them every service, received their last sighs, and buried them when +death had taken off those to whom that office belonged. With only a dog +left for his companion, Gherardo watched at night to guard the house, +and took his repose by day. When the summer was over, he went to a +neighbouring monastery of the Carthusians, who enabled him to restore +his convent.</p> + +<p>While the Carthusians were making this honourable mention of Father +Gherardo, the prelate cast his eyes from time to time upon Petrarch. "I +know not," says the poet, "whether my eyes were filled with tears, but +my heart was tenderly touched." The Carthusians, at last discovering who +Petrarch was, saluted him with congratulations. Petrarch gives an +account of this interview in a letter to his brother himself.</p> + +<p>Padua was too near to Venice for Petrarch not to visit now and then that +city which he called the wonder of the world. He there made acquaintance +with Andrea Dandolo, who was made Doge in 1343, though he was only +thirty-six years of age, an extraordinary elevation for so young a man; +but he possessed extraordinary merit. His mind was cultivated; he loved +literature, and easily became, as far as mutual demonstrations went, the +personal friend of Petrarch; though the Doge, as we shall see, excluded +this personal friendship from all influence on his political conduct.</p> + +<p>The commerce of the Venetians made great progress under the Dogeship of +Andrea Dandolo. It was then that they began to trade with Egypt and +Syria, whence they brought silk, pearls, the spices, and other products +of the East. This prosperity excited the jealousy of the Genoese, as it +interfered with a commerce which they had hitherto monopolized. When the +Venetians had been chased from Constantinople by the Emperor Michael +Paleologus, they retained several fortresses in the Black Sea, which +enabled them to continue their trade with the Tartars in that sea, and +to frequent the fair of Tana. The Genoese, who were masters of Pera, a +suburb of Constantinople, would willingly have joined the Greeks in +expelling their Italian rivals altogether from the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lxxx" id="Page_lxxx">[Pg lxxx]</a></span> Black Sea; and +privateering hostilities actually commenced between the two republics, +which, in 1350, extended to the serious aspect of a national war.</p> + +<p>The winter of that year was passed on both sides in preparations. The +Venetians sent ambassadors to the King of Arragon, who had some +differences with the Genoese about the Island of Sardinia, and to the +Emperor of Constantinople, who saw with any sensation in the world but +delight the flag of Genoa flying over the walls of Pera. A league +between those three powers was quickly concluded, and their grand, +common object was to destroy the city of Genoa.</p> + +<p>It was impossible that these great movements of Venice should be unknown +at Padua. Petrarch, ever zealous for the common good of Italy, saw with +pain the kindling of a war which could not but be fatal to her, and +thought it his duty to open his heart to the Doge of Venice, who had +shown him so much friendship. He addressed to him, therefore, the +following letter from Padua, on the 14th of March, 1351:—</p> + +<p>"My love for my country forces me to break silence; the goodness of your +character encourages me. Can I hold my peace whilst I hear the symptoms +of a coming storm that menaces my beloved country? Two puissant people +are flying to arms; two flourishing cities are agitated by the approach +of war. These cities are placed by nature like the two eyes of Italy; +the one in the south and west, and the other in the east and north, to +dominate over the two seas that surround them; so that, even after the +destruction of the Roman empire, this beautiful country was still +regarded as the queen of the world. I know that proud nations denied her +the empire of the land, but who dared ever to dispute with her the +empire of the sea?</p> + +<p>"I shudder to think of our prospects. If Venice and Genoa turn their +victorious arms against each other, it is all over with us; we lose our +glory and the command of the sea. In this calamity we shall have a +consolation which we have ever had, namely, that if our enemies rejoice +in our calamities, they cannot at least derive any glory from them.</p> + +<p>"In great affairs I have always dreaded the counsels of the young. +Youthful ignorance and inexperience have been the ruin of many empires. +I, therefore, learn with pleasure that you have named a council of +elders, to whom you have confided this affair. I expected no less than +this from your wisdom, which is far beyond your years.</p> + +<p>"The state of your republic distresses me. I know the difference that +there is between the tumult of arms and the tranquillity of Parnassus. I +know that the sounds of Apollo's lyre accord but ill with the trumpets +of Mars; but if you have abandoned Parnassus, it has been only to fulfil +the duties of a good citizen and of a vigilant chief. I am persuaded, at +the same time,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lxxxi" id="Page_lxxxi">[Pg lxxxi]</a></span> that in the midst of arms you think of peace; that you +would regard it as a triumph for yourself, and the greatest blessing you +could procure for your country. Did not Hannibal himself say that a sure +peace was more valuable than a hoped-for victory! If truth has extorted +this confession from the most warlike man that ever lived, is it not +plain that a pacific man ought to prefer peace even to a certain +victory? Who does not know that peace is the greatest of blessings, and +that war is the source of all evils?</p> + +<p>"Do not deceive yourself; you have to deal with a keen people who know +not what it is to be conquered. Would it not be better to transfer the +war to Damascus, to Susa, or to Memphis? Think besides, that those whom +you are going to attack are your brothers. At Thebes, of old, two +brothers fought to their mutual destruction. Must Italy renew, in our +days, so atrocious a spectacle?</p> + +<p>"Let us examine what may be the results of this war. Whether you are +conqueror or are conquered, one of the eyes of Italy will necessarily be +blinded, and the other much weakened; for it would be folly to flatter +yourself with the hopes of conquering so strong an enemy without much +effusion of blood.</p> + +<p>"Brave men, powerful people! (I speak here to both of you) what is your +object—to what do you aspire? What will be the end of your dissensions? +It is not the blood of the Carthaginians or the Numantians that you are +about to spill, but it is Italian blood; the blood of a people who would +be the first to start up and offer to expend their blood, if any +barbarous nation were to attempt a new irruption among us. In that +event, their bodies would be the bucklers and ramparts of our common +country; they would live, or they would die with us. Ought the pleasure +of avenging a slight offence to carry more weight with you than the +public good and your own safety? Let revenge be the delight of women. Is +it not more glorious for men to forget an injury than to avenge it? to +pardon an enemy than to destroy him?</p> + +<p>"If my feeble voice could make itself heard among those grave men who +compose your council, I am persuaded that you would not only <i>not</i> +reject the peace which is offered to you, but go to meet and embrace it +closely, so that it might not escape you. Consult your wise old men who +love the republic; they will speak the same language to you that I do.</p> + +<p>"You, my lord, who are at the head of the council, and who govern your +republic, ought to recollect that the glory or the shame of these events +will fall principally on you. Raise yourself above yourself; look into, +examine everything with attention. Compare the success of the war with +the evils which it brings in its train. Weigh in a balance the good +effects and the evil, and you will say with Hannibal, that an hour is +sufficient to destroy the work of many years.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lxxxii" id="Page_lxxxii">[Pg lxxxii]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The renown of your country is more ancient than is generally believed. +Several ages before the city of Venice was built, I find not only the +name of the Venetians famous, but also that of one of their dukes. Would +you submit to the caprices of fortune a glory acquired for so long a +time, and at so great a cost? You will render a great service to your +republic, if, preferring her safety to her glory, you give her incensed +and insane populace prudent and useful counsels, instead of offering +them brilliant and specious projects. The wise say that we cannot +purchase a virtue more precious than what is bought at the expense of +glory. If you adopt this axiom, your character will be handed down to +posterity, like that of the Duke of the Venetians, to whom I have +alluded. All the world will admire and love you.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a id="image06" name="image06"></a><a href="images/06large.jpg"> + <img src="images/06.jpg" + alt="VICENZA." + title="VICENZA." /></a><br /> + <span class="caption">VICENZA.</span> +</div> + +<p>"To conceal nothing from you, I confess that I have heard with grief of +your league with the King of Arragon. What! shall Italians go and +implore succour of barbarous kings to destroy Italians? You will say, +perhaps, that your enemies have set you the example. My answer is, that +they are equally culpable. According to report, Venice, in order to +satiate her rage, calls to her aid tyrants of the west; whilst Genoa +brings in those of the east. This is the source of our calamities. +Carried away by the admiration of strange things, despising, I know not +why, the good things which we find in our own climate, we sacrifice +sound Italian faith to barbarian perfidy. Madmen that we are, we seek +among venal souls that which we could find among our own brethren.</p> + +<p>"Nature has given us for barriers the Alps and the two seas. Avarice, +envy, and pride, have opened these natural defences to the Cimbri, the +Huns, the Goths, the Gauls, and the Spaniards. How often have we recited +the words of Virgil:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Impius hæc tam culta novalia miles habebit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Barbarus has segetes.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Athens and Lacedemon had between them a species of rivalship similar to +yours: but their forces were not by any means so nearly balanced. +Lacedemon had an advantage over Athens, which put it in the power of the +former to destroy her rival, if she had wished it; but she replied, 'God +forbid that I should pull out one of the eyes of Greece!' If this +beautiful sentiment came from a people whom Plato reproaches with their +avidity for conquest and dominion, what still softer reply ought we not +to expect from the most modest of nations!</p> + +<p>"Amidst the movements which agitate you, it is impossible for me to be +tranquil. When I see one party cutting down trees to construct vessels, +and others sharpening their swords and darts, I should think myself +guilty if I did not seize my pen, which is my only weapon, to counsel +peace. I am aware with what circumspection we ought to speak to our +superiors; but the love of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lxxxiii" id="Page_lxxxiii">[Pg lxxxiii]</a></span> our country has no superior. If it should +carry me beyond bounds, it will serve as my excuse before you, and +oblige you to pardon me.</p> + +<p>"Throwing myself at the feet of the chiefs of two nations who are going +to war, I say to them, with tears in my eyes, 'Throw away your arms; +give one another the embrace of peace! unite your hearts and your +colours. By this means the ocean and the Euxine shall be open to you. +Your ships will arrive in safety at Taprobane, at the Fortunate Isles, +at Thule, and even at the poles. The kings and their people will meet +you with respect; the Indian, the Englishman, the Æthiopian, will dread +you. May peace reign among you, and may you have nothing to fear!' +Adieu! greatest of dukes, and best of men!"</p> + +<p>This letter produced no effect. Andrea Dandolo, in his answer to it, +alleges the thousand and one affronts and outrages which Venice had +suffered from Genoa. At the same time he pays a high compliment to the +eloquence of Petrarch's epistle, and says that it is a production which +could emanate only from a mind inspired by the divine Spirit.</p> + +<p>During the spring of this year, 1351, Petrarch put his last finish to a +canzone, on the subject still nearest to his heart, the death of his +Laura, and to a sonnet on the same subject. In April, his attention was +recalled from visionary things by the arrival of Boccaccio, who was sent +by the republic of Florence to announce to him the recall of his family +to their native land, and the restoration of his family fortune, as well +as to invite him to the home of his ancestors, in the name of the +Florentine republic. The invitation was conveyed in a long and +flattering letter; but it appeared, from the very contents of this +epistle, that the Florentines wished our poet's acceptance of their +offer to be as advantageous to themselves as to him. They were +establishing a University, and they wished to put Petrarch at the head +of it. Petrarch replied in a letter apparently full of gratitude and +satisfaction, but in which he by no means pledged himself to be the +gymnasiarch of their new college; and, agreeably to his original +intention, he set out from Padua on the 3rd of May, 1351, for Provence.</p> + +<p>Petrarch took the road to Vicenza, where he arrived at sunset. He +hesitated whether he should stop there, or take advantage of the +remainder of the day and go farther. But, meeting with some interesting +persons whose conversation beguiled him, night came on before he was +aware how late it was. Their conversation, in the course of the evening, +ran upon Cicero. Many were the eulogies passed on the great old Roman; +but Petrarch, after having lauded his divine genius and eloquence, said +something about his inconsistency. Every one was astonished at our +poet's boldness, but particularly a man, venerable for his age and +knowledge, who was an idolater of Cicero. Petrarch argued<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lxxxiv" id="Page_lxxxiv">[Pg lxxxiv]</a></span> pretty freely +against the political character of the ancient orator. The same opinion +as to Cicero's weakness seems rather to have gained ground in later +ages. At least, it is now agreed that Cicero's political life will not +bear throughout an uncharitable investigation, though the political +difficulties of his time demand abundant allowance.</p> + +<p>Petrarch departed next morning for Verona, where he reckoned on +remaining only for a few days; but it was impossible for him to resist +the importunities of Azzo Correggio, Guglielmo di Pastrengo, and his +other friends. By them he was detained during the remainder of the +month. "The requests of a friend," he said, on this occasion, "are +always chains upon me."</p> + +<p>Petrarch arrived, for the sixth time, at Vaucluse on the 27th of June, +1351. He first announced himself to Philip of Cabassoles, Bishop of +Cavaillon, to whom he had already sent, during his journey, some Latin +verses, in which he speaks of Vaucluse as the most charming place in the +universe. "When a child," he says, "I visited it, and it nourished my +youth in its sunny bosom. When grown to manhood, I passed some of the +pleasantest years of my life in the shut-up valley. Grown old, I wish to +pass in it my last years."</p> + +<p>The sight of his romantic hermitage, of the capacious grotto which had +listened to his sighs for Laura, of his garden, and of his library, was, +undoubtedly, sweet to Petrarch; and, though he had promised Boccaccio to +come back to Italy, he had not the fortitude to determine on a sudden +return. He writes to one of his Italian friends, "When I left my native +country, I promised to return to it in the autumn; but time, place, and +circumstances, often oblige us to change our resolutions. As far as I +can judge, it will be necessary for me to remain here for two years. My +friends in Italy, I trust, will pardon me if I do not keep my promise to +them. The inconstancy of the human mind must serve as my excuse. I have +now experienced that change of place is the only thing which can long +keep from us the <i>ennui</i> that is inseparable from a sedentary life."</p> + +<p>At the same time, whilst Vaucluse threw recollections tender, though +melancholy, over Petrarch's mind, it does not appear that Avignon had +assumed any new charm in his absence: on the contrary, he found it +plunged more than ever in luxury, wantonness, and gluttony. Clement VI. +had replenished the church, at the request of the French king, with +numbers of cardinals, many of whom were so young and licentious, that +the most scandalous abominations prevailed amongst them. "At this time," +says Matthew Villani, "no regard was paid either to learning or virtue; +and a man needed not to blush for anything, if he could cover his head +with a red hat. Pietro Ruggiero, one of those exemplary new cardinals, +was only eighteen years of age." Petrarch vented his indignation on this +occasion in his seventh<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lxxxv" id="Page_lxxxv">[Pg lxxxv]</a></span> eclogue, which is a satire upon the Pontiff and +his cardinals, the interlocutors being Micione, or Clement himself, and +Epi, or the city of Avignon. The poem, if it can be so called, is +clouded with allegory, and denaturalized with pastoral conceits; yet it +is worth being explored by any one anxious to trace the first fountains +of reform among Catholics, as a proof of church abuses having been +exposed, two centuries before the Reformation, by a Catholic and a +churchman.</p> + +<p>At this crisis, the Court of Avignon, which, in fact, had not known very +well what to do about the affairs of Rome, were now anxious to inquire +what sort of government would be the most advisable, after the fall of +Rienzo. Since that event, the Cardinal Legate had re-established the +ancient government, having created two senators, the one from the house +of Colonna, the other from that of the Orsini. But, very soon, those +houses were divided by discord, and the city was plunged into all the +evils which it had suffered before the existence of the Tribuneship. +"The community at large," says Matthew Villani, "returned to such +condition, that strangers and travellers found themselves like sheep +among wolves." Clement VI. was weary of seeing the metropolis of +Christianity a prey to anarchy. He therefore chose four cardinals, whose +united deliberations might appease these troubles, and he imagined that +he could establish in Rome a form of government that should be durable. +The cardinals requested Petrarch to give his opinion on this important +affair. Petrarch wrote to them a most eloquent epistle, full of +enthusiastic ideas of the grandeur of Rome. It is not exactly known what +effect he produced by his writing on this subject; but on that account +we are not to conclude that he wrote in vain.</p> + +<p>Petrarch had brought to Avignon his son John, who was still very young. +He had obtained for him a canonicate at Verona. Thither he immediately +despatched him, with letters to Guglielmo di Pastrengo and Rinaldo di +Villa Franca, charging the former of these friends to superintend his +son's general character and manners, and the other to cultivate his +understanding. Petrarch, in his letter to Rinaldo, gives a description +of John, which is neither very flattering to the youth, nor calculated +to give us a favourable opinion of his father's mode of managing his +education. By his own account, it appears that he had never brought the +boy to confide in him. This was a capital fault, for the young are +naturally ingenuous; so that the acquisition of their confidence is the +very first step towards their docility; and, for maintaining parental +authority, there is no need to overawe them. "As far as I can judge of +my son," says Petrarch, "he has a tolerable understanding; but I am not +certain of this, for I do not sufficiently know him. When he is with me +he always keeps silence; whether my presence is irksome and confusing to +him, or whether shame for his ignorance closes his lips. I suspect it is +the latter,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lxxxvi" id="Page_lxxxvi">[Pg lxxxvi]</a></span> for I perceive too clearly his antipathy to letters. I +never saw it stronger in any one; he dreads and detests nothing so much +as a book; yet he was brought up at Parma, Verona, and Padua. I +sometimes direct a few sharp pleasantries at this disposition. 'Take +care,' I say, 'lest you should eclipse your neighbour, Virgil.' When I +talk in this manner, he looks down and blushes. On this behaviour alone +I build my hope. He is modest, and has a docility which renders him +susceptible of every impression." This is a melancholy confession, on +the part of Petrarch, of his own incompetence to make the most of his +son's mind, and a confession the more convincing that it is made +unconsciously.</p> + +<p>In the summer of 1352, the people of Avignon witnessed the impressive +spectacle of the far-famed Tribune Rienzo entering their city, but in a +style very different from the pomp of his late processions in Rome. He +had now for his attendants only two archers, between whom he walked as a +prisoner. It is necessary to say a few words about the circumstances +which befell Rienzo after his fall, and which brought him now to the +Pope's tribunal at Avignon.</p> + +<p>Petrarch says of him at this period, "The Tribune, formerly so powerful +and dreaded, but now the most unhappy of men, has been brought hither as +a prisoner. I praised and I adored him. I loved his virtue, and I +admired his courage. I thought that Rome was about to resume, under him, +the empire she formerly held. Ah! had he continued as he began, he would +have been praised and admired by the world and by posterity. On entering +the city," Petrarch continues, "he inquired if I was there. I knew not +whether he hoped for succour from me, or what I could do to serve him. +In the process against him they accuse him of nothing criminal. They +cannot impute to him having joined with bad men. All that they charge +him with is an attempt to give freedom to the republic, and to make Rome +the centre of its government. And is this a crime worthy of the wheel or +the gibbet? A Roman citizen afflicted to see his country, which is by +right the mistress of the world, the slave of the vilest of men!"</p> + +<p>Clement was glad to have Rienzo in his power, and ordered him into his +presence. Thither the Tribune came, not in the least disconcerted. He +denied the accusation of heresy, and insisted that his cause should be +re-examined with more equity. The Pope made him no reply, but imprisoned +him in a high tower, in which he was chained by the leg to the floor of +his apartment. In other respects he was treated mildly, allowed books to +read, and supplied with dishes from the Pope's kitchen.</p> + +<p>Rienzo begged to be allowed an advocate to defend him; his request was +refused. This refusal enraged Petrarch, who wrote, according to De Sade +and others, on this occasion, that mysterious letter, which is found in +his "Epistles without a title." It is an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lxxxvii" id="Page_lxxxvii">[Pg lxxxvii]</a></span> appeal to the Romans in behalf +of their Tribune. I must confess that even the authority of De Sade does +not entirely eradicate from my mind a suspicion as to the spuriousness +of this inflammatory letter, from the consequences of which Petrarch +could hardly have escaped with impunity.</p> + +<p>One of the circumstances that detained Petrarch at Avignon was the +illness of the Pope, which retarded his decision on several important +affairs. Clement VI. was fast approaching to his end, and Petrarch had +little hope of his convalescence, at least in the hands of doctors. A +message from the Pope produced an imprudent letter from the poet, in +which he says, "Holy father! I shudder at the account of your fever; +but, believe me, I am not a flatterer. I tremble to see your bed always +surrounded with physicians, who are never agreed, because it would be a +reproach to the second to think like the first. 'It is not to be +doubted,' as Pliny says, 'that physicians, desiring to raise a name by +their discoveries, make experiments upon us, and thus barter away our +lives. There is no law for punishing their extreme ignorance. They learn +their trade at our expense, they make some progress in the art of +curing; and they alone are permitted to murder with impunity.' Holy +father! consider as your enemies the crowd of physicians who beset you. +It is in our age that we behold verified the prediction of the elder +Cato, who declared that corruption would be general when the Greeks +should have transmitted the sciences to Rome, and, above all, the +science of healing. Whole nations have done without this art. The Roman +republic, according to Pliny, was without physicians for six hundred +years, and was never in a more flourishing condition."</p> + +<p>The Pope, a poor dying old man, communicated Petrarch's letter +immediately to his physicians, and it kindled in the whole faculty a +flame of indignation, worthy of being described by Molière. Petrarch +made a general enemy of the physicians, though, of course, the weakest +and the worst of them were the first to attack him. One of them told +him, "You are a foolhardy man, who, contemning the physicians, have no +fear either of the fever or of the malaria." Petrarch replied, "I +certainly have no assurance of being free from the attacks of either; +but, if I were attacked by either, I should not think of calling in +physicians."</p> + +<p>His first assailant was one of Clement's own physicians, who loaded him +with scurrility in a formal letter. These circumstances brought forth +our poet's "Four Books of Invectives against Physicians," a work in +which he undoubtedly exposes a great deal of contemporary quackery, but +which, at the same time, scarcely leaves the physician-hunter on higher +ground than his antagonists.</p> + +<p>In the last year of his life, Clement VI. wished to attach our poet +permanently to his court by making him his secretary, and Petrarch, +after much coy refusal, was at last induced, by the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lxxxviii" id="Page_lxxxviii">[Pg lxxxviii]</a></span> solicitations of +his friends, to accept the office. But before he could enter upon it, an +objection to his filling it was unexpectedly started. It was discovered +that his style was too lofty to suit the humility of the Roman Church. +The elevation of Petrarch's style might be obvious, but certainly the +humility of the Church was a bright discovery. Petrarch, according to +his own account, so far from promising to bring down his magniloquence +to a level with church humility, seized the objection as an excuse for +declining the secretaryship. He compares his joy on this occasion to +that of a prisoner finding the gates of his prison thrown open. He +returned to Vaucluse, where he waited impatiently for the autumn, when +he meant to return to Italy. He thus describes, in a letter to his dear +Simonides, the manner of life which he there led:—</p> + +<p>"I make war upon my body, which I regard as my enemy. My eyes, that have +made me commit so many follies, are well fixed on a safe object. They +look only on a woman who is withered, dark, and sunburnt. Her soul, +however, is as white as her complexion is black, and she has the air of +being so little conscious of her own appearance, that her homeliness may +be said to become her. She passes whole days in the open fields, when +the grasshoppers can scarcely endure the sun. Her tanned hide braves the +heats of the dog-star, and, in the evening, she arrives as fresh as if +she had just risen from bed. She does all the work of my house, besides +taking care of her husband and children and attending my guests. She +seems occupied with everybody but herself. At night she sleeps on +vine-branches; she eats only black bread and roots, and drinks water and +vinegar. If you were to give her anything more delicate, she would be +the worse for it: such is the force of habit.</p> + +<p>"Though I have still two fine suits of clothes, I never wear them. If +you saw me, you would take me for a labourer or a shepherd, though I was +once so tasteful in my dress. The times are changed; the eyes which I +wished to please are now shut; and, perhaps, even if they were opened, +they would not <i>now</i> have the same empire over me."</p> + +<p>In another letter from Vaucluse, he says: "I rise at midnight; I go out +at break of day; I study in the fields as in my library; I read, I +write, I dream; I struggle against indolence, luxury, and pleasure. I +wander all day among the arid mountains, the fresh valleys, and the deep +caverns. I walk much on the banks of the Sorgue, where I meet no one to +distract me. I recall the past. I deliberate on the future; and, in this +contemplation, I find a resource against my solitude." In the same +letter he avows that he could accustom himself to any habitation in the +world, except Avignon. At this time he was meditating to recross the +Alps.</p> + +<p>Early in September, 1352, the Cardinal of Boulogne departed for Paris, +in order to negotiate a peace between the Kings of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_lxxxix" id="Page_lxxxix">[Pg lxxxix]</a></span> France and England. +Petrarch went to take his leave of him, and asked if he had any orders +for Italy, for which he expected soon to set out. The Cardinal told him +that he should be only a month upon his journey, and that he hoped to +see him at Avignon on his return. He had, in fact, kind views with +regard to Petrarch. He wished to procure for him some good establishment +in France, and wrote to him upon his route, "Pray do not depart yet. +Wait until I return, or, at least, until I write to you on an important +affair that concerns yourself." This letter, which, by the way, evinces +that our poet's circumstances were not independent of church promotion, +changed the plans of Petrarch, who remained at Avignon nearly the whole +of the months of September and October.</p> + +<p>During this delay, he heard constant reports of the war that was going +on between the Genoese and the Venetians. In the spring of the year +1352, their fleets met in the Propontis, and had a conflict almost +unexampled, which lasted during two days and a tempestuous night. The +Genoese, upon the whole, had the advantage, and, in revenge for the +Greeks having aided the Venetians, they made a league with the Turks. +The Pope, who had it earnestly at heart to put a stop to this fatal war, +engaged the belligerents to send their ambassadors to Avignon, and there +to treat for peace. The ambassadors came; but a whole month was spent in +negotiations which ended in nothing. Petrarch in vain employed his +eloquence, and the Pope his conciliating talents. In these +circumstances, Petrarch wrote a letter to the Genoese government, which +does infinite credit to his head and his heart. He used every argument +that common sense or humanity could suggest to show the folly of the +war, but his arguments were thrown away on spirits too fierce for +reasoning.</p> + +<p>A few days after writing this letter, as the Cardinal of Boulogne had +not kept his word about returning to Avignon, and as he heard no news of +him, Petrarch determined to set out for Italy. He accordingly started on +the 16th of November, 1352; but scarcely had he left his own house, with +all his papers, when he was overtaken by heavy falls of rain. At first +he thought of going back immediately; but he changed his purpose, and +proceeded as far as Cavaillon, which is two leagues from Vaucluse, in +order to take leave of his friend, the Bishop of Cabassole. His good +friend was very unwell, but received him with joy, and pressed him to +pass the night under his roof. That night and all the next day it rained +so heavily that Petrarch, more from fear of his books and papers being +damaged than from anxiety about his own health, gave up his Italian +journey for the present, and, returning to Vaucluse, spent there the +rest of November and the whole of December, 1352.</p> + +<p>Early in December, Petrarch heard of the death of Clement VI., and this +event gave him occasion for more epistles, both against<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xc" id="Page_xc">[Pg xc]</a></span> the Roman court +and his enemies, the physicians. Clement's death was ascribed to +different causes. Petrarch, of course, imputed it to his doctors. +Villani's opinion is the most probable, that he died of a protracted +fever. He was buried with great pomp in the church of Nôtre Dame at +Avignon; but his remains, after some time, were removed to the abbey of +Chaise Dieu, in Auvergne, where his tomb was violated by the Huguenots +in 1562. Scandal says that they made a football of his head, and that +the Marquis de Courton afterwards converted his skull into a +drinking-cup.</p> + +<p>It need not surprise us that his Holiness never stood high in the good +graces of Petrarch. He was a Limousin, who never loved Italy go much as +Gascony, and, in place of re-establishing the holy seat at Rome, he +completed the building of the papal palace at Avignon, which his +predecessor had begun. These were faults that eclipsed all the good +qualities of Clement VI. in the eyes of Petrarch, and, in the sixth of +his eclogues, the poet has drawn the character of Clement in odious +colours, and, with equal freedom, has described most of the cardinals of +his court. Whether there was perfect consistency between this hatred to +the Pope and his thinking, as he certainly did for a time, of becoming +his secretary, may admit of a doubt. I am not, however, disposed to deny +some allowance to Petrarch for his dislike of Clement, who was a +voluptuary in private life, and a corrupted ruler of the Church.</p> + +<p>Early in May, 1353, Petrarch departed for Italy, and we find him very +soon afterwards at the palace of John Visconti of Milan, whom he used to +call the greatest man in Italy. This prince, uniting the sacerdotal with +the civil power, reigned absolute in Milan. He was master of Lombardy, +and made all Italy tremble at his hostility. Yet, in spite of his +despotism, John Visconti was a lover of letters, and fond of having +literary men at his court. He exercised a cunning influence over our +poet, and detained him. Petrarch, knowing that Milan was a troubled city +and a stormy court, told the Prince that, being a priest, his vocation +did not permit him to live in a princely court, and in the midst of +arms. "For that matter," replied the Archbishop, "I am myself an +ecclesiastic; I wish to press no employment upon you, but only to +request you to remain as an ornament of my court." Petrarch, taken by +surprise, had not fortitude to resist his importunities. All that he +bargained for was, that he should have a habitation sufficiently distant +from the city, and that he should not be obliged to make any change in +his ordinary mode of living. The Archbishop was too happy to possess him +on these terms.</p> + +<p>Petrarch, accordingly, took up his habitation in the western part of the +city, near the Vercellina gate, and the church of St. Ambrosio. His +house was flanked with two towers, stood behind the city wall, and +looked out upon a rich and beautiful country, as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xci" id="Page_xci">[Pg xci]</a></span> far as the Alps, the +tops of which, although it was summer, were still covered with snow. +Great was the joy of Petrarch when he found himself in a house near the +church of that Saint Ambrosio, for whom he had always cherished a +peculiar reverence. He himself tells us that he never entered that +temple without experiencing rekindled devotion. He visited the statue of +the saint, which was niched in one of the walls, and the stone figure +seemed to him to breathe, such was the majesty and tranquillity of the +sculpture. Near the church arose the chapel, where St. Augustin, after +his victory over his refractory passions, was bathed in the sacred +fountain of St. Ambrosio, and absolved from penance for his past life.</p> + +<p>All this time, whilst Petrarch was so well pleased with his new abode, +his friends were astonished, and even grieved, at his fixing himself at +Milan. At Avignon, Socrates, Guido Settimo, and the Bishop of Cavaillon, +said among themselves, "What! this proud republican, who breathed +nothing but independence, who scorned an office in the papal court as a +gilded yoke, has gone and thrown himself into the chains of the tyrant +of Italy; this misanthrope, who delighted only in the silence of fields, +and perpetually praised a secluded life, now inhabits the most bustling +of cities!" At Florence, his friends entertained the same sentiments, +and wrote to him reproachfully on the subject. "I would wish to be +silent," says Boccaccio, "but I cannot hold my peace. My reverence for +you would incline me to hold silence, but my indignation obliges me to +speak out. How has Silvanus acted?" (Under the name of Silvanus he +couches that of Petrarch, in allusion to his love of rural retirement.) +"He has forgotten his dignity; he has forgotten all the language he used +to hold respecting the state of Italy, his hatred of the Archbishop, and +his love of liberty; and he would imprison the Muses in that court. To +whom can we now give our faith, when Silvanus, who formerly pronounced +the Visconti a cruel tyrant, has now bowed himself to the yoke which he +once so boldly condemned? How has the Visconti obtained this truckling, +which neither King Robert, nor the Pope, nor the Emperor, could ever +obtain? You will say, perhaps, that you have been ill-used by your +fellow-citizens, who have withheld from you your paternal property. I +disapprove not your just indignation; but Heaven forbid I should believe +that, righteously and honestly, any injury, from whomsoever we may +receive it, can justify our taking part against our country. It is in +vain for you to allege that you have not incited him to war against our +country, nor lent him either your arm or advice. How can you be happy +with him, whilst you are hearing of the ruins, the conflagrations, the +imprisonments, the deaths, and the rapines, that he spreads around him?"</p> + +<p>Petrarch's answers to these and other reproaches which his friends sent +to him were cold, vague, and unsatisfactory. He denied that he had +sacrificed his liberty; and told Boccaccio that,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xcii" id="Page_xcii">[Pg xcii]</a></span> after all, it was less +humiliating to be subservient to a single tyrant than to be, as he, +Boccaccio, was, subservient to a whole tyrannical people. This was an +unwise, implied confession on the part of Petrarch that he was the slave +of Visconti. Sismondi may be rather harsh in pronouncing Petrarch to +have been all his life a Troubadour; but there is something in his +friendship with the Lord of Milan that palliates the accusation. In +spite of this severe letter from Boccaccio, it is strange, and yet, +methinks, honourable to both, that their friendship was never broken.</p> + +<p>Levati, in his "<i>Viaggi di Petrarca</i>," ascribes the poet's settlement at +Milan to his desire of accumulating a little money, not for himself, but +for his natural children; and in some of Petrarch's letters, subsequent +to this period, there are allusions to his own circumstances which give +countenance to this suspicion.</p> + +<p>However this may be, Petrarch deceived himself if he expected to have +long tranquillity in such a court as that of Milan. He was perpetually +obliged to visit the Viscontis, and to be present at every feast that +they gave to honour the arrival of any illustrious stranger. A more than +usually important visitant soon came to Milan, in the person of Cardinal +Egidio Albornoz, who arrived at the head of an army, with a view to +restore to the Church large portions of its territory which had been +seized by some powerful families. The Cardinal entered Milan on the 14th +of September, 1353. John Visconti, though far from being delighted at +his arrival, gave him an honourable reception, defrayed all the expenses +of his numerous retinue, and treated him magnificently. He went out +himself to meet him, two miles from the city, accompanied by his nephews +and his courtiers, including Petrarch. Our poet joined the suite of +Galeazzo Visconti, and rode near him. The Legate and his retinue rode +also on horseback. When the two parties met, the dust, that rose in +clouds from the feet of the horses, prevented them from discerning each +other. Petrarch, who had advanced beyond the rest, found himself, he +knew not how, in the midst of the Legate's train, and very near to him. +Salutations passed on either side, but with very little speaking, for +the dust had dried their throats.</p> + +<p>Petrarch made a backward movement, to regain his place among his +company. His horse, in backing, slipped with his hind-legs into a ditch +on the side of the road, but, by a sort of miracle, the animal kept his +fore-feet for some time on the top of the ditch. If he had fallen back, +he must have crushed his rider. Petrarch was not afraid, for he was not +aware of his danger; but Galeazzo Visconti and his people dismounted to +rescue the poet, who escaped without injury.</p> + +<p>The Legate treated Petrarch, who little expected it, with the utmost +kindness and distinction, and, granting all that he asked for his +friends, pressed him to mention something worthy of his own acceptance. +Petrarch replied: "When I ask for my friends,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xciii" id="Page_xciii">[Pg xciii]</a></span> is it not the same as for +myself? Have I not the highest satisfaction in receiving favours for +them? I have long put a rein on my own desires. Of what, then, can I +stand in need?"</p> + +<p>After the departure of the Legate, Petrarch retired to his <i>rus in +urbe</i>. In a letter dated thence to his friend the Prior of the Holy +Apostles, we find him acknowledging feelings that were far distant from +settled contentment. "You have heard," he says, "how much my peace has +been disturbed, and my leisure broken in upon, by an importunate crowd +and by unforeseen occupations. The Legate has left Milan. He was +received at Florence with unbounded applause: as for poor me, I am again +in my retreat. I have been long free, happy, and master of my time; but +I feel, at present, that liberty and leisure are only for souls of +consummate virtue. When we are not of that class of beings, nothing is +more dangerous for a heart subject to the passions than to be free, +idle, and alone. The snares of voluptuousness are <i>then</i> more dangerous, +and corrupt thoughts gain an easier entrance—above all, love, that +seducing tormentor, from whom I thought that I had now nothing more to +fear."</p> + +<p>From these expressions we might almost conclude that he had again fallen +in love; but if it was so, we have no evidence as to the object of his +new passion.</p> + +<p>During his half-retirement, Petrarch learned news which disturbed his +repose. A courier arrived, one night, bringing an account of the entire +destruction of the Genoese fleet, in a naval combat with that of the +Venetians, which took place on the 19th of August, 1353, near the island +of Sardinia. The letters which the poet had written, in order to +conciliate those two republics, had proved as useless as the +pacificatory efforts of Clement VI. and his successor, Innocent. +Petrarch, who had constantly predicted the eventual success of Genoa, +could hardly believe his senses, when he heard of the Genoese being +defeated at sea. He wrote a letter of lamentation and astonishment on +the subject to his friend Guido Settimo. He saw, as it were, one of the +eyes of his country destroying the other. The courier, who brought these +tidings to Milan, gave a distressing account of the state of Genoa. +There was not a family which had not lost one of its members.</p> + +<p>Petrarch passed a whole night in composing a letter to the Genoese, in +which he exhorted them, after the example of the Romans, never to +despair of the republic. His lecture never reached them. On awakening in +the morning, Petrarch learned that the Genoese had lost every spark of +their courage, and that the day before they had subscribed the most +humiliating concessions in despair.</p> + +<p>It has been alleged by some of his biographers that Petrarch suppressed +his letter to the Genoese from his fear of the Visconti family. John +Visconti had views on Genoa, which was a port so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xciv" id="Page_xciv">[Pg xciv]</a></span> conveniently situated +that he naturally coveted the possession of it. He invested it on all +sides by land, whilst its other enemies blockaded it by sea; so that the +city was reduced to famine. The partizans of John Visconti insinuated to +the Genoese that they had no other remedy than to place themselves under +the protection of the Prince of Milan. Petrarch was not ignorant of the +Visconti's views; and it has been, therefore, suspected that he kept +back his exhortatory epistle from his apprehension, that if he had +despatched it, John Visconti would have made it the last epistle of his +life. The morning after writing it, he found that Genoa had signed a +treaty of almost abject submission; after which his exhortation would +have been only an insult to the vanquished.</p> + +<p>The Genoese were not long in deliberating on the measures which they +were to take. In a few days their deputies arrived at Milan, imploring +the aid and protection of John Visconti, as well as offering him the +republic of Genoa and all that belonged to it. After some conferences, +the articles of the treaty were signed; and the Lord of Milan accepted +with pleasure the possession that was offered to him.</p> + +<p>Petrarch, as a counsellor of Milan, attended these conferences, and +condoled with the deputies from Genoa; though we cannot suppose that he +approved, in his heart, of the desperate submission of the Genoese in +thus throwing themselves into the arms of the tyrant of Italy, who had +been so long anxious either to invade them in open quarrel, or to enter +their States upon a more amicable pretext. John Visconti immediately +took possession of the city of Genoa; and, after having deposed the doge +and senate, took into his own hands the reins of government.</p> + +<p>Weary of Milan, Petrarch betook himself to the country, and made a +temporary residence at the castle of St. Columba, which was now a +monastery. This mansion was built in 1164, by the celebrated Frederick +Barbarossa. It now belonged to the Carthusian monks of Pavia. Petrarch +has given a beautiful description of this edifice, and of the +magnificent view which it commands.</p> + +<p>Whilst he was enjoying this glorious scenery, he received a letter from +Socrates, informing him that he had gone to Vaucluse in company with +Guido Settimo, whose intention to accompany Petrarch in his journey to +Italy had been prevented by a fit of illness. Petrarch, when he heard of +this visit, wrote to express his happiness at their thus honouring his +habitation, at the same time lamenting that he was not one of their +party. "Repair," he said, "often to the same retreat. Make use of my +books, which deplore the absence of their owner, and the death of their +keeper" (he alluded to his old servant). "My country-house is the temple +of peace, and the home of repose."</p> + +<p>From the contents of his letter, on this occasion, it is obvious that he +had not yet found any spot in Italy where he could de<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xcv" id="Page_xcv">[Pg xcv]</a></span>termine on fixing +himself permanently; otherwise he would not have left his books behind +him.</p> + +<p>When he wrote about his books, he was little aware of the danger that +was impending over them. On Christmas day a troop of robbers, who had +for some time infested the neighbourhood of Vaucluse, set fire to the +poet's house, after having taken away everything that they could carry +off. An ancient vault stopped the conflagration, and saved the mansion +from being entirely consumed by the flames. Luckily, the person to whose +care he had left his house—the son of the worthy rustic, lately +deceased—having a presentiment of the robbery, had conveyed to the +castle a great many books which Petrarch left behind him; and the +robbers, believing that there were persons in the castle to defend it, +had not the courage to make an attack.</p> + +<p>As Petrarch grew old, we do not find him improve in consistency. In his +letter, dated the 21st of October, 1353, it is evident that he had a +return of his hankering after Vaucluse. He accordingly wrote to his +friends, requesting that they would procure him an establishment in the +Comtat. Socrates, upon this, immediately communicated with the Bishop of +Cavaillon, who did all that he could to obtain for the poet the object +of his wish. It appears that the Bishop endeavoured to get for him a +good benefice in his own diocese. The thing was never accomplished. +Without doubt, the enemies, whom he had excited by writing freely about +the Church, and who were very numerous at Avignon, frustrated his +wishes.</p> + +<p>After some time Petrarch received a letter from the Emperor Charles IV. +in answer to one which the poet had expedited to him about three years +before. Our poet, of course, did not fail to acknowledge his Imperial +Majesty's late-coming letter. He commences his reply with a piece of +pleasantry: "I see very well," he says, "that it is as difficult for +your Imperial Majesty's despatches and couriers to cross the Alps, as it +is for your person and legions." He wonders that the Emperor had not +followed his advice, and hastened into Italy, to take possession of the +empire. "What consoles me," he adds, "is, that if you do not adopt my +sentiments, you at least approve of my zeal; and that is the greatest +recompense I could receive." He argues the question with the Emperor +with great force and eloquence; and, to be sure, there never was a +fairer opportunity for Charles IV. to enter Italy. The reasons which his +Imperial Majesty alleges, for waiting a little time to watch the course +of events, display a timid and wavering mind.</p> + +<p>A curious part of his letter is that in which he mentions Rienzo. +"Lately," he says, "we have seen at Rome, suddenly elevated to supreme +power, a man who was neither king, nor consul, nor patrician, and who +was hardly known as a Roman citizen. Although he was not distinguished +by his ancestry, yet he dared<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xcvi" id="Page_xcvi">[Pg xcvi]</a></span> to declare himself the restorer of public +liberty. What title more brilliant for an obscure man! Tuscany +immediately submitted to him. All Italy followed her example; and Europe +and the whole world were in one movement. We have seen the event; it is +not a doubtful tale of history. Already, under the reign of the Tribune, +justice, peace, good faith, and security, were restored, and we saw +vestiges of the golden age appearing once more. In the moment of his +most brilliant success, he chose to submit to others. I blame nobody. I +wish neither to acquit nor to condemn; but I know what I ought to think. +That man had only the title of Tribune. Now, if the name of Tribune +could produce such an effect, what might not the title of Cæsar +produce!"</p> + +<p>Charles did not enter Italy until a year after the date of our poet's +epistle; and it is likely that the increasing power of John Visconti +made a far deeper impression on his irresolute mind than all the +rhetoric of Petrarch. Undoubtedly, the petty lords of Italy were fearful +of the vipers of Milan. It was thus that they denominated the Visconti +family, in allusion to their coat of arms, which represented an immense +serpent swallowing a child, though the device was not their own, but +borrowed from a standard which they had taken from the Saracens. The +submission of Genoa alarmed the whole of Italy. The Venetians took +measures to form a league against the Visconti; and the Princes of +Padua, Modena, Mantua, and Verona joined it, and the confederated lords +sent a deputation to the Emperor, to beg that he would support them; and +they proposed that he should enter Italy at their expense. The +opportunity was too good to be lost; and the Emperor promised to do all +that they wished. This league gave great trouble to John Visconti. In +order to appease the threatening storm, he immediately proposed to the +Emperor that he should come to Milan and receive the iron crown; while +he himself, by an embassy from Milan, would endeavour to restore peace +between the Venetians and the Genoese.</p> + +<p>Petrarch appeared to John Visconti the person most likely to succeed in +this negotiation, by his eloquence, and by his intimacy with Andrea +Dandolo, who governed the republic of Venice. The poet now wished for +repose, and journeys began to fatigue him; but the Visconti knew so well +how to flatter and manage him, that he could not resist the proposal.</p> + +<p>At the commencement of the year 1354, before he departed for Venice, +Petrarch received a present, which gave him no small delight. It was a +Greek Homer, sent to him by Nichola Sigeros, Prætor of Romagna. Petrarch +wrote a long letter of thanks to Sigeros, in which there is a remarkable +confession of the small progress which he had made in the Greek +language, though at the same time he begs his friend Sigeros to send him +copies of Hesiod and Euripides.</p> + +<p>A few days afterwards he set out to Venice. He was the chief<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xcvii" id="Page_xcvii">[Pg xcvii]</a></span> of the +embassy. He went with confidence, flattering himself that he should find +the Venetians more tractable and disposed to peace, both from their fear +of John Visconti, and from some checks which their fleet had +experienced, since their victory off Sardinia. But he was unpleasantly +astonished to find the Venetians more exasperated than humbled by their +recent losses, and by the union of the Lord of Milan with the Genoese. +All his eloquence could not bring them to accept the proposals he had to +offer. Petrarch completely failed in his negotiation, and, after passing +a month at Venice, he returned to Milan full of chagrin.</p> + +<p>Two circumstances seem to have contributed to render the Venetians +intractable. The princes with whom they were leagued had taken into +their pay the mercenary troops of Count Lando, which composed a very +formidable force; and further, the Emperor promised to appear very soon +in Italy at the head of an army.</p> + +<p>Some months afterwards, Petrarch wrote to the Doge of Venice, saying, +that he saw with grief that the hearts of the Venetians were shut +against wise counsels, and he then praises John Visconti as a lover of +peace and humanity.</p> + +<p>After a considerable interval, Andrea Dandolo answered our poet's +letter, and was very sarcastic upon him for his eulogy on John Visconti. +At this moment, Visconti was arming the Genoese fleet, the command of +which he gave to Paganino Doria, the admiral who had beaten the +Venetians in the Propontis. Doria set sail with thirty-three vessels, +entered the Adriatic, sacked and pillaged some towns, and did much +damage on the Venetian coast. The news of this descent spread +consternation in Venice. It was believed that the Genoese fleet were in +the roads; and the Doge took all possible precautions to secure the +safety of the State.</p> + +<p>But Dandolo's health gave way at this crisis, vexed as he was to see the +maiden city so humbled in her pride. His constitution rapidly declined, +and he died the 8th of September, 1354. He was extremely popular among +the Venetians. Petrarch, in a letter written shortly after his death, +says of him: "He was a virtuous man, upright, full of love and zeal for +his republic; learned, eloquent, wise, and affable. He had only one +fault, to wit, that he loved war too much. From this error he judged of +a cause by its event. The luckiest cause always appeared to him the most +just, which made him often repeat what Scipio Africanus said, and what +Lucan makes Cæsar repeat: 'Hæc acies victum factura nocentem.'"</p> + +<p>If Dandolo had lived a little longer, and continued his ethical theory +of judging a cause by its success, he would have had a hint, from the +disasters of Venice, that his own cause was not the most righteous. The +Genoese, having surprised the Venetians off the island of Sapienza, +obtained one of the completest victories on record. All the Venetian +vessels, with the exception of one that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xcviii" id="Page_xcviii">[Pg xcviii]</a></span> escaped, were taken, together +with their admiral. It is believed that, if the victors had gone +immediately to Venice, they might have taken the city, which was +defenceless, and in a state of consternation; but the Genoese preferred +returning home to announce their triumph, and to partake in the public +joy. About the time of the Doge's death, another important public event +took place in the death of John Visconti. He had a carbuncle upon his +forehead, just above the eyebrows, which he imprudently caused to be +cut; and, on the very day of the operation, October 4th, 1354, he +expired so suddenly as not to have time to receive the sacrament.</p> + +<p>John Visconti had three nephews, Matteo, Galeazzo, and Barnabo. They +were his heirs, and took possession of his dominions in common, a few +days after his death, without any dispute among themselves. The day for +their inauguration was fixed, such was the superstition of the times, by +an astrologer; and on that day Petrarch was commissioned to make to the +assembled people an address suited to the ceremony. He was still in the +midst of his harangue, when the astrologer declared with a loud voice +that the moment for the ceremony was come, and that it would be +dangerous to let it pass. Petrarch, heartily as he despised the false +science, immediately stopped his discourse. The astrologer, somewhat +disconcerted, replied that there was still a little time, and that the +orator might continue to speak. Petrarch answered that he had nothing +more to say. Whilst some laughed, and others were indignant at the +interruption, the astrologer exclaimed "that the happy moment was come;" +on which an old officer carried three white stakes, like the palisades +of a town, and gave one to each of the brothers; and the ceremony was +thus concluded.</p> + +<p>The countries which the three brothers shared amongst them comprehended +not only what was commonly called the Duchy, before the King of Sardinia +acquired a great part of it, but the territories of Parma, Piacenza, +Bologna, Lodi, Bobbio, Pontremoli, and many other places.</p> + +<p>There was an entire dissimilarity among the brothers. Matteo hated +business, and was addicted to the grossest debaucheries. Barnabo was a +monster of tyranny and cruelty. Petrarch, nevertheless, condescended to +be godfather to one of Barnabo's sons, and presented the child with a +gilt cup. He also composed a Latin poem, on the occasion of his godson +being christened by the name of Marco, in which he passes in review all +the great men who had borne that name.</p> + +<p>Galeazzo was very different from his brothers. He had much kindliness of +disposition. One of his greatest pleasures was his intercourse with men +of letters. He almost worshipped Petrarch, and it was his influence that +induced the poet to settle at Milan. Unlike as they were in +dispositions, the brothers, nevertheless, felt how important it was that +they should be united, in order to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xcix" id="Page_xcix">[Pg xcix]</a></span> protect themselves against the +league which threatened them; and, at first, they lived in the greatest +harmony. Barnabo, the most warlike, was charged with whatever concerned +the military. Business of every other kind devolved on Galeazzo. Matteo, +as the eldest, presided over all; but, conscious of his incapacity, he +took little share in the deliberations of his brothers. Nothing +important was done without consulting Petrarch; and this flattering +confidence rendered Milan as agreeable to him as any residence could be, +consistently with his love of change.</p> + +<p>The deaths of the Doge of Venice and of the Lord of Milan were soon +followed by another, which, if it had happened some years earlier, would +have strongly affected Petrarch. This was the tragic end of Rienzo. Our +poet's opinion of this extraordinary man had been changed by his later +conduct, and he now took but a comparatively feeble interest in him. +Under the pontificate of Clement VI., the ex-Tribune, after his fall, +had been consigned to a prison at Avignon. Innocent, the succeeding +Pope, thought differently of him from his predecessor, and sent the +Cardinal Albornoz into Italy, with an order to establish him at Rome, +and to confide the government of the city to him under the title of +senator. The Cardinal obeyed the injunction; but after a brief and +inglorious struggle with the faction of the Colonnas, Rienzo perished in +a popular sedition on the 8th of October, 1354.</p> + +<p>War was now raging between the States of the Venetian League and Milan, +united with Genoa, when a new actor was brought upon the scene. The +Emperor, who had been solicited by one half of Italy to enter the +kingdom, but who hesitated from dread of the Lord of Milan, was +evidently induced by the intelligence of John Visconti's death to accept +this invitation. In October, 1354, his Imperial Majesty entered Italy, +with no show of martial preparation, being attended by only three +hundred horsemen. On the 10th of November he arrived at Mantua, where he +was received as sovereign. There he stopped for some time, before he +pursued his route to Rome.</p> + +<p>The moment Petrarch heard of his arrival, he wrote to his Imperial +Majesty in transports of joy. "You are no longer," he said, "king of +Bohemia. I behold in you the king of the world, the Roman emperor, the +true Cæsar." The Emperor received this letter at Mantua, and in a few +days sent Sacromore de Pomieres, one of his squires, to invite Petrarch +to come and meet him, expressing the utmost eagerness to see him. +Petrarch could not resist so flattering an invitation; he was not to be +deterred even by the unprecedented severity of the frost, and departed +from Milan on the 9th of December; but, with all the speed that he could +make, was not able to reach Mantua till the 12th.</p> + +<p>The Emperor thanked him for having come to him in such dreadful weather, +the like of which he had scarcely ever felt, even in Germany. "The +Emperor," says Petrarch, "received me in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_c" id="Page_c">[Pg c]</a></span> a manner that partook neither +of imperial haughtiness nor of German etiquette. We passed sometimes +whole days together, from morning to night, in conversation, as if his +Majesty had had nothing else to do. He spoke to me about my works, and +expressed a great desire to see them, particularly my 'Treatise on +Illustrious Men.' I told him that I had not yet put my last hand to it, +and that, before I could do so, I required to have leisure and repose. +He gave me to understand that he should be very glad to see it appear +under his own patronage, that is to say, dedicated to himself. I said to +him, with that freedom of speech which Nature has given me, and which +years have fortified, 'Great prince, for this purpose, nothing more is +necessary than, virtue on your part, and leisure on mine.' He asked me +to explain myself. I said, 'I must have time for a work of this nature, +in which I propose to include great things in a small space. On your +part, labour to deserve that your name should appear at the head of my +book. For this end, it is not enough that you wear a crown; your virtues +and great actions must place you among the great men whose portraits I +have delineated. Live in such a manner, that, after reading the lives of +your illustrious predecessors, you may feel assured that your own life +shall deserve to be read by posterity.'</p> + +<p>"The Emperor showed by a smile that my liberty had not displeased him, I +seized this opportunity of presenting him with some imperial medals, in +gold and in silver, and gave him a short sketch of the lives of those +worthies whose images they bore. He seemed to listen to me with +pleasure, and, graciously accepting the medals, declared that he never +had received a more agreeable present.</p> + +<p>"I should never end if I were to relate to you all the conversations +which I held with this prince. He desired me one day to relate the +history of my life to him. I declined to do so at first; but he would +take no refusal, and I obeyed him. He heard me with attention, and, if I +omitted any circumstances from forgetfulness or the fear of being +wearisome, he brought them back to my memory. He then asked me what were +my projects for the future, and my plans for the rest of my life. 'My +intentions are good,' I replied to him, 'but a bad habit, which I cannot +conquer, masters my better will, and I resemble a sea beaten by two +opposite winds,' 'I can understand that,' he said; 'but I wish to know +what is the kind of life that would most decidedly please you?' 'A +secluded life,' I replied to him, without hesitation. 'If I could, I +should go and seek for such a life at its fountain-head; that is, among +the woods and mountains, as I have already done. If I could not go so +far to find it, I should seek to enjoy it in the midst of cities.'</p> + +<p>"The Emperor differed from me totally as to the benefits of a solitary +life. I told him that I had composed a treatise on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ci" id="Page_ci">[Pg ci]</a></span> subject. 'I know +that,' said the Emperor; 'and if I ever find your book, I shall throw it +into the fire.' 'And,' I replied, 'I shall take care that it never falls +into your hands.' On this subject we had long and frequent disputes, +always seasoned with pleasantry. I must confess that the Emperor +combated my system on a solitary life with surprising energy."</p> + +<p>Petrarch remained eight days with the King of Bohemia, at Mantua, where +he was witness to all his negotiations with the Lords of the league of +Lombardy, who came to confer with his Imperial Majesty, in that city, or +sent thither their ambassadors. The Emperor, above all things, wished to +ascertain the strength of this confederation; how much each principality +would contribute, and how much might be the sum total of the whole +contribution. The result of this inquiry was, that the forces of the +united confederates were not sufficient to make head against the +Visconti, who had thirty thousand well-disciplined men. The Emperor, +therefore, decided that it was absolutely necessary to conclude a peace. +This prince, pacific and without ambition, had, indeed, come into Italy +with this intention; and was only anxious to obtain two crowns without +drawing a sword. He saw, therefore, with satisfaction that there was no +power in Italy to protract hostilities by strengthening the coalition.</p> + +<p>He found difficulties, however, in the settlement of a general peace. +The Viscontis felt their superiority; and the Genoese, proud of a +victory which they had obtained over the Venetians, insisted on hard +terms. The Emperor, more intent upon his personal interests than the +good of Italy, merely negotiated a truce between the belligerents. He +prevailed upon the confederates to disband the company of Count Lando, +which cost much and effected little. It cannot be doubted that Petrarch +had considerable influence in producing this dismissal, as he always +held those troops of mercenaries in abhorrence. The truce being signed, +his Imperial Majesty had no further occupation than to negotiate a +particular agreement with the Viscontis, who had sent the chief men of +Milan, with presents, to conclude a treaty with him. No one appeared +more fit than Petrarch to manage this negotiation, and it was +universally expected that it should be entrusted to him; but particular +reasons, which Petrarch has not thought proper to record, opposed the +desires of the Lords of Milan and the public wishes.</p> + +<p>The negotiation, nevertheless, was in itself a very easy one. The +Emperor, on the one hand, had no wish to make war for the sake of being +crowned at Monza. On the other hand, the Viscontis were afraid of seeing +the league of their enemies fortified by imperial power. They took +advantage of the desire which they observed in Charles to receive this +crown without a struggle. They promised not to oppose his coronation, +and even to give 50,000 florins for the expense of the ceremony; but +they required<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cii" id="Page_cii">[Pg cii]</a></span> that he should not enter the city of Milan, and that the +troops in his suite should be disarmed.</p> + +<p>To these humiliating terms Charles subscribed. The affair was completed +during the few days that Petrarch spent at Mantua. The Emperor strongly +wished that he should be present at the signature of the treaty; and, in +fact, though he was not one of the envoys from Milan, the success of the +negotiation was generally attributed to him. A rumour to this effect +reached even Avignon, where Lælius then was. He wrote to Petrarch to +compliment him on the subject. The poet, in his answer, declines an +honour that was not due to him.</p> + +<p>After the signature of the treaty, Petrarch departed for Milan, where he +arrived on Christmas eve, 1354. He there found four letters from Zanobi +di Strata, from whom he had not had news for two years. Curious persons +had intercepted their letters to each other. Petrarch often complains of +this nuisance, which was common at the time.</p> + +<p>The Emperor set out from Mantua after the festivities of Christmas. On +arriving at the gates of Milan, he was invited to enter by the +Viscontis; but Charles declined their invitation, saying, that he would +keep the promise which he had pledged. The Viscontis told him politely +that they asked his entrance as a favour, and that the precaution +respecting his troops by no means extended to his personal presence, +which they should always consider an honour. The Emperor entered Milan +on the 4th of January, 1355. He was received with the sound of drums, +trumpets, and other instruments, that made such a din as to resemble +thunder. "His entry," says Villani, "had the air of a tempest rather +than of a festivity." Meanwhile the gates of Milan were shut and +strictly guarded. Shortly after his arrival, the three brothers came to +tender their homage, declaring that they held of the Holy Empire all +that they possessed, and that they would never employ their possessions +but for his service.</p> + +<p>Next day the three brothers, wishing to give the Emperor a high idea of +their power and forces, held a grand review of their troops, horse and +foot; to which, in order to swell the number, they added companies of +the burgesses, well mounted, and magnificently dressed; and they +detained his poor Majesty at a window, by way of amusing him, all the +time they were making this display of their power. Whilst the troops +were defiling, they bade him look upon the six thousand cavalry and ten +thousand infantry, which they kept in their pay for his service, adding +that their fortresses and castles were well furnished and garrisoned. +This spectacle was anything but amusing to the Emperor; but he put a +good countenance on the matter, and appeared cheerful and serene. +Petrarch scarcely ever quitted his side; and the Prince conversed with +him whenever he could snatch time from business, and from the rigid +ceremonials that were imposed on him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ciii" id="Page_ciii">[Pg ciii]</a></span></p> + +<p>On the 6th of January, the festival of Epiphany, Charles received at +Milan the iron crown, in the church of St. Ambrosio, from the hands of +Robert Visconti, Archbishop of Milan. They gave the Emperor fifty +thousand florins in gold, two hundred beautiful horses, covered with +cloth bordered with ermine, and six hundred horsemen to escort him to +Rome.</p> + +<p>The Emperor, who regarded Milan only as a fine large prison, got out of +it as soon as he could. Petrarch accompanied him as far as five miles +beyond Pìacenza, but refused to comply with the Emperor's solicitations +to continue with him as far as Rome.</p> + +<p>The Emperor departed from Sienna the 28th of March, with the Empress and +all his suite. On the 2nd of April he arrived at Rome. During the next +two days he visited the churches in pilgrim's attire. On Sunday, which +was Easter day, he was crowned, along with his Empress; and, on this +occasion, he confirmed all the privileges of the Roman Church, and all +the promises that he had made to the Popes Clement VI. and Innocent VI. +One of those promises was, that he should not enter Rome except upon the +day of his coronation, and that he should not sleep in the city. He kept +his word most scrupulously. After leaving the church of St. Peter, he +went with a grand retinue to St. John's di Latrana, where he dined, and, +in the evening, under pretext of a hunting-party, he went and slept at +St. Lorenzo, beyond the walls.</p> + +<p>The Emperor arrived at Sienna on the 29th of April. He had there many +conferences with the Cardinal Albornoz, to whom he promised troops for +the purpose of reducing the tyrants with whom the Legate was at war. His +Majesty then went to Pisa, where, on the 21st of May, 1355, a sedition +broke out against him, which nearly cost him his life. He left Tuscany +without delay, with his Empress and his whole suite, to return to +Germany, where he arrived early in June. Many were the affronts he met +with on his route, and he recrossed the Alps, as Villani says, "with his +dignity humbled, though with his purse well filled."</p> + +<p>Lælius, who had accompanied the Emperor as far as Cremona, quitted him +at that place, and went to Milan, where he delivered to Petrarch the +Prince's valedictory compliments. Petrarch's indignation, at his +dastardly flight vented itself in a letter to his Imperial Majesty +himself, so full of unmeasured rebuke, that it is believed it was never +sent.</p> + +<p>Shortly after the departure of the Emperor, Petrarch had the +satisfaction of hearing, in his own church of St. Ambrosio, the +publication of a peace between the Venetians and Genoese. It was +concluded at Milan by the mediation of the Visconti, entirely to the +advantage of the Genoese, to whom their victory gained in the gulf of +Sapienza had given an irresistible superiority. It cost the Venetians +two hundred thousand florins. Whilst the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_civ" id="Page_civ">[Pg civ]</a></span> treaty of peace was +proceeding, Venice witnessed the sad and strange spectacle of Marino +Faliero, her venerable Doge, four-score years old, being dragged to a +public execution. Some obscurity still hangs over the true history of +this affair. Petrarch himself seems to have understood it but +imperfectly, though, from his personal acquaintance with Faliero, and +his humane indignation at seeing an old man whom he believed to be +innocent, hurled from his seat of power, stripped of his ducal robes, +and beheaded like the meanest felon, he inveighs against his execution +as a public murder, in his letter on the subject to Guido Settimo.</p> + +<p>Petrarch, since his establishment at Milan, had thought it his duty to +bring thither his son John, that he might watch over his education. John +was at this time eighteen years of age, and was studying at Verona.</p> + +<p>The September of 1355 was a critical month for our poet. It was then +that the tertian ague commonly attacked him, and this year it obliged +him to pass a whole month in bed. He was just beginning to be +convalescent, when, on the 9th of September, 1355, a friar, from the +kingdom of Naples, entered his chamber, and gave him a letter from +Barbato di Salmone. This was a great joy to him, and tended to promote +the recovery of his health. Their correspondence had been for a long +time interrupted by the wars, and the unsafe state of the public roads. +This letter was full of enthusiasm and affection, and was addressed to +<i>Francis Petrarch, the king of poets</i>. The friar had told Barbato that +this title was given to Petrarch over all Italy. Our poet in his answer +affected to refuse it with displeasure as far beyond his deserts. "There +are only two king-poets," he says, "the one in Greece, the other in +Italy. The old bard of Mæonia occupies the former kingdom, the shepherd +of Mantua is in possession of the latter. As for me, I can only reign in +my transalpine solitude and on the banks of the Sorgue."</p> + +<p>Petrarch continued rather languid during autumn, but his health was +re-established before the winter.</p> + +<p>Early in the year 1356, whilst war was raging between Milan and the +Lombard and Ligurian league, a report was spread that the King of +Hungary had formed a league with the Emperor and the Duke of Austria, to +invade Italy. The Italians in alarm sent ambassadors to the King of +Hungary, who declared that he had no hostile intentions, except against +the Venetians, as they had robbed him of part of Sclavonia. This +declaration calmed the other princes, but not the Viscontis, who knew +that the Emperor would never forget the manner in which they had treated +him. They thought that it would be politic to send an ambassador to +Charles, in order to justify themselves before him, or rather to +penetrate into his designs, and no person seemed to be more fit for this +commission than Petrarch. Our poet had no great desire to journey into +the north, but a charge so agreeable and flattering<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cv" id="Page_cv">[Pg cv]</a></span> made him overlook +the fatigue of travelling. He wrote thus to Simonides on the day before +his departure:—"They are sending me to the north, at the time when I am +sighing for solitude and repose. But man was made for toil: the charge +imposed on me does not displease me, and I shall be recompensed for my +fatigue if I succeed in the object of my mission. The Lord of Liguria +sends me to treat with the Emperor. After having conferred with him on +public affairs, I reckon on being able to treat with him respecting my +own, and be my own ambassador. I have reproached this prince by letter +with his shameful flight from our country. I shall make him the same +reproaches, face to face, and <i>vivâ voce</i>. In thus using <i>my own</i> +liberty and his patience, I shall avenge at once Italy, the empire, and +my own person. At my return I shall bury myself in a solitude so +profound that toil and envy will not be able to find me out. Yet what +folly! Can I flatter myself to find any place where envy cannot +penetrate?"</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a id="image07" name="image07"></a><a href="images/07large.jpg"> + <img src="images/07.jpg" + alt="MILAN CATHEDRAL." + title="MILAN CATHEDRAL." /></a><br /> + <span class="caption">MILAN CATHEDRAL.</span> +</div> + +<p>Next day he departed with Sacromoro di Pomieres, whose company was a +great solace to him. They arrived at Basle, where the Emperor was +expected; but they waited in vain for him a whole month. "This prince," +says Petrarch, "finishes nothing; one must go and seek him in the depths +of barbarism." It was fortunate for him that he stayed no longer, for, a +few days after he took leave of Basle, the city was almost wholly +destroyed by an earthquake.</p> + +<p>Petrarch arrived at Prague in Bohemia towards the end of July, 1356. He +found the Emperor wholly occupied with that famous Golden Bull, the +provisions of which he settled with the States, at the diet of +Nuremberg, and which he solemnly promulgated at another grand diet held +at Christmas, in the same year. This Magna Charta of the Germanic +constitution continued to be the fundamental law of the empire till its +dissolution.</p> + +<p>Petrarch made but a short stay at Prague, notwithstanding his Majesty's +wish to detain him. The Emperor, though sorely exasperated against the +Visconti, had no thoughts of carrying war into Italy. His affairs in +Germany employed him sufficiently, besides the embellishment of the city +of Prague. At the Bohemian court our poet renewed a very amicable +acquaintance with two accomplished prelates, Ernest, Archbishop of +Pardowitz, and John Oczkow, Bishop of Olmütz. Of these churchmen he +speaks in the warmest terms, and he afterwards corresponded with them. +We find him returned to Milan, and writing to Simonides on the 20th of +September.</p> + +<p>Some days after Petrarch's return from Germany, a courier arrived at +Milan with news of the battle of Poitiers, in which eighty thousand +French were defeated by thirty thousand Englishmen, and in which King +John of France was made prisoner.<a name="FNanchor_M_13" id="FNanchor_M_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_M_13" class="fnanchor">[M]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cvi" id="Page_cvi">[Pg cvi]</a></span> Petrarch was requested by Galeazzo +Visconti on this occasion to write for him two condoling letters, one to +Charles the Dauphin, and another to the Cardinal of Boulogne. Petrarch +was thunderstruck at the calamity of King John, of whom he had an +exalted idea. "It is a thing," he says, "incredible, unheard-of, and +unexampled in history, that an invincible hero, the greatest king that +ever lived, should have been conquered and made captive by an enemy so +inferior."</p> + +<p>On this great event, our poet composed an allegorical eclogue, in which +the King of France, under the name of Pan, and the King of England, +under that of Articus, heartily abuse each other. The city of Avignon is +brought in with the designation of Faustula. England reproaches the Pope +with his partiality for the King of France, to whom he had granted the +tithes of his kingdom, by which means he was enabled to levy an army. +Articus thus apostrophizes Faustula:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah meretrix oblique tuens, ait Articus illi—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Immemorem sponsæ cupidus quam mungit adulter!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hæc tua tota fides, sic sic aliena ministras!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Erubuit nihil ausa palam, nisi mollia pacis<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Verba, sed assuetis noctem complexibus egit—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, harlot! squinting with lascivious brows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon a hapless wife's adulterous spouse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is this thy faith, to waste another's wealth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The guilty fruit of perfidy and stealth!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She durst not be my foe in open light.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in my foe's embraces spent the night.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Meanwhile, Marquard, Bishop of Augsburg, vicar of the Emperor in Italy, +having put himself at the head of the Lombard league against the +Viscontis, entered their territories with the German troops, and was +committing great devastations. But the brothers of Milan turned out, +beat the Bishop, and took him prisoner. It is evident, from these +hostilities of the Emperor's vicar against the Viscontis, that +Petrarch's embassy to Prague had not had the desired success. The +Emperor, it is true, plainly told him that he had no thoughts of +invading Italy in person. And this was true; but there is no doubt that +he abetted and secretly supported the enemies of the Milan chiefs. +Powerful as the Visconti were, their numerous enemies pressed them hard; +and, with war on all sides, Milan was in a critical situation. But +Petrarch, whilst war was at the very gates, continued retouching his +Italian poetry.</p> + +<p>At the commencement of this year, 1356, he received a letter from +Avignon, which Socrates, Lælius, and Guido Settimo had jointly written +to him. They dwelt all three in the same house, and lived in the most +social union. Petrarch made them a short reply, in which he said, +"Little did I think that I should ever envy those who inhabit Babylon. +Nevertheless, I wish that I were with you in that house of yours, +inaccessible to the pestilent air of the infamous city. I regard it as +an elysium in the midst of Avernus."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cvii" id="Page_cvii">[Pg cvii]</a></span></p> + +<p>At this time, Petrarch received a diploma that was sent to him by John, +Bishop of Olmütz, Chancellor of the Empire, in which diploma the Emperor +created him a count palatine, and conferred upon him the rights and +privileges attached to this dignity. These, according to the French +abridger of the History of Germany, consisted in creating doctors and +notaries, in legitimatizing the bastards of citizens, in crowning poets, +in giving dispensations with respect to age, and in other things. To +this diploma sent to Petrarch was attached a bull, or capsule of gold. +On one side was the impression of the Emperor, seated on his throne, +with an eagle and lion beside him; on the other was the city of Rome, +with its temples and walls. The Emperor had added to this dignity +privileges which he granted to very few, and the Chancellor, in his +communication, used very flattering terms. Petrarch says, in his letter +of thanks, "I am exceedingly grateful for the signal distinction which +the Emperor has graciously vouchsafed to me, and for the obliging terms +with which you have seasoned the communication. I have never sought in +vain for anything from his Imperial Majesty and yourself. But I wish not +for your gold."</p> + +<p>In the summer of 1357, Petrarch, wishing to screen himself from the +excessive heat, took up his abode for a time on the banks of the Adda at +Garignano, a village three miles distant from Milan, of which he gives a +charming description. "The village," he says, "stands on a slight +elevation in the midst of a plain, surrounded on all sides by springs +and streams, not rapid and noisy like those of Vaucluse, but clear and +modest. They wind in such a manner, that you know not either whither +they are going, or whence they have come. As if to imitate the dances of +the nymphs, they approach, they retire, they unite, and they separate +alternately. At last, after having formed a kind of labyrinth, they all +meet, and pour themselves into the same reservoir." John Visconti had +chosen this situation whereon to build a Carthusian monastery. This was +what tempted Petrarch to found here a little establishment. He wished at +first to live within the walls of the monastery, and the Carthusians +made him welcome to do so; but he could not dispense with servants and +horses, and he feared that the drunkenness of the former might trouble +the silence of the sacred retreat. He therefore hired a house in the +neighbourhood of the holy brothers, to whom he repaired at all hours of +the day. He called this house his Linterno, in memory of Scipio +Africanus, whose country-house bore that name. The peasants, hearing him +call the domicile <i>Linterno</i>, corrupted the word into <i>Inferno</i>, and, +from this mispronunciation, the place was often jocularly called by that +name.</p> + +<p>Petrarch was scarcely settled in this agreeable solitude, when he +received a letter from his friend Settimo, asking him for an exact and +circumstantial detail of his circumstances and mode of living, of his +plans and occupations, of his son John, &c. His<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cviii" id="Page_cviii">[Pg cviii]</a></span> answer was prompt, and +is not uninteresting. "The course of my life," he says, "has always been +uniform ever since the frost of age has quenched the ardour of my youth, +and particularly that fatal flame which so long tormented me. But what +do I say?" he continues; "it is a celestial dew which has produced this +extinction. Though I have often changed my place of abode, I have always +led nearly the same kind of life. What it is, none knows better than +yourself. I once lived beside you for two years. Call to mind how I was +then occupied, and you will know my present occupations. You understand +me so well that you ought to be able to guess, not only what I am doing, +but what I am dreaming.</p> + +<p>"Like a traveller, I am quickening my steps in proportion as I approach +the term of my course. I read and write night and day; the one +occupation refreshes me from the fatigue of the other These are my +employments—these are my pleasures. My tasks increase upon my hands; +one begets another; and I am dismayed when I look at what I have +undertaken to accomplish in so short a space as the remainder of my +life. * * * My health is good; my body is so robust that neither ripe +years, nor grave occupations, nor abstinence, nor penance, can totally +subdue that <i>kicking ass</i> on whom I am constantly making war. I count +upon the grace of Heaven, without which I should infallibly fall, as I +fell in other times. All my reliance is on Christ. With regard to my +fortune, I am exactly in a just mediocrity, equally distant from the two +extremes * * * *</p> + +<p>"I inhabit a retired corner of the city towards the west. Their ancient +devotion attracts the people every Sunday to the church of St. Ambrosio, +near which I dwell. During the rest of the week, this quarter is a +desert.</p> + +<p>"Fortune has changed nothing in my nourishment, or my hours of sleep, +except that I retrench as much as possible from indulgence in either. I +lie in bed for no other purpose than to sleep, unless I am ill. I hasten +from bed as soon as I am awake, and pass into my library. This takes +place about the middle of the night, save when the nights are shortest. +I grant to Nature nothing but what she imperatively demands, and which +it is impossible to refuse her.</p> + +<p>"Though I have always loved solitude and silence, I am a great gossip +with my friends, which arises, perhaps, from my seeing them but rarely. +I atone for this loquacity by a year of taciturnity. I mutely recall my +parted friends by correspondence. I resemble that class of people of +whom Seneca speaks, who seize life in detail, and not by the gross. The +moment I feel the approach of summer, I take a country-house a league +distant from town, where the air is extremely pure. In such a place I am +at present, and here I lead my wonted life, more free than ever from the +wearisomeness of the city. I have abundance of everything; the peasants +vie with each other in bringing me fruit, fish, ducks,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cix" id="Page_cix">[Pg cix]</a></span> and all sorts of +game. There is a beautiful Carthusian monastery in my neighbourhood, +where, at all hours of the day, I find the innocent pleasures which +religion offers. In this sweet retreat I feel no want but that of my +ancient friends. In these I was once rich; but death has taken away some +of them, and absence robs me of the remainder. Though my imagination +represents them, still I am not the less desirous of their real +presence. There would remain but few things for me to desire, if fortune +would restore to me but two friends, such as you and Socrates. I confess +that I flattered myself a long time to have had you both with me. But, +if you persist in your rigour, I must console myself with the company of +my religionists. Their conversation, it is true, is neither witty nor +profound, but it is simple and pious. Those good priests will be of +great service to me both in life and death. I think I have now said +enough about myself, and, perhaps, more than enough. You ask me about +the state of my fortune, and you wish to know whether you may believe +the rumours that are abroad about my riches. It is true that my income +is increased; but so, also, proportionably, is my outlay. I am, as I +have always been, neither rich nor poor. Riches, they say, make men poor +by multiplying their wants and desires; for my part, I feel the +contrary; the more I have the less I desire. Yet, I suppose, if I +possessed great riches, they would have the same effect upon me as upon +other people.</p> + +<p>"You ask news about my son. I know not very well what to say concerning +him. His manners are gentle, and the flower of his youth holds out a +promise, though what fruit it may produce I know not. I think I may +flatter myself that he will be an honest man. He has talent; but what +avails talent without study! He flies from a book as he would from a +serpent. Persuasions, caresses, and threats are all thrown away upon him +as incitements to study. I have nothing wherewith to reproach myself; +and I shall be satisfied if he turns out an honest man, as I hope he +will. Themistocles used to say that he liked a man without letters +better than letters without a man."</p> + +<p>In the month of August, 1357, Petrarch received a letter from +Benintendi, the Chancellor of Venice, requesting him to send a dozen +elegiac verses to be engraved on the tomb of Andrea Dandolo. The +children of the Doge had an ardent wish that our poet should grant them +this testimony of his friendship for their father. Petrarch could not +refuse the request, and composed fourteen verses, which contain a sketch +of the great actions of Dandolo. But they were verses of command, which +the poet made in despite of the Muses and of himself.</p> + +<p>In the following year, 1358, Petrarch was almost entirely occupied with +his treatise, entitled, "De Remediis utriusque Fortunæ," (A Remedy +against either extreme of Fortune.) This made a great noise when it +appeared. Charles V. of France had it tran<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cx" id="Page_cx">[Pg cx]</a></span>scribed for his library, and +translated; and it was afterwards translated into Italian and Spanish.</p> + +<p>Petrarch returned to Milan, and passed the autumn at his house, the +Linterno, where he met with an accident, that for some time threatened +dangerous consequences. He thus relates it, in a letter to his friend, +Neri Morandi:—"I have a great volume of the epistles of Cicero, which I +have taken the pains to transcribe myself, for the copyists understand +nothing. One day, when I was entering my library, my gown got entangled +with this large book, so that the volume fell heavily on my left leg, a +little above the heel. By some fatality, I treated the accident too +lightly. I walked, I rode on horseback, according to my usual custom; +but my leg became inflamed, the skin changed colour, and mortification +began to appear. The pain took away my cheerfulness and sleep. I then +perceived that it was foolish courage to trifle with so serious an +accident. Doctors were called in. They feared at first that it would be +necessary to amputate the limb; but, at last, by means of regimen and +fomentation, the afflicted member was put into the way of healing. It is +singular that, ever since my infancy, my misfortunes have always fallen +on this same left leg. In truth, I have always been tempted to believe +in destiny; and why not, if, by the word destiny, we understand +Providence?"</p> + +<p>As soon as his leg was recovered, he made a trip to Bergamo. There was +in that city a jeweller named Enrico Capri, a man of great natural +talents, who cherished a passionate admiration for the learned, and +above all for Petrarch, whose likeness was pictured or statued in every +room of his house. He had copies made at a great expense of everything +that came from his pen. He implored Petrarch to come and see him at +Bergamo. "If he honours my household gods," he said, "but for a single +day with his presence, I shall be happy all my life, and famous through +all futurity." Petrarch consented, and on the 13th of October, 1358, the +poet was received at Bergamo with transports of joy. The governor of the +country and the chief men of the city wished to lodge him in some +palace; but Petrarch adhered to his jeweller, and would not take any +other lodging but with his friend.</p> + +<p>A short time after his return to Milan, Petrarch had the pleasure of +welcoming to his house John Boccaccio, who passed some days with him. +The author of the Decamerone regarded Petrarch as his literary master. +He owed him a still higher obligation, according to his own statement; +namely, that of converting his heart, which, he says, had been frivolous +and inclined to gallantry, and even to licentiousness, until he received +our poet's advice. He was about forty-five years old when he went to +Milan. Petrarch made him sensible that it was improper, at his age, to +lose his time in courting women; that he ought to employ it more +seriously, and turn towards heaven, the devotion which he misplaced on +earthly beauties. This conversation is the subject<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cxi" id="Page_cxi">[Pg cxi]</a></span> of one of +Boccaccio's eclogues, entitled, "Philostropos." His eclogues are in the +style of Petrarch, obscure and enigmatical, and the subjects are muffled +up under emblems and Greek names.</p> + +<p>After spending some days with Petrarch, that appeared short to them +both, Boccaccio, pressed by business, departed about the beginning of +April, 1359. The great novelist soon afterwards sent to Petrarch from +Florence a beautiful copy of Dante's poem, written in his own hand, +together with some indifferent Latin verses, in which he bestows the +highest praises on the author of the Inferno. At that time, half the +world believed that Petrarch was jealous of Dante's fame; and the rumour +was rendered plausible by the circumstance—for which he has accounted +very rationally—that he had not a copy of Dante in his library.</p> + +<p>In the month of May in this year, 1359, a courier from Bohemia brought +Petrarch a letter from the Empress Anne, who had the condescension to +write to him with her own hand to inform him that she had given birth to +a daughter. Great was the joy on this occasion, for the Empress had been +married five years, but, until now, had been childless. Petrarch, in his +answer, dated the 23rd of the same month, after expressing his sense of +the honour which her Imperial Majesty had done him, adds some +common-places, and seasons them with his accustomed pedantry. He +pronounces a grand eulogy on the numbers of the fair sex who had +distinguished themselves by their virtues and their courage. Among these +he instances Isis, Carmenta, the mother of Evander, Sappho, the Sybils, +the Amazons, Semiramis, Tomiris, Cleopatra, Zenobia, the Countess +Matilda, Lucretia, Cornelia, the mother of the Gracchi, Martia, Portia, +and Livia. The Empress Anne was no doubt highly edified by this +muster-roll of illustrious women; though some of the heroines, such as +Lucretia, might have bridled up at their chaste names being classed with +that of Cleopatra.</p> + +<p>Petrarch repaired to Linterno, on the 1st of October, 1359; but his stay +there was very short. The winter set in sooner than usual. The constant +rains made his rural retreat disagreeable, and induced him to return to +the city about the end of the month.</p> + +<p>On rising, one morning, soon after his return to Milan, he found that he +had been robbed of everything valuable in his house, excepting his +books. As it was a domestic robbery, he could accuse nobody of it but +his son John and his servants, the former of whom had returned from +Avignon. On this, he determined to quit his house at St. Ambrosio, and +to take a small lodging in the city; here, however, he could not live in +peace. His son and servants quarrelled every day, in his very presence, +so violently that they exchanged blows. Petrarch then lost all patience, +and turned the whole of his pugnacious inmates out of doors. His son +John had now become an arrant debauchee; and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cxii" id="Page_cxii">[Pg cxii]</a></span> it was undoubtedly to +supply his debaucheries that he pillaged his own father. He pleaded +strongly to be readmitted to his home; but Petrarch persevered for some +time in excluding him, though he ultimately took him back.</p> + +<p>It appears from one of Petrarch's letters, that many people at Milan +doubted his veracity about the story of the robbery, alleging that it +was merely a pretext to excuse his inconstancy in quitting his house at +St. Ambrosio; but that he was capable of accusing his own son on false +grounds is a suspicion which the whole character of Petrarch easily +repels. He went and settled himself in the monastery of St. Simplician, +an abbey of the Benedictines of Monte Cassino, pleasantly situated +without the walls of the city.</p> + +<p>He was scarcely established in his new home at St. Simplician's, when +Galeazzo Visconti arrived in triumph at Milan, after having taken +possession of Pavia. The capture of this city much augmented the power +of the Lords of Milan; and nothing was wanting to their satisfaction but +the secure addition to their dominions of Bologna, to which Barnabo +Visconti was laying siege, although John of Olegea had given it up to +the Church in consideration of a pension and the possession of the city +of Fermo.</p> + +<p>This affair had thrown the court of Avignon into much embarrassment, and +the Pope requested Nicholas Acciajuoli, Grand Seneschal of Naples, who +had been sent to the Papal city by his Neapolitan Majesty, to return by +way of Milan, and there negotiate a peace between the Church and Barnabo +Visconti. Acciajuoli reached Milan at the end of May, very eager to see +Petrarch, of whom he had heard much, without having yet made his +acquaintance. Petrarch describes their first interview in a letter to +Zanobi da Strada, and seems to have been captivated by the gracious +manners of the Grand Seneschal.</p> + +<p>With all his popularity, the Seneschal was not successful in his +mission. When the Seneschal's proposals were read to the impetuous +Barnabo, he said, at the end of every sentence "Io voglio Bologna." It +is said that Petrarch detached Galeazzo Visconti from the ambitious +projects of his brother; and that it was by our poet's advice that +Galeazzo made a separate peace with the Pope; though, perhaps, the true +cause of his accommodation with the Church was his being in treaty with +France and soliciting the French monarch's daughter, Isabella, in +marriage for his son Giovanni. After this marriage had been celebrated +with magnificent festivities, Petrarch was requested by Galeazzo to go +to Paris, and to congratulate the unfortunate King John upon his return +to his country. Our poet had a transalpine prejudice against France; but +he undertook this mission to its capital, and was deeply touched by its +unfortunate condition.</p> + +<p>If the aspect of the country in general was miserable, that of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cxiii" id="Page_cxiii">[Pg cxiii]</a></span> the +capital was still worse. "Where is Paris," exclaims Petrarch, "that +metropolis, which, though inferior to its reputation, was, nevertheless, +a great city?" He tells us that its streets were covered with briars and +grass, and that it looked like a vast desert.</p> + +<p>Here, however, in spite of its desolate condition, Petrarch witnessed +the joy with which the Parisians received their King John and the +Dauphin Charles. The King had not been well educated, yet he respected +literature and learned men. The Dauphin was an accomplished prince; and +our poet says that he was captivated by his modesty, sense, and +information.</p> + +<p>Petrarch arrived at Milan early in March, 1361, bringing letters from +King John and his son the Dauphin, in which those princes entreat the +two Lords of Milan to persuade Petrarch by every means to come and +establish himself at their court. No sooner had he refused their +pressing invitations, than he received an equally earnest request from +the Emperor to accept his hospitality at Prague.</p> + +<p>At this period, it had given great joy in Bohemia that the Empress had +produced a son, and that the kingdom now possessed an heir apparent. His +Imperial Majesty's satisfaction made him, for once, generous, and he +distributed rich presents among his friends. Nor was our poet forgotten +on this occasion. The Emperor sent him a gold embossed cup of admirable +workmanship, accompanied by a letter, expressing his high regard, and +repeating his request that he would pay him a visit in Germany. Petrarch +returned him a letter of grateful thanks, saying: "Who would not be +astonished at seeing transferred to my use a vase consecrated by the +mouth of Cæsar? But I will not profane the sacred gift by the common use +of it. It shall adorn my table only on days of solemn festivity." With +regard to the Imperial invitation, he concludes a long apology for not +accepting it immediately, but promising that, as soon as the summer was +over, if he could find a companion for the journey, he would go to the +court of Prague, and remain as long as it pleased his Majesty, since the +presence of Cæsar would console him for the absence of his books, his +friends, and his country. This epistle is dated July 17th, 1861.</p> + +<p>Petrarch quitted Milan during this year, a removal for which various +reasons are alleged by his biographers, though none of them appear to me +quite satisfactory.</p> + +<p>He had now a new subject of grief to descant upon. The Marquis of +Montferrat, unable to contend against the Visconti, applied to the Pope +for assistance. He had already made a treaty with the court of London, +by which it was agreed that a body of English troops were to be sent to +assist the Marquis against the Visconti. They entered Italy by Nice. It +was the first time that our countrymen had ever entered the Saturnian +land. They did<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cxiv" id="Page_cxiv">[Pg cxiv]</a></span> no credit to the English character for humanity, but +ravaged lands and villages, killing men and violating women. Their +general appellation was the bulldogs of England. What must have been +Petrarch's horror at these unkennelled hounds! In one of his letters he +vents his indignation at their atrocities; but, by-and-by, in the same +epistle, he glides into his bookworm habit of apostrophizing the ancient +heroes of Rome, Brutus, Camillus, and God knows how many more!</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a id="image08" name="image08"></a><a href="images/08large.jpg"> + <img src="images/08.jpg" + alt="THE LIBRARY OF ST. MARK, ST. MARK'S PLACE, VENICE." + title="THE LIBRARY OF ST. MARK, ST. MARK'S PLACE, VENICE." /></a><br /> + <span class="caption">THE LIBRARY OF ST. MARK, ST. MARK'S PLACE, VENICE.</span> +</div> + +<p>The plague now again broke out in Italy; and the English and other +predatory troops contributed much to spread its ravages. It extended to +many places; but most of all it afflicted Milan.</p> + +<p>It is probable that these disasters were among the causes of Petrarch's +leaving Milan. He settled at Padua, when the plague had not reached it. +At this time, Petrarch lost his son John. Whether he died at Milan or at +Padua is not certain, but, wherever he died, it was most probably of the +plague. John had not quite attained his twenty-fourth year.</p> + +<p>In the same year, 1361, he married his daughter Francesca, now near the +age of twenty, to Francesco di Brossano, a gentleman of Milan. Petrarch +speaks highly of his son-in-law's talents, and of the mildness of his +character. Boccaccio has drawn his portrait in the most pleasing +colours. Of the poet's daughter, also, he tells us, "that without being +handsome, she had a very agreeable face, and much resembled her father." +It does not seem that she inherited his genius; but she was an excellent +wife, a tender mother, and a dutiful daughter. Petrarch was certainly +pleased both with her and with his son-in-law; and, if he did not live +with the married pair, he was, at least, near them, and much in their +society.</p> + +<p>When our poet arrived at Padua, Francesco di Carrara, the son of his +friend Jacopo, reigned there in peace and alone. He had inherited his +father's affection for Petrarch. Here, too, was his friend Pandolfo +Malatesta, one of the bravest condottieri of the fourteenth century, who +had been driven away from Milan by the rage and jealousy of Barnabo.</p> + +<p>The plague, which still continued to infest Southern Europe in 1362, had +even in the preceding year deprived our poet of his beloved friend +Socrates, who died at Avignon. "He was," says Petrarch, "of all men the +dearest to my heart. His sentiments towards me never varied during an +acquaintance of thirty-one years."</p> + +<p>The plague and war rendered Italy at this time so disagreeable to +Petrarch, that he resolved on returning to Vaucluse. He, therefore, set +out from Padua for Milan, on the 10th of January, 1362, reckoning that +when the cold weather was over he might depart from the latter place on +his route to Avignon. But when he reached Milan, he found that the state +of the country would not permit him to proceed to the Alps.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cxv" id="Page_cxv">[Pg cxv]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Emperor of Germany now sent Petrarch a third letter of invitation to +come and see him, which our poet promised to accept; but alleged that he +was prevented by the impossibility of getting a safe passage. Boccaccio, +hearing that Petrarch meditated a journey to the far North, was much +alarmed, and reproached him for his intention of dragging the Muses into +Sarmatia, when Italy was the true Parnassus.</p> + +<p>In June, 1362, the plague, which had begun its ravages at Padua, chased +Petrarch from that place, and he took the resolution of establishing +himself at Venice, which it had not reached. The course of the +pestilence, like that of the cholera, was not general, but unaccountably +capricious. Villani says that it acted like hail, which will desolate +fields to the right and left, whilst it spares those in the middle. The +war had not permitted our poet to travel either to Avignon or into +Germany. The plague had driven him out of Milan and Padua. "I am not +flying from death," he said, "but seeking repose."</p> + +<p>Having resolved to repair to Venice, Petrarch as usual took his books +along with him. From one of his letters to Boccaccio, it appears that it +was his intention to bestow his library on some religious community, +but, soon after his arrival at Venice, he conceived the idea of offering +this treasure to the Venetian Republic. He wrote to the Government that +he wished the blessed Evangelist, St. Mark, to be the heir of those +books, on condition that they should all be placed in safety, that they +should neither be sold nor separated, and that they should be sheltered +from fire and water, and carefully preserved for the use and amusement +of the learned and noble in Venice. He expressed his hopes, at the same +time, that the illustrious city would acquire other trusts of the same +kind for the good of the public, and that the citizens who loved their +country, the nobles above all, and even strangers, would follow his +example in bequeathing books to the church of St. Mark, which might one +day contain a great collection similar to those of the ancients.</p> + +<p>The procurators of the church of St. Mark having offered to defray the +expense of lodging and preserving his library, the republic decreed that +our poet's offer did honour to the Venetian state. They assigned to +Petrarch for his own residence a large palace, called the Two Towers, +formerly belonging to the family of Molina. The mansion was very lofty, +and commanded a prospect of the harbour. Our poet took great pleasure in +this view, and describes it with vivid interest. "From this port," he +says, "I see vessels departing, which are as large as the house I +inhabit, and which have masts taller than its towers. These ships +resemble a mountain floating on the sea; they go to all parts of the +world amidst a thousand dangers; they carry our wines to the English, +our honey to the Scythians, our saffron, our oils, and our linen to the +Syrians, Armenians, Persians, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cxvi" id="Page_cxvi">[Pg cxvi]</a></span> Arabians; and, wonderful to say, +convey our wood to the Greeks and Egyptians. From all these countries +they bring back in return articles of merchandise, which they diffuse +over all Europe. They go even as far as the Tanais. The navigation of +our seas does not extend farther north; but, when they have arrived +there, they quit their vessels, and travel on to trade with India and +China; and, after passing the Caucasus and the Ganges, they proceed as +far as the Eastern Ocean."</p> + +<p>It is natural to suppose that Petrarch took all proper precautions for +the presentation of his books; nevertheless, they are not now to be seen +at Venice. Tomasini tells us that they had been placed at the top of the +church of St. Mark, that he demanded a sight of them, but that he found +them almost entirely spoiled, and some of them even petrified.</p> + +<p>Whilst Petrarch was forming his new establishment at Venice, the news +arrived that Pope Innocent VI. had died on the 12th of September. "He +was a good, just, and simple man," says the continuator of Nangis. A +simple man he certainly was, for he believed Petrarch to be a sorcerer +on account of his reading Virgil. Innocent was succeeded in the +pontificate, to the surprise of all the world, by William Grimoard, +abbot of St. Victor at Marseilles, who took the title of Urban V. The +Cardinals chose him, though he was not of their Sacred College, from +their jealousy lest a pope should be elected from the opposite party of +their own body. Petrarch rejoiced at his election, and ascribed it to +the direct interference of Heaven. De Sade says that the new Pope +desired Petrarch to be the apostolic secretary, but that he was not to +be tempted by a gilded chain.</p> + +<p>About this time Petrarch received news of the death of Azzo Correggio, +one of his dearest friends, whose widow and children wrote to him on +this occasion, the latter telling him that they regarded him as a +father.</p> + +<p>Boccaccio came to Venice to see Petrarch in 1363, and their meeting was +joyous. They spent delightfully together the months of June, July, and +August, 1363. Boccaccio had not long left him, when, in the following +year, our poet heard of the death of his friend Lælius, and his tears +were still fresh for his loss, when he received another shock in being +bereft of Simonides. It requires a certain age and degree of experience +to appreciate this kind of calamity, when we feel the desolation of +losing our accustomed friends, and almost wish ourselves out of life +that we may escape from its solitude. Boccaccio returned to Florence +early in September, 1363.</p> + +<p>In 1364, peace was concluded between Barnabo Visconti and Urban V. +Barnabo having refused to treat with the Cardinal Albornoz, whom he +personally hated, his Holiness sent the Cardinal Androine de la Roche to +Italy as his legate. Petrarch repaired to Bologna to pay his respects to +the new representative<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cxvii" id="Page_cxvii">[Pg cxvii]</a></span> of the Pope. He was touched by the sad condition +in which he found that city, which had been so nourishing when he +studied at its university. "I seem," he says, "to be in a dream when I +see the once fair city desolated by war, by slavery, and by famine. +Instead of the joy that once reigned here, sadness is everywhere spread, +and you hear only sighs and wailings in place of songs. Where you +formerly saw troops of girls dancing, there are now only bands of +robbers and assassins."</p> + +<p>Lucchino del Verme, one of the most famous condottieri of his time, had +commanded troops in the service of the Visconti, at whose court he made +the acquaintance of Petrarch. Our poet invited him to serve the +Venetians in the war in which they were engaged with the people of +Candia. Lucchino went to Venice whilst Petrarch was absent, reviewed the +troops, and embarked for Candia on board the fleet, which consisted of +thirty galleys and eight large vessels. Petrarch did not return to +Venice till the expedition had sailed. He passed the summer in the +country, having at his house one of his friends, Barthelemi di +Pappazuori, Bishop of Christi, whom he had known at Avignon, and who had +come purposely to see him. One day, when they were both at a window +which overlooked the sea, they beheld one of the long vessels which the +Italians call a galeazza, entering the harbour. The green branches with +which it was decked, the air of joy that appeared among the mariners, +the young men crowned with laurel, who, from the prow, saluted the +standard of their country—everything betokened that the galeazza +brought good news. When the vessel came a little nearer, they could +perceive the captured colours of their enemies suspended from the poop, +and no doubt could be entertained that a great victory had been won. The +moment that the sentinel on the tower had made the signal of a vessel +entering the harbour, the people flocked thither in crowds, and their +joy was even beyond expectation when they learned that the rebellion had +been totally crushed, and the island reduced to obedience. The most +magnificent festivals were given at Venice on this occasion.</p> + +<p>Shortly after these Venetian fêtes, we find our poet writing a long +letter to Boccaccio, in which he gives a curious and interesting +description of the Jongleurs of Italy. He speaks of them in a very +different manner from those pictures that have come down to us of the +Provençal Troubadours. The latter were at once poets and musicians, who +frequented the courts and castles of great lords, and sang their +praises. Their strains, too, were sometimes satirical. They amused +themselves with different subjects, and wedded their verses to the sound +of the harp and other instruments. They were called Troubadours from the +word <i>trobar</i>, "to invent." They were original poets, of the true +minstrel breed, similar to those whom Bishop Percy ascribes to England +in the olden time, but about the reality of whom, as a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cxviii" id="Page_cxviii">[Pg cxviii]</a></span> professional +body, Ritson has shown some cause to doubt. Of the Italian Jongleurs, +Petrarch gives us a humble notion. "They are a class," he says, "who +have little wit, but a great deal of memory, and still more impudence. +Having nothing of their own to recite, they snatch at what they can get +from others, and go about to the courts of princes to declaim verses, in +the vulgar tongue, which they have got by heart. At those courts they +insinuate themselves into the favour of the great, and get subsistence +and presents. They seek their means of livelihood, that is, the verses +they recite, among the best authors, from whom they obtain, by dint of +solicitation, and even by bribes of money, compositions for their +rehearsal. I have often repelled their importunities, but sometimes, +touched by their entreaties, I have spent hours in composing productions +for them. I have seen them leave me in rags and poverty, and return, +some time afterwards, clothed in silks, and with purses well furnished, +to thank me for having relieved them."</p> + +<p>In the course of the same amusing correspondence with Boccaccio, which +our poet maintained at this period, he gives an account of an atheist +and blasphemer at Venice, with whom he had a long conversation. It ended +in our poet seizing the infidel by the mantle, and ejecting him from his +house with unceremonious celerity. This conclusion of their dialogue +gives us a higher notion of Petrarch's piety than of his powers of +argument.</p> + +<p>Petrarch went to spend the autumn of 1365 at Pavia, which city Galeazzo +Visconti made his principal abode. To pass the winter till Easter, our +poet returned first to Venice, and then to Padua, according to his +custom, to do the duties of his canonry. It was then that his native +Florence, wishing to recall a man who did her so much honour, thought of +asking for him from the Pope the canonry of either Florence or Fiesole. +Petrarch fully appreciated the shabby kindness of his countrymen. A +republic that could afford to be lavish in all other expenses, limited +their bounty towards him to the begging of a canonicate for him from his +Holiness, though Florence had confiscated his father's property. But the +Pope had other views for him, and had actually appointed him to the +canonry of Carpentras, when a false rumour of his death unhappily +induced the Pontiff to dispose not only of that living, but of Parma and +others which he had resigned to indigent friends.</p> + +<p>During the February of 1366 there was great joy in the house of +Petrarch, for his daughter, Francesca, the wife of Francesco di +Brossano, gave birth to a boy, whom Donato degli Albanzani, a +peculiarly-favoured friend of the poet's, held over the baptismal font, +whilst he was christened by the name of Francesco.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, our poet was delighted to hear of reformations in the Church, +which signalized the commencement of Urban V.'s pontificate. After some +hesitation, Petrarch ventured to write a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cxix" id="Page_cxix">[Pg cxix]</a></span> strong advice to the Pope to +remove the holy seat from Avignon to Rome. His letter is long, zealous, +superstitious, and, as usual, a little pedantic. The Pope did not need +this epistle to spur his intentions as to replacing the holy seat at +Rome; but it so happened that he did make the removal no very long time +after Petrarch had written to him.</p> + +<p>On the 20th of July, 1366, our poet rose, as was his custom, to his +matin devotions, and reflected that he was precisely then entering on +his sixty-third year. He wrote to Boccaccio on the subject. He repeats +the belief, at that time generally entertained, that the sixty-third +year of a man's life is its most dangerous crisis. It was a belief +connected with astrology, and a superstitious idea of the influence of +numbers; of course, if it retains any attention at present, it must +subsist on practical observation: and I have heard sensible physicians, +who had no faith in the influence of the stars, confess that they +thought that time of life, commonly called the grand climacteric, a +critical period for the human constitution.</p> + +<p>In May, 1367, Pope Urban accomplished his determination to remove his +court from Avignon in spite of the obstinacy of his Cardinals; but he +did not arrive at Rome till the month of October. He was joyously +received by the Romans; and, in addition to other compliments, had a +long letter from Petrarch, who was then at Venice. Some days after the +date of this letter, our poet received one from Galeazzo Visconti. The +Pope, it seems, wished, at whatever price, to exterminate the Visconti. +He thundered this year against Barnabo with a terrible bull, in which he +published a crusade against him. Barnabo, to whom, with all his faults, +the praise of courage cannot be denied, brought down his troops from the +Po, in order to ravage Mantua, and to make himself master of that city. +Galeazzo, his brother, less warlike, thought of employing negotiation +for appeasing the storm; and he invited Petrarch to Pavia, whither our +poet arrived in 1368. He attempted to procure a peace for the Visconti, +but was not successful.</p> + +<p>It was not, however, solely to treat for a peace with his enemies that +Galeazzo drew our poet to his court. He was glad that he should be +present at the marriage of his daughter Violante with Lionel, Duke of +Clarence, son of Edward III. of England. The young English prince, +followed by many nobles of our land, passed through France, and arrived +at Milan on the 14th of May. His nuptials took place about a month +later. At the marriage-dinner Petrarch was seated at the table where +there were only princes, or nobles of the first rank. It is a curious +circumstance that Froissart, so well known as an historian of England, +came at this time to Milan, in the suite of the Duke of Clarence, and +yet formed no acquaintance with our poet. Froissart was then only about +thirty years old. It might have been hoped that the two<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cxx" id="Page_cxx">[Pg cxx]</a></span> geniuses would +have become intimate friends; but there is no trace of their having even +spoken to each other. Petrarch's neglect of Froissart may not have been +so wonderful; but it is strange that the latter should not have been +ambitious to pay his court to the greatest poet then alive. It is +imaginable, however, that Petrarch, with all his natural gentleness, was +proud in his demeanour to strangers; and if so, Froissart was excusable +for an equally-proud reserve.</p> + +<p>In the midst of the fêtes that were given for the nuptials of the +English prince, Petrarch received news of the death of his grandchild. +This little boy had died at Pavia, on the very day of the marriage of +Lionel and Violante, when only two years and four months old. Petrarch +caused a marble mausoleum to be erected over him, and twelve Latin lines +of his own composition to be engraved upon it. He was deeply touched by +the loss of his little grandson. "This child," he says, "had a singular +resemblance to me, insomuch that any one who had not seen its mother +would have taken me for its father."</p> + +<p>A most interesting letter from Boccaccio to our poet found Petrarch at +Pavia, whither he had retired from Milan, wearied with the marriage +fêtes. The summer season was now approaching, when he was accustomed to +be ill; and he had, besides, got by the accident of a fall a bad +contusion on his leg. He was anxious to return to Padua, and wished to +embark on the Po. But war was abroad; the river banks were crowded with +troops of the belligerent parties; and no boatmen could be found for +some time who would go with him for love or money. At last, he found the +master of a vessel bold enough to take him aboard. Any other vessel +would have been attacked and pillaged; but Petrarch had no fear; and, +indeed, he was stopped in his river passage only to be loaded with +presents. He arrived in safety at Padua, on the 9th of June, 1368.</p> + +<p>The Pope wished much to see our poet at Rome; but Petrarch excused +himself on account of his health and the summer season, which was always +trying to him. But he promised to repair to his Holiness as soon as his +health should permit, not to ask benefices of the holy father, but only +his blessing. During the same year, we find Petrarch complaining often +and painfully of his bodily infirmities. In a letter to Coluccio +Salutati, he says:—"Age, which makes others garrulous, only makes me +silent. When young, I used to write many and long letters. At present, I +write only to my particular friends, and even to them very short +letters." Petrarch was now sixty-four years old. He had never seen Pope +Urban V., as he tells us himself; but he was very desirous of seeing +him, and of seeing Rome adorned by the two great luminaries of the +world, the Pope and the Emperor. Pope Urban, fearing the heats of Italy, +to which he was not accustomed, had gone to pass the dog-days at +Monte-Fiascone. When he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cxxi" id="Page_cxxi">[Pg cxxi]</a></span> returned to Rome, in October, on his arrival at +the Colline gate, near the church of St. Angelo, he found the Emperor, +who was waiting for him. The Emperor, the moment he saw his Holiness, +dismounted from his horse, took the reins of that of the Pope, and +conducted him on foot to the church of St. Peter. As to this submission +of civil to ecclesiastical dignity, different opinions were entertained, +even at Rome; and the wiser class of men disapproved of it. Petrarch's +opinion on the subject is not recorded; but, during this year, there is +no proof that he had any connection with the Emperor; and my own opinion +is that he did not approve of his conduct. It is certain that Petrarch +condemned the Pope's entering Rome at the head of 2000 soldiery. "The +Roman Pontiff," he remarks, "should trust to his dignity and to his +sanctity, when coming into our capital, and not to an army with their +swords and cuirasses. The cross of Jesus is the only standard which he +ought to rear. Trumpets and drums were out of place. It would have been +enough to have sung hallelujahs."</p> + +<p>Petrarch, in his letter to Boccaccio, in the month of September, says +that he had got the fever; and he was still so feeble that he was +obliged to employ the hand of a stranger in writing to him. He indites +as follows:—"I have had the fever for forty days. It weakened me so +much that I could not go to my church, though it is near my house, +without being carried. I feel as if my health would never be restored. +My constitution seems to be entirely worn out." In another letter to the +Cardinal Cabassole, who informed him of the Pope's wish to see him, he +says: "His Holiness does me more honour than I deserve. It is to you +that I owe this obligation. Return a thousand thanks to the holy father +in your own name and in mine." The Pope was so anxious to see Petrarch +that he wrote to him with his own hand, reproaching him for refusing his +invitation. Our poet, after returning a second apology, passed the +winter in making preparations for this journey; but before setting out +he thought proper to make his will. It was written with his own hand at +Padua.</p> + +<p>In his testament he forbids weeping for his death, justly remarking that +tears do no good to the dead, and may do harm to the living. He asks +only prayers and alms to the poor who will pray for him. "As for my +burial," he says, "let it be made as my friends think fit. What +signifies it to me where my body is laid?" He then makes some bequests +in favour of the religious orders; and he founds an anniversary in his +own church of Padua, which is still celebrated every year on the 9th of +July.</p> + +<p>Then come his legacies to his friends. He bequeathes to the Lord of +Padua his picture of the Virgin, painted by Giotto; "the beauty of +which," he says, "is little known to the ignorant, though the masters of +art will never look upon it without admiration."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cxxii" id="Page_cxxii">[Pg cxxii]</a></span></p> + +<p>To Donato di Prato Vecchio, master of grammar at Venice, he leaves all +the money that he had lent him. He bequeathes the horses he may have at +his death to Bonzanello di Vigoncia and Lombardo da Serigo, two friends +of his, citizens of Padua, wishing them to draw lots for the choice of +the horses. He avows being indebted to Lombardo da Serigo 134 golden +ducats, advanced for the expenses of his house. He also bequeathes to +the same person a goblet of silver gilt (undoubtedly the same which the +Emperor Charles had sent him in 1362). He leaves to John Abucheta, +warden of his church, his great breviary, which he bought at Venice for +100 francs, on condition that, after his death, this breviary shall +remain in the sacristy for the use of the future priests of the church. +To John Boccaccio he bequeathes 50 gold florins of Florence, to buy him +a winter-habit for his studies at night. "I am ashamed," he adds, "to +leave so small a sum to so great a man;" but he entreats his friends in +general to impute the smallness of their legacies to that of his +fortune. To Tomaso Bambasi, of Ferrara, he makes a present of his good +lute, that he may make use of it in singing the praises of God. To +Giovanni Dandi, physician of Padua, he leaves 50 ducats of gold, to buy +a gold ring, which he may wear in remembrance of him.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a id="image09" name="image09"></a><a href="images/09large.jpg"> + <img src="images/09.jpg" + alt="FERRARA." + title="FERRARA." /></a><br /> + <span class="caption">FERRARA.</span> +</div> + +<p>He appoints Francesco da Brossano, citizen of Milan, his heir, and +desires him, not only as his heir, but as his dear son, to divide into +two parts the money he should find—the one for himself, the other for +the person to whom it was assigned. "It would seem by this," says De +Sade, "that Petrarch would not mention his daughter by name in a public +will, because she was not born in marriage." Yet his shyness to name her +makes it singular that he should style Brossano his son. In case +Brossano should die before him, he appoints Lombardo da Serigo his +eventual heir. De Sade considers the appointment as a deed of trust. +With respect to his little property at Vaucluse, he leaves it to the +hospital in that diocese. His last bequest is to his brother Gherardo, a +Carthusian of Montrieux. He desires his heir to write to him immediately +after his decease, and to give him the option of a hundred florins of +gold, payable at once, or by five or ten florins every year.</p> + +<p>A few days after he had made this will, he set out for Rome. The +pleasure with which he undertook the journey made him suppose that he +could support it. But when he reached Ferrara he fell down in a fit, in +which he continued thirty hours, without sense or motion; and it was +supposed that he was dead. The most violent remedies were used to +restore him to consciousness, but he says that he felt them no more than +a statue.</p> + +<p>Nicholas d'Este II., the son of Obizzo, was at that time Lord of +Ferrara, a friend and admirer of Petrarch. The physicians thought him +dead, and the whole city was in grief. The news spread to Padua, Venice, +Milan, and Pavia. Crowds came from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cxxiii" id="Page_cxxiii">[Pg cxxiii]</a></span> all parts to his burial. Ugo d'Este, +the brother of Nicholas, a young man of much merit, who had an +enthusiastic regard for Petrarch, paid him unremitting attention during +his illness. He came three or four times a day to see him, and sent +messengers incessantly to inquire how he was. Our poet acknowledged that +he owed his life to the kindness of those two noblemen.</p> + +<p>When Petrarch was recovering, he was impatient to pursue his route, +though the physicians assured him that he could not get to Rome alive. +He would have attempted the journey in spite of their warnings, if his +strength had seconded his desires, but he was unable to sit his horse. +They brought him back to Padua, laid on a soft seat on a boat. His +unhoped-for return caused as much surprise as joy in that city, where he +was received by its lords and citizens with as much joy as if he had +come back from the other world. To re-establish his health, he went to a +village called Arquà, situated on the slope of a hill famous for the +salubrity of its air, the goodness of its wines, and the beauty of its +vineyards. An everlasting spring reigns there, and the place commands a +view of pleasingly-scattered villas. Petrarch built himself a house on +the high ground of the village, and he added to the vines of the country +a great number of other fruit-trees.</p> + +<p>He had scarcely fixed himself at Arquà, when he put his last hand to a +work which he had begun in the year 1367. To explain the subject of this +work, and the circumstances which gave rise to it, I think it necessary +to state what was the real cause of our poet's disgust at Venice. He +appeared there, no doubt, to lead an agreeable life among many friends, +whose society was delightful to him. But there reigned in this city what +Petrarch thought licentiousness in conversation. The most ignorant +persons were in the habit of undervaluing the finest geniuses. It fills +one with regret to find Petrarch impatient of a liberty of speech, +which, whatever its abuses may be, cannot be suppressed, without +crushing the liberty of human thought. At Venice, moreover, the +philosophy of Aristotle was much in vogue, if doctrines could be called +Aristotelian, which had been disfigured by commentators, and still worse +garbled by Averroes. The disciples of Averroes at Venice insisted on the +world having been co-eternal with God, and made a joke of Moses and his +book of Genesis. "Would the eternal architect," they said, "remain from +all eternity doing nothing? Certainly not! The world's youthful +appearance is owing to its revolutions, and the changes it has undergone +by deluges and conflagrations." "Those free-thinkers," Petrarch tells +us, "had a great contempt for Christ and his Apostles, as well as for +all those who did not bow the knee to the Stagirite." They called the +doctrines of Christianity fables, and hell and heaven the tales of +asses. Finally, they believed that Providence takes no care of anything +under the region of the moon. Four young Venetians of this sect had +attached themselves to Petrarch,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cxxiv" id="Page_cxxiv">[Pg cxxiv]</a></span> who endured their society, but opposed +their opinions. His opposition offended them, and they resolved to +humble him in the public estimation. They constituted themselves a +tribunal to try his merits: they appointed an advocate to plead for him, +and they concluded by determining that he was a good man, but +illiterate!</p> + +<p>This affair made a great stir at Venice. Petrarch seems at first to have +smiled with sensible contempt at so impertinent a farce; but will it be +believed that his friends, and among them Donato and Boccaccio, advised +and persuaded him to treat it seriously, and to write a book about it? +Petrarch accordingly put his pen to the subject. He wrote a treatise, +which he entitled "De sui ipsius et aliorum Ignorantia—" (On his own +Ignorance, and on that of others).</p> + +<p>Petrarch had himself formed the design of confuting the doctrines of +Averroes; but he engaged Ludovico Marsili, an Augustine monk of +Florence, to perform the task. This monk, in Petrarch's opinion, +possessed great natural powers, and our poet exhorts him to write +against that rabid animal (Averroes) who barks with so much fury against +Christ and his Apostles. Unfortunately, the rabid animals who write +against the truths we are most willing to believe are difficult to be +killed.</p> + +<p>The good air of the Euganean mountains failed to re-establish the health +of Petrarch. He continued ill during the summer of 1370. John di Dondi, +his physician, or rather his friend, for he would have no physician, +would not quit Padua without going to see him. He wrote to him +afterwards that he had discovered the true cause of his disease, and +that it arose from his eating fruits, drinking water, and frequent +fastings. His medical adviser, also, besought him to abstain from all +salted meats, and raw fruits, or herbs. Petrarch easily renounced salted +provisions, "but, as to fruits," he says, "Nature must have been a very +unnatural mother to give us such agreeable food, with such delightful +hues and fragrance, only to seduce her children with poison covered over +with honey."</p> + +<p>Whilst Petrarch was thus ill, he received news very unlikely to forward +his recovery. The Pope took a sudden resolution to return to Avignon. +That city, in concert with the Queen of Naples and the Kings of France +and Arragon, sent him vessels to convey him to Avignon. Urban gave as a +reason for his conduct the necessity of making peace between the crowns +of France and England, but no one doubted that the love of his own +country, the difficulty of inuring himself to the climate of Rome, the +enmity and rebellious character of the Italians, and the importunities +of his Cardinals, were the true cause of his return. He was received +with great demonstrations of joy; but St. Bridget had told him that if +he went to Avignon he should die soon afterwards, and it so happened +that her prophecy was fulfilled, for the Pope not long after his arrival +in Provence was seized with a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cxxv" id="Page_cxxv">[Pg cxxv]</a></span> mortal illness, and died on the 19th of +December, 1370. In the course of his pontificate, he had received two +singular honours. The Emperor of the West had performed the office of +his equerry, and the Emperor of the East abjured schism, acknowledging +him as primate of the whole Christian Church.</p> + +<p>The Cardinals chose as Urban's successor a man who did honour to their +election, namely, Pietro Rogero, nephew of Clement VI., who took the +name of Gregory XI. Petrarch knew him, he had seen him at Padua in 1307, +when the Cardinal was on his way to Rome, and rejoiced at his accession. +The new Pontiff caused a letter to be written to our poet, expressing +his wish to see him, and to be of service to him.</p> + +<p>In a letter written about this time to his friend Francesco Bruni, we +perceive that Petrarch is not quite so indifferent to the good things of +the world as the general tenor of his letters would lead us to imagine. +He writes:—"Were I to say that I want means to lead the life of a +canon, I should be wrong, but when I say that my single self have more +acquaintances than all the chapter put together, and, consequently, that +I am put to more expenses in the way of hospitality, then I am right. +This embarrassment increases every day, and my resources diminish. I +have made vain efforts to free myself from my difficulties. My prebend, +it is true, yields me more bread and wine than I need for my own +consumption. I can even sell some of it. But my expenses are very +considerable. I have never less than two horses, usually five or six +amanuenses. I have only three at this moment. It is because I could find +no more. Here it is easier to find a painter than an amanuensis. I have +a venerable priest, who never quits me when I am at church. Sometimes +when I count upon dining with him alone, behold, a crowd of guests will +come in. I must give them something to eat, and I must tell them amusing +stories, or else pass for being proud or avaricious.</p> + +<p>"I am desirous to found a little oratory for the Virgin Mary; and shall +do so, though I should sell or pawn my books. After that I shall go to +Avignon, if my strength permits. If it does not, I shall send one of my +people to the Cardinal Cabassole, and to you, that you may attempt to +accomplish what I have often wished, but uselessly, as both you and he +well know. If the holy father wishes to stay my old age, and put me into +somewhat better circumstances, as he appears to me to wish, and as his +predecessor promised me, the thing would be very easy. Let him do as it +may please him, much, little, or nothing; I shall be always content. +Only let him not say to me as Clement VI. used to do, 'ask what you wish +for.' I cannot do so, for several reasons. In the first place, I do not +myself know exactly what would suit me. Secondly, if I were to demand +some vacant place, it might be given away before my demand reached the +feet of his Holiness. Thirdly, I might make a request that might +displease him. His<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cxxvi" id="Page_cxxvi">[Pg cxxvi]</a></span> extreme kindness might pledge him to grant it; and I +should be made miserable by obtaining it.</p> + +<p>"Let him give me, then, whatever he pleases, without waiting for my +petitioning for it. Would it become me, at my years, to be a solicitor +for benefices, having never been so in my youth? I trust, in this +matter, to what you may do with the Cardinal Sabina. You are the only +friends who remain to me in that country. These thirty years the +Cardinal has given me marks of his affection and good-will. I am about +to write to him a few words on the subject; and I shall refer him to +this letter, to save my repeating to him those miserable little details +with which I should not detain you, unless it seemed to be necessary."</p> + +<p>A short time afterwards, Petrarch heard, with no small satisfaction, of +the conduct of Cardinal Cabassole, at Perugia. When the Cardinal came to +take leave of the Pope the evening before his departure for that city, +he said, "Holy father, permit me to recommend Petrarch to you, on +account of my love for him. He is, indeed, a man unique upon earth—a +true phœnix." Scarcely was he gone, when the Cardinal of Boulogne, +making pleasantries on the word phœnix, turned into ridicule both the +praises of Cabassole and him who was their object. Francesco Bruni, in +writing to Petrarch about the kindness of the one Cardinal, thought it +unnecessary to report the pleasantries of the other. But Petrarch, who +had heard of them from another quarter, relates them himself to Bruni, +and says:—"I am not astonished. This man loved me formerly, and I was +equally attached to him. At present he hates me, and I return his +hatred. Would you know the reason of this double change? It is because +he is the enemy of truth, and I am the enemy of falsehood; he dreads the +liberty which inspires me, and I detest the pride with which he is +swollen. If our fortunes were equal, and if we were together in a free +place, I should not call myself a phœnix; for that title ill becomes +me; but he would be an owl. Such people as he imagine, on account of +riches ill-acquired, and worse employed, that they are at liberty to say +what they please."</p> + +<p>In the letter which Bruni wrote to Petrarch, to apprize him of +Cabassole's departure, and of what he had said to the Pope in his +favour, he gave him notice of the promotion of twelve new cardinals, +whom Gregory had just installed, with a view to balance the domineering +authority of the others. "And I fear," he adds, "that the Pope's +obligations to satiate those new and hungry comers may retard the +effects of his good-will towards you." "Let his Holiness satiate them," +replied Petrarch; "let him appease their thirst, which is more than the +Tagus, the Pactolus, and the ocean itself could do—I agree to it; and +let him not think of me. I am neither famished nor thirsty. I shall +content myself with their leavings, and with what the holy father may +think meet to give, if he deigns to think of me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cxxvii" id="Page_cxxvii">[Pg cxxvii]</a></span></p> + +<p>Bruni was right. The Pope, beset by applications on all hands, had no +time to think of Petrarch. Bruni for a year discontinued his +correspondence. His silence vexed our poet. He wrote to Francesco, +saying, "You do not write to me, because you cannot communicate what you +would wish. You understand me ill, and you do me injustice. I desire +nothing, and I hope for nothing, but an easy death. Nothing is more +ridiculous than an old man's avarice; though nothing is more common. It +is like a voyager wishing to heap up provisions for his voyage when he +sees himself approaching the end of it. The holy father has written me a +most obliging letter: is not that sufficient for me? I have not a doubt +of his good-will towards me, but he is encompassed by people who thwart +his intentions. Would that those persons could know how much I despise +them, and how much I prefer my mediocrity to the vain grandeur which +renders them so proud!" After a tirade against his enemies in purple, +evidently some of the Cardinals, he reproaches Bruni for having dwelt so +long for lucre in the ill-smelling Avignon; he exhorts him to leave it, +and to come and end his days at Florence. He says that he does not write +to the Pope for fear of appearing to remind him of his promises. "I have +received," he adds, "his letter and Apostolic blessing; I beg you to +communicate to his Holiness, in the clearest manner, that I wish for no +more."</p> + +<p>From this period Petrarch's health was never re-established. He was +languishing with wishes to repair to Perugia, and to see his dear friend +the Cardinal Cabassole. At the commencement of spring he mounted a +horse, in order to see if he could support the journey; but his weakness +was such that he could only ride a few steps. He wrote to the Cardinal +expressing his regrets, but seems to console himself by recalling to his +old friend the days they had spent together at Vaucluse, and their long +walks, in which they often strayed so far, that the servant who came to +seek for them and to announce that dinner was ready could not find them +till the evening.</p> + +<p>It appears from this epistle that our poet had a general dislike to +cardinals. "You are not," he tells Cabassole, "like most of your +brethren, whose heads are turned by a bit of red cloth so far as to +forget that they are mortal men. It seems, on the contrary, as if +honours rendered you more humble, and I do not believe that you would +change your mode of thinking if they were to put a crown on your head." +The good Cardinal, whom Petrarch paints in such pleasing colours, could +not accustom himself to the climate of Italy. He had scarcely arrived +there when he fell ill, and died on the 26th of August in the same year.</p> + +<p>Of all the friends whom Petrarch had had at Avignon, he had now none +left but Mattheus le Long, Archdeacon of Liege, with whom his ties of +friendship had subsisted ever since they had studied together at +Bologna. From him he received a letter on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cxxviii" id="Page_cxxviii">[Pg cxxviii]</a></span> the 5th of January, 1372, and +in his answer, dated the same day at Padua, he gives this picture of his +condition, and of the life which he led:—</p> + +<p>"You ask about my condition—it is this. I am, thanks to God, +sufficiently tranquil, and free, unless I deceive myself, from all the +passions of my youth. I enjoyed good health for a long time, but for two +years past I have become infirm. Frequently, those around me have +believed me dead, but I live still, and pretty much the same as you have +known me. I could have mounted higher; but I wished not to do so, since +every elevation is suspicious. I have acquired many friends and a good +many books: I have lost my health and many friends; I have spent some +time at Venice. At present I am at Padua, where I perform the functions +of canon. I esteem myself happy to have quitted Venice, on account of +that war which has been declared between that Republic and the Lord of +Padua. At Venice I should have been suspected: here I am caressed. I +pass the greater part of the year in the country, which I always prefer +to the town. I repose, I write, I think; so you see that my way of life +and my pleasures are the same as in my youth. Having studied so long it +is astonishing that I have learnt so little. I hate nobody, I envy +nobody. In that first season of life which is full of error and +presumption, I despised all the world except myself. In middle life, I +despised only myself. In my aged years, I despise all the world, and +myself most of all. I fear only those whom I love. I desire only a good +end. I dread a company of valets like a troop of robbers. I should have +none at all, if my age and weakness permitted me. I am fain to shut +myself up in concealment, for I cannot endure visits; it is an honour +which displeases and wears me out. Amidst the Euganean hills I have +built a small but neat mansion, where I reckon on passing quietly the +rest of my days, having always before my eyes my dead or absent friends. +To conceal nothing from you, I have been sought after by the Pope, the +Emperor, and the King of France, who have given me pressing invitations, +but I have constantly declined them, preferring my liberty to +everything."</p> + +<p>In this letter, Petrarch speaks of a sharp war that had arisen between +Venice and Padua. A Gascon, named Rainier, who commanded the troops of +Venice, having thrown bridges over the Brenta, established his camp at +Abano, whence he sent detachments to ravage the lands of Padua. Petrarch +was in great alarm; for Arquà is only two leagues from Abano. He set out +on the 15th of November for Padua, to put himself and his books under +protection. A friend at Verona wrote to him, saying, "Only write your +name over the door of your house, and fear nothing; it will be your +safeguard." The advice, it is hardly necessary to say, was absurd. Among +the pillaging soldiery there were thousands who could not have read the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cxxix" id="Page_cxxix">[Pg cxxix]</a></span> +poet's name if they had seen it written, and of those who were +accomplished enough to read, probably many who would have thought +Petrarch as fit to be plundered as another man. Petrarch, therefore, +sensibly replied, "I should be sorry to trust them. Mars respects not +the favourites of the Muses; I have no such idea of my name, as that it +would shelter me from the furies of war." He was even in pain about his +domestics, whom he left at Arquà, and who joined him some days +afterwards.</p> + +<p>Pandolfo Malatesta, learning what was passing in the Paduan territory, +and the danger to which Petrarch was exposed, sent to offer him his +horses, and an escort to conduct him to Pesaro, which was at that time +his residence. He was Lord of Pesaro and Fossombrone. The envoy of +Pandolfo found our poet at Padua, and used every argument to second his +Lord's invitation; but Petrarch excused himself on account of the state +of his health, the insecurity of the highways, and the severity of the +weather. Besides, he said that it would be disgraceful to him to leave +Padua in the present circumstances, and that it would expose him to the +suspicion of cowardice, which he never deserved.</p> + +<p>Pandolfo earnestly solicited from Petrarch a copy of his Italian works. +Our poet in answer says to him, "I have sent to you by your messenger +these trifles which were the amusement of my youth. They have need of +all your indulgence. It is shameful for an old man to send you things of +this nature; but you have earnestly asked for them, and can I refuse you +anything? With what grace could I deny you verses which are current in +the streets, and are in the mouth of all the world, who prefer them to +the more solid compositions that I have produced in my riper years?" +This letter is dated at Padua, on the 4th of January, 1373. Pandolfo +Malatesta died a short time after receiving it.</p> + +<p>Several Powers interfered to mediate peace between Venice and Padua, but +their negotiations ended in nothing, the spirits of both belligerents +were so embittered. The Pope had sent as his nuncio for this purpose a +young professor of law, named Uguzzone da Thiene, who was acquainted +with Petrarch. He lodged with our poet when he came to Padua, and he +communicated to him some critical remarks which had been written at +Avignon on Petrarch's letter to Pope Urban V., congratulating him on his +return to Rome. A French monk of the order of St. Bernard passed for the +author of this work. As it spoke irreverently of Italy, it stirred up +the bile of Petrarch, and made him resume the pen with his sickly hand. +His answer to the offensive production flows with anger, and is harsh +even to abusiveness. He declaims, as usual, in favour of Italy, which he +adored, and against France, which he disliked.</p> + +<p>After a suspension the war was again conducted with fury, till at last a +peace was signed at Venice on the 11th of September,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cxxx" id="Page_cxxx">[Pg cxxx]</a></span> 1373. The +conditions were hard and humiliating to the chief of Padua. The third +article ordained that he should come in person, or send his son, to ask +pardon of the Venetian Republic for the insults he had offered her, and +swear inviolable fidelity to her. The Carrara sent his son Francesco +Novello, and requested Petrarch to accompany him. Our poet had no great +wish to do so, and had too good an excuse in the state of his health, +which was still very fluctuating, but the Prince importuned him, and he +thought that he could not refuse a favour to such a friend.</p> + +<p>Francesco Novello, accompanied by Petrarch, and by a great suite of +Paduan gentlemen, arrived at Venice on the 27th of September, where they +were well received, especially the poet. On the following day the chiefs +of the maiden city gave him a public audience. But, whether the majesty +of the Venetian Senate affected Petrarch, or his illness returned by +accident, so it was that he could not deliver the speech which he had +prepared, for his memory failed him. But the universal desire to hear +him induced the Senators to postpone their sitting to the following day. +He then spoke with energy, and was extremely applauded. Franceso Novello +begged pardon, and took the oath of fidelity.</p> + +<p>Francesco da Carrara loved and revered Petrarch, and used to go +frequently to see him without ceremony in his small mansion at Arquà. +The Prince one day complained to him that he had written for all the +world excepting himself. Petrarch thought long and seriously about what +he should compose that might please the Carrara; but the task was +embarrassing. To praise him directly might seem sycophantish and fulsome +to the Prince himself. To censure him would be still more indelicate. To +escape the difficulty, he projected a treatise on the best mode of +governing a State, and on the qualities required in the person who has +such a charge. This subject furnished occasion for giving indirect +praises, and, at the same time, for pointing out some defects which he +had remarked in his patron's government.</p> + +<p>It cannot be denied that there are some excellent maxims respecting +government in this treatise, and that it was a laudable work for the +fourteenth century. But since that period the subject has been so often +discussed by minds of the first order, that we should look in vain into +Petrarch's Essay for any truths that have escaped their observation. +Nature offers herself in virgin beauty to the primitive poet. But +abstract truth comes not to the philosopher, till she has been tried by +the test of time.</p> + +<p>After his return from Venice, Petrarch only languished. A low fever, +that undermined his constitution, left him but short intervals of +health, but made no change in his mode of life; he passed the greater +part of the day in reading or writing. It does not appear, however, that +he composed any work in the course of the year 1374. A few letters to +Boccaccio are all that can be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cxxxi" id="Page_cxxxi">[Pg cxxxi]</a></span> traced to his pen during that period. +Their date is not marked in them, but they were certainly written +shortly before his death. None of them possess any particular interest, +excepting that always in which he mentions the Decameron.</p> + +<p>It seems at first sight not a little astonishing that Petrarch, who had +been on terms of the strictest friendship with Boccaccio for twenty-four +years, should never till now have read his best work. Why did not +Boccaccio send him his Decameron long before? The solution of this +question must be made by ascribing the circumstance to the author's +sensitive respect for the austerely moral character of our poet.</p> + +<p>It is not known by what accident the Decameron fell into Petrarch's +hands, during the heat of the war between Venice and Padua. Even then +his occupations did not permit him to peruse it thoroughly; he only +slightly ran through it, after which he says in his letter to Boccaccio, +"I have not read your book with sufficient attention to pronounce an +opinion upon it; but it has given me great pleasure. That which is too +free in the work is sufficiently excusable for the age at which you +wrote it, for its elegant language, for the levity of the subject, for +the class of readers to whom it is suited. Besides, in the midst of much +gay and playful matter, several grave and pious thoughts are to be +found. Like the rest of the world, I have been particularly struck by +the beginning and the end. The description which you give of the state +of our country during the plague, appeared to me most true and most +pathetic. The story which forms the conclusion made so vivid an +impression on me, that I wished to get it by heart, in order to repeat +it to some of my friends."</p> + +<p>Petrarch, perceiving that this touching story of Griseldis made an +impression on all the world, had an idea of translating it into Latin, +for those who knew not the vulgar tongue. The following anecdote +respecting it is told by Petrarch himself:—"One of his friends, a man +of knowledge and intellect, undertook to read it to a company; but he +had hardly got into the midst of it, when his tears would not permit him +to continue. Again he tried to resume the reading, but with no better +success."</p> + +<p>Another friend from Verona having heard what had befallen the Paduan, +wished to try the same experiment; he took up the composition, and read +it aloud from beginning to end without the smallest change of voice or +countenance, and said, in returning the book, "It must be owned that +this is a touching story, and I should have wept, also, if I believed it +to be true; but it is clearly a fable. There never was and there never +will be such a woman as Griseldis."<a name="FNanchor_N_14" id="FNanchor_N_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_N_14" class="fnanchor">[N]</a></p> + +<p>This letter, which Petrarch sent to Boccaccio, accompanied by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cxxxii" id="Page_cxxxii">[Pg cxxxii]</a></span> a Latin +translation of his story, is dated, in a MS. of the French King's +library, the 8th of June, 1374. It is perhaps, the last letter which he +ever wrote. He complains in it of "mischievous people, who opened +packets to read the letters contained in them, and copied what they +pleased. Proceeding in their licence, they even spared themselves the +trouble of transcription, and kept the packets themselves." Petrarch, +indignant at those violators of the rights and confidence of society, +took the resolution of writing no more, and bade adieu to his friends +and epistolary correspondence, "Valete amici, valete epistolæ."</p> + +<p>Petrarch died a very short time after despatching this letter. His +biographers and contemporary authors are not agreed as to the day of his +demise, but the probability seems to be that it was the 18th of July. +Many writers of his life tell us that he expired in the arms of Lombardo +da Serigo, whom Philip Villani and Gianozzo Manetti make their authority +for an absurd tradition connected with his death. They pretend that when +he breathed his last several persons saw a white cloud, like the smoke +of incense, rise to the roof of his chamber, where it stopped for some +time and then vanished, a miracle, they add, clearly proving that his +soul was acceptable to God, and ascended to heaven. Giovanni Manzini +gives a different account. He says that Petrarch's people found him in +his library, sitting with his head reclining on a book. Having often +seen him in this attitude, they were not alarmed at first; but, soon +finding that he exhibited no signs of life, they gave way to their +sorrow. According to Domenico Aretino, who was much attached to +Petrarch, and was at that time at Padua, so that he may be regarded as +good authority, his death was occasioned by apoplexy.</p> + +<p>The news of his decease made a deep impression throughout Italy; and, in +the first instance, at Arquà and Padua, and in the cities of the +Euganean hills. Their people hastened in crowds to pay their last duties +to the man who had honoured their country by his residence. Francesco da +Carrara repaired to Arquà with all his nobility to assist at his +obsequies. The Bishop went thither with his chapter and with all his +clergy, and the common people flocked together to share in the general +mourning.</p> + +<p>The body of Petrarch, clad in red satin, which was the dress of the +canons of Padua, supported by sixteen doctors on a bier covered with +cloth of gold bordered with ermine, was carried to the parish church of +Arquà, which was fitted up in a manner suitable to the ceremony. After +the funeral oration had been pronounced by Bonaventura da Praga, of the +order of the hermits of St. Augustin, the corpse was interred in a +chapel which Petrarch himself had erected in the parish church in honour +of the Virgin. A short time afterwards, Francesco Brossano, having +caused a tomb of marble to be raised on four pillars opposite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cxxxiii" id="Page_cxxxiii">[Pg cxxxiii]</a></span> to the +same church, transferred the body to that spot, and engraved over it an +epitaph in some bad Latin lines, the rhyming of which is their greatest +merit. In the year 1637, Paul Valdezucchi, proprietor of the house and +grounds of Petrarch at Arquà, caused a bust of bronze to be placed above +his mausoleum.</p> + +<p>In the year 1630, his monument was violated by some sacrilegious +thieves, who carried off some of his bones for the sake of selling them. +The Senate of Venice severely punished the delinquents, and by their +decree upon the subject testified their deep respect for the remains of +this great man.</p> + +<p>The moment the poet's will was opened, Brossano, his heir, hastened to +forward to his friends the little legacies which had been left them; +among the rest his fifty florins to Boccaccio. The answer of that most +interesting man is characteristic of his sensibility, whilst it +unhappily shows him to be approaching the close of his life (for he +survived Petrarch but a year), in pain and extreme debility. "My first +impulse," he says to Brossano, "on hearing of the decease of my master," +so he always denominated our poet, "was to have hastened to his tomb to +bid him my last adieu, and to mix my tears with yours. But ever since I +lectured in public on the Divina Commedia of Dante, which is now ten +months, I have suffered under a malady which has so weakened and changed +me, that you would not recognise me. I have totally lost the stoutness +and complexion which I had when you saw me at Venice. My leanness is +extreme, my sight is dim, my hands shake, and my knees totter, so that I +can hardly drag myself to my country-house at Certaldo, where I only +languish. After reading your letter, I wept a whole night for my dear +master, not on his own account, for his piety permits us not to doubt +that he is now happy, but for myself and for his friends whom he has +left in this world, like a vessel in a stormy sea without a pilot. By my +own grief I judge of yours, and of that of Tullia, my beloved sister, +your worthy spouse. I envy Arquà the happiness of holding deposited in +her soil him whose heart was the abode of the Muses, and the sanctuary +of philosophy and eloquence. That village, scarcely known to Padua, will +henceforth be famed throughout the world. Men will respect it like Mount +Pausilippo for containing the ashes of Virgil, the shore of the Euxine +for possessing the tomb of Ovid, and Smyrna for its being believed to be +the burial-place of Homer." Among other things, Boccaccio inquires what +has become of his divine poem entitled Africa, and whether it had been +committed to the flames, a fate with which Petrarch, from excess of +delicacy, often threatened his compositions.</p> + +<p>From this letter it appears that this epic, to which he owed the laurel +and no small part of his living reputation, had not yet been published, +with the exception of thirty-four verses, which had appeared at Naples +through the indiscretion of Barbatus. Boccaccio said that Petrarch kept +it continually locked up, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cxxxiv" id="Page_cxxxiv">[Pg cxxxiv]</a></span> had been several times inclined to burn +it. The author of the Decameron himself did not long survive his master: +he died the 21st of December, 1375.</p> + +<p>Petrarch so far succeeded in clearing the road to the study of +antiquities, as to deserve the title which he justly retains of the +restorer of classical learning; nor did his enthusiasm for ancient +monuments prevent him from describing them with critical taste. He gave +an impulse to the study of geography by his Itinerarium Syriacum. That +science had been partially revived in the preceding century, by the +publication of Marco Polo's travels, and journeys to distant countries +had been accomplished more frequently than before, not only by religious +missionaries, but by pilgrims who travelled from purely rational +curiosity: but both of these classes of travellers, especially the +religionists, dealt profusely in the marvellous; and their falsehoods +were further exaggerated by copyists, who wished to profit by the sale +of MSS. describing their adventures. As an instance of the doubtful +wonders related by wayfaring men, may be noticed what is told of +Octorico da Pordenone, who met, at Trebizond, with a man who had trained +four thousand partridges to follow him on journeys for three days +together, who gathered around like chickens when he slept, and who +returned home after he had sold to the Emperor as many of them as his +imperial majesty chose to select.</p> + +<p>His treatise, "De Remediis utriusque Fortunæ" (On the Remedies for both +Extremes of Fortune) was one of his great undertakings in the solitude +of Vaucluse, though it was not finished till many years afterwards, when +it was dedicated to Azzo Correggio. Here he borrows, of course, largely +from the ancients; at the same time he treats us to some observations on +human nature sufficiently original to keep his work from the dryness of +plagiarism.</p> + +<p>His treatise on "A Solitary Life" was written as an apology for his own +love of retirement—retirement, not solitude, for Petrarch had the +social feeling too strongly in his nature to desire a perfect hermitage. +He loved to have a friend now and then beside him, to whom he might say +how sweet is solitude. Even his deepest retirement in the "shut-up +valley" was occasionally visited by dear friends, with whom his +discourse was so interesting that they wandered in the woods so long and +so far, that the servant could not find them to announce that their +dinner was ready. In his rapturous praise of living alone, our poet, +therefore, says more than he sincerely meant; he liked retirement, to be +sure, but then it was with somebody within reach of him, like the young +lady in Miss Porter's novel, who was fond of solitude, and walked much +in Hyde Park by herself, with her footman behind her.</p> + +<p>His treatise, "De Otio Religiosorum," was written in 1353, after an +agreeable visit to his brother, who was a monk. It is a commendation of +the monastic life. He may be found, I dare<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cxxxv" id="Page_cxxxv">[Pg cxxxv]</a></span> say, to exaggerate the +blessing of that mode of life which, in proportion to our increasing +activity and intelligence, has sunk in the estimation of Protestant +society, so that we compare the whole monkish fraternity with the drones +in a hive, an ignavum pecus, whom the other bees are right in expelling.</p> + +<p>Though I shall never pretend to be the translator of Petrarch, I recoil +not, after writing his Life, from giving a sincere account of the +impression which his poetry produces on my mind. I have studied the +Italian language with assiduity, though perhaps at a later period of my +life than enables the ear to be <i>perfectly</i> sensitive to its harmony, +for it is in youth, nay, almost in childhood alone, that the melody and +felicitous expressions of any tongue can touch our deepest sensibility; +but still I have studied it with pains—I believe I can thoroughly +appreciate Dante; I can perceive much in Petrarch that is elevated and +tender; and I approach the subject unconscious of the slightest +splenetic prejudice.</p> + +<p>I demur to calling him the first of modern poets who refined and +dignified the language of love. Dante had certainly set him the example. +It is true that, compared with his brothers of classical antiquity in +love-poetry, he appears like an Abel of purity offering innocent incense +at the side of so many Cains making their carnal sacrifices. Tibullus +alone anticipates his tenderness. At the same time, while Petrarch is +purer than those classical lovers, he is never so natural as they +sometimes are when their passages are least objectionable, and the +sun-bursts of his real, manly, and natural human love seem to me often +to come to us straggling through the clouds of Platonism.</p> + +<p>I will not expatiate on the <i>concetti</i> that may be objected to in many +of his sonnets, for they are so often in such close connection with +exquisitely fine thoughts, that, in tearing away the weed, we might be +in danger of snapping the flower.</p> + +<p>I feel little inclined, besides, to dwell on Petrarch's faults with that +feline dilation of vision which sees in the dark what would escape other +eyes in daylight, for, if I could make out the strongest critical case +against him, I should still have to answer this question, "How comes it +that Petrarch's poetry, in spite of all these faults, has been the +favourite of the world for nearly five hundred years?"</p> + +<p>So strong a regard for Petrarch is rooted in the mind of Italy, that his +renown has grown up like an oak which has reached maturity amidst the +storms of ages, and fears not decay from revolving centuries. One of the +high charms of his poetical language is its pure and melting melody, a +charm untransferable to any more northern tongue.</p> + +<p>No conformation of words will charm the ear unless they bring silent +thoughts of corresponding sweetness to the mind; nor could the most +sonorous, vapid verses be changed into poetry if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cxxxvi" id="Page_cxxxvi">[Pg cxxxvi]</a></span> they were set to the +music of the Spheres. It is scarcely necessary to say that Petrarch has +intellectual graces of thought and spiritual felicities of diction, +without which his tactics in the mere march of words would be a +worthless skill.</p> + +<p>The love of Petrarch was misplaced, but its utterance was at once so +fervid and delicate, and its enthusiasm so enduring, that the purest +minds feel justified in abstracting from their consideration the +unhappiness of the attachment, and attending only to its devout +fidelity. Among his deepest admirers we shall find women of virtue above +suspicion, who are willing to forget his Laura being married, or to +forgive the circumstance for the eloquence of his courtship and the +unwavering faith of his affection. Nor is this predilection for Petrarch +the result of female vanity and the mere love of homage. No; it is a +wise instinctive consciousness in women that the offer of love to them, +without enthusiasm, refinement, and <i>constancy</i>, is of no value at all. +Without these qualities in their wooers, they are the slaves of the +stronger sex. It is no wonder, therefore, that they are grateful to +Petrarch for holding up the perfect image of a lover, and that they +regard him as a friend to that passion, on the delicacy and constancy of +which the happiness, the most hallowed ties, and the very continuance of +the species depend.</p> + +<p>In modern Italian criticism there are two schools of taste, whose +respective partizans may be called the Petrarchists and the Danteists. +The latter allege that Petrarch's amatory poetry, from its platonic and +mystic character, was best suited to the age of cloisters, of dreaming +voluptuaries, and of men living under tyrannical Governments, whose +thoughts and feelings were oppressed and disguised. The genius of Dante, +on the other hand, they say, appeals to all that is bold and natural in +the human breast, and they trace the grand revival of his popularity in +our own times to the re-awakened spirit of liberty. On this side of the +question the most eminent Italian scholars and poets are certainly +ranged. The most gifted man of that country with whom I was ever +personally acquainted, Ugo Foscolo, was a vehement Danteist. Yet his +copious memory was well stored with many a sonnet of Petrarch, which he +could repeat by heart; and with all his Danteism, he infused the deepest +tones of admiration into his recitation of the Petrarchan sonnets.</p> + +<p>And altogether, Foscolo, though a cautious, is a candid admirer of our +poet. He says, "The harmony, elegance, and perfection of his poetry are +the result of long labour; but its original conceptions and pathos +always sprang from the sudden inspiration of a deep and powerful +passion. By an attentive perusal of all the writings of Petrarch, it may +be reduced almost to a certainty that, by dwelling perpetually on the +same ideas, and by allowing his mind to prey incessantly on itself, the +whole train of his feelings and reflections acquired one strong +character and tone, and, if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cxxxvii" id="Page_cxxxvii">[Pg cxxxvii]</a></span> he was ever able to suppress them for a +time, they returned to him with increased violence; that, to +tranquillize this agitated state of his mind, he, in the first instance, +communicated in a free and loose manner all that he thought and felt, in +his correspondence with his intimate friends; that he afterwards reduced +these narratives, with more order and description, into Latin verse; and +that he, lastly, perfected them with a greater profusion of imagery and +more art in his Italian poetry, the composition of which at first served +only, as he frequently says, to divert and mitigate all his afflictions. +We may thus understand the perfect concord which prevails in Petrarch's +poetry between Nature and Art; between the accuracy of fact and the +magic of invention; between depth and perspicuity; between devouring +passion and calm meditation. It is precisely because the poetry of +Petrarch originally sprang from the heart that his passion never seems +fictitious or cold, notwithstanding the profuse ornament of his style, +or the metaphysical elevation of his thoughts."</p> + +<p>I quote Ugo Foscolo, because he is not only a writer of strong poetic +feeling as well as philosophic judgment, but he is pre-eminent in that +Italian critical school who see the merits of Petrarch in no exaggerated +light, but, on the whole, prefer Dante to him as a poet. Petrarch's +love-poetry, Foscolo remarks, may be considered as the intermediate link +between that of the classics and the moderns. * * * * Petrarch both +feels like the ancient and philosophizes like the modern poets. When he +paints after the manner of the classics, he is equal to them.</p> + +<p>I despair of ever seeing in English verse a translation of Petrarch's +Italian poetry that shall be adequate and popular. The term adequate, of +course, always applies to the translation of genuine poetry in a subdued +sense. It means the best that can be expected, after making allowance +for that escape of etherial spirit which is inevitable in the transfer +of poetic thoughts from one language to another. The word popular is +also to be taken in a limited meaning regarding all translations. +Cowper's ballad of John Gilpin is twenty times more popular than his +Homer; yet the latter work is deservedly popular in comparison with the +bulk of translations from antiquity. The same thing may be said of +Cary's Dante; it is, like Cowper's Homer, as adequate and popular as +translated poetry can be expected to be. Yet I doubt if either of those +poets could have succeeded so well with Petrarch. Lady Dacre has shown +much grace and ingenuity in the passages of our poet which she has +versified; but she could not transfer into English those graces of +Petrarchan diction, which are mostly intransferable. She could not bring +the Italian language along with her.</p> + +<p>Is not this, it may be asked, a proof that Petrarch is not so genuine a +poet as Homer and Dante, since his charm depends upon the delicacies of +diction that evaporate in the transfer from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cxxxviii" id="Page_cxxxviii">[Pg cxxxviii]</a></span> tongue to tongue, more than +on hardy thoughts that will take root in any language to which they are +transplanted? In a general view, I agree with this proposition; yet, +what we call felicitous diction can never have a potent charm without +refined thoughts, which, like essential odours, may be too impalpable to +bear transfusion. Burns has the happiest imaginable Scottish diction; +yet, what true Scotsman would bear to see him <i>done</i> into French? And, +with the exception of German, what language has done justice to +Shakespeare?</p> + +<p>The reader must be a true Petrarchist who is unconscious of a general +similarity in the character of his sonnets, which, in the long perusal +of them, amounts to monotony. At the same time, it must be said that +this monotonous similarity impresses the mind of Petrarch's reader +exactly in proportion to the slenderness of his acquaintance with the +poet. Does he approach Petrarch's sonnets for the first time, they will +probably appear to him all as like to each other as the sheep of a +flock; but, when he becomes more familiar with them, he will perceive an +interesting individuality in every sonnet, and will discriminate their +individual character as precisely as the shepherd can distinguish every +single sheep of his flock by its voice and face. It would be rather +tedious to pull out, one by one, all the sheep and lambs of our poet's +flock of sonnets, and to enumerate the varieties of their bleat; and +though, by studying the subject half his lifetime, a man might classify +them by their main characteristics, he would find they defy a perfect +classification, as they often blend different qualities. Some of them +have a uniform expression of calm and beautiful feeling. Others breathe +ardent and almost hopeful passion. Others again show him jealous, +despondent, despairing; sometimes gloomily, and sometimes with touching +resignation. But a great many of them have a mixed character, where, in +the space of a line, he passes from one mood of mind to another.</p> + +<p>As an example of pleasing and calm reflection, I would cite the first of +his sonnets, according to the order in which they are usually printed. +It is singular to find it confessing the poet's shame at the retrospect +of so many years spent.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6"><i>Voi ch' ascoltate in rime sparse il suono.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye who shall hear amidst my scatter'd lays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sighs with which I fann'd and fed my heart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, young and glowing, I was but in part<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The man I am become in later days;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye who have mark'd the changes of my style<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From vain despondency to hope as vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From him among you, who has felt love's pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hope for pardon, ay, and pity's smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though conscious, now, my passion was a theme,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long, idly dwelt on by the public tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I blush for all the vanities I've sung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And find the world's applause a fleeting dream.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cxxxix" id="Page_cxxxix">[Pg cxxxix]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>The following sonnet (cxxvi.) is such a gem of Petrarchan and Platonic +homage to beauty that I subjoin my translation of it with the most +sincere avowal of my conscious inability to do it justice.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In what ideal world or part of heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did Nature find the model of that face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And form, so fraught with loveliness and grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In which, to our creation, she has given<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her prime proof of creative power above?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What fountain nymph or goddess ever let<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such lovely tresses float of gold refined<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the breeze, or in a single mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where have so many virtues ever met,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en though those charms have slain my bosom's weal?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He knows not love who has not seen her eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turn when she sweetly speaks, or smiles, or sighs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or how the power of love can hurt or heal.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Sonnet lxix. is remarkable for the fineness of its closing thought.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Time was her tresses by the breathing air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were wreathed to many a ringlet golden bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Time was her eyes diffused unmeasured light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though now their lovely beams are waxing rare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her face methought that in its blushes show'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Compassion, her angelic shape and walk,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her voice that seem'd with Heaven's own speech to talk;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At these, what wonder that my bosom glow'd!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A living sun she seem'd—a spirit of heaven.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those charms decline: but does my passion? No!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I love not less—the slackening of the bow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Assuages not the wound its shaft has given.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The following sonnet is remarkable for its last four lines having +puzzled all the poet's commentators to explain what he meant by the +words "Al man ond' io scrivo è fatta arnica, a questo volta." I agree +with De Sade in conjecturing that Laura in receiving some of his verses +had touched the hand that presented them, in token of her gratitude.<a name="FNanchor_O_15" id="FNanchor_O_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_O_15" class="fnanchor">[O]</a></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In solitudes I've ever loved to abide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By woods and streams, and shunn'd the evil-hearted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who from the path of heaven are foully parted;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet Tuscany has been to me denied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose sunny realms I would have gladly haunted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet still the Sorgue his beauteous hills among<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has lent auxiliar murmurs to my song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And echoed to the plaints my love has chanted.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here triumph'd, too, the poet's hand that wrote<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These lines—the power of love has witness'd this.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Delicious victory! I know my bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She knows it too—the saint on whom I dote.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Of Petrarch's poetry that is not amatory, Ugo Foscolo says with justice, +that his three political canzoni, exquisite as they are in versification +and style, do not breathe that enthusiasm which opened to Pindar's grasp +all the wealth of imagination, all the treasures of historic lore and +moral truth, to illustrate and dignify his strain. Yet the vigour, the +arrangement, and the perspicuity of the ideas in these canzoni of +Petrarch, the tone of conviction and melancholy in which the patriot +upbraids and mourns over<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_cxl" id="Page_cxl">[Pg cxl]</a></span> his country, strike the heart with such force, +as to atone for the absence of grand and exuberant imagery, and of the +irresistible impetus which peculiarly belongs to the ode.</p> + +<p>Petrarch's principal Italian poem that is not thrown into the shape of +the sonnet is his Trionfi, or Triumphs, in five parts. Though not +consisting of sonnets, however, it has the same amatory and constant +allusions to Laura as the greater part of his poetry. Here, as +elsewhere, he recurs from time to time to the history of his passion, +its rise, its progress, and its end. For this purpose, he describes +human life in its successive stages, omitting no opportunity of +introducing his mistress and himself.</p> + +<p>1. Man in his youthful state is the slave of love. 2. As he advances in +age, he feels the inconveniences of his amatory propensities, and +endeavours to conquer them by chastity. 3. Amidst the victory which he +obtains over himself, Death steps in, and levels alike the victor and +the vanquished. 4. But Fame arrives after death, and makes man as it +were live again after death, and survive it for ages by his fame. 5. But +man even by fame cannot live for ever, if God has not granted him a +happy existence throughout eternity. Thus Love triumphs over Man; +Chastity triumphs over Love; Death triumphs over both; Fame triumphs +over Death; Time triumphs over Fame; and Eternity triumphs over Time.</p> + +<p>The subordinate parts and imagery of the Trionfi have a beauty rather +arabesque than classical, and resembling the florid tracery of the later +oriental Gothic architecture. But the whole effect of the poem is +pleasing, from the general grandeur of its design.</p> + +<p>In summing up Petrarch's character, moral, political, and poetical, I +should not stint myself to the equivocal phrase used by Tacitus +respecting Agricola: <i>Bonum virum facile dixeris, magnum libenter</i>, but +should at once claim for his memory the title both of great and good. A +restorer of ancient learning, a rescuer of its treasures from oblivion, +a despiser of many contemporary superstitions, a man, who, though no +reformer himself, certainly contributed to the Reformation, an Italian +patriot who was above provincial partialities, a poet who still lives in +the hearts of his country, and who is shielded from oblivion by more +generations than there were hides in the sevenfold shield of Ajax—if +this was not a great man, many who are so called must bear the title +unworthily. He was a faithful friend, and a devoted lover, and appears +to have been one of the most fascinating beings that ever existed. Even +when his failings were admitted, it must still be said that <i>even his +failings leaned to virtue's side</i>, and, altogether we may pronounce that</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His life was gentle, and the elements<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So mix'd in him that Nature might stand up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And say to all the world, "This was a man!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a id="image10" name="image10"></a><a href="images/10large.jpg"> + <img src="images/10.jpg" + alt="LAURA." + title="LAURA." /></a><br /> + <span class="caption">LAURA.</span> +</div> + + +<h2>PETRARCH'S SONNETS,</h2> + +<h2>ETC.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>TO LAURA IN LIFE.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET I.</h2> + +<h3><i>Voi, ch' ascoltate in rime sparse il suono.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE CONFESSES THE VANITY OF HIS PASSION</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Ye</span> who in rhymes dispersed the echoes hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of those sad sighs with which my heart I fed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When early youth my mazy wanderings led,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fondly diverse from what I now appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fluttering 'twixt frantic hope and frantic fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From those by whom my various style is read,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hope, if e'er their hearts for love have bled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not only pardon, but perhaps a tear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now I clearly see that of mankind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long time I was the tale: whence bitter thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And self-reproach with frequent blushes teem;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While of my frenzy, shame the fruit I find,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sad repentance, and the proof, dear-bought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the world's joy is but a flitting dream.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Charlemont.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">O ye</span>, who list in scatter'd verse the sound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all those sighs with which my heart I fed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I, by youthful error first misled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unlike my present self in heart was found;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who list the plaints, the reasonings that abound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Throughout my song, by hopes, and vain griefs bred;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If e'er true love its influence o'er ye shed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! let your pity be with pardon crown'd.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span><span class="i0">But now full well I see how to the crowd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For length of time I proved a public jest:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en by myself my folly is allow'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And of my vanity the fruit is shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Repentance, and a knowledge strong imprest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That worldly pleasure is a passing dream.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Ye</span>, who may listen to each idle strain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bearing those sighs, on which my heart was fed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In life's first morn, by youthful error led,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Far other then from what I now remain!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thus in varying numbers I complain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Numbers of sorrow vain and vain hope bred,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If any in love's lore be practisèd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His pardon,—e'en his pity I may obtain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now aware that to mankind my name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too long has been a bye-word and a scorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I blush before my own severer thought;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of my past wanderings the sole fruit is shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And deep repentance, of the knowledge born<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That all we value in this world is naught.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Dacre.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET II.</h2> + +<h3><i>Per far una leggiadra sua vendetta.</i></h3> + +<h4>HOW HE BECAME THE VICTIM OF LOVE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">For</span> many a crime at once to make me smart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a delicious vengeance to obtain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love secretly took up his bow again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As one who acts the cunning coward's part;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My courage had retired within my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There to defend the pass bright eyes might gain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When his dread archery was pour'd amain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where blunted erst had fallen every dart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scared at the sudden brisk attack, I found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor time, nor vigour to repel the foe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With weapons suited to the direful need;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No kind protection of rough rising ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where from defeat I might securely speed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which fain I would e'en now, but ah, no method know!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">One</span> sweet and signal vengeance to obtain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To punish in a day my life's long crime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As one who, bent on harm, waits place and time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love craftily took up his bow again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My virtue had retired to watch my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thence of weak eyes the danger to repell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When momently a mortal blow there fell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where blunted hitherto dropt every dart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus, o'erpower'd in that first attack,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She had nor vigour left enough, nor room<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even to arm her for my pressing need,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor to the steep and painful mountain back<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To draw me, safe and scathless from that doom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence, though alas! too weak, she fain had freed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET III.</h2> + +<h3><i>Era 'l giorno ch' al sol si scoloraro.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE BLAMES LOVE FOR WOUNDING HIM ON A HOLY DAY (GOOD FRIDAY).</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">'Twas</span> on the morn, when heaven its blessed ray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In pity to its suffering master veil'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">First did I, Lady, to your beauty yield,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of your victorious eyes th' unguarded prey.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! little reck'd I that, on such a day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Needed against Love's arrows any shield;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And trod, securely trod, the fatal field:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence, with the world's, began my heart's dismay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On every side Love found his victim bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And through mine eyes transfix'd my throbbing heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those eyes, which now with constant sorrows flow:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But poor the triumph of his boasted art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who thus could pierce a naked youth, nor dare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To you in armour mail'd even to display his bow!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrangham.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">'Twas</span> on the blessed morning when the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In pity to our Maker hid his light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, unawares, the captive I was won,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lady, of your bright eyes which chain'd me quite;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That seem'd to me no time against the blows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of love to make defence, to frame relief:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Secure and unsuspecting, thus my woes<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span><span class="i0">Date their commencement from the common grief.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love found me feeble then and fenceless all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Open the way and easy to my heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through eyes, where since my sorrows ebb and flow:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But therein was, methinks, his triumph small,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On me, in that weak state, to strike his dart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet hide from you so strong his very bow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET IV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Quel ch' infinita providenza ed arte.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE CELEBRATES THE BIRTHPLACE OF LAURA.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">He</span> that with wisdom, goodness, power divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did ample Nature's perfect book design,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adorn'd this beauteous world, and those above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kindled fierce Mars, and soften'd milder Jove:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When seen on earth the shadows to fulfill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the less volume which conceal'd his will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Took John and Peter from their homely care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And made them pillars of his temple fair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor in imperial Rome would He be born,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom servile Judah yet received with scorn:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en Bethlehem could her infant King disown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the rude manger was his early throne.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Victorious sufferings did his pomp display,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor other chariot or triumphal way.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At once by Heaven's example and decree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such honour waits on such humility.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Basil Kennet.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> High Eternal, in whose works supreme<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Master's vast creative power hath spoke:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At whose command each circling sphere awoke,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jove mildly rose, and Mars with fiercer beam:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To earth He came, to ratify the scheme<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reveal'd to us through prophecy's dark cloak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sound redemption, speak man's fallen yoke:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He chose the humblest for that heavenly theme.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But He conferr'd not on imperial Rome<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His birth's renown; He chose a lowlier sky,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To stand, through Him, the proudest spot on earth!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now doth shine within its humble home<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A star, that doth each other so outvie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That grateful nature hails its lovely birth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Who</span> show'd such infinite providence and skill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In his eternal government divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who launch'd the spheres, gave sun and moon to shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And brightest wonders the dark void to fill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On earth who came the Scriptures to maintain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which for long years the truth had buried yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Took John and Peter from the fisher's net<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gave to each his part in the heavenly reign.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He for his birth fair Rome preferr'd not then,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But lowly Bethlehem; thus o'er proudest state<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He ever loves humility to raise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now rises from small spot like sun again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom Nature hails, the place grows bright and great<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which birth so heavenly to our earth displays.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET V.</h2> + +<h3><i>Quand' io movo i sospiri a chiamar voi.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE PLAYS UPON THE NAME LAURETA OR LAURA.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">In</span> sighs when I outbreathe your cherish'd name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That name which love has writ upon my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">LAUd instantly upon my doting tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the first thought of its sweet sound, is heard;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your REgal state, which I encounter next,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doubles my valour in that high emprize:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But TAcit ends the word; your praise to tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is fitting load for better backs than mine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus all who call you, by the name itself,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are taught at once to LAUd and to REvere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O worthy of all reverence and esteem!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save that perchance Apollo may disdain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That mortal tongue of his immortal boughs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should ever so presume as e'en to speak.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anon.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET VI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Sì traviato è 'l folle mio desio.</i></h3> + +<h4>OF HIS FOOLISH PASSION FOR LAURA.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">So</span> wayward now my will, and so unwise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To follow her who turns from me in flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, from love's fetters free herself and light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before my slow and shackled motion flies,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span><span class="i0">That less it lists, the more my sighs and cries<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would point where passes the safe path and right,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor aught avails to check or to excite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Love's own nature curb and spur defies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus, when perforce the bridle he has won,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And helpless at his mercy I remain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against my will he speeds me to mine end<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Neath yon cold laurel, whose false boughs upon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hangs the harsh fruit, which, tasted, spreads the pain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sought to stay, and mars where it should mend.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">My</span> tameless will doth recklessly pursue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her, who, unshackled by love's heavy chain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flies swiftly from its chase, whilst I in vain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My fetter'd journey pantingly renew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The safer track I offer to its view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But hopeless is my power to restrain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It rides regardless of the spur or rein;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love makes it scorn the hand that would subdue.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The triumph won, the bridle all its own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without one curb I stand within its power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my destruction helplessly presage:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It guides me to that laurel, ever known,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To all who seek the healing of its flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To aggravate the wound it should assuage.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET VII.</h2> + +<h3><i>La gola e 'l sonno e l' oziose piume.</i></h3> + +<h4>TO A FRIEND, ENCOURAGING HIM TO PURSUE POETRY.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Torn</span> is each virtue from its earthly throne<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By sloth, intemperance, and voluptuous ease;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en nature deviates from her wonted ways,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too much the slave of vicious custom grown.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far hence is every light celestial gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That guides mankind through life's perplexing maze;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And those, whom Helicon's sweet waters please,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From mocking crowds receive contempt alone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who now would laurel, myrtle-wreaths obtain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let want, let shame, Philosophy attend!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cries the base world, intent on sordid gain.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span><span class="i0">What though thy favourite path be trod by few;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let it but urge thee more, dear gentle friend!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy great design of glory to pursue.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anon.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Intemperance</span>, slumber, and the slothful down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have chased each virtue from this world away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hence is our nature nearly led astray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From its due course, by habitude o'erthrown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those kindly lights of heaven so dim are grown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which shed o'er human life instruction's ray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That him with scornful wonder they survey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who would draw forth the stream of Helicon.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Whom doth the laurel please, or myrtle now?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Naked and poor, Philosophy, art thou!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The worthless crowd, intent on lucre, cries.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Few on thy chosen road will thee attend;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet let it more incite thee, gentle friend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To prosecute thy high-conceived emprize.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET VIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>A piè de' colli ove la bella vesta</i>.</h3> + +<h4>HE FEIGNS AN ADDRESS FROM SOME BIRDS WHICH HE HAD PRESENTED.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Beneath</span> the verdant hills—where the fair vest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of earthly mould first took the Lady dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who him that sends us, feather'd captives, here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awakens often from his tearful rest—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lived we in freedom and in quiet, blest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With everything which life below might cheer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No foe suspecting, harass'd by no fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That aught our wanderings ever could molest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But snatch'd from that serener life, and thrown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the low wretched state we here endure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One comfort, short of death, survives alone:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vengeance upon our captor full and sure!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, slave himself at others' power, remains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pent in worse prison, bound by sterner chains.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Beneath</span> those very hills, where beauty threw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her mantle first o'er that earth-moulded fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who oft from sleep, while shedding many a tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awakens him that sends us unto you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our lives in peacefulness and freedom flew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en as all creatures wish who hold life dear;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span><span class="i0">Nor deem'd we aught could in its course come near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence to our wanderings danger might accrue.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But from the wretched state to which we're brought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaving another with sereneness fraught,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, e'en from death, one comfort we obtain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That vengeance follows him who sent us here;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another's utmost thraldom doomed to bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bound he now lies with a still stronger chain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET IX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Quando 'l pianeta che distingue l' ore.</i></h3> + +<h4>WITH A PRESENT OF FRUIT IN SPRING.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">When</span> the great planet which directs the hours<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To dwell with Taurus from the North is borne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such virtue rays from each enkindled horn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rare beauty instantly all nature dowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor this alone, which meets our sight, that flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Richly the upland and the vale adorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Earth's cold womb, else lustreless and lorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is quick and warm with vivifying powers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till herbs and fruits, like these I send, are rife.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—So she, a sun amid her fellow fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shedding the rays of her bright eyes on me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thoughts, acts, and words of love wakes into life—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, ah! for me is no new Spring, nor e'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smile they on whom she will, again can be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">When</span> Taurus in his house doth Phœbus keep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There pours so bright a virtue from his crest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Nature wakes, and stands in beauty drest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flow'ring meadows start with joy from sleep:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor they alone rejoice—earth's bosom deep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Though not one beam illumes her night of rest)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Responsive smiles, and from her fruitful breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gives forth her treasures for her sons to reap.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus she, who dwells amid her sex a sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shedding upon my soul her eyes' full light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each thought creates, each deed, each word of love:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But though my heart's proud mastery she hath won<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! within me dwells eternal night:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My spirit ne'er Spring's genial breath doth prove.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET X.</h2> + +<h3><i>Gloriosa Colonna, in cui s' appoggia.</i></h3> + +<h4>TO STEFANO COLONNA THE ELDER, INVITING HIM TO THE COUNTRY.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Glorious</span> Colonna! still the strength and stay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of our best hopes, and the great Latin name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom power could never from the true right way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seduce by flattery or by terror tame:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No palace, theatres, nor arches here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, in their stead, the fir, the beech, and pine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the green sward, with the fair mountain near<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Paced to and fro by poet friend of thine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus unto heaven the soul from earth is caught;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Philomel, who sweetly to the shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The livelong night her desolate lot complains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fills the soft heart with many an amorous thought:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Ah! why is so rare good imperfect made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While severed from us still my lord remains.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Glorious</span> Colonna! thou, the Latins' hope,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The proud supporter of our lofty name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou hold'st thy path of virtue still the same,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amid the thunderings of Rome's Jove—the Pope.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not here do human structures interlope<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fir to rival, or the pine-tree's claim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The soul may revel in poetic flame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon yon mountain's green and gentle slope.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus from earth to heaven the spirit soars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst Philomel her tale of woe repeats<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amid the sympathising shades of night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus through man's breast love's current sweetly pours:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet still thine absence half the joy defeats,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! my friend, why dim such radiant light?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>BALLATA I.</h2> + +<h3><i>Lassare il velo o per sole o per ombra.</i></h3> + +<h4>PERCEIVING HIS PASSION, LAURA'S SEVERITY INCREASES.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Never</span> thy veil, in sun or in the shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lady, a moment I have seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quitted, since of my heart the queen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mine eyes confessing thee my heart betray'd<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span><span class="i0">While my enamour'd thoughts I kept conceal'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those fond vain hopes by which I die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thy sweet features kindness beam'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Changed was the gentle language of thine eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soon as my foolish heart itself reveal'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all that mildness which I changeless deem'd—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All, all withdrawn which most my soul esteem'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet still the veil I must obey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, whatsoe'er the aspect of the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thine eyes' fair radiance hides, my life to overshade.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Capel Lofft.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Wherefore</span>, my unkind fair one, say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whether the sun fierce darts his ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or whether gloom o'erspreads the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That envious veil is ne'er thrown by;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though well you read my heart, and knew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How much I long'd your charms to view?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While I conceal'd each tender thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That my fond mind's destruction wrought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your face with pity sweetly shone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, when love made my passion known,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your sunny locks were seen no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor smiled your eyes as heretofore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behind a jealous cloud retired<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those beauties which I most admired.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shall a veil thus rule my fate?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O cruel veil, that whether heat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or cold be felt, art doom'd to prove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fatal to me, shadowing the lights I love!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Se la mia vita dall' aspro tormento.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE HOPES THAT TIME WILL RENDER HER MORE MERCIFUL.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">If</span> o'er each bitter pang, each hidden throe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sadly triumphant I my years drag on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till even the radiance of those eyes is gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lady, which star-like now illume thy brow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And silver'd are those locks of golden glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wreaths and robes of green aside are thrown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from thy cheek those hues of beauty flown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which check'd so long the utterance of my woe,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span><span class="i0">Haply my bolder tongue may then reveal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bosom'd annals of my heart's fierce fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The martyr-throbs that now in night I veil:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And should the chill Time frown on young Desire.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still, still some late remorse that breast may feel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heave a tardy sigh—ere love with life expire.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrangham.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Lady</span>, if grace to me so long be lent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From love's sharp tyranny and trials keen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere my last days, in life's far vale, are seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To know of thy bright eyes the lustre spent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fine gold of thy hair with silver sprent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Neglected the gay wreaths and robes of green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pale, too, and thin the face which made me, e'en<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Gainst injury, slow and timid to lament:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then will I, for such boldness love would give,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lay bare my secret heart, in martyr's fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Years, days, and hours that yet has known to live;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, though the time then suit not fair desire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At least there may arrive to my long grief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too late of tender sighs the poor relief.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Quando fra l' altre donne ad ora ad ora.</i></h3> + +<h4>THE BEAUTY OF LAURA LEADS HIM TO THE CONTEMPLATION OF THE SUPREME GOOD.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Throned</span> on her angel brow, when Love displays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His radiant form among all other fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far as eclipsed their choicest charms appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feel beyond its wont my passion blaze.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still I bless the day, the hour, the place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When first so high mine eyes I dared to rear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And say, "Fond heart, thy gratitude declare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That then thou had'st the privilege to gaze.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas she inspired the tender thought of love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which points to heaven, and teaches to despise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The earthly vanities that others prize:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She gave the soul's light grace, which to the skies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bids thee straight onward in the right path move;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence buoy'd by hope e'en, now I soar to worlds above."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrangham.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">When</span> Love, whose proper throne is that sweet face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At times escorts her 'mid the sisters fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As their each beauty is than hers less rare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So swells in me the fond desire apace.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I bless the hour, the season and the place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So high and heavenward when my eyes could dare;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And say: "My heart! in grateful memory bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This lofty honour and surpassing grace:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From her descends the tender truthful thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which follow'd, bliss supreme shall thee repay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who spurn'st the vanities that win the crowd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From her that gentle graceful love is caught,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To heaven which leads thee by the right-hand way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And crowns e'en here with hopes both pure and proud."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>BALLATA II.</h2> + +<h3><i>Occhi miei lassi, mentre ch' io vi giro.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE INVITES HIS EYES TO FEAST THEMSELVES ON LAURA.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">My</span> wearied eyes! while looking thus<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On that fair fatal face to us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be wise, be brief, for—hence my sighs—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Already Love our bliss denies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death only can the amorous track<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shut from my thoughts which leads them back<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the sweet port of all their weal;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But lesser objects may conceal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our light from you, that meaner far<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In virtue and perfection are.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherefore, poor eyes! ere yet appears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Already nigh, the time of tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, after long privation past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look, and some comfort take at last.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Io mi rivolgo indietro a ciascun passo.</i></h3> + +<h4>ON QUITTING LAURA.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">With</span> weary frame which painfully I bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I look behind me at each onward pace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then take comfort from your native air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which following fans my melancholy face;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span><span class="i0">The far way, my frail life, the cherish'd fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom thus I leave, as then my thoughts retrace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fix my feet in silent pale despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on the earth my tearful eyes abase.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At times a doubt, too, rises on my woes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"How ever can this weak and wasted frame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Live from life's spirit and one source afar?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love's answer soon the truth forgotten shows—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"This high pure privilege true lovers claim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who from mere human feelings franchised are!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">I look</span> behind each step I onward trace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarce able to support my wearied frame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, wretched me! I pantingly exclaim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from her atmosphere new strength embrace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I think on her I leave—my heart's best grace—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My lengthen'd journey—life's capricious flame—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I pause in withering fear, with purpose tame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst down my cheek tears quick each other chase.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My doubting heart thus questions in my grief:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Whence comes it that existence thou canst know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When from thy spirit thou dost dwell entire?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love, holy Love, my heart then answers brief:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Such privilege I do on all bestow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who feed my flame with nought of earthly fire!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XIV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Movesi 'l vecchierel canuto e bianco.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE COMPARES HIMSELF TO A PILGRIM.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> palmer bent, with locks of silver gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quits the sweet spot where he has pass'd his years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quits his poor family, whose anxious fears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Paint the loved father fainting on his way;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And trembling, on his aged limbs slow borne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In these last days that close his earthly course,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He, in his soul's strong purpose, finds new force,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though weak with age, though by long travel worn:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus reaching Rome, led on by pious love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He seeks the image of that Saviour Lord<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom soon he hopes to meet in bliss above:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span><span class="i0">So, oft in other forms I seek to trace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some charm, that to my heart may yet afford<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A faint resemblance of thy matchless grace.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Dacre.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">As</span> parts the aged pilgrim, worn and gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the dear spot his life where he had spent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From his poor family by sorrow rent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose love still fears him fainting in decay:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thence dragging heavily, in life's last day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His suffering frame, on pious journey bent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pricking with earnest prayers his good intent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though bow'd with years, and weary with the way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He reaches Rome, still following his desire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The likeness of his Lord on earth to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom yet he hopes in heaven above to meet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So I, too, seek, nor in the fond quest tire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lady, in other fair if aught there be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That faintly may recall thy beauties sweet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Piovonmi amare lagrime dal viso</i>.</h3> + +<h4>HIS STATE WHEN LAURA IS PRESENT, AND WHEN SHE DEPARTS.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Down</span> my cheeks bitter tears incessant rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my heart struggles with convulsive sighs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, Laura, upon you I turn my eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For whom the world's allurements I disdain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when I see that gentle smile again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That modest, sweet, and tender smile, arise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It pours on every sense a blest surprise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lost in delight is all my torturing pain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too soon this heavenly transport sinks and dies:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When all thy soothing charms my fate removes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At thy departure from my ravish'd view.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To that sole refuge its firm faith approves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My spirit from my ravish'd bosom flies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wing'd with fond remembrance follows you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Capel Lofft.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Tears</span>, bitter tears adown my pale cheek rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bursts from mine anguish'd breast a storm of sighs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whene'er on you I turn my passionate eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For whom alone this bright world I disdain.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span><span class="i0">True! to my ardent wishes and old pain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That mild sweet smile a peaceful balm supplies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rescues me from the martyr fire that tries,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rapt and intent on you whilst I remain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus in your presence—but my spirits freeze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, ushering with fond acts a warm adieu,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My fatal stars from life's quench'd heaven decay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul released at last with Love's apt keys<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But issues from my heart to follow you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor tears itself without much thought away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XVI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Quand' io son tutto volto in quella parte.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE FLIES, BUT PASSION PURSUES HIM.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">When</span> I reflect and turn me to that part<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence my sweet lady beam'd in purest light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in my inmost thought remains that light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which burns me and consumes in every part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I, who yet dread lest from my heart it part<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And see at hand the end of this my light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go lonely, like a man deprived of light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ignorant where to go; whence to depart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus flee I from the stroke which lays me dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet flee not with such speed but that desire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Follows, companion of my flight alone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silent I go:—but these my words, though dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Others would cause to weep—this I desire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I may weep and waste myself alone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Capel Lofft.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">When</span> all my mind I turn to the one part<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where sheds my lady's face its beauteous light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lingers in my loving thought the light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That burns and racks within me ev'ry part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I from my heart who fear that it may part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And see the near end of my single light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go, as a blind man, groping without light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who knows not where yet presses to depart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus from the blows which ever wish me dead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I flee, but not so swiftly that desire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ceases to come, as is its wont, with me.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span><span class="i0">Silent I move: for accents of the dead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would melt the general age: and I desire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sighs and tears should only fall from me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XVII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Son animali al mondo di sì altera.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE COMPARES HIMSELF TO A MOTH.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Creatures</span> there are in life of such keen sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That no defence they need from noonday sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And others dazzled by excess of light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who issue not abroad till day is done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, with weak fondness, some because 'tis bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who in the death-flame for enjoyment run,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus proving theirs a different virtue quite—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! of this last kind myself am one;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, of this fair the splendour to regard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am but weak and ill—against late hours<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And darkness gath'ring round—myself to ward.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherefore, with tearful eyes of failing powers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My destiny condemns me still to turn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where following faster I but fiercer burn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XVIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Vergognando talor ch' ancor si taccia.</i></h3> + +<h4>THE PRAISES OF LAURA TRANSCEND HIS POETIC POWERS.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Ashamed</span> sometimes thy beauties should remain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As yet unsung, sweet lady, in my rhyme;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When first I saw thee I recall the time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pleasing as none shall ever please again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But no fit polish can my verse attain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not mine is strength to try the task sublime:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My genius, measuring its power to climb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From such attempt doth prudently refrain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full oft I oped my lips to chant thy name;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then in mid utterance the lay was lost:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But say what muse can dare so bold a flight?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full oft I strove in measure to indite;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ah, the pen, the hand, the vein I boast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At once were vanquish'd by the mighty theme!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Ashamed</span> at times that I am silent, yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lady, though your rare beauties prompt my rhyme,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When first I saw thee I recall the time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such as again no other can be met.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, with such burthen on my shoulders set.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My mind, its frailty feeling, cannot climb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shrinks alike from polish'd and sublime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While my vain utterance frozen terrors let.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Often already have I sought to sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But midway in my breast the voice was stay'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ah! so high what praise may ever spring?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oft have I the tender verse essay'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But still in vain; pen, hand, and intellect<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the first effort conquer'd are and check'd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XIX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Mille fiate, o dolce mia guerrera.</i></h3> + +<h4>HIS HEART, REJECTED BY LAURA, WILL PERISH, UNLESS SHE RELENT.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">A thousand</span> times, sweet warrior, have I tried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proffering my heart to thee, some peace to gain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From those bright eyes, but still, alas! in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To such low level stoops not thy chaste pride.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If others seek the love thus thrown aside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vain were their hopes and labours to obtain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heart thou spurnest I alike disdain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thee displeasing, 'tis by me denied.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if, discarded thus, it find not thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its joyless exile willing to befriend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone, untaught at others' will to wend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soon from life's weary burden will it flee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How heavy then the guilt to both, but more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thee, for thee it did the most adore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">A thousand</span> times, sweet warrior, to obtain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peace with those beauteous eyes I've vainly tried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proffering my heart; but with that lofty pride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bend your looks so lowly you refrain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Expects a stranger fair that heart to gain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In frail, fallacious hopes will she confide:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It never more to me can be allied;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since what you scorn, dear lady, I disdain.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span><span class="i0">In its sad exile if no aid you lend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Banish'd by me; and it can neither stay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone, nor yet another's call obey;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its vital course must hasten to its end:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah me, how guilty then we both should prove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But guilty you the most, for you it most doth love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SESTINA I.</h2> + +<h3><i>A qualunque animale alberga in terra.</i></h3> + +<h4>NIGHT BRINGS HIM NO REST. HE IS THE PREY OF DESPAIR.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">To</span> every animal that dwells on earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Except to those which have in hate the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their time of labour is while lasts the day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when high heaven relumes its thousand stars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This seeks his hut, and that its native wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each finds repose, at least until the dawn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But I, when fresh and fair begins the dawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To chase the lingering shades that cloak'd the earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wakening the animals in every wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No truce to sorrow find while rolls the sun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, when again I see the glistening stars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still wander, weeping, wishing for the day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When sober evening chases the bright day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And this our darkness makes for others dawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pensive I look upon the cruel stars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which framed me of such pliant passionate earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And curse the day that e'er I saw the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which makes me native seem of wildest wood.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And yet methinks was ne'er in any wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So wild a denizen, by night or day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As she whom thus I blame in shade and sun:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me night's first sleep o'ercomes not, nor the dawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For though in mortal coil I tread the earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My firm and fond desire is from the stars.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ere up to you I turn, O lustrous stars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or downwards in love's labyrinthine wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaving my fleshly frame in mouldering earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could I but pity find in her, one day<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span><span class="i0">Would many years redeem, and to the dawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With bliss enrich me from the setting sun!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! might I be with her where sinks the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No other eyes upon us but the stars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone, one sweet night, ended by no dawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor she again transfigured in green wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To cheat my clasping arms, as on the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Phœbus vainly follow'd her on earth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I shall lie low in earth, in crumbling wood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And clustering stars shall gem the noon of day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere on so sweet a dawn shall rise that sun.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Each</span> creature on whose wakeful eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bright sun pours his golden fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By day a destined toil pursues;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, when heaven's lamps illume the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All to some haunt for rest retire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till a fresh dawn that toil renews.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I, when a new morn doth rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chasing from earth its murky shades,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While ring the forests with delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Find no remission of my sighs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, soon as night her mantle spreads,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I weep, and wish returning light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Again when eve bids day retreat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er other climes to dart its rays;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pensive those cruel stars I view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which influence thus my amorous fate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And imprecate that beauty's blaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which o'er my form such wildness threw.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No forest surely in its glooms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nurtures a savage so unkind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As she who bids these sorrows flow:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me, nor the dawn nor sleep o'ercomes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, though of mortal mould, my mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feels more than passion's mortal glow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere up to you, bright orbs, I fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or to Love's bower speed down my way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While here my mouldering limbs remain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let me her pity once espy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus, rich in bliss, one little day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall recompense whole years of pain.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span><span class="i0">Be Laura mine at set of sun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let heaven's fires only mark our loves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the day ne'er its light renew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My fond embrace may she not shun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor Phœbus-like, through laurel groves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May I a nymph transform'd pursue!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I shall cast this mortal veil on earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stars shall gild the noon, ere such bright scenes have birth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CANZONE I.</h2> + +<h3><i>Nel dolce tempo della prima etade.</i></h3> + +<h4>HIS SUFFERINGS SINCE HE BECAME THE SLAVE OF LOVE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">In</span> the sweet season when my life was new,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which saw the birth, and still the being sees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the fierce passion for my ill that grew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fain would I sing—my sorrow to appease—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How then I lived, in liberty, at ease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While o'er my heart held slighted Love no sway;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And how, at length, by too high scorn, for aye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sank his slave, and what befell me then,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whereby to all a warning I remain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Although my sharpest pain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be elsewhere written, so that many a pen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is tired already, and, in every vale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The echo of my heavy sighs is rife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some credence forcing of my anguish'd life;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, as her wont, if here my memory fail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be my long martyrdom its saving plea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the one thought which so its torment made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As every feeling else to throw in shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And make me of myself forgetful be—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ruling life's inmost core, its bare rind left for me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Long years and many had pass'd o'er my head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since, in Love's first assault, was dealt my wound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from my brow its youthful air had fled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While cold and cautious thoughts my heart around<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had made it almost adamantine ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To loosen which hard passion gave no rest:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No sorrow yet with tears had bathed my breast,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span><span class="i0">Nor broke my sleep: and what was not in mine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A miracle to me in others seem'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life's sure test death is deem'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As cloudless eve best proves the past day fine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah me! the tyrant whom I sing, descried<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere long his error, that, till then, his dart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not yet beneath the gown had pierced my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And brought a puissant lady as his guide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Gainst whom of small or no avail has been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Genius, or force, to strive or supplicate.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These two transform'd me to my present state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Making of breathing man a laurel green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which loses not its leaves though wintry blasts be keen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What my amaze, when first I fully learn'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wondrous change upon my person done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And saw my thin hairs to those green leaves turn'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Whence yet for them a crown I might have won);<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My feet wherewith I stood, and moved, and run—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus to the soul the subject members bow—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Become two roots upon the shore, not now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of fabled Peneus, but a stream as proud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stiffen'd to a branch my either arm!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor less was my alarm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When next my frame white down was seen to shroud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While, 'neath the deadly leven, shatter'd lay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My first green hope that soar'd, too proud, in air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because, in sooth, I knew not when nor where<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I left my latter state; but, night and day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where it was struck, alone, in tears, I went,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still seeking it alwhere, and in the wave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, for its fatal fall, while able, gave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My tongue no respite from its one lament,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the sad snowy swan both form and language lent.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus that loved wave—my mortal speech put by<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For birdlike song—I track'd with constant feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still asking mercy with a stranger cry;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ne'er in tones so tender, nor so sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Knew I my amorous sorrow to repeat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As might her hard and cruel bosom melt:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Judge, still if memory sting, what then I felt!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span><span class="i0">But ah! not now the past, it rather needs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of her my lovely and inveterate foe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The present power to show,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though such she be all language as exceeds.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She with a glance who rules us as her own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Opening my breast my heart in hand to take,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus said to me: "Of this no mention make."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw her then, in alter'd air, alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So that I recognised her not—O shame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be on my truant mind and faithless sight!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the truth I told her in sore fright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She soon resumed her old accustom'd frame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While, desperate and half dead, a hard rock mine became.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As spoke she, o'er her mien such feeling stirr'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That from the solid rock, with lively fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Haply I am not what you deem," I heard;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then methought, "If she but help me here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No life can ever weary be, or drear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To make me weep, return, my banish'd Lord!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know not how, but thence, the power restored,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blaming no other than myself, I went,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, nor alive, nor dead, the long day past.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, because time flies fast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the pen answers ill my good intent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full many a thing long written in my mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I here omit; and only mention such<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whereat who hears them now will marvel much.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death so his hand around my vitals twined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not silence from its grasp my heart could save,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or succour to its outraged virtue bring:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As speech to me was a forbidden thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To paper and to ink my griefs I gave—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life, not my own, is lost through you who dig my grave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I fondly thought before her eyes, at length,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though low and lost, some mercy to obtain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And this the hope which lent my spirit strength.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sometimes humility o'ercomes disdain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sometimes inflames it to worse spite again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This knew I, who so long was left in night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That from such prayers had disappear'd my light;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span><span class="i0">Till I, who sought her still, nor found, alas!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even her shade, nor of her feet a sign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Outwearied and supine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As one who midway sleeps, upon the grass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Threw me, and there, accusing the brief ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of bitter tears I loosed the prison'd flood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To flow and fall, to them as seem'd it good.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ne'er vanish'd snow before the sun away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As then to melt apace it me befell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till, 'neath a spreading beech a fountain swell'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long in that change my humid course I held,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who ever saw from Man a true fount well?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet, though strange it sound, things known and sure I tell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The soul from God its nobler nature gains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(For none save He such favour could bestow)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And like our Maker its high state retains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To pardon who is never tired, nor slow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If but with humble heart and suppliant show,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For mercy for past sins to Him we bend;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if, against his wont, He seem to lend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awhile, a cold ear to our earnest prayers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis that right fear the sinner more may fill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For he repents but ill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His old crime for another who prepares.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus, when my lady, while her bosom yearn'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With pity, deign'd to look on me, and knew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That equal with my fault its penance grew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To my old state and shape I soon return'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But nought there is on earth in which the wise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May trust, for, wearying braving her afresh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To rugged stone she changed my quivering flesh.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So that, in their old strain, my broken cries<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In vain ask'd death, or told her one name to deaf skies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A sad and wandering shade, I next recall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through many a distant and deserted glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That long I mourn'd my indissoluble thrall.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At length my malady seem'd ended, when<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I to my earthly frame return'd again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haply but greater grief therein to feel;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still following my desire with such fond zeal<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span><span class="i0">That once (beneath the proud sun's fiercest blaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Returning from the chase, as was my wont)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Naked, where gush'd a font,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My fair and fatal tyrant met my gaze;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I whom nought else could pleasure, paused to look,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While, touch'd with shame as natural as intense,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Herself to hide or punish my offence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She o'er my face the crystal waters shook<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—I still speak true, though truth may seem a lie—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Instantly from my proper person torn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A solitary stag, I felt me borne<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In wingèd terrors the dark forest through,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As still of my own dogs the rushing storm I flew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My song! I never was that cloud of gold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which once descended in such precious rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Easing awhile with bliss Jove's amorous pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I was a flame, kindled by one bright eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I was the bird which gladly soar'd on high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exalting her whose praise in song I wake;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor, for new fancies, knew I to forsake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My first fond laurel, 'neath whose welcome shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ever from my firm heart all meaner pleasures fade.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Se l' onorata fronde, che prescrive.</i></h3> + +<h4>TO STRAMAZZO OF PERUGIA, WHO INVITED HIM TO WRITE POETRY.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">If</span> the world-honour'd leaf, whose green defies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wrath of Heaven when thunders mighty Jove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had not to me prohibited the crown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which wreathes of wont the gifted poet's brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I were a friend of these your idols too,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom our vile age so shamelessly ignores:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that sore insult keeps me now aloof<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the first patron of the olive bough:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Ethiop earth beneath its tropic sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ne'er burn'd with such fierce heat, as I with rage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At losing thing so comely and beloved.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Resort then to some calmer fuller fount,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For of all moisture mine is drain'd and dry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save that which falleth from mine eyes in tears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET XXI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Amor piangeva, ed io con lui talvolta.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE CONGRATULATES BOCCACCIO ON HIS RETURN TO THE RIGHT PATH.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Love</span> grieved, and I with him at times, to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By what strange practices and cunning art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You still continued from his fetters free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From whom my feet were never far apart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since to the right way brought by God's decree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lifting my hands to heaven with pious heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I thank Him for his love and grace, for He<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The soul-prayer of the just will never thwart:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if, returning to the amorous strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its fair desire to teach us to deny,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hollows and hillocks in thy path abound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis but to prove to us with thorns how rife<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The narrow way, the ascent how hard and high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where with true virtue man at last is crown'd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XXII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Più di me lieta non si vede a terra.</i></h3> + +<h4>ON THE SAME SUBJECT.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Than</span> me more joyful never reach'd the shore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A vessel, by the winds long tost and tried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose crew, late hopeless on the waters wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To a good God their thanks, now prostrate, pour;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor captive from his dungeon ever tore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around whose neck the noose of death was tied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More glad than me, that weapon laid aside<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which to my lord hostility long bore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All ye who honour love in poet strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the good minstrel of the amorous lay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Return due praise, though once he went astray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For greater glory is, in Heaven's blest reign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over one sinner saved, and higher praise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than e'en for ninety-nine of perfect ways.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET XXIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Il successor di Carlo, che la chioma.</i></h3> + +<h4>ON THE MOVEMENT OF THE EMPEROR AGAINST THE INFIDELS, AND THE RETURN OF +THE POPE TO ROME.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> high successor of our Charles,<a name="FNanchor_P_16" id="FNanchor_P_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_P_16" class="fnanchor">[P]</a> whose hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The crown of his great ancestor adorns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Already has ta'en arms, to bruise the horns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Babylon, and all her name who bear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Christ's holy vicar with the honour'd load<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of keys and cloak, returning to his home,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall see Bologna and our noble Rome,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If no ill fortune bar his further road.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Best to your meek and high-born lamb belongs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To beat the fierce wolf down: so may it be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all who loyalty and love deny.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Console at length your waiting country's wrongs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Rome's, who longs once more her spouse to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gird for Christ the good sword on thy thigh.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CANZONE II.</h2> + +<h3><i>O aspettata in ciel, beata e bella.</i></h3> + +<h4>IN SUPPORT OF THE PROPOSED CRUSADE AGAINST THE INFIDELS.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">O spirit</span> wish'd and waited for in heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wearest gracefully our human clay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not as with loading sin and earthly stain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who lov'st our Lord's high bidding to obey,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Henceforth to thee the way is plain and even<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By which from hence to bliss we may attain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To waft o'er yonder main<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy bark, that bids the world adieu for aye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To seek a better strand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The western winds their ready wings expand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, through the dangers of that dusky way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where all deplore the first infringed command,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will guide her safe, from primal bondage free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reckless to stop or stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To that true East, where she desires to be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span><span class="i2">Haply the faithful vows, and zealous prayers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pious tears by holy mortals shed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have come before the mercy-seat above:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet vows of ours but little can bestead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor human orison such merit bears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As heavenly justice from its course can move.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But He, the King whom angels serve and love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His gracious eyes hath turn'd upon the land<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where on the cross He died;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a new Charlemagne hath qualified<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To work the vengeance that on high was plann'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For whose delay so long hath Europe sigh'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such mighty aid He brings his faithful spouse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That at its sound the pride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Babylon with trembling terror bows.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">All dwellers 'twixt the hills and wild Garonne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Rhodanus, and Rhine, and briny wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are banded under red-cross banners brave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all who honour'd guerdon fain would have<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From Pyrenees to the utmost west, are gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaving Iberia lorn of warriors keen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Britain, with the islands that are seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between the columns and the starry wain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Even to that land where shone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The far-famed lore of sacred Helicon,)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Diverse in language, weapon, garb and strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of valour true, with pious zeal rush on.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What cause, what love, to this compared may be?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What spouse, or infant train<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'er kindled such a righteous enmity?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">There is a portion of the world that lies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far distant from the sun's all-cheering ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ever wrapt in ice and gelid snows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There under cloudy skies, in stinted day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A people dwell, whose heart their clime outvies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By nature framed stern foemen of repose.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now new devotion in their bosom glows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Gothic fury now they grasp the sword.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turk, Arab, and Chaldee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all between us and that sanguine sea,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span><span class="i0">Who trust in idol-gods, and slight the Lord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou know'st how soon their feeble strength would yield;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A naked race, fearful and indolent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unused the brand to wield,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose distant aim upon the wind is sent.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Now is the time to shake the ancient yoke<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From off our necks, and rend the veil aside<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That long in darkness hath involved our eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let all whom Heaven with genius hath supplied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all who great Apollo's name invoke,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With fiery eloquence point out the prize,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With tongue and pen call on the brave to rise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If Orpheus and Amphion, legends old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No marvel cause in thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It were small wonder if Ausonia see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Collecting at thy call her children bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lifting the spear of Jesus joyfully.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor, if our ancient mother judge aright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth her rich page unfold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such noble cause in any former fight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Thou who hast scann'd, to heap a treasure fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Story of ancient day and modern time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soaring with earthly frame to heaven sublime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou know'st, from Mars' bold son, her ruler prime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To great Augustus, he whose waving hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was thrice in triumph wreathed with laurel green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How Rome hath of her blood still lavish been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To right the woes of many an injured land;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shall she now be slow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her gratitude, her piety to show?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Christian zeal to buckle on the brand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Mary's glorious Son to deal the blow?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What ills the impious foeman must betide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who trust in mortal hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If Christ himself lead on the adverse side!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">And turn thy thoughts to Xerxes' rash emprize,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who dared, in haste to tread our Europe's shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Insult the sea with bridge, and strange caprice;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thou shalt see for husbands then no more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Persian matrons robed in mournful guise,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span><span class="i0">And dyed with blood the seas of Salamis,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor sole example this:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(The ruin of that Eastern king's design),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That tells of victory nigh:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See Marathon, and stern Thermopylæ,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Closed by those few, and chieftain leonine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thousand deeds that blaze in history.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then bow in thankfulness both heart and knee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before his holy shrine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who such bright guerdon hath reserved for thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Thou shalt see Italy and that honour'd shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O song! a land debarr'd and hid from me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By neither flood nor hill!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But love alone, whose power hath virtue still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To witch, though all his wiles be vanity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor Nature to avoid the snare hath skill.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go, bid thy sisters hush their jealous fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For other loves there be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than that blind boy, who causeth smiles and tears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Miss * * * (Foscolo's Essay).<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">O thou</span>, in heaven expected, bright and blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spirit! who, from the common frailty free<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of human kind, in human form art drest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God's handmaid, dutiful and dear to thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Henceforth the pathway easy lies and plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By which, from earth, we bless eternal gain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lo! at the wish, to waft thy venturous prore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the blind world it fain would leave behind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And seek that better shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Springs the sweet comfort of the western wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which safe amid this dark and dangerous vale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where we our own, the primal sin deplore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Right on shall guide her, from her old chains freed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, without let or fail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where havens her best hope, to the true East shall lead.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Haply the suppliant tears of pious men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their earnest vows and loving prayers at last<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto the throne of heavenly grace have past;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, breathed by human helplessness, ah! when<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span><span class="i0">Had purest orison the skill and force<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bend eternal justice from its course?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But He, heaven's bounteous ruler from on high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the sad sacred spot, where erst He bled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will turn his pitying eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And through the spirit of our new Charles spread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thirst of that vengeance, whose too long delay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From general Europe wakes the bitter sigh;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To his loved spouse such aid will He convey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, his dread voice to hear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proud Babylon shall shrink assail'd with secret fear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">All, by the gay Garonne, the kingly Rhine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between the blue Rhone and salt sea who dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All in whose bosoms worth and honour swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eagerly haste the Christian cross to join;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spain of her warlike sons, from the far west<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto the Pyrenee, pours forth her best:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Britannia and the Islands, which are found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Northward from Calpe, studding Ocean's breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en to that land renown'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the rich lore of sacred Helicon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Various in arms and language, garb and guise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With pious fury urge the bold emprize.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What love was e'er so just, so worthy, known?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or when did holier flame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kindle the mind of man to a more noble aim?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Far in the hardy north a land there lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Buried in thick-ribb'd ice and constant snows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where scant the days and clouded are the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And seldom the bright sun his glad warmth throws;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, enemy of peace by nature, springs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A people to whom death no terror brings;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If these, with new devotedness, we see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Gothic fury baring the keen glaive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turk, Arab, and Chaldee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All, who, between us and the Red Sea wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To heathen gods bow the idolatrous knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arm and advance! we heed not your blind rage;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A naked race, timid in act, and slow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unskill'd the war to wage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose far aim on the wind contrives a coward blow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span><span class="i2">Now is the hour to free from the old yoke<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our gallèd necks, to rend the veil away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too long permitted our dull sight to cloak:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now too, should all whose breasts the heavenly ray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of genius lights, exert its powers sublime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And or in bold harangue, or burning rhyme,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Point the proud prize and fan the generous flame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If Orpheus and Amphion credit claim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Legends of distant time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Less marvel 'twere, if, at thy earnest call,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Italia, with her children, should awake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wield the willing lance for Christ's dear sake.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our ancient mother, read she right, in all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her fortune's history ne'er<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A cause of combat knew so glorious and so fair!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Thou, whose keen mind has every theme explored,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And truest ore from Time's rich treasury won,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On earthly pinion who hast heavenward soar'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well knowest, from her founder, Mars' bold son,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To great Augustus, he, whose brow around<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrice was the laurel green in triumph bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How Rome was ever lavish of her blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The right to vindicate, the weak redress;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now, when gratitude,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When piety appeal, shall she do less<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To avenge the injury and end the scorn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By blessed Mary's glorious offspring borne?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What fear we, while the heathen for success<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Confide in human powers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If, on the adverse side, be Christ, and his side ours?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Turn, too, when Xerxes our free shores to tread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rush'd in hot haste, and dream'd the perilous main<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With scourge and fetter to chastise and chain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—What see'st? Wild wailing o'er their husbands dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Persia's pale matrons wrapt in weeds of woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And red with gore the gulf of Salamis!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To prove our triumph certain, to foreshow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The utter ruin of our Eastern foe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No single instance this;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Miltiades and Marathon recall,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span><span class="i0">See, with his patriot few, Leonidas<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Closing, Thermopylæ, thy bloody pass!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like them to dare and do, to God let all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With heart and knee bow down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who for our arms and age has kept this great renown.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Thou shalt see Italy, that honour'd land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which from my eyes, O Song! nor seas, streams, heights,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So long have barr'd and bann'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But love alone, who with his haughty lights<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The more allures me as he worse excites,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till nature fails against his constant wiles.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go then, and join thy comrades; not alone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath fair female zone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dwells Love, who, at his will, moves us to tears or smiles.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CANZONE III.</h2> + +<h3><i>Verdi panni, sanguigni, oscuri o persi.</i></h3> + +<h4>WHETHER OR NOT HE SHOULD CEASE TO LOVE LAURA.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Green</span> robes and red, purple, or brown, or gray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No lady ever wore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor hair of gold in sunny tresses twined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So beautiful as she, who spoils my mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of judgment, and from freedom's lofty path<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So draws me with her that I may not bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Any less heavy yoke.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And if indeed at times—for wisdom fails<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where martyrdom breeds doubt—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The soul should ever arm it to complain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suddenly from each reinless rude desire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her smile recalls, and razes from my heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Every rash enterprise, while all disdain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is soften'd in her sight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For all that I have ever borne for love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still am doom'd to bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till she who wounded it shall heal my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rejecting homage e'en while she invites,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be vengeance done! but let not pride nor ire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Gainst my humility the lovely pass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By which I enter'd bar.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span><span class="i0">The hour and day wherein I oped my eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the bright black and white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which drive me thence where eager love impell'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where of that life which now my sorrow makes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">New roots, and she in whom our age is proud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom to behold without a tender awe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Needs heart of lead or wood.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The tear then from these eyes that frequent falls—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">HE thus my pale cheek bathes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who planted first within my fenceless flank<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love's shaft—diverts me not from my desire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in just part the proper sentence falls;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For her my spirit sighs, and worthy she<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To staunch its secret wounds.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Spring from within me these conflicting thoughts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To weary, wound myself,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each a sure sword against its master turn'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor do I pray her to be therefore freed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For less direct to heaven all other paths,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to that glorious kingdom none can soar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Certes in sounder bark.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Benignant stars their bright companionship<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gave to the fortunate side<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When came that fair birth on our nether world,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its sole star since, who, as the laurel leaf,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The worth of honour fresh and fragrant keeps,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where lightnings play not, nor ungrateful winds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ever o'ersway its head.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Well know I that the hope to paint in verse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her praises would but tire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The worthiest hand that e'er put forth its pen:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, in all Memory's richest cells, e'er saw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such angel virtue so rare beauty shrined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As in those eyes, twin symbols of all worth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet keys of my gone heart?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lady, wherever shines the sun, than you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love has no dearer pledge.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> +<h2>SESTINA II</h2> + +<h3><i>Giovane donna sott' un verde lauro.</i></h3> + +<h4>THOUGH DESPAIRING OF PITY, HE VOWS TO LOVE HER UNTO DEATH.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">A youthful</span> lady 'neath a laurel green<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was seated, fairer, colder than the snow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On which no sun has shone for many years:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her sweet speech, her bright face, and flowing hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So pleased, she yet is present to my eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And aye must be, whatever fate prevail.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">These my fond thoughts of her shall fade and fail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When foliage ceases on the laurel green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor calm can be my heart, nor check'd these eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until the fire shall freeze, or burns the snow:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Easier upon my head to count each hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than, ere that day shall dawn, the parting years.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But, since time flies, and roll the rapid years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And death may, in the midst, of life, assail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With full brown locks, or scant and silver hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I still the shade of that sweet laurel green<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Follow, through fiercest sun and deepest snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the last day shall close my weary eyes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! never sure were seen such brilliant eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In this our age or in the older years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which mould and melt me, as the sun melts snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into a stream of tears adown the vale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Watering the hard roots of that laurel green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose boughs are diamonds and gold whose hair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I fear that Time my mien may change and hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere, with true pity touch'd, shall greet my eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My idol imaged in that laurel green:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, unless memory err, through seven long years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till now, full many a shore has heard my wail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By night, at noon, in summer and in snow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus fire within, without the cold, cold snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone, with these my thoughts and her bright hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alway and everywhere I bear my ail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haply to find some mercy in the eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of unborn nations and far future years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If so long flourishes our laurel green.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span><span class="i0">The gold and topaz of the sun on snow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are shamed by the bright hair above those eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Searing the short green of my life's vain years.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XXIV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Quest' anima gentil che si diparte.</i></h3> + +<h4>ON LAURA DANGEROUSLY ILL.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">That</span> graceful soul, in mercy call'd away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before her time to bid the world farewell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If welcomed as she ought in the realms of day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In heaven's most blessèd regions sure shall dwell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There between Mars and Venus if she stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her sight the brightness of the sun will quell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because, her infinite beauty to survey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spirits of the blest will round her swell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If she decide upon the fourth fair nest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each of the three to dwindle will begin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she alone the fame of beauty win,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor e'en in the fifth circle may she rest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thence higher if she soar, I surely trust<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jove with all other stars in darkness will be thrust.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XXV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Quanto più m' avvicino al giorno estremo.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE CONSOLES HIMSELF THAT HIS LIFE IS ADVANCING TO ITS CLOSE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Near</span> and more near as life's last period draws,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which oft is hurried on by human woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see the passing hours more swiftly flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all my hopes in disappointment close.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to my heart I say, amidst its throes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Not long shall we discourse of love below;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For this my earthly load, like new-fall'n snow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fast melting, soon shall leave us to repose.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With it will sink in dust each towering hope,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cherish'd so long within my faithful breast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more shall we resent, fear, smile, complain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then shall we clearly trace why some are blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through deepest misery raised to Fortune's top,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And why so many sighs so oft are heaved in vain."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrangham.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> nearer I approach my life's last day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The certain day that limits human woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I better mark, in Time's swift silent flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How the fond hopes he brought all pass'd away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of love no longer—to myself I say—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We now may commune, for, as virgin snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hard and heavy load we drag below<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dissolves and dies, ere rest in heaven repay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And prostrate with it must each fair hope lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which here beguiled us and betray'd so long,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And joy, grief, fear and pride alike shall cease:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then too shall we see with clearer eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How oft we trod in weary ways and wrong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And why so long in vain we sigh'd for peace.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XXVI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Già fiammeggiava l' amorosa stella.</i></h3> + +<h4>LAURA, WHO IS ILL, APPEARS TO HIM IN A DREAM, AND ASSURES HIM <i>THAT SHE +STILL LIVES</i>.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Throughout</span> the orient now began to flame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The star of love; while o'er the northern sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, which has oft raised Juno's jealousy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pour'd forth its beauteous scintillating beam:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside her kindled hearth the housewife dame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Half-dress'd, and slipshod, 'gan her distaff ply:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now the wonted hour of woe drew nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wakes to tears the lover from his dream:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When my sweet hope unto my mind appear'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not in the custom'd way unto my sight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For grief had bathed my lids, and sleep had weigh'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah me, how changed that form by love endear'd!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Why lose thy fortitude?" methought she said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"These eyes not yet from thee withdraw their light."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Already</span> in the east the amorous star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Illumined heaven, while from her northern height<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Great Juno's rival through the dusky night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her beamy radiance shot. Returning care<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had roused th' industrious hag, with footstep bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And loins ungirt, the sleeping fire to light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lovers thrill'd that season of despight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which wont renew their tears, and wake despair.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span><span class="i0">When my soul's hope, now on the verge of fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Not by th' accustomed way; for that in sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was closed, and moist with griefs,) attain'd my heart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas, how changed! "Servant, no longer weep,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She seem'd to say; "resume thy wonted state:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not yet thine eyes from mine are doom'd to part."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Charlemont.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Already</span>, in the east, the star of love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was flaming, and that other in the north,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which Juno's jealousy is wont to move,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its beautiful and lustrous rays shot forth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Barefooted and half clad, the housewife old<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had stirr'd her fire, and set herself to weave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each tender heart the thoughtful time controll'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which evermore the lover wakes to grieve,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When my fond hope, already at life's last,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Came to my heart, not by the wonted way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where sleep its seal, its dew where sorrow cast—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! how changed—and said, or seem'd to say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Sight of these eyes not yet does Heaven refuse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then wherefore should thy tost heart courage lose?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XXVII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Apollo, s' ancor vive il bel desio.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE COMPARES HER TO A LAUREL, WHICH HE SUPPLICATES APOLLO TO DEFEND.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">O Phœbus</span>, if that fond desire remains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which fired thy breast near the Thessalian wave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If those bright tresses, which such pleasure gave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through lapse of years thy memory not disdains;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From sluggish frosts, from rude inclement rains.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which last the while thy beams our region leave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That honour'd sacred tree from peril save,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose name of dear accordance waked our pains!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, by that amorous hope which soothed thy care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What time expectant thou wert doom'd to sigh<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dispel those vapours which disturb our sky!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So shall we both behold our favorite fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With wonder, seated on the grassy mead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And forming with her arms herself a shade.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">If</span> live the fair desire, Apollo, yet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which fired thy spirit once on Peneus' shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if the bright hair loved so well of yore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In lapse of years thou dost not now forget,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the long frost, from seasons rude and keen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which last while hides itself thy kindling brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Defend this consecrate and honour'd bough,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which snared thee erst, whose slave I since have been.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, by the virtue of the love so dear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which soothed, sustain'd thee in that early strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our air from raw and lowering vapours clear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So shall we see our lady, to new life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Restored, her seat upon the greensward take,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where her own graceful arms a sweet shade o'er her make.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XXVIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Solo e pensoso i più deserti campi.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE SEEKS SOLITUDE, BUT LOVE FOLLOWS HIM EVERYWHERE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Alone</span>, and lost in thought, the desert glade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Measuring I roam with ling'ring steps and slow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still a watchful glance around me throw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Anxious to shun the print of human tread:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No other means I find, no surer aid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the world's prying eye to hide my woe:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So well my wild disorder'd gestures show,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And love lorn looks, the fire within me bred,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That well I deem each mountain, wood and plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And river knows, what I from man conceal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What dreary hues my life's fond prospects dim.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet whate'er wild or savage paths I've ta'en,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where'er I wander, love attends me still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft whisp'ring to my soul, and I to him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anon., Ox., 1795.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Alone</span>, and pensive, near some desert shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far from the haunts of men I love to stray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, cautiously, my distant path explore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where never human footsteps mark'd the way.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus from the public gaze I strive to fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to the winds alone my griefs impart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While in my hollow cheek and haggard eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Appears the fire that burns my inmost heart.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span><span class="i0">But ah, in vain to distant scenes I go;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No solitude my troubled thoughts allays.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Methinks e'en things inanimate must know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flame that on my soul in secret preys;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst Love, unconquer'd, with resistless sway<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still hovers round my path, still meets me on my way.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">J.B. Taylor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Alone</span> and pensive, the deserted plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With tardy pace and sad, I wander by;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mine eyes o'er it rove, intent to fly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where distant shores no trace of man retain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No help save this I find, some cave to gain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where never may intrude man's curious eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest on my brow, a stranger long to joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He read the secret fire which makes my pain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For here, methinks, the mountain and the flood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Valley and forest the strange temper know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of my sad life conceal'd from others' sight—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet where, where shall I find so wild a wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A way so rough that there Love cannot go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Communing with me the long day and night?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XXIX.</h2> + +<h3><i>S' io credessi per morte essere scarco.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE PRAYS FOR DEATH, BUT IN VAIN.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Had</span> I believed that Death could set me free<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the anxious amorous thoughts my peace that mar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With these my own hands which yet stainless are,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life had I loosed, long hateful grown to me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, for I fear 'twould but a passage be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From grief to grief, from old to other war,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hither the dark shades my escape that bar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I still remain, nor hope relief to see.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">High time it surely is that he had sped<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fatal arrow from his pitiless bow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In others' blood so often bathed and red;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I of Love and Death have pray'd it so—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He listens not, but leaves me here half dead.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor cares to call me to himself below.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Oh</span>! had I deem'd that Death had freed my soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From Love's tormenting, overwhelming thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To crush its aching burthen I had sought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My wearied life had hasten'd to its goal;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My shivering bark yet fear'd another shoal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To find one tempest with another bought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus poised 'twixt earth and heaven I dwell as naught,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not daring to assume my life's control.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sure 'tis time that Death's relentless bow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had wing'd that fatal arrow to my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So often bathed in life's dark crimson tide:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But though I crave he would this boon bestow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He to my cheek his impress doth impart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet o'erlooks me in his fearful stride.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CANZONE IV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Si è debile il filo a cui s' attene.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE GRIEVES IN ABSENCE FROM LAURA.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> thread on which my weary life depends<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So fragile is and weak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If none kind succour lends,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soon 'neath the painful burden will it break;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since doom'd to take my sad farewell of her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In whom begins and ends<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My bliss, one hope, to stir<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My sinking spirit from its black despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whispers, "Though lost awhile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That form so dear and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sad soul! the trial bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thee e'en yet the sun may brightly shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And days more happy smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once more the lost loved treasure may be thine."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This thought awhile sustains me, but again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fail me and forsake in worse excess of pain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Time flies apace: the silent hours and swift<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So urge his journey on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Short span to me is left<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even to think how quick to death I run;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarce, in the orient heaven, yon mountain crest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smiles in the sun's first ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, in the adverse west,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His long round run, we see his light decay<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span><span class="i0">So small of life the space,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So frail and clogg'd with woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To mortal man below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, when I find me from that beauteous face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus torn by fate's decree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unable at a wish with her to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So poor the profit that old comforts give,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know not how I brook in such a state to live.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Each place offends, save where alone I see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those eyes so sweet and bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which still shall bear the key<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the soft thoughts I hide from other sight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, though hard exile harder weighs on me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whatever mood betide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ask no theme beside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For all is hateful that I since have seen.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What rivers and what heights,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What shores and seas between<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me rise and those twin lights,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which made the storm and blackness of my days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One beautiful serene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To which tormented Memory still strays:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Free as my life then pass'd from every care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So hard and heavy seems my present lot to bear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alas! self-parleying thus, I but renew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The warm wish in my mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which first within it grew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The day I left my better half behind:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If by long absence love is quench'd, then who<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Guides me to the old bait,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence all my sorrows date?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why rather not my lips in silence seal'd?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By finest crystal ne'er<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were hidden tints reveal'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So faithfully and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As my sad spirit naked lays and bare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its every secret part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the wild sweetness thrilling in my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through eyes which, restlessly, o'erfraught with tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seek her whose sight alone with instant gladness cheers.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span><span class="i0">Strange pleasure!—yet so often that within<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The human heart to reign<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is found—to woo and win<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each new brief toy that men most sigh to gain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I am one from sadness who relief<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So draw, as if it still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My study were to fill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These eyes with softness, and this heart with grief:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As weighs with me in chief<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay rather with sole force,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The language and the light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of those dear eyes to urge me on that course,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So where its fullest source<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long sorrow finds, I fix my often sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus my heart and eyes like sufferers be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which in love's path have been twin pioneers to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The golden tresses which should make, I ween,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun with envy pine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the sweet look serene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where love's own rays so bright and burning shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, ere its time, they make my strength decline,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each wise and truthful word,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rare in the world, which late<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She smiling gave, no more are seen or heard.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But this of all my fate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is hardest to endure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That here I am denied<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gentle greeting, angel-like and pure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which still to virtue's side<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Inclined my heart with modest magic lure;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So that, in sooth, I nothing hope again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of comfort more than this, how best to bear my pain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And—with fit ecstacy my loss to mourn—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The soft hand's snowy charm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The finely-rounded arm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The winning ways, by turns, that quiet scorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chaste anger, proud humility adorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fair young breast that shrined<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Intellect pure and high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are now all hid the rugged Alp behind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My trust were vain to try<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And see her ere I die,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span><span class="i0">For, though awhile he dare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such dreams indulge, Hope ne'er can constant be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But falls back in despair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her, whom Heaven honours, there again to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where virtue, courtesy in her best mix,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where so oft I pray my future home to fix.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My Song! if thou shalt see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our common lady in that dear retreat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We both may hope that she<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will stretch to thee her fair and fav'ring hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence I so far am bann'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Touch, touch it not, but, reverent at her feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell her I will be there with earliest speed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A man of flesh and blood, or else a spirit freed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XXX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Orso, e' non furon mai fiumi nè stagni.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE COMPLAINS OF THE VEIL AND HAND OF LAURA, THAT THEY DEPRIVE HIM OF THE +SIGHT OF HER EYES.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Orso</span>, my friend, was never stream, nor lake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor sea in whose broad lap all rivers fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor shadow of high hill, or wood, or wall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor heaven-obscuring clouds which torrents make,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor other obstacles my grief so wake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whatever most that lovely face may pall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As hiding the bright eyes which me enthrall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That veil which bids my heart "Now burn or break,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, whether by humility or pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their glance, extinguishing mine every joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Conducts me prematurely to my tomb:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Also my soul by one fair hand is tried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cunning and careful ever to annoy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Gainst my poor eyes a rock that has become.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XXXI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Io temo sì de' begli occhi l' assalto.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE EXCUSES HIMSELF FOR HAVING SO LONG DELAYED TO VISIT HER.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">So</span> much I fear to encounter her bright eye.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alway in which my death and Love reside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, as a child the rod, its glance I fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though long the time has been since first I tried;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span><span class="i0">And ever since, so wearisome or high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No place has been where strong will has not hied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her shunning, at whose sight my senses die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, cold as marble, I am laid aside:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherefore if I return to see you late,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sure 'tis no fault, unworthy of excuse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That from my death awhile I held aloof:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At all to turn to what men shun, their fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from such fear my harass'd heart to loose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of its true faith are ample pledge and proof.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XXXII.</h2> + +<h3><i>S' amore o morte non dà qualche stroppio.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE ASKS FROM A FRIEND THE LOAN OF THE WORKS OF ST. AUGUSTIN.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">If</span> Love or Death no obstacle entwine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the new web which here my fingers fold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if I 'scape from beauty's tyrant hold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While natural truth with truth reveal'd I join,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perchance a work so double will be mine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between our modern style and language old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That (timidly I speak, with hope though bold)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even to Rome its growing fame may shine:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, since, our labour to perfèct at last<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some of the blessed threads are absent yet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which our dear father plentifully met,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherefore to me thy hands so close and fast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against their use? Be prompt of aid and free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rich our harvest of fair things shall be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XXXIII</h2> + +<h3><i>Quando dal proprio sito si rimove.</i></h3> + +<h4>WHEN LAURA DEPARTS, THE HEAVENS GROW DARK WITH STORMS.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">When</span> from its proper soil the tree is moved<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which Phœbus loved erewhile in human form,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grim Vulcan at his labour sighs and sweats,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Renewing ever the dread bolts of Jove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who thunders now, now speaks in snow and rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor Julius honoureth than Janus more:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth moans, and far from us the sun retires<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since his dear mistress here no more is seen.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span><span class="i0">Then Mars and Saturn, cruel stars, resume<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their hostile rage: Orion arm'd with clouds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The helm and sails of storm-tost seamen breaks.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Neptune and to Juno and to us<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vext Æolus proves his power, and makes us feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How parts the fair face angels long expect.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XXXIV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Ma poi che 'l dolce riso umile e piano.</i></h3> + +<h4>HER RETURN GLADDENS THE EARTH AND CALMS THE SKY.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">But</span> when her sweet smile, modest and benign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No longer hides from us its beauties rare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the spent forge his stout and sinewy arms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plieth that old Sicilian smith in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For from the hands of Jove his bolts are taken<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Temper'd in Ætna to extremest proof;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his cold sister by degrees grows calm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And genial in Apollo's kindling beams.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moves from the rosy west a summer breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which safe and easy wafts the seaward bark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wakes the sweet flowers in each grassy mead.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Malignant stars on every side depart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dispersed before that bright enchanting face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For which already many tears are shed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XXXV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Il figliuol di Latona avea già nove.</i></h3> + +<h4>THE GRIEF OF PHŒBUS AT THE LOSS OF HIS LOVE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Nine</span> times already had Latona's son<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look'd from the highest balcony of heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For her, who whilom waked his sighs in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sighs as vain now wakes in other breasts;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then seeking wearily, nor knowing where<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She dwelt, or far or near, and why delay'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He show'd himself to us as one, insane<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For grief, who cannot find some loved lost thing:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus, for clouds of sorrow held aloof,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saw not the fair face turn, which, if I live,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In many a page shall praised and honour'd be,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span><span class="i0">The misery of her loss so changed her mien<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That her bright eyes were dimm'd, for once, with tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thereon its former gloom the air resumed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XXXVI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Quel che 'n Tessaglia ebbe le man sì pronte.</i></h3> + +<h4>SOME HAVE WEPT FOR THEIR WORST ENEMIES, BUT LAURA DEIGNS HIM NOT A +SINGLE TEAR.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">He</span> who for empire at Pharsalia threw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reddening its beauteous plain with civil gore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As Pompey's corse his conquering soldiers bore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wept when the well-known features met his view:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shepherd youth, who fierce Goliath slew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had long rebellious children to deplore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bent, in generous grief, the brave Saul o'er<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His shame and fall when proud Gilboa knew:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But you, whose cheek with pity never paled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who still have shields at hand to guard you well<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against Love's bow, which shoots its darts in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behold me by a thousand deaths assail'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet no tears of thine compassion tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in those bright eyes anger and disdain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XXXVII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Il mio avversario, in cui veder solete.</i></h3> + +<h4>LAURA AT HER LOOKING-GLASS.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">My</span> foe, in whom you see your own bright eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adored by Love and Heaven with honour due,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With beauties not its own enamours you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweeter and happier than in mortal guise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me, by its counsel, lady, from your breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My chosen cherish'd home, your scorn expell'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In wretched banishment, perchance not held<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Worthy to dwell where you alone should rest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But were I fasten'd there with strongest keys,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That mirror should not make you, at my cost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Severe and proud yourself alone to please.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remember how Narcissus erst was lost!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His course and thine to one conclusion lead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of flower so fair though worthless here the mead.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">My</span> mirror'd foe reflects, alas! so fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those eyes which Heaven and Love have honour'd too!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet not his charms thou dost enamour'd view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But all thine own, and they beyond compare:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O lady! thou hast chased me at its prayer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From thy heart's throne, where I so fondly grew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O wretched exile! though too well I knew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A reign with thee I were unfit to share.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But were I ever fix'd thy bosom's mate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A flattering mirror should not me supplant,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And make thee scorn me in thy self-delight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou surely must recall Narcissus' fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if like him thy doom should thee enchant,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What mead were worthy of a flower so bright?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XXXVIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>L' oro e le perle, e i fior vermigli e i bianchi.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE INVEIGHS AGAINST LAURA'S MIRROR, BECAUSE IT MAKES HER FORGET HIM.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Those</span> golden tresses, teeth of pearly white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those cheeks' fair roses blooming to decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do in their beauty to my soul convey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The poison'd arrows from my aching sight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus sad and briefly must my days take flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For life with woe not long on earth will stay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But more I blame that mirror's flattering sway,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which thou hast wearied with thy self-delight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its power my bosom's sovereign too hath still'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who pray'd thee in my suit—now he is mute,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since thou art captured by thyself alone:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death's seeds it hath within my heart instill'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Lethe's stream its form doth constitute,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And makes thee lose each image but thine own.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> gold and pearls, the lily and the rose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which weak and dry in winter wont to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are rank and poisonous arrow-shafts to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As my sore-stricken bosom aptly shows:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus all my days now sadly shortly close,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For seldom with great grief long years agree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in that fatal glass most blame I see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That weary with your oft self-liking grows.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span><span class="i0">It on my lord placed silence, when my suit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He would have urged, but, seeing your desire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">End in yourself alone, he soon was mute.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas fashion'd in hell's wave and o'er its fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tinted in eternal Lethe: thence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spring and secret of my death commence.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XXXIX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Io sentia dentr' al cor già venir meno.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE DESIRES AGAIN TO GAZE ON THE EYES Of LAURA.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">I now</span> perceived that from within me fled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those spirits to which you their being lend;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And since by nature's dictates to defend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Themselves from death all animals are made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The reins I loosed, with which Desire I stay'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sent him on his way without a friend;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There whither day and night my course he'd bend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though still from thence by me reluctant led.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And me ashamed and slow along he drew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see your eyes their matchless influence shower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which much I shun, afraid to give you pain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet for myself this once I'll live; such power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has o'er this wayward life one look from you:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then die, unless Desire prevails again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anon., Ox., 1795.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Because</span> the powers that take their life from you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Already had I felt within decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And because Nature, death to shield or slay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arms every animal with instinct true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To my long-curb'd desire the rein I threw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And turn'd it in the old forgotten way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where fondly it invites me night and day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though 'gainst its will, another I pursue.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus it led me back, ashamed and slow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see those eyes with love's own lustre rife<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which I am watchful never to offend:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus may I live perchance awhile below;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One glance of yours such power has o'er my life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which sure, if I oppose desire, shall end.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET XL.</h2> + +<h3><i>Se mai foco per foco non si spense.</i></h3> + +<h4>HIS HEART IS ALL IN FLAMES, BUT HIS TONGUE IS MUTE, IN HER PRESENCE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">If</span> fire was never yet by fire subdued,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If never flood fell dry by frequent rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, like to like, if each by other gain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And contraries are often mutual food;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love, who our thoughts controllest in each mood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through whom two bodies thus one soul sustain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How, why in her, with such unusual strain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make the want less by wishes long renewed?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perchance, as falleth the broad Nile from high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deafening with his great voice all nature round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as the sun still dazzles the fix'd eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So with itself desire in discord found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loses in its impetuous object force,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the too frequent spur oft checks the course.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XLI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Perch' io t' abbia guardato di menzogna.</i></h3> + +<h4>IN HER PRESENCE HE CAN NEITHER SPEAK, WEEP, NOR SIGH.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Although</span> from falsehood I did thee restrain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all my power, and paid thee honour due,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ungrateful tongue; yet never did accrue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Honour from thee, but shame, and fierce disdain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Most art thou cold, when most I want the strain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy aid should lend while I for pity sue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all thy utterance is imperfect too,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thou dost speak, and as the dreamer's vain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye too, sad tears, throughout each lingering night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon me wait, when I alone would stay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, needed by my peace, you take your flight:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, all so prompt anguish and grief t' impart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye sighs, then slow, and broken breathe your way:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My looks alone truly reveal my heart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">With</span> all my power, lest falsehood should invade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I guarded thee and still thy honour sought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ungrateful tongue! who honour ne'er hast brought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But still my care with rage and shame repaid:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span><span class="i0">For, though to me most requisite, thine aid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When mercy I would ask, availeth nought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still cold and mute, and e'en to words if wrought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They seem as sounds in sleep by dreamers made.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ye, sad tears, o' nights, when I would fain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be left alone, my sure companions, flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, summon'd for my peace, ye soon depart:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye too, mine anguish'd sighs, so prompt to pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then breathe before her brokenly and slow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my face only speaks my suffering heart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CANZONE V.</h2> + +<h3><i>Nella stagion che 'l ciel rapido inchina.</i></h3> + +<h4>NIGHT BRINGS REPOSE TO OTHERS, BUT NOT TO HIM.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">In</span> that still season, when the rapid sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drives down the west, and daylight flies to greet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nations that haply wait his kindling flame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In some strange land, alone, her weary feet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The time-worn pilgrim finds, with toil fordone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet but the more speeds on her languid frame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her solitude the same,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When night has closed around;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet has the wanderer found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A deep though short forgetfulness at last<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of every woe, and every labour past.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ah! my grief, that with each moment grows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As fast, and yet more fast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Day urges on, is heaviest at its close.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When Phœbus rolls his everlasting wheels<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To give night room; and from encircling wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Broader and broader yet descends the shade;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The labourer arms him for his evening trade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the weight his burthen'd heart conceals<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lightens with glad discourse or descant rude;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then spreads his board with food,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such as the forest hoar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To our first fathers bore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By us disdain'd, yet praised in hall and bower,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span><span class="i0">But, let who will the cup of joyance pour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I never knew, I will not say of mirth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But of repose, an hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Phœbus leaves, and stars salute the earth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yon shepherd, when the mighty star of day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He sees descending to its western bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the wide Orient all with shade embrown'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Takes his old crook, and from the fountain head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Green mead, and beechen bower, pursues his way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Calling, with welcome voice, his flocks around;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then far from human sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some desert cave he strows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With leaves and verdant boughs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lays him down, without a thought, to sleep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, cruel Love!—then dost thou bid me keep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My idle chase, the airy steps pursuing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of her I ever weep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who flies me still, my endless toil renewing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">E'en the rude seaman, in some cave confined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pillows his head, as daylight quits the scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the hard deck, with vilest mat o'erspread;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the Sun in orient wave serene<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bathes his resplendent front, and leaves behind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those antique pillars of his boundless bed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forgetfulness has shed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er man, and beast, and flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her mild restoring power:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But my determined grief finds no repose;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every day but aggravates the woes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that remorseless flood, that, ten long years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flowing, yet ever flows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor know I what can check its ceaseless tears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Merivale.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">What</span> time towards the western skies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun with parting radiance flies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And other climes gilds with expected light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some aged pilgrim dame who strays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone, fatigued, through pathless ways,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hastens her step, and dreads the approach of night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, the day's journey o'er, she'll steep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her sense awhile in grateful sleep;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span><span class="i0">Forgetting all the pain, and peril past;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I, alas! find no repose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each sun to me brings added woes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While light's eternal orb rolls from us fast.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the sun's wheels no longer glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hills their lengthen'd shadows throw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hind collects his tools, and carols gay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then spreads his board with frugal fare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such as those homely acorns were,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which all revere, yet casting them away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let those, who pleasure can enjoy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In cheerfulness their hours employ;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While I, of all earth's wretches most unblest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whether the sun fierce darts his beams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whether the moon more mildly gleams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Taste no delight, no momentary rest!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the swain views the star of day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quench in the pillowing waves its ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And scatter darkness o'er the eastern skies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rising, his custom'd crook he takes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beech-wood, fountain, plain forsakes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As calmly homeward with his flock he hies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remote from man, then on his bed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In cot, or cave, with fresh leaves spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He courts soft slumber, and suspense from care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While thou, fell Love, bidst me pursue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That voice, those footsteps which subdue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul; yet movest not th' obdurate fair!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lock'd in some bay, to taste repose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the hard deck, the sailor throws<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His coarse garb o'er him, when the car of light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Granada, with Marocco leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Pillars famed, Iberia's waves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the world's hush'd, and all its race, in night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But never will my sorrows cease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Successive days their sum increase,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though just ten annual suns have mark'd my pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say, to this bosom's poignant grief<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who shall administer relief?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say, who at length shall free me from my chain?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span><span class="i0">And, since there's comfort in the strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see at eve along each plain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And furrow'd hill, the unyoked team return:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why at that hour will no one stay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My sighs, or bear my yoke away?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why bathed in tears must I unceasing mourn?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wretch that I was, to fix my sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">First on that face with such delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till on my thought its charms were strong imprest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which force shall not efface, nor art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere from this frame my soul dispart!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor know I then if passion's votaries rest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O hasty strain, devoid of worth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sad as the bard who brought thee forth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Show not thyself, be with the world at strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From nook to nook indulge thy grief;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While thy lorn parent seeks relief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nursing that amorous flame which feeds his life!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XLII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Poco era ad appressarsi agli occhi miei.</i></h3> + +<h4>SUCH ARE HIS SUFFERINGS THAT HE ENVIES THE INSENSIBILITY OF MARBLE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Had</span> but the light which dazzled them afar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drawn but a little nearer to mine eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Methinks I would have wholly changed my form,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even as in Thessaly her form she changed:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if I cannot lose myself in her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More than I have—small mercy though it won—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would to-day in aspect thoughtful be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of harder stone than chisel ever wrought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of adamant, or marble cold and white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perchance through terror, or of jasper rare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And therefore prized by the blind greedy crowd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then were I free from this hard heavy yoke<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which makes me envy Atlas, old and worn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who with his shoulders brings Morocco night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anon.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> +<h2>MADRIGALE I.</h2> + +<h3><i>Non al suo amante più Diana piacque.</i></h3> + +<h4>ANYTHING THAT REMINDS HIM OF LAURA RENEWS HIS TORMENTS.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Not</span> Dian to her lover was more dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When fortune 'mid the waters cold and clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gave him her naked beauties all to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than seem'd the rustic ruddy nymph to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, in yon flashing stream, the light veil laved,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence Laura's lovely tresses lately waved;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw, and through me felt an amorous chill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though summer burn, to tremble and to thrill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CANZONE VI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Spirto gentil che quelle membra reggi.</i></h3> + +<h4>TO RIENZI, BESEECHING HIM TO RESTORE TO ROME HER ANCIENT LIBERTY.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Spirit</span> heroic! who with fire divine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kindlest those limbs, awhile which pilgrim hold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On earth a Chieftain, gracious, wise, and bold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since, rightly, now the rod of state is thine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rome and her wandering children to confine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet reclaim her to the old good way:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thee I speak, for elsewhere not a ray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of virtue can I find, extinct below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor one who feels of evil deeds the shame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why Italy still waits, and what her aim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know not, callous to her proper woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Indolent, aged, slow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still will she sleep? Is none to rouse her found?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! that my wakening hands were through her tresses wound.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So grievous is the spell, the trance so deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loud though we call, my hope is faint that e'er<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She yet will waken from her heavy sleep:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But not, methinks, without some better end<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was this our Rome entrusted to thy care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who surest may revive and best defend.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fearlessly then upon that reverend head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mid her dishevell'd locks, thy fingers spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lift at length the sluggard from the dust;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I, day and night, who her prostration mourn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For this, in thee, have fix'd my certain trust,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span><span class="i0">That, if her sons yet turn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And their eyes ever to true honour raise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The glory is reserved for thy illustrious days!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her ancient walls, which still with fear and love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world admires, whene'er it calls to mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The days of Eld, and turns to look behind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her hoar and cavern'd monuments above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dust of men, whose fame, until the world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In dissolution sink, can never fail;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her all, that in one ruin now lies hurl'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hopes to have heal'd by thee its every ail.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O faithful Brutus! noble Scipios dead!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To you what triumph, where ye now are blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If of our worthy choice the fame have spread:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And how his laurell'd crest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will old Fabricius rear, with joy elate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That his own Rome again shall beauteous be and great!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And, if for things of earth its care Heaven show,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The souls who dwell above in joy and peace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And their mere mortal frames have left below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Implore thee this long civil strife may cease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which kills all confidence, nips every good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which bars the way to many a roof, where men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once holy, hospitable lived, the den<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of fearless rapine now and frequent blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose doors to virtue only are denied.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While beneath plunder'd Saints, in outraged fanes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plots Faction, and Revenge the altar stains;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, contrast sad and wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The very bells which sweetly wont to fling<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Summons to prayer and praise now Battle's tocsin ring!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pale weeping women, and a friendless crowd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of tender years, infirm and desolate Age,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which hates itself and its superfluous days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With each blest order to religion vow'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom works of love through lives of want engage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thee for help their hands and voices raise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While our poor panic-stricken land displays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thousand wounds which now so mar her frame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That e'en from foes compassion they command;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or more if Christendom thy care may claim.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lo! God's own house on fire, while not a hand<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span><span class="i0">Moves to subdue the flame:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Heal thou these wounds, this feverish tumult end,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on the holy work Heaven's blessing shall descend!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Often against our marble Column high<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wolf, Lion, Bear, proud Eagle, and base Snake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even to their own injury insult shower;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lifts against thee and theirs her mournful cry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The noble Dame who calls thee here to break<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Away the evil weeds which will not flower.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thousand years and more! and gallant men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There fix'd her seat in beauty and in power;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The breed of patriot hearts has fail'd since then!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, in their stead, upstart and haughty now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A race, which ne'er to her in reverence bends,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her husband, father thou!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like care from thee and counsel she attends,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As o'er his other works the Sire of all extends.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis seldom e'en that with our fairest scheme<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some adverse fortune will not mix, and mar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With instant ill ambition's noblest dreams;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thou, once ta'en thy path, so walk that I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May pardon her past faults, great as they are,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If now at least she give herself the lie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For never, in all memory, as to thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To mortal man so sure and straight the way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of everlasting honour open lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thine the power and will, if right I see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To lift our empire to its old proud state.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let this thy glory be!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They succour'd her when young, and strong, and great,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He, in her weak old age, warded the stroke of Fate.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forth on thy way! my Song, and, where the bold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tarpeian lifts his brow, shouldst thou behold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of others' weal more thoughtful than his own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The chief, by general Italy revered,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell him from me, to whom he is but known<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As one to Virtue and by Fame endear'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till stamp'd upon his heart the sad truth be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, day by day to thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With suppliant attitude and streaming eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For justice and relief our seven-hill'd city cries.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p> +<h2>MADRIGALE II.</h2> + +<h3><i>Perchè al viso d' Amor portava insegna.</i></h3> + +<h4>A LOVE JOURNEY—DANGER IN THE PATH—HE TURNS BACK.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Bright</span> in whose face Love's conquering ensign stream'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A foreign fair so won me, young and vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That of her sex all others worthless seem'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her as I follow'd o'er the verdant plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I heard a loud voice speaking from afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"How lost in these lone woods his footsteps are!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then paused I, and, beneath the tall beech shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All wrapt in thought, around me well survey'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till, seeing how much danger block'd my way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Homeward I turn'd me though at noon of day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>BALLATA III.</h2> + +<h3><i>Quel foco, ch' io pensai che fosse spento.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE THOUGHT HIMSELF FREE, BUT FINDS THAT HE IS MORE THAN EVER ENTHRALLED +BY LOVE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">That</span> fire for ever which I thought at rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quench'd in the chill blood of my ripen'd years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awakes new flames and torment in my breast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its sparks were never all, from what I see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Extinct, but merely slumbering, smoulder'd o'er;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haply this second error worse may be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, by the tears, which I, in torrents, pour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grief, through these eyes, distill'd from my heart's core,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which holds within itself the spark and bait,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remains not as it was, but grows more great.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What fire, save mine, had not been quench'd and kill'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath the flood these sad eyes ceaseless shed?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Struggling 'mid opposites—so Love has will'd—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now here, now there, my vain life must be led,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For in so many ways his snares are spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When most I hope him from my heart expell'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then most of her fair face its slave I'm held.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XLIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Se col cieco desir che 'l cor distrugge.</i></h3> + +<h4>BLIGHTED HOPE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Either</span> that blind desire, which life destroys<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Counting the hours, deceives my misery,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span><span class="i0">Or, even while yet I speak, the moment flies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Promised at once to pity and to me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! what baneful shade o'erhangs and dries<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The seed so near its full maturity?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twixt me and hope what brazen walls arise?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From murderous wolves not even my fold is free.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, woe is me! Too clearly now I find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That felon Love, to aggravate my pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mine easy heart hath thus to hope inclined;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now the maxim sage I call to mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That mortal bliss must doubtful still remain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till death from earthly bonds the soul unbind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Charlemont.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Counting</span> the hours, lest I myself mislead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By blind desire wherewith my heart is torn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en while I speak away the moments speed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To me and pity which alike were sworn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What shade so cruel as to blight the seed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence the wish'd fruitage should so soon be born?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What beast within my fold has leap'd to feed?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What wall is built between the hand and corn?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! I know not, but, if right I guess,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love to such joyful hope has only led<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To plunge my weary life in worse distress;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I remember now what once I read,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until the moment of his full release<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Man's bliss begins not, nor his troubles cease.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XLIV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Mie venture al venir son tarde e pigre.</i></h3> + +<h4>FEW ARE THE SWEETS, BUT MANY THE BITTERS OF LOVE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Ever</span> my hap is slack and slow in coming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Desire increasing, ay my hope uncertain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With doubtful love, that but increaseth pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, tiger-like, so swift it is in parting.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! the snow black shall it be and scalding,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sea waterless, and fish upon the mountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Thames shall back return into his fountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where he rose the sun shall take [his] lodging,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere I in this find peace or quietness;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or that Love, or my Lady, right wisely,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave to conspire against me wrongfully.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span><span class="i0">And if I have, after such bitterness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One drop of sweet, my mouth is out of taste,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That all my trust and travail is but waste.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wyatt.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Late</span> to arrive my fortunes are and slow—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hopes are unsure, desires ascend and swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suspense, expectancy in me rebel—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But swifter to depart than tigers go.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tepid and dark shall be the cold pure snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ocean dry, its fish on mountains dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun set in the East, by that old well<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alike whence Tigris and Euphrates flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere in this strife I peace or truce shall find,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere Love or Laura practise kinder ways,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sworn friends, against me wrongfully combined.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">After such bitters, if some sweet allays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Balk'd by long fasts my palate spurns the fare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sole grace from them that falleth to my share.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XLV.</h2> + +<h3><i>La guancia che fu già piangendo stanca.</i></h3> + +<h4>TO HIS FRIEND AGAPITO, WITH A PRESENT.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Thy</span> weary cheek that channell'd sorrow shows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My much loved lord, upon the one repose;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More careful of thyself against Love be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tyrant who smiles his votaries wan to see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with the other close the left-hand path<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too easy entrance where his message hath;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In sun and storm thyself the same display,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because time faileth for the lengthen'd way.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, with the third, drink of the precious herb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which purges every thought that would disturb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet in the end though sour at first in taste:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But me enshrine where your best joys are placed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So that I fear not the grim bark of Styx,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If with such prayer of mine pride do not mix.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> +<h2>BALLATA IV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Perchè quel che mi trasse ad amar prima.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE WILL ALWAYS LOVE HER, THOUGH DENIED THE SIGHT OF HER.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Though</span> cruelty denies my view<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those charms which led me first to love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To passion yet will I be true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor shall my will rebellious prove.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amid the curls of golden hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wave those beauteous temples round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cupid spread craftily the snare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With which my captive heart he bound:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from those eyes he caught the ray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which thaw'd the ice that fenced my breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chasing all other thoughts away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With brightness suddenly imprest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now that hair of sunny gleam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah me! is ravish'd from my sight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those beauteous eyes withdraw their beam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And change to sadness past delight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A glorious death by all is prized;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tis death alone shall break my chain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! be Love's timid wail despised.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lovers should nobly suffer pain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Though</span> barr'd from all which led me first to love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By coldness or caprice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not yet from its firm bent can passion cease!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The snare was set amid those threads of gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To which Love bound me fast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from those bright eyes melted the long cold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within my heart that pass'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So sweet the spell their sudden splendour cast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its single memory still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deprives my soul of every other will.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now, alas! from me of that fine hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is ravish'd the dear sight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lost light of those twin stars, chaste as fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saddens me in her flight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, since a glorious death wins honour bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By death, and not through grief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love from such chain shall give at last relief.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET XLVI.</h2> + +<h3><i>L' arbor gentil che forte amai molt' anni.</i></h3> + +<h4>IMPRECATION AGAINST THE LAUREL.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> graceful tree I loved so long and well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere its fair boughs in scorn my flame declined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath its shade encouraged my poor mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bud and bloom, and 'mid its sorrow swell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now, my heart secure from such a spell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas, from friendly it has grown unkind!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My thoughts entirely to one end confined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their painful sufferings how I still may tell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What should he say, the sighing slave of love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To whom my later rhymes gave hope of bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who for that laurel has lost all—but this?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May poet never pluck thee more, nor Jove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exempt; but may the sun still hold in hate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On each green leaf till blight and blackness wait.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XLVII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Benedetto sia 'l giorno e 'l mese e l' anno.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE BLESSES ALL THE CIRCUMSTANCES OF HIS PASSION.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Blest</span> be the day, and blest the month, the year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spring, the hour, the very moment blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lovely scene, the spot, where first oppress'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sunk, of two bright eyes the prisoner:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blest the first soft pang, to me most dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which thrill'd my heart, when Love became its guest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blest the bow, the shafts which pierced my breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And even the wounds, which bosom'd thence I bear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blest too the strains which, pour'd through glade and grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have made the woodlands echo with her name;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sighs, the tears, the languishment, the love:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blest those sonnets, sources of my fame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blest that thought—Oh! never to remove!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which turns to her alone, from her alone which came.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrangham.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Blest</span> be the year, the month, the hour, the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The season and the time, and point of space,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blest the beauteous country and the place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where first of two bright eyes I felt the sway:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span><span class="i0">Blest the sweet pain of which I was the prey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When newly doom'd Love's sovereign law to embrace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blest the bow and shaft to which I trace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wound that to my inmost heart found way:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blest be the ceaseless accents of my tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unwearied breathing my loved lady's name:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blest my fond wishes, sighs, and tears, and pains:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blest be the lays in which her praise I sung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That on all sides acquired to her fair fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blest my thoughts! for o'er them all she reigns.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Dacre.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XLVIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Padre del ciel, dopo i perduti giorni.</i></h3> + +<h4>CONSCIOUS OF HIS FOLLY, HE PRAYS GOD TO TURN HIM TO A BETTER LIFE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Father</span> of heaven! after the days misspent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">After the nights of wild tumultuous thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In that fierce passion's strong entanglement,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One, for my peace too lovely fair, had wrought;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vouchsafe that, by thy grace, my spirit bent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On nobler aims, to holier ways be brought;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That so my foe, spreading with dark intent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His mortal snares, be foil'd, and held at nought.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en now th' eleventh year its course fulfils,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I have bow'd me to the tyranny<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Relentless most to fealty most tried.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have mercy, Lord! on my unworthy ills:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fix all my thoughts in contemplation high;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How on the cross this day a Saviour died.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Dacre.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Father</span> of heaven! despite my days all lost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Despite my nights in doting folly spent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With that fierce passion which my bosom rent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At sight of her, too lovely for my cost;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vouchsafe at length that, by thy grace, I turn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wiser life, and enterprise more fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So that my cruel foe, in vain his snare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Set for my soul, may his defeat discern.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Already, Lord, the eleventh year circling wanes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since first beneath his tyrant yoke I fell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who still is fiercest where we least rebel:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pity my undeserved and lingering pains,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span><span class="i0">To holier thoughts my wandering sense restore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How on this day his cross thy Son our Saviour bore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>BALLATA V.</h2> + +<h3><i>Volgendo gli occhi al mio novo colore.</i></h3> + +<h4>HER KIND SALUTE SAVED HIM FROM DEATH.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Late</span> as those eyes on my sunk cheek inclined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose paleness to the world seems of the grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Compassion moved you to that greeting kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose soft smile to my worn heart spirit gave.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The poor frail life which yet to me is left<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was of your beauteous eyes the liberal gift,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And of that voice angelical and mild;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My present state derived from them I see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the rod quickens the slow sullen child,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So waken'd they the sleeping soul in me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus, Lady, of my true heart both the keys<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You hold in hand, and yet your captive please:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ready to sail wherever winds may blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By me most prized whate'er to you I owe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XLIX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Se voi poteste per turbati segni.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE ENTREATS LAURA NOT TO HATE THE HEART FROM WHICH SHE CAN NEVER BE +ABSENT.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">If</span>, but by angry and disdainful sign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the averted head and downcast sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By readiness beyond thy sex for flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deaf to all pure and worthy prayers of mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou canst, by these or other arts of thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Scape from my breast—where Love on slip so slight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grafts every day new boughs—of such despite<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fitting cause I then might well divine:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For gentle plant in arid soil to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seems little suited: so it better were,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And this e'en nature dictates, thence to stir.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But since thy destiny prohibits thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Elsewhere to dwell, be this at least thy care<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not always to sojourn in hatred there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET L.</h2> + +<h3><i>Lasso, che mal accorto fui da prima.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE PRAYS LOVE TO KINDLE ALSO IN HER THE FLAME BY WHICH HE IS UNCEASINGLY +TORMENTED.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Alas</span>! this heart by me was little known<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In those first days when Love its depths explored,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where by degrees he made himself the lord<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of my whole life, and claim'd it as his own:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I did not think that, through his power alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A heart time-steel'd, and so with valour stored,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such proof of failing firmness could afford,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fell by wrong self-confidence o'erthrown.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Henceforward all defence too late will come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save this, to prove, enough or little, here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If to these mortal prayers Love lend his ear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not now my prayer—nor can such e'er have room—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That with more mercy he consume my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in the fire that she may bear her part.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SESTINA III.</h2> + +<h3><i>L' aere gravato, e l' importuna nebbia.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE COMPARES LAURA TO WINTER, AND FORESEES THAT SHE WILL ALWAYS BE THE +SAME.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> overcharged air, the impending cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Compress'd together by impetuous winds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must presently discharge themselves in rain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Already as of crystal are the streams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, for the fine grass late that clothed the vales,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is nothing now but the hoar frost and ice.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And I, within my heart, more cold than ice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of heavy thoughts have such a hovering cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As sometimes rears itself in these our vales,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lowly, and landlock'd against amorous winds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Environ'd everywhere with stagnant streams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When falls from soft'ning heaven the smaller rain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lasts but a brief while every heavy rain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And summer melts away the snows and ice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When proudly roll th' accumulated streams:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span><span class="i0">Nor ever hid the heavens so thick a cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, overtaken by the furious winds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fled not from the first hills and quiet vales.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But ah! what profit me the flowering vales?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alike I mourn in sunshine and in rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suffering the same in warm and wintry winds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For only then my lady shall want ice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At heart, and on her brow th' accustom'd cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When dry shall be the seas, the lakes, and streams.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While to the sea descend the mountain streams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As long as wild beasts love umbrageous vales,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er those bright eyes shall hang th' unfriendly cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My own that moistens with continual rain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in that lovely breast be harden'd ice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which forces still from mine so dolorous winds.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet well ought I to pardon all the winds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But for the love of one, that 'mid two streams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shut me among bright verdure and pure ice;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So that I pictured then in thousand vales<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shade wherein I was, which heat or rain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Esteemeth not, nor sound of broken cloud.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But fled not ever cloud before the winds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As I that day: nor ever streams with rain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor ice, when April's sun opens the vales.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a id="image11" name="image11"></a><a href="images/11large.jpg"> + <img src="images/11.jpg" + alt="CASTLE OF ST. ANGELO & ST. PETERS." + title="CASTLE OF ST. ANGELO & ST. PETERS." /></a><br /> + <span class="caption">CASTLE OF ST. ANGELO & ST. PETERS.</span> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Del mar Tirreno alla sinistra riva.</i></h3> + +<h4>THE FALL.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Upon</span> the left shore of the Tyrrhene sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, broken by the winds, the waves complain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sudden I saw that honour'd green again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Written for whom so many a page must be:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love, ever in my soul his flame who fed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drew me with memories of those tresses fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence, in a rivulet, which silent there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through long grass stole, I fell, as one struck dead.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lone as I was, 'mid hills of oak and fir,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I felt ashamed; to heart of gentle mould<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blushes suffice: nor needs it other spur.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span><span class="i0">'Tis well at least, breaking bad customs old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To change from eyes to feet: from these so wet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By those if milder April should be met.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LII.</h2> + +<h3><i>L' aspetto sacro della terra vostra.</i></h3> + +<h4>THE VIEW OF ROME PROMPTS HIM TO TEAR HIMSELF FROM LAURA, BUT LOVE WILL +NOT ALLOW HIM.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> solemn aspect of this sacred shore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wakes for the misspent past my bitter sighs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Pause, wretched man! and turn,' as conscience cries,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pointing the heavenward way where I should soar.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But soon another thought gets mastery o'er<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The first, that so to palter were unwise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en now the time, if memory err not, flies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When we should wait our lady-love before.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I, for his aim then well I apprehend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within me freeze, as one who, sudden, hears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">News unexpected which his soul offend.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Returns my first thought then, that disappears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor know I which shall conquer, but till now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within me they contend, nor hope of rest allow!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Ben sapev' io che natural consiglio.</i></h3> + +<h4>FLEEING FROM LOVE, HE FALLS INTO THE HANDS OF HIS MINISTERS.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Full</span> well I know that natural wisdom nought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love, 'gainst thy power, in any age prevail'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For snares oft set, fond oaths that ever fail'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sore proofs of thy sharp talons long had taught;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But lately, and in me it wonder wrought—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With care this new experience be detail'd—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tween Tuscany and Elba as I sail'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the salt sea, it first my notice caught.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fled from thy broad hands, and, by the way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An unknown wanderer, 'neath the violence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of winds, and waves, and skies, I helpless lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, lo! thy ministers, I knew not whence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who quickly made me by fresh stings to feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ill who resists his fate, or would conceal.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> +<h2>CANZONE VII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Lasso me, ch i' non so in qual parte pieghi.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE WOULD CONSOLE HIMSELF WITH SONG, BUT IS CONSTRAINED TO WEEP.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Me</span> wretched! for I know not whither tend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hopes which have so long my heart betray'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If none there be who will compassion lend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherefore to Heaven these often prayers for aid?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if, belike, not yet denied to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, ere my own life end,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These sad notes mute shall be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let not my Lord conceive the wish too free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet once, amid sweet flowers, to touch the string,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Reason and right it is that love I sing."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Reason indeed there were at last that I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should sing, since I have sigh'd so long and late,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that for me 'tis vain such art to try,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brief pleasures balancing with sorrows great;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could I, by some sweet verse, but cause to shine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glad wonder and new joy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within those eyes divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bliss o'er all other lovers then were mine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But more, if frankly fondly I could say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"My lady asks, I therefore wake the lay."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Delicious, dangerous thoughts! that, to begin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A theme so high, have gently led me thus,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You know I ne'er can hope to pass within<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our lady's heart, so strongly steel'd from us;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She will not deign to look on thing so low,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor may our language win<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aught of her care: since Heaven ordains it so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And vainly to oppose must irksome grow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even as I my heart to stone would turn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"So in my verse would I be rude and stern."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What do I say? where am I?—My own heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And its misplaced desires alone deceive!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though my view travel utmost heaven athwart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No planet there condemns me thus to grieve:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why, if the body's veil obscure my sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blame to the stars impart.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span><span class="i0">Or other things as bright?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within me reigns my tyrant, day and night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since, for his triumph, me a captive took<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Her lovely face, and lustrous eyes' dear look."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While all things else in Nature's boundless reign<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Came good from the Eternal Master's mould,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I look for such desert in me in vain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me the light wounds that I around behold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the true splendour if I turn at last,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My eye would shrink in pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose own fault o'er it cast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such film, and not the fatal day long past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When first her angel beauty met my view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"In the sweet season when my life was new."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CANZONE VIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Perchè la vita è breve.</i></h3> + +<h4>IN PRAISE OF LAURA'S EYES: THE DIFFICULTY OF HIS THEME.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Since</span> human life is frail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And genius trembles at the lofty theme,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I little confidence in either place;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But let my tender wail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, where it ought, deserved attention claim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wail which e'en in silence we may trace.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O beauteous eyes, where Love doth nestling stay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To you I turn my insufficient lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unapt to flow; but passion's goad I feel:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he of you who sings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such courteous habit by the strain is taught,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, borne on amorous wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He soars above the reach of vulgar thought:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exalted thus, I venture to reveal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What long my cautious heart has labour'd to conceal.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes, well do I perceive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To you how wrongful is my scanty praise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet the strong impulse cannot be withstood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That urges, since I view'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What fancy to the sight before ne'er gave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What ne'er before graced mine, or higher lays.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span><span class="i0">Bright authors of my sadly-pleasing state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That you alone conceive me well I know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When to your fierce beams I become as snow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your elegant disdain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haply then kindles at my worthless strain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did not this dread create<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some mitigation of my bosom's heat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death would be bliss: for greater joy 'twould give<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With them to suffer death, without them than to live.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If not consumèd quite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I the weak object of a flame so strong:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis not that safety springs from native might,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that some fear restrains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which chills the current circling through my veins;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strengthening this heart, that it may suffer long.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O hills, O vales, O forests, floods, and fields,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye who have witness'd how my sad life flows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft have ye heard me call on death for aid.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, state surcharged with woes!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To stay destroys, and flight no succour yields.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But had not higher dread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Withheld, some sudden effort I had made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To end my sorrows and protracted pains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of which the beauteous cause insensible remains.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why lead me, grief, astray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From my first theme to chant a different lay?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let me proceed where pleasure may invite.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis not of you I 'plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O eyes, beyond compare serenely bright;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor yet of him who binds me in his chain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye clearly can behold the hues that Love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scatters ofttime on my dejected face;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fancy may his inward workings trace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There where, whole nights and days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He rules with power derived from your bright rays:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What rapture would ye prove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If you, dear lights, upon yourselves could gaze!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, frequent as you bend your beams on me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What influence you possess you in another see.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span><span class="i0">Oh! if to you were known<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That beauty which I sing, immense, divine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As unto him on whom its glories shine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heart had then o'erflown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With joy unbounded, such as is denied<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto that nature which its acts doth guide.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How happy is the soul for you that sighs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Celestial lights! which lend a charm to life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And make me bless what else I should not prize!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! why, so seldom why<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Afford what ne'er can cause satiety?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More often to your sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why not bring Love, who holds me constant strife?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And why so soon of joys despoil me quite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which ever and anon my tranced soul delight?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes, 'debted to your grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frequent I feel throughout my inmost soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unwonted floods of sweetest rapture roll;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Relieving so the mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That all oppressive thoughts are left behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And of a thousand only one has place;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For which alone this life is dear to me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! might the blessing of duration prove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not equall'd then could my condition be!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But this would, haply, move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In others envy, in myself vain pride.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That pain should be allied<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To pleasure is, alas! decreed above;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, stifling all the ardour of desire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Homeward I turn my thoughts, and in myself retire.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So sweetly shines reveal'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The amorous thought within your soul which dwells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That other joys it from my heart expels:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hence I aspire to frame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lays whereon Hope may build a deathless name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When in the tomb my dust shall lie conceal'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At your approach anguish and sorrow fly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These, as your beams retire, again draw nigh;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet outward acts their influence ne'er betray,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span><span class="i0">For doting memory<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dwells on the past, and chases them away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whatever, then, of worth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My genius ripens owes to you its birth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To you all honour and all praise is due—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Myself a barren soil, and cultured but by you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy strains, O song! appease me not, but fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chanting a theme that wings my wild desire:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trust me, thou shalt ere long a sister-song acquire.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Since</span> mortal life is frail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my mind shrinks from lofty themes deterr'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But small the trust which I in either feel:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet hope I that my wail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which vainly I in silence would conceal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall, where I wish, where most it ought, be heard.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beautiful eyes! wherein Love makes his nest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To you my song its feeble descant turns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slow of itself, but now by passion spurr'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who sings of you is blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from his theme such courteous habit learns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, borne on wings of love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proudly he soars each viler thought above;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Encouraged thus, what long my harass'd heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has kept conceal'd, I venture to impart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet do I know full well<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How much my praise must wrongful prove to you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But how the great desire can I oppose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which ever in me grows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since what surpasses thought 'twas mine to view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though that nor others' wit nor mine can tell?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eyes! guilty authors of my cherish'd pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That you alone can judge me, well I know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When from your burning beams I melt like snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haply your sweet disdain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Offence in my unworthiness may see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! were there not such fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To calm the heat with which I kindle near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twere bliss to die: for better far to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were death with them than life without could be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span><span class="i0">If yet not wasted quite—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So frail a thing before so fierce a flame—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis not from my own strength that safety came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that some fear gives might,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Freezing the warm blood coursing through its veins,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To my poor heart better to bear the strife.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O valleys, hills, O forests, floods, and plains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Witnesses of my melancholy life!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For death how often have ye heard me pray!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, miserable fate!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where flight avails not, though 'tis death to stay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, if a dread more great<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Restrain'd me not, despair would find a way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speedy and short, my lingering pains to close,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Hers then the crime who still no mercy shows.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why thus astray, O grief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lead me to speak what I would leave unsaid?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave me, where pleasure me impels, to tread:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not now my song complains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of you, sweet eyes, serene beyond belief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor yet of him who binds me in such chains:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Right well may you observe the varying hues<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which o'er my visage oft the tyrant strews,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thence may guess what war within he makes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where night and day he reigns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strong in the power which from your light he takes:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blessèd ye were as bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save that from you is barr'd your own dear sight:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet often as to me those orbs you turn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What they to others are you well may learn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If, as to us who gaze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were known to you the charms incredible<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heavenly, of which I sing the praise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No measured joy would swell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your heart, and haply, therefore, 'tis denied<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto the power which doth their motions guide.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Happy the soul for you which breathes the sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Best lights of heaven! for whom I grateful bless<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This life, which has for me no other joy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! so seldom why<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give me what I can ne'er too much possess?<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span><span class="i0">Why not more often see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ceaseless havoc which love makes of me?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And why that bliss so quickly from me steal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From time to time which my rapt senses feel?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes, thanks, great thanks to you!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From time to time I feel through all my soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sweetness so unusual and new,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That every marring care<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gloomy vision thence begins to roll,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So that, from all, one only thought is there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That—that alone consoles me life to bear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And could but this my joy endure awhile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nought earthly could, methinks, then match my state.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet such great honour might<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Envy in others, pride in me excite:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus still it seems the fate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of man, that tears should chase his transient smile:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, checking thus my burning wishes, I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Back to myself return, to muse and sigh.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The amorous anxious thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which reigns within you, flashes so on me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That from my heart it draws all other joy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence works and words so wrought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Find scope and issue, that I hope to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Immortal made, although all flesh must die.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At your approach ennui and anguish fly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With your departure they return again:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But memory, on the past which doting dwells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Denies them entrance then,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So that no outward act their influence tells;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus, if in me is nurst<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Any good fruit, from you the seed came first:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To you, if such appear, the praise is due,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Barren myself till fertilized by you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy strains appease me not, O song!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But rather fire me still that theme to sing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where centre all my thoughts—therefore, ere long,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sister ode to join thee will I bring.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p> +<h2>CANZONE IX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Gentil mia donna, i' veggio.</i></h3> + +<h4>IN PRAISE OF LAURA'S EYES: THEY LEAD HIM TO CONTEMPLATE THE PATH OF +LIFE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Lady</span>, in your bright eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft glancing round, I mark a holy light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pointing the arduous way that heavenward lies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to my practised sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From thence, where Love enthroned, asserts his might,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Visibly, palpably, the soul beams forth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is the beacon guides to deeds of worth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And urges me to seek the glorious goal;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This bids me leave behind the vulgar throng,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor can the human tongue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell how those orbs divine o'er all my soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exert their sweet control,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Both when hoar winter's frosts around are flung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the year puts on his youth again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jocund, as when this bosom first knew pain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! if in that high sphere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From whence the Eternal Ruler of the stars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In this excelling work declared his might,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All be as fair and bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loose me from forth my darksome prison here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That to so glorious life the passage bars;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, in the wonted tumult of my breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hail boon Nature, and the genial day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That gave me being, and a fate so blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her who bade hope beam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon my soul; for till then burthensome<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was life itself become:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now, elate with touch of self-esteem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">High thoughts and sweet within that heart arise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of which the warders are those beauteous eyes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No joy so exquisite<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did Love or fickle Fortune ere devise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In partial mood, for favour'd votaries,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I would barter it<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For one dear glance of those angelic eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence springs my peace as from its living root.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O vivid lustre! of power absolute<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span><span class="i0">O'er all my being—source of that delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By which consumed I sink, a willing prey.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As fades each lesser ray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before your splendour more intense and bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So to my raptured heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When your surpassing sweetness you impart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No other thought of feeling may remain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where you, with Love himself, despotic reign.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All sweet emotions e'er<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By happy lovers felt in every clime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Together all, may not with mine compare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, as from time to time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I catch from that dark radiance rich and deep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A ray in which, disporting, Love is seen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I believe that from my cradled sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By Heaven provided this resource hath been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Gainst adverse fortune, and my nature frail.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wrong'd am I by that veil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the fair hand which oft the light eclipse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That all my bliss hath wrought;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whence the passion struggling on my lips,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Both day and night, to vent the breast o'erfraught,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still varying as I read her varying thought.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For that (with pain I find)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not Nature's poor endowments may alone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Render me worthy of a look so kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I strive to raise my mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To match with the exalted hopes I own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fires, though all engrossing, pure as mine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If prone to good, averse to all things base,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Contemner of what worldlings covet most,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I may become by long self-discipline.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haply this humble boast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May win me in her fair esteem a place;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For sure the end and aim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all my tears, my sorrowing heart's sole claim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were the soft trembling of relenting eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The generous lover's last, best, dearest prize.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My lay, thy sister-song is gone before.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now another in my teeming brain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prepares itself: whence I resume the strain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Dacre.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p> +<h2>CANZONE X.</h2> + +<h3><i>Poichè per mio destino.</i></h3> + +<h4>IN PRAISE OF LAURA'S EYES: IN THEM HE FINDS EVERY GOOD, AND HE CAN NEVER +CEASE TO PRAISE THEM.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Since</span> then by destiny<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am compell'd to sing the strong desire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which here condemns me ceaselessly to sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May Love, whose quenchless fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Excites me, be my guide and point the way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the sweet task modulate my lay:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But gently be it, lest th' o'erpowering theme<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Inflame and sting me, lest my fond heart may<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dissolve in too much softness, which I deem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From its sad state, may be:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For in me—hence my terror and distress!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not now as erst I see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Judgment to keep my mind's great passion less:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, rather from mine own thoughts melt I so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As melts before the summer sun the snow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At first I fondly thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Communing with mine ardent flame to win<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some brief repose, some time of truce within:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This was the hope which brought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me courage what I suffer'd to explain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, now it leaves me martyr to my pain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But still, continuing mine amorous song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must I the lofty enterprise maintain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So powerful is the wish that in me glows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Reason, which so long<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Restrain'd it, now no longer can oppose.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then teach me, Love, to sing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In such frank guise, that ever if the ear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of my sweet foe should chance the notes to hear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pity, I ask no more, may in her spring.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If, as in other times,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When kindled to true virtue was mankind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The genius, energy of man could find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Entrance in divers climes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mountains and seas o'erpassing, seeking there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Honour, and culling oft its garland fair,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span><span class="i0">Mine were such wish, not mine such need would be.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From shore to shore my weary course to trace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since God, and Love, and Nature deign for me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each virtue and each grace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In those dear eyes where I rejoice to place.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In life to them must I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turn as to founts whence peace and safety swell:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And e'en were death, which else I fear not, nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their sight alone would teach me to be well.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As, vex'd by the fierce wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The weary sailor lifts at night his gaze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the twin lights which still our pole displays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So, in the storms unkind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Love which I sustain, in those bright eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My guiding light and only solace lies:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But e'en in this far more is due to theft,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, taught by Love, from time to time, I make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of secret glances than their gracious gift:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet that, though rare and slight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Makes me from them perpetual model take;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since first they blest my sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nothing of good without them have I tried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Placing them over me to guard and guide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because mine own worth held itself but light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Never the full effect<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can I imagine, and describe it less<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which o'er my heart those soft eyes still possess!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As worthless I reject<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mean all other joys that life confers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en as all other beauties yield to hers.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A tranquil peace, alloy'd by no distress,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such as in heaven eternally abides,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moves from their lovely and bewitching smile.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So could I gaze, the while<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love, at his sweet will, governs them and guides,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—E'en though the sun were nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Resting above us on his onward wheel—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On her, intensely with undazzled eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor of myself nor others think or feel.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! that I should desire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Things that can never in this world be won,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span><span class="i0">Living on wishes hopeless to acquire.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, were the knot undone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherewith my weak tongue Love is wont to bind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Checking its speech, when her sweet face puts on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All its great charms, then would I courage find,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Words on that point so apt and new to use,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As should make weep whoe'er might hear the tale.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the old wounds I bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stamp'd on my tortured heart, such power refuse;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then grow I weak and pale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my blood hides itself I know not where;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor as I was remain I: hence I know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love dooms my death and this the fatal blow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell, my song! already do I see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heavily in my hand the tired pen move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From its long dear discourse with her I love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not so my thoughts from communing with me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LIV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Io son già stanco di pensar siccome.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE WONDERS AT HIS LONG ENDURANCE OF SUCH TOIL AND SUFFERING.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">I weary</span> me alway with questions keen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How, why my thoughts ne'er turn from you away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherefore in life they still prefer to stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When they might flee this sad and painful scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And how of the fine hair, the lovely mien,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the bright eyes which all my feelings sway,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Calling on your dear name by night and day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My tongue ne'er silent in their praise has been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And how my feet not tender are, nor tired,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pursuing still with many a useless pace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of your fair footsteps the elastic trace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whence the ink, the paper whence acquired,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fill'd with your memories: if in this I err,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not art's defect but Love's own fault it were.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LV.</h2> + +<h3><i>I begli occhi, ond' i' fui percosso in guisa.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE IS NEVER WEARY OF PRAISING THE EYES OF LAURA.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> bright eyes which so struck my fenceless side<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That they alone which harm'd can heal the smart<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span><span class="i0">Beyond or power of herbs or magic art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or stone which oceans from our shores divide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The chance of other love have so denied<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That one sweet thought alone contents my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From following which if ne'er my tongue depart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pity the guided though you blame the guide.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These are the bright eyes which, in every land<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But most in its own shrine, my heart, adored,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have spread the triumphs of my conquering lord;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These are the same bright eyes which ever stand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burning within me, e'en as vestal fires,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In singing which my fancy never tires.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Not</span> all the spells of the magician's art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not potent herbs, nor travel o'er the main,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But those sweet eyes alone can soothe my pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they which struck the blow must heal the smart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those eyes from meaner love have kept my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Content one single image to retain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And censure but the medium wild and vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If ill my words their honey'd sense impart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These are those beauteous eyes which never fail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To prove Love's conquest, wheresoe'er they shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Although my breast hath oftenest felt their fire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These are those beauteous eyes which still assail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And penetrate my soul with sparks divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So that of singing them I cannot tire.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrottesley.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LVI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Amor con sue promesse lusingando.</i></h3> + +<h4>LOVE CHAINS ARE STILL DEAR TO HIM.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">By</span> promise fair and artful flattery<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me Love contrived in prison old to snare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gave the keys to her my foe in care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who in self-exile dooms me still to lie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! his wiles I knew not until I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was in their power, so sharp yet sweet to bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Man scarce will credit it although I swear)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I regain my freedom with a sigh,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span><span class="i0">And, as true suffering captives ever do,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Carry of my sore chains the greater part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on my brow and eyes so writ my heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That when she witnesseth my cheek's wan hue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sigh shall own: if right I read his face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between him and his tomb but small the space!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LVII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Per mirar Policleto a prova fiso.</i></h3> + +<h4>ON THE PORTRAIT OF LAURA PAINTED BY SIMON MEMMI.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Had</span> Policletus seen her, or the rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, in past time, won honour in this art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thousand years had but the meaner part<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shown of the beauty which o'ercame my breast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Simon sure, in Paradise the blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence came this noble lady of my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saw her, and took this wond'rous counterpart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which should on earth her lovely face attest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The work, indeed, was one, in heaven alone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be conceived, not wrought by fellow-men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over whose souls the body's veil is thrown:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas done of grace: and fail'd his pencil when<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To earth he turn'd our cold and heat to bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And felt that his own eyes but mortal were.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Had</span> Polycletus in proud rivalry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On her his model gazed a thousand years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not half the beauty to my soul appears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In fatal conquest, e'er could he descry.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, Simon, thou wast then in heaven's blest sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere she, my fair one, left her native spheres,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To trace a loveliness this world reveres<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was thus thy task, from heaven's reality.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yes—thine the portrait heaven alone could wake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This clime, nor earth, such beauty could conceive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where droops the spirit 'neath its earthly shrine:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The soul's reflected grace was thine to take,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which not on earth thy painting could achieve,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where mortal limits all the powers confine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET LVIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Quando giunse a Simon l' alto concetto.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE DESIRES ONLY THAT MEMMI HAD BEEN ABLE TO IMPART SPEECH TO HIS +PORTRAIT OF LAURA.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">When</span>, at my word, the high thought fired his mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within that master-hand which placed the pen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had but the painter, in his fair work, then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Language and intellect to beauty join'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Less 'neath its care my spirit since had pined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which worthless held what still pleased other men;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet so mild she seems that my fond ken<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of peace sees promise in that aspect kind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When further communing I hold with her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Benignantly she smiles, as if she heard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And well could answer to mine every word:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But far o'er mine thy pride and pleasure were,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright, warm and young, Pygmalion, to have press'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thine image long and oft, while mine not once has blest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">When</span> Simon at my wish the proud design<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Conceived, which in his hand the pencil placed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had he, while loveliness his picture graced,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But added speech and mind to charms divine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What sighs he then had spared this breast of mine:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That bliss had given to higher bliss distaste:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, when such meekness in her look was traced,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twould seem she soon to kindness might incline.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, urging converse with the portray'd fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Methinks she deigns attention to my prayer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though wanting to reply the power of voice.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What praise thyself, Pygmalion, hast thou gain'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forming that image, whence thou hast obtain'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thousand times what, once obtain'd, would me rejoice.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LIX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Se al principio risponde il fine e 'l mezzo.</i></h3> + +<h4>IF HIS PASSION STILL INCREASE, HE MUST SOON DIE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">If</span>, of this fourteenth year wherein I sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The end and middle with its opening vie,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span><span class="i0">Nor air nor shade can give me now release,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feel mine ardent passion so increase:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Love, with whom my thought no medium knows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath whose yoke I never find repose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So rules me through these eyes, on mine own ill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too often turn'd, but half remains to kill.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus, day by day, I feel me sink apace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet so secretly none else may trace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save she whose glances my fond bosom tear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarcely till now this load of life I bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor know how long with me will be her stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For death draws near, and hastens life away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SESTINA IV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Chi è fermato di menar sua vita.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE PRAYS GOD TO GUIDE HIS FRAIL BARK TO A SAFE PORT.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Who</span> is resolved to venture his vain life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the deceitful wave and 'mid the rocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone, unfearing death, in little bark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can never be far distant from his end:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Therefore betimes he should return to port<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While to the helm yet answers his true sail.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The gentle breezes to which helm and sail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I trusted, entering on this amorous life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hoping soon to make some better port,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have led me since amid a thousand rocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the sure causes of my mournful end<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are not alone without, but in my bark.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Long cabin'd and confined in this blind bark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wander'd, looking never at the sail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, prematurely, bore me to my end;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till He was pleased who brought me into life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So far to call me back from those sharp rocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, distantly, at last was seen my port.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As lights at midnight seen in any port,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sometimes from the main sea by passing bark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save when their ray is lost 'mid storms or rocks;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So I too from above the swollen sail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saw the sure colours of that other life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And could not help but sigh to reach my end.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span><span class="i0">Not that I yet am certain of that end,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For wishing with the dawn to be in port,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is a long voyage for so short a life:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then I fear to find me in frail bark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond my wishes full its every sail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the strong wind which drove me on those rocks.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Escape I living from these doubtful rocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or if my exile have but a fair end,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How happy shall I be to furl my sail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my last anchor cast in some sure port;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, ah! I burn, and, as some blazing bark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So hard to me to leave my wonted life.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lord of my end and master of my life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before I lose my bark amid the rocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Direct to a good port its harass'd sail!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Io son sì stanco sotto 'l fascio antico.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE CONFESSES HIS ERRORS, AND THROWS HIMSELF ON THE MERCY OF GOD.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Evil</span> by custom, as by nature frail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am so wearied with the long disgrace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That much I dread my fainting in the race<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should let th' original enemy prevail.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once an Eternal Friend, that heard my cries,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Came to my rescue, glorious in his might,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arm'd with all-conquering love, then took his flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I in vain pursued Him with my eyes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But his dear words, yet sounding, sweetly say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"O ye that faint with travel, see the way!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hopeless of other refuge, come to me."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What grace, what kindness, or what destiny<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will give me wings, as the fair-feather'd dove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To raise me hence and seek my rest above?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Basil Kennet.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">So</span> weary am I 'neath the constant thrall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of mine own vile heart, and the false world's taint,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That much I fear while on the way to faint,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the hands of my worst foe to fall.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well came, ineffably, supremely kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A friend to free me from the guilty bond,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span><span class="i0">But too soon upward flew my sight beyond,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So that in vain I strive his track to find;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But still his words stamp'd on my heart remain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All ye who labour, lo! the way in me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come unto me, nor let the world detain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! that to me, by grace divine, were given<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wings like a dove, then I away would flee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And be at rest, up, up from earth to heaven!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Io non fu' d' amar voi lassato unquanco.</i></h3> + +<h4>UNLESS LAURA RELENT, HE IS RESOLVED TO ABANDON HER.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Yet</span> was I never of your love aggrieved,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor never shall while that my life doth last:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But of hating myself, that date is past;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tears continual sore have me wearied:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will not yet in my grave be buried;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor on my tomb your name have fixèd fast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As cruel cause, that did the spirit soon haste<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the unhappy bones, by great sighs stirr'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then if a heart of amorous faith and will<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Content your mind withouten doing grief;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Please it you so to this to do relief:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If otherwise you seek for to fulfil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your wrath, you err, and shall not as you ween;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you yourself the cause thereof have been.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wyatt.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Weary</span> I never was, nor can be e'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lady, while life shall last, of loving you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But brought, alas! myself in hate to view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perpetual tears have bred a blank despair:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wish a tomb, whose marble fine and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When this tired spirit and frail flesh are two,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May show your name, to which my death is due,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If e'en our names at last one stone may share;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherefore, if full of faith and love, a heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can, of worst torture short, suffice your hate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mercy at length may visit e'en my smart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If otherwise your wrath itself would sate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is deceived: and none will credit show;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Love and to myself my thanks for this I owe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET LXII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Se bianche non son prima ambe le tempie.</i></h3> + +<h4>THOUGH NOT SECURE AGAINST THE WILES OF LOVE, HE FEELS STRENGTH ENOUGH TO +RESIST THEM.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Till</span> silver'd o'er by age my temples grow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Time by slow degrees now plants his grey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Safe shall I never be, in danger's way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Love still points and plies his fatal bow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fear no more his tortures and his tricks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he will keep me further to ensnare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor ope my heart, that, from without, he there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His poisonous and ruthless shafts may fix.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No tears can now find issue from mine eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the way there so well they know to win,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That nothing now the pass to them denies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though the fierce ray rekindle me within,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It burns not all: her cruel and severe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Form may disturb, not break my slumbers here.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Occhi, piangete; accompagnate il core.</i></h3> + +<h4>DIALOGUE BETWEEN THE POET AND HIS EYES.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Playne</span> ye, myne eyes, accompanye my harte,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, by your fault, lo, here is death at hand!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye brought hym first into this bitter band,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And of his harme as yett ye felt no part;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now ye shall: Lo! here beginnes your smart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wett shall you be, ye shall it not withstand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With weepinge teares that shall make dymm your sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mystic clowdes shall hang still in your light.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blame but yourselves that kyndlyd have this brand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With suche desyre to strayne that past your might;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, since by you the hart hath caught his harme,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His flamèd heat shall sometyme make you warme.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Harrington.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>P.</i> <span class="smcap">Weep</span>, wretched eyes, accompany the heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which only from your weakness death sustains.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>E.</i> Weep? evermore we weep; with keener pains<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For others' error than our own we smart.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span><span class="i0"><i>P.</i> Love, entering first through you an easy part,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Took up his seat, where now supreme he reigns.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>E.</i> We oped to him the way, but Hope the veins<br /></span> +<span class="i2">First fired of him now stricken by death's dart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>P.</i> The lots, as seems to you, scarce equal fall<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tween heart and eyes, for you, at first sight, were<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Enamour'd of your common ill and shame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>E.</i> This is the thought which grieves us most of all;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For perfect judgments are on earth so rare<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That one man's fault is oft another's blame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXIV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Io amai sempre, ed amo forte ancora.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE LOVES, AND WILL ALWAYS LOVE, THE SPOT AND THE HOUR IN WHICH HE FIRST +BECAME ENAMOURED OF LAURA.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I always</span> loved, I love sincerely yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to love more from day to day shall learn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The charming spot where oft in grief I turn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Love's severities my bosom fret:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My mind to love the time and hour is set<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which taught it each low care aside to spurn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She too, of loveliest face, for whom I burn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bids me her fair life love and sin forget.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who ever thought to see in friendship join'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On all sides with my suffering heart to cope,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gentle enemies I love so well?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love now is paramount my heart to bind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, save that with desire increases hope,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dead should I lie alive where I would dwell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Io avrò sempre in odio la fenestra.</i></h3> + +<h4>BETTER IS IT TO DIE HAPPY THAN TO LIVE IN PAIN.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Always</span> in hate the window shall I bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence Love has shot on me his shafts at will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because not one of them sufficed to kill:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For death is good when life is bright and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in this earthly jail its term to outwear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is cause to me, alas! of infinite ill;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span><span class="i0">And mine is worse because immortal still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since from the heart the spirit may not tear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wretched! ere this who surely ought'st to know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By long experience, from his onward course<br /></span> +<span class="i0">None can stay Time by flattery or by force.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft and again have I address'd it so:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mourner, away! he parteth not too soon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who leaves behind him far his life's calm June.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXVI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Sì tosto come avvien che l' arco scocchi.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE CALLS THE EYES OF LAURA FOES, BECAUSE THEY KEEP HIM IN LIFE ONLY TO +TORMENT HIM.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Instantly</span> a good archer draws his bow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Small skill it needs, e'en from afar, to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which shaft, less fortunate, despised may be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which to its destined sign will certain go:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lady, e'en thus of your bright eyes the blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You surely felt pass straight and deep in me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Searching my life, whence—such is fate's decree—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eternal tears my stricken heart overflow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And well I know e'en then your pity said:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fond wretch! to misery whom passion leads,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be this the point at once to strike him dead.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But seeing now how sorrow sorrow breeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All that my cruel foes against me plot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For my worse pain, and for my death is not.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXVII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Poi che mia speme è lunga a venir troppo.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE COUNSELS LOVERS TO FLEE, RATHER THAN BE CONSUMED BY THE FLAMES OF +LOVE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Since</span> my hope's fruit yet faileth to arrive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And short the space vouchsafed me to survive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Betimes of this aware I fain would be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swifter than light or wind from Love to flee:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I do flee him, weak albeit and lame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O' my left side, where passion racked my frame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though now secure yet bear I on my face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the amorous encounter signal trace.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span><span class="i0">Wherefore I counsel each this way who comes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turn hence your footsteps, and, if Love consumes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think not in present pain his worst is done;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, though I live, of thousand scapes not one!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Gainst Love my enemy was strong indeed—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lo! from his wounds e'en she is doom'd to bleed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXVIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Fuggendo la prigione ov' Amor m' ebbe.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE LONGS TO RETURN TO THE CAPTIVITY OF LOVE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Fleeing</span> the prison which had long detain'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Love dealt with me as to him seem'd well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ladies, the time were long indeed to tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How much my heart its new-found freedom pain'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I felt within I could not, so bereaved,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Live e'en a day: and, midway, on my eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That traitor rose in so complete disguise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A wiser than myself had been deceived:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence oft I've said, deep sighing for the past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! the yoke and chains of old to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were sweeter far than thus released to be.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me wretched! but to learn mine ill at last;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With what sore trial must I now forget<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Errors that round my path myself have set.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXIX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Erano i capei d' oro all' aura sparsi.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE PAINTS THE BEAUTIES OF LAURA, PROTESTING HIS UNALTERABLE LOVE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Loose</span> to the breeze her golden tresses flow'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wildly in thousand mazy ringlets blown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from her eyes unconquer'd glances shone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those glances now so sparingly bestow'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And true or false, meseem'd some signs she show'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As o'er her cheek soft pity's hue was thrown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I, whose whole breast with love's soft food was sown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What wonder if at once my bosom glow'd?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Graceful she moved, with more than mortal mien,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In form an angel: and her accents won<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the ear with more than human sound.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A spirit heavenly pure, a living sun,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span><span class="i0">Was what I saw; and if no more 'twere seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">T' unbend the bow will never heal the wound.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anon., Ox., 1795.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Her</span> golden tresses on the wind she threw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which twisted them in many a beauteous braid;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In her fine eyes the burning glances play'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With lovely light, which now they seldom show:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! then it seem'd her face wore pity's hue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet haply fancy my fond sense betray'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor strange that I, in whose warm heart was laid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love's fuel, suddenly enkindled grew!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not like a mortal's did her step appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Angelic was her form; her voice, methought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pour'd more than human accents on the ear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A living sun was what my vision caught,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A spirit pure; and though not such still found,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unbending of the bow ne'er heals the wound.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Her</span> golden tresses to the gale were streaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That in a thousand knots did them entwine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the sweet rays which now so rarely shine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From her enchanting eyes, were brightly beaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And—was it fancy?—o'er that dear face gleaming<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Methought I saw Compassion's tint divine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What marvel that this ardent heart of mine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blazed swiftly forth, impatient of Love's dreaming?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There was nought mortal in her stately tread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But grace angelic, and her speech awoke<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than human voices a far loftier sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A spirit of heaven,—a living sun she broke<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon my sight;—what if these charms be fled?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The slackening of the bow heals not the wound.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrottesley.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXX.</h2> + +<h3><i>La bella donna che cotanto amavi.</i></h3> + +<h4>TO HIS BROTHER GERARDO, ON THE DEATH OF A LADY TO WHOM HE WAS ATTACHED.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> beauteous lady thou didst love so well<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too soon hath from our regions wing'd her flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To find, I ween, a home 'mid realms of light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So much in virtue did she here excel<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span><span class="i0">Thy heart's twin key of joy and woe can dwell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more with her—then re-assume thy might,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pursue her by the path most swift and right,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor let aught earthly stay thee by its spell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus from thy heaviest burthen being freed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each other thou canst easier dispel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And an unfreighted pilgrim seek thy sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too well, thou seest, how much the soul hath need,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Ere yet it tempt the shadowy vale) to quell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each earthly hope, since all that lives must die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> lovely lady who was long so dear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thee, now suddenly is from us gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, for this hope is sure, to heaven is flown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So mild and angel-like her life was here!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now from her thraldom since thy heart is clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose either key she, living, held alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Follow where she the safe short way has shown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor let aught earthly longer interfere.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus disencumber'd from the heavier weight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lesser may aside be easier laid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the freed pilgrim win the crystal gate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So teaching us, since all things that are made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hasten to death, how light must be his soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who treads the perilous pass, unscathed and whole!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXXI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Piangete, donne, e con voi pianga Amore.</i></h3> + +<h4>ON THE DEATH OF CINO DA PISTOIA.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Weep</span>, beauteous damsels, and let Cupid weep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of every region weep, ye lover train;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He, who so skilfully attuned his strain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To your fond cause, is sunk in death's cold sleep!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such limits let not my affliction keep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As may the solace of soft tears restrain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, to relieve my bosom of its pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be all my sighs tumultuous, utter'd deep!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let song itself, and votaries of verse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breathe mournful accents o'er our Cino's bier,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span><span class="i0">Who late is gone to number with the blest!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! weep, Pistoia, weep your sons perverse;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its choicest habitant has fled our sphere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heaven may glory in its welcome guest!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Ye</span> damsels, pour your tears! weep with you. Love!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weep, all ye lovers, through the peopled sphere!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since he is dead who, while he linger'd here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all his might to do you honour strove.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For me, this tyrant grief my prayers shall move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not to contest the comfort of a tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor check those sighs, that to my heart are dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since ease from them alone it hopes to prove.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye verses, weep!—ye rhymes, your woes renew!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Cino, master of the love-fraught lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en now is from our fond embraces torn!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pistoia, weep, and all your thankless crew!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your sweetest inmate now is reft away—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, heaven, rejoice, and hail your son new-born!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Charlemont.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXXII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Più volte Amor m' avea già detto: scrivi.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE WRITES WHAT LOVE BIDS HIM.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">White</span>—to my heart Love oftentimes had said—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Write what thou seest in letters large of gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That livid are my votaries to behold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in a moment made alive and dead.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once in thy heart my sovran influence spread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A public precedent to lovers told;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though other duties drew thee from my fold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I soon reclaim'd thee as thy footsteps fled.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if the bright eyes which I show'd thee first,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If the fair face where most I loved to stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy young heart's icy hardness when I burst,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Restore to me the bow which all obey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then may thy cheek, which now so smooth appears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be channell'd with my daily drink of tears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET LXXIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Quando giugne per gli occhi al cor profondo.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE DESCRIBES THE STATE OF TWO LOVERS, AND RETURNS IN THOUGHT TO HIS OWN +SUFFERINGS.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">When</span> reaches through the eyes the conscious heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its imaged fate, all other thoughts depart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The powers which from the soul their functions take<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dead weight on the frame its limbs then make.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the first miracle a second springs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At times the banish'd faculty that brings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So fleeing from itself, to some new seat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which feeds revenge and makes e'en exile sweet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus in both faces the pale tints were rife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because the strength which gave the glow of life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On neither side was where it wont to dwell—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I on that day these things remember'd well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that fond couple when each varying mien<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Told me in like estate what long myself had been.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXXIV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Così potess' io ben chiuder in versi.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE COMPLAINS THAT TO HIM ALONE IS FAITH HURTFUL.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Could</span> I, in melting verse, my thoughts but throw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As in my heart their living load I bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No soul so cruel in the world was e'er<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That would not at the tale with pity glow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ye, blest eyes, which dealt me the sore blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Gainst which nor helm nor shield avail'd to spare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within, without, behold me poor and bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though never in laments is breathed my woe.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But since on me your bright glance ever shines,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en as a sunbeam through transparent glass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suffice then the desire without the lines.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faith Peter bless'd and Mary, but, alas!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It proves an enemy to me alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose spirit save by you to none is known.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET LXXV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Io son dell' aspectar omai sì vinto.</i></h3> + +<h4>HAVING ONCE SURRENDERED HIMSELF, HE IS COMPELLED EVER TO ENDURE THE +PANGS OF LOVE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Weary</span> with expectation's endless round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And overcome in this long war of sighs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hold desires in hate and hopes despise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every tie wherewith my breast is bound;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the bright face which in my heart profound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is stamp'd, and seen where'er I turn mine eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Compels me where, against my will, arise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The same sharp pains that first my ruin crown'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then was my error when the old way quite<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of liberty was bann'd and barr'd to me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He follows ill who pleases but his sight:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To its own harm my soul ran wild and free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now doom'd at others' will to wait and wend;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because that once it ventured to offend.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXXVI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Ahi bella libertà, come tu m' hai.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE DEPLORES HIS LOST LIBERTY AND THE UNHAPPINESS OF HIS PRESENT STATE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Alas</span>! fair Liberty, thus left by thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well hast thou taught my discontented heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To mourn the peace it felt, ere yet Love's dart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dealt me the wound which heal'd can never be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mine eyes so charm'd with their own weakness grow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That my dull mind of reason spurns the chain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All worldly occupation they disdain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! that I should myself have train'd them so.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Naught, save of her who is my death, mine ear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Consents to learn; and from my tongue there flows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No accent save the name to me so dear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love to no other chase my spirit spurs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No other path my feet pursue; nor knows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My hand to write in other praise but hers.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Alas</span>, sweet Liberty! in speeding hence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too well didst thou reveal unto my heart<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span><span class="i0">Its careless joy, ere Love ensheathed his dart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of whose dread wound I ne'er can lose the sense<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My eyes, enamour'd of their grief intense,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did in that hour from Reason's bridle start,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus used to woe, they have no wish to part;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each other mortal work is an offence.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No other theme will now my soul content<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than she who plants my death, with whose blest name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I make the air resound in echoes sweet:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love spurs me to her as his only bent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My hand can trace nought other but her fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No other spot attracts my willing feet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXXVII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Orso, al vostro destrier si può ben porre.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE SYMPATHISES WITH HIS FRIEND ORSO AT HIS INABILITY TO ATTEND A +TOURNAMENT.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Orso</span>, a curb upon thy gallant horse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well may we place to turn him from his course,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But who thy heart may bind against its will<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which honour courts and shuns dishonour still?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sigh not! for nought its praise away can take,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though Fate this journey hinder you to make.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, as already voiced by general fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now is it there, and none before it came.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amid the camp, upon the day design'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enough itself beneath those arms to find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which youth, love, valour, and near blood concern,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crying aloud: With noble fire I burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As my good lord unwillingly at home,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who pines and languishes in vain to come.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXXVIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Poi che voi ed io più volte abbiam provato.</i></h3> + +<h4>TO A FRIEND, COUNSELLING HIM TO ABANDON EARTHLY PLEASURES.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Still</span> has it been our bitter lot to prove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How hope, or e'er it reach fruition, flies!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up then to that high good, which never dies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lift we the heart—to heaven's pure bliss above.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span><span class="i0">On earth, as in a tempting mead, we rove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where coil'd 'mid flowers the traitor serpent lies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, if some casual glimpse delight our eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis but to grieve the soul enthrall'd by Love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! then, as thou wouldst wish ere life's last day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To taste the sweets of calm unbroken rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tread firm the narrow, shun the beaten way—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! to thy friend too well may be address'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Thou show'st a path, thyself most apt to stray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which late thy truant feet, fond youth, have never press'd."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrangham.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Friend</span>, as we both in confidence complain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see our ill-placed hopes return in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let that chief good which must for ever please<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exalt our thought and fix our happiness.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This world as some gay flowery field is spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which hides a serpent in its painted bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And most it wounds when most it charms our eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At once the tempter and the paradise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And would you, then, sweet peace of mind restore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in fair calm expect your parting hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave the mad train, and court the happy few.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well may it be replied, "O friend, you show<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Others the path, from which so often you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have stray'd, and now stray farther than before."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Basil Kennet.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXXIX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Quella fenestra, ove l' un sol si vede.</i></h3> + +<h4>RECOLLECTIONS OF LOVE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">That</span> window where my sun is often seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Refulgent, and the world's at morning's hours;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that, where Boreas blows, when winter lowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the short days reveal a clouded scene;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That bench of stone where, with a pensive mien,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Laura sits, forgetting beauty's powers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haunts where her shadow strikes the walls or flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her feet press the paths or herbage green:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The place where Love assail'd me with success;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And spring, the fatal time that, first observed,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span><span class="i0">Revives the keen remembrance every year;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With looks and words, that o'er me have preserved<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A power no length of time can render less,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Call to my eyes the sadly-soothing tear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Penn.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">That</span> window where my sun is ever seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dazzling and bright, and Nature's at the none;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that where still, when Boreas rude has blown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the short days, the air thrills cold and keen:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stone where, at high noon, her seat has been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pensive and parleying with herself alone:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haunts where her bright form has its shadow thrown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or trod her fairy foot the carpet green:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cruel spot where first Love spoil'd my rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the new season which, from year to year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Opes, on this day, the old wound in my breast:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The seraph face, the sweet words, chaste and dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which in my suffering heart are deep impress'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All melt my fond eyes to the frequent tear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXXX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Lasso! ben so che dolorose prede.</i></h3> + +<h4>THOUGH FOR FOURTEEN YEARS HE HAS STRUGGLED UNSUCCESSFULLY, HE STILL +HOPES TO CONQUER HIS PASSION.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Alas</span>! well know I what sad havoc makes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death of our kind, how Fate no mortal spares!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How soon the world whom once it loved forsakes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How short the faith it to the friendless bears!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Much languishment, I see, small mercy wakes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the last day though now my heart prepares,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love not a whit my cruel prison breaks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still my cheek grief's wonted tribute wears.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I mark the days, the moments, and the hours<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bear the full years along, nor find deceit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bow'd 'neath a greater force than magic spell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For fourteen years have fought with varying powers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Desire and Reason: and the best shall beat;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If mortal spirits here can good foretell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Alas</span>! I know death makes us all his prey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor aught of mercy shows to destined man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How swift the world completes its circling span,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And faithless Time soon speeds him on his way.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span><span class="i0">My heart repeats the blast of earth's last day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet for its grief no recompense can scan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love holds me still beneath its cruel ban,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still my eyes their usual tribute pay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My watchful senses mark how on their wing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The circling years transport their fleeter kin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still I bow enslaved as by a spell:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For fourteen years did reason proudly fling<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Defiance at my tameless will, to win<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A triumph blest, if Man can good foretell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXXXI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Cesare, poi che 'l traditor d' Egitto.</i></h3> + +<h4>THE COUNTENANCE DOES NOT ALWAYS TRULY INDICATE THE HEART.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">When</span> Egypt's traitor Pompey's honour'd head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Cæsar sent; then, records so relate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To shroud a gladness manifestly great,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some feigned tears the specious monarch shed:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, when misfortune her dark mantle spread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er Hannibal, and his afflicted state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He laugh'd 'midst those who wept their adverse fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That rank despite to wreak defeat had bred.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus doth the mind oft variously conceal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its several passions by a different veil;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now with a countenance that's sad, now gay:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So mirth and song if sometimes I employ,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis but to hide those sorrows that annoy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis but to chase my amorous cares away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Cæsar</span>, when Egypt's cringing traitor brought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gory gift of Pompey's honour'd head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Check'd the full gladness of his instant thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And specious tears of well-feign'd pity shed:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Hannibal, when adverse Fortune wrought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On his afflicted empire evils dread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mid shamed and sorrowing friends, by laughter, sought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ease the anger at his heart that fed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus, as the mind its every feeling hides,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath an aspect contrary, the mien,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright'ning with hope or charged with gloom, is seen.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus ever if I sing, or smile betides,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span><span class="i0">The outward joy serves only to conceal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The inner ail and anguish that I feel.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXXXII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Vinse Annibal, e non seppe usar poi.</i></h3> + +<h4>TO STEFANO COLONNA, COUNSELLING HIM TO FOLLOW UP HIS VICTORY OVER THE +ORSINI.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Hannibal</span> conquer'd oft, but never knew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fruits and gain of victory to get,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherefore, dear lord, be wise, take care that yet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A like misfortune happen not to you.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still in their lair the cubs and she-bear,<a name="FNanchor_Q_17" id="FNanchor_Q_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_Q_17" class="fnanchor">[Q]</a> who<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rough pasturage and sour in May have met,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With mad rage gnash their teeth and talons whet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And vengeance of past loss on us pursue:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While this new grief disheartens and appalls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Replace not in its sheath your honour'd sword,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, boldly following where your fortune calls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en to its goal be glory's path explored,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which fame and honour to the world may give<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That e'en for centuries after death will live.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXXXIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>L' aspettata virtù che 'n voi fioriva.</i></h3> + +<h4>TO PAUDOLFO MALATESTA, LORD OF RIMINI.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Sweet</span> virtue's blossom had its promise shed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within thy breast (when Love became thy foe);<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair as the flower, now its fruit doth glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not by visions hath my hope been fed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hail thee thus, I by my heart am led,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That by my pen thy name renown should know;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No marble can the lasting fame bestow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like that by poets' characters is spread.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dost think Marcellus' or proud Cæsar's name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or Africanus, Paulus—still resound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sculptors proud have effigied their deed?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No, Pandolph, frail the statuary's fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For immortality alone is found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within the records of a poet's meed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> flower, in youth which virtue's promise bore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Love in your pure heart first sought to dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now beareth fruit that flower which matches well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my long hopes are richly come ashore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prompting my spirit some glad verse to pour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where to due honour your high name may swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For what can finest marble truly tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of living mortal than the form he wore?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think you great Cæsar's or Marcellus' name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Paulus, Africanus to our days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By anvil or by hammer ever came?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No! frail the sculptor's power for lasting praise:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our study, my Pandolfo, only can<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give immortality of fame to man.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CANZONE XI.<a name="FNanchor_R_18" id="FNanchor_R_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_R_18" class="fnanchor">[R]</a></h2> + +<h3><i>Mai non vo' più cantar, com' io soleva.</i></h3> + +<h4>ENIGMAS.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Never</span> more shall I sing, as I have sung:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For still she heeded not; and I was scorn'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So e'en in loveliest spots is trouble found.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unceasingly to sigh is no relief.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Already on the Alp snow gathers round:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Already day is near; and I awake.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An affable and modest air is sweet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in a lovely lady that she be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Noble and dignified, not proud and cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well pleases it to find.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love o'er his empire rules without a sword.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He who has miss'd his way let him turn back:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who has no home the heath must be his bed:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who lost or has not gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will sate his thirst at the clear crystal spring.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I trusted in Saint Peter, not so now;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let him who can my meaning understand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A harsh rule is a heavy weight to bear.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span><span class="i0">I melt but where I must, and stand alone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I think of him who falling died in Po;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Already thence the thrush has pass'd the brook<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, see if I say sooth! No more for me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A rock amid the waters is no joke,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor birdlime on the twig. Enough my grief<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When a superfluous pride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a fair lady many virtues hides.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is who answereth without a call;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is who, though entreated, fails and flies:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is who melts 'neath ice:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is who day and night desires his death.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love who loves you, is an old proverb now.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well know I what I say. But let it pass;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis meet, at their own cost, that men should learn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A modest lady wearies her best friend.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Good figs are little known. To me it seems<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wise to eschew things hazardous and high;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In any country one may be at ease.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Infinite hope below kills hope above;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I at times e'en thus have been the talk.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My brief life that remains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is who'll spurn not if to Him devote.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I place my trust in Him who rules the world,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And who his followers shelters in the wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That with his pitying crook<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me will He guide with his own flock to feed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Haply not every one who reads discerns;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some set the snare at times who take no spoil;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who strains too much may break the bow in twain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let not the law be lame when suitors watch.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be at ease we many a mile descend.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To-day's great marvel is to-morrow's scorn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A veil'd and virgin loveliness is best.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blessed the key which pass'd within my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, quickening my dull spirit, set it free<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From its old heavy chain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from my bosom banish'd many a sigh.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where most I suffer'd once she suffers now;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her equal sorrows mitigate my grief;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span><span class="i0">Thanks, then, to Love that I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feel it no more, though he is still the same!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In silence words that wary are and wise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The voice which drives from me all other care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the dark prison which that fair light hides:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As midnight on our hills the violets;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the wild beasts within the walls who dwell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The kind demeanour and the dear reserve;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from two founts one stream which flow'd in peace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where I desire, collected where I would.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love and sore jealousy have seized my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the fair face whose guides<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Conduct me by a plainer, shorter way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To my one hope, where all my torments end.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O treasured bliss, and all from thee which flows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of peace, of war, or truce,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never abandon me while life is left!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At my past loss I weep by turns and smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because my faith is fix'd in what I hear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The present I enjoy and better wait;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silent, I count the years, yet crave their end,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in a lovely bough I nestle so<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That e'en her stern repulse I thank and praise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which has at length o'ercome my firm desire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And inly shown me, I had been the talk,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pointed at by hand: all this it quench'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So much am I urged on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Needs must I own, thou wert not bold enough.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who pierced me in my side she heals the wound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For whom in heart more than in ink I write;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who quickens me or kills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in one instant freezes me or fires.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anon.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>MADRIGALE III.</h2> + +<h3><i>Nova angeletta sovra l' ale accorta.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE ALLEGORICALLY DESCRIBES THE ORIGIN OF HIS PASSION.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">From</span> heaven an angel upon radiant wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">New lighted on that shore so fresh and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To which, so doom'd, my faithful footstep clings:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone and friendless, when she found me there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of gold and silk a finely-woven net,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where lay my path, 'mid seeming flowers she set:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span><span class="i0">Thus was I caught, and, for such sweet light shone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From out her eyes, I soon forgot to moan.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXXXIV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Non veggio ove scampar mi possa omai.</i></h3> + +<h4>AFTER FIFTEEN YEARS HER EYES ARE MORE POWERFUL THAN AT FIRST.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">No</span> hope of respite, of escape no way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her bright eyes wage such constant havoc here;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! excess of tyranny, I fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My doting heart, which ne'er has truce, will slay:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fain would I flee, but ah! their amorous ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which day and night on memory rises clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shines with such power, in this the fifteenth year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They dazzle more than in love's early day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So wide and far their images are spread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wheresoe'er I turn I alway see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her, or some sister-light on hers that fed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Springs such a wood from one fair laurel tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That my old foe, with admirable skill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amid its boughs misleads me at his will.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXXXV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Avventuroso più d' altro terreno.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE APOSTROPHIZES THE SPOT WHERE LAURA FIRST SALUTED HIM.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Ah</span>, happiest spot of earth! in this sweet place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love first beheld my condescending fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Retard her steps, to smile with courteous grace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On me, and smiling glad the ambient air.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The deep-cut image, wrought with skilful care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Time shall from hardest adamant efface,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere from my mind that smile it shall erase,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear to my soul! which memory planted there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft as I view thee, heart-enchanting soil!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With amorous awe I'll seek—delightful toil!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where yet some traces of her footsteps lie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if fond Love still warms her generous breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whene'er you see her, gentle friend! request<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tender tribute of a tear—a sigh.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anon. 1777.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Most</span> fortunate and fair of spots terrene!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Love I saw her forward footstep stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And turn on me her bright eyes' heavenly ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which round them make the atmosphere serene.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span><span class="i0">A solid form of adamant, I ween,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would sooner shrink in lapse of time away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than from my mind that sweet salute decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear to my heart, in memory ever green.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oft as I return to view this spot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In its fair scenes I'll fondly stoop to seek<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where yet the traces of her light foot lie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if in valorous heart Love sleepeth not,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whene'er you meet her, friend, for me bespeak<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some passing tears, perchance one pitying sigh.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXXXVI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Lasso! quante fiate Amor m' assale.</i></h3> + +<h4>WHEN LOVE DISTURBS HIM, HE CALMS HIMSELF BY THINKING OF THE EYES AND +WORDS OF LAURA.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Alas</span>! how ceaselessly is urged Love's claim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By day, by night, a thousand times I turn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where best I may behold the dear lights burn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which have immortalized my bosom's flame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus grow I calm, and to such state am brought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At noon, at break of day, at vesper-bell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I find them in my mind so tranquil dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I neither think nor care beside for aught.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The balmy air, which, from her angel mien,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moves ever with her winning words and wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Makes wheresoe'er she breathes a sweet serene<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As 'twere a gentle spirit from the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still in these scenes some comfort brings to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor elsewhere breathes my harass'd heart so free.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXXXVII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Perseguendomi Amor al luogo usato.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE IS BEWILDERED AT THE UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL OF LAURA.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">As</span> Love his arts in haunts familiar tried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Watchful as one expecting war is found,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who all foresees and guards the passes round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I in the armour of old thoughts relied:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turning, I saw a shadow at my side<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cast by the sun, whose outline on the ground<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I knew for hers, who—be my judgment sound—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deserves in bliss immortal to abide.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I whisper'd to my heart, Nay, wherefore fear?<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span><span class="i0">But scarcely did the thought arise within<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than the bright rays in which I burn were here.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As thunders with the lightning-flash begin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So was I struck at once both blind and mute,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By her dear dazzling eyes and sweet salute.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXXXVIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>La donna che 'l mio cor nel viso porta.</i></h3> + +<h4>HER KIND AND GENTLE SALUTATION THRILLS HIS HEART WITH PLEASURE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">She</span>, in her face who doth my gone heart wear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As lone I sate 'mid love-thoughts dear and true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Appear'd before me: to show honour due,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I rose, with pallid brow and reverent air.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soon as of such my state she was aware,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She turn'd on me with look so soft and new<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As, in Jove's greatest fury, might subdue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His rage, and from his hand the thunders tear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I started: on her further way she pass'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Graceful, and speaking words I could not brook,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor of her lustrous eyes the loving look.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When on that dear salute my thoughts are cast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So rich and varied do my pleasures flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No pain I feel, nor evil fear below.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a id="image12" name="image12"></a><a href="images/12large.jpg"> + <img src="images/12.jpg" + alt="SOLITUDES OF VAUCLUSE." + title="SOLITUDES OF VAUCLUSE." /></a><br /> + <span class="caption">SOLITUDES OF VAUCLUSE.</span> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXXXIX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Sennuccio, i' vo' che sappi in qual maniera.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE RELATES TO HIS FRIEND SENNUCCIO HIS UNHAPPINESS, AND THE VARIED MOOD +OF LAURA.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">To</span> thee, Sennuccio, fain would I declare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sadden life, what wrongs, what woes I find:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still glow my wonted flames; and, though resign'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Laura's fickle will, no change I bear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All humble now, then haughty is my fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now meek, then proud; now pitying, then unkind:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Softness and tenderness now sway her mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then do her looks disdain and anger wear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here would she sweetly sing, there sit awhile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here bend her step, and there her step retard;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here her bright eyes my easy heart ensnared;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There would she speak fond words, here lovely smile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There frown contempt;—such wayward cares I prove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By night, by day; so wills our tyrant Love!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anon. 1777.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Alas</span>, Sennuccio! would thy mind could frame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What now I suffer! what my life's drear reign;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Consumed beneath my heart's continued pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At will she guides me—yet am I the same.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now humble—then doth pride her soul inflame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now harsh—then gentle; cruel—kind again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now all reserve—then borne on frolic's vein;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Disdain alternates with a milder claim.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here once she sat, and there so sweetly sang;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here turn'd to look on me, and lingering stood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There first her beauteous eyes my spirit stole:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And here she smiled, and there her accents rang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her speaking face here told another mood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus Love, our sovereign, holds me in control.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XC.</h2> + +<h3><i>Qui dove mezzo son, Sennuccio mio.</i></h3> + +<h4>THE MERE SIGHT OF VAUCLUSE MAKES HIM FORGET ALL THE PERILS OF HIS +JOURNEY.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Friend</span>, on this spot, I life but half endure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Would I were wholly here and you content),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where from the storm and wind my course I bent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which suddenly had left the skies obscure.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fain would I tell—for here I feel me sure—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why lightnings now no fear to me present;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And why unmitigated, much less spent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en as before my fierce desires allure.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soon as I reach'd these realms of love, and saw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, sweet and pure, to life my Laura came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who calms the air, at rest the thunder lays;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love in my soul, where she alone gives law,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quench'd the cold fear and kindled the fast flame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What were it then on her bright eyes to gaze!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XCI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Dell' empia Babilonia, ond' è fuggita.</i></h3> + +<h4>LEAVING ROME, HE DESIRES ONLY PEACE WITH LAURA AND PROSPERITY TO +COLONNA.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Yes</span>, out of impious Babylon I'm flown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence flown all shame, whence banish'd is all good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That nurse of error, and of guilt th' abode,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To lengthen out a life which else were gone:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span><span class="i0">There as Love prompts, while wandering alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I now a garland weave, and now an ode;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With him I commune, and in pensive mood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hope better times; this only checks my moan.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor for the throng, nor fortune do I care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor for myself, nor sublunary things,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No ardour outwardly, or inly springs:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ask two persons only: let my fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For me a kind and tender heart maintain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And be my friend secure in his high post again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">From</span> impious Babylon, where all shame is dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every good is banish'd to far climes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nurse of rank errors, centre of worst crimes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haply to lengthen life, I too am fled:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone, at last alone, and here, as led<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At Love's sweet will, I posies weave or rhymes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Self-parleying, and still on better times<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wrapt in fond thoughts whence only hope is fed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cares for the world or fortune I have none,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor much for self, nor any common theme:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor feel I in me, nor without, great heat.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two friends alone I ask, and that the one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More merciful and meek to me may seem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The other well as erst, and firm of feet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XCII.</h2> + +<h3><i>In mezzo di duo amanti onesta altera.</i></h3> + +<h4>LAURA TURNING TO SALUTE HIM, THE SUN, THROUGH JEALOUSY, WITHDREW BEHIND +A CLOUD.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">'Tween</span> two fond lovers I a lady spied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Virtuous but haughty, and with her that lord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By gods above and men below adored—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun on this, myself upon that side—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soon as she found herself the sphere denied<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of her bright friend, on my fond eyes she pour'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A flood of life and joy, which hope restored<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Less cold to me will be her future pride.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suddenly changed itself to cordial mirth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The jealous fear to which at his first sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So high a rival in my heart gave birth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As suddenly his sad and rueful plight<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span><span class="i0">From further scrutiny a small cloud veil'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So much it ruffled him that then he fail'd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XCIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Pien di quella ineffabile dolcezza.</i></h3> + +<h4>WHEREVER HE IS, HE SEES ONLY LAURA.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">O'erflowing</span> with the sweets ineffable,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which from that lovely face my fond eyes drew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What time they seal'd, for very rapture, grew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On meaner beauty never more to dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom most I love I left: my mind so well<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its part, to muse on her, is train'd to do,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">None else it sees; what is not hers to view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As of old wont, with loathing I repel.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a low valley shut from all around,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sole consolation of my heart-deep sighs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pensive and slow, with Love I walk alone:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not ladies here, but rocks and founts are found,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And of that day blest images arise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which my thought shapes where'er I turn mine eyes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XCIV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Se 'l sasso ond' è più chiusa questa valle.</i></h3> + +<h4>COULD HE BUT SEE THE HOUSE OF LAURA, HIS SIGHS MIGHT REACH HER MORE +QUICKLY.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">If</span>, which our valley bars, this wall of stone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From which its present name we closely trace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were by disdainful nature rased, and thrown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its back to Babel and to Rome its face;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then had my sighs a better pathway known<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To where their hope is yet in life and grace:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They now go singly, yet my voice all own;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, where I send, not one but finds its place.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There too, as I perceive, such welcome sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They ever find, that none returns again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But still delightedly with her remain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My grief is from the eyes, each morn to meet—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not the fair scenes my soul so long'd to see—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Toil for my weary limbs and tears for me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET XCV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Rimansi addietro il sestodecim' anno.</i></h3> + +<h4>THOUGH HE IS UNHAPPY, HIS LOVE REMAINS EVER UNCHANGED.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">My</span> sixteenth year of sighs its course has run,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I stand alone, already on the brow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Age descends: and yet it seems as now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My time of trial only were begun.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis sweet to love, and good to be undone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though life be hard, more days may Heaven allow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Misfortune to outlive: else Death may bow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bright head low my loving praise that won.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here am I now who fain would be elsewhere;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More would I wish and yet no more I would;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I could no more and yet did all I could:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And new tears born of old desires declare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That still I am as I was wont to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that a thousand changes change not me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CANZONE XII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Una donna più bella assai che 'l sole.</i></h3> + +<h4>GLORY AND VIRTUE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">A lady</span>, lovelier, brighter than the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like him superior o'er all time and space,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of rare resistless grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me to her train in early life had won:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She, from that hour, in act, and word and thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—For still the world thus covets what is rare—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In many ways though brought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before my search, was still the same coy fair:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For her alone my plans, from what they were,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grew changed, since nearer subject to her eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her love alone could spur<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My young ambition to each hard emprize:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So, if in long-wish'd port I e'er arrive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hope, for aye through her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When others deem me dead, in honour to survive.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Full of first hope, burning with youthful love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She, at her will, as plainly now appears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has led me many years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But for one end, my nature best to prove:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft showing me her shadow, veil, and dress,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But never her sweet face, till I, who right<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span><span class="i0">Knew not her power to bless,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All my green youth for these, contented quite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So spent, that still the memory is delight:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since onward yet some glimpse of her is seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I now may own, of late,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such as till then she ne'er for me had been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She shows herself, shooting through all my heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An icy cold so great<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That save in her dear arms it ne'er can thence depart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not that in this cold fear I all did shrink,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For still my heart was to such boldness strung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That to her feet I clung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if more rapture from her eyes to drink:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she—for now the veil was ta'en away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which barr'd my sight—thus spoke me, "Friend, you see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How fair I am, and may<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ask, for your years, whatever fittest be."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Lady," I said, "so long my love on thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has fix'd, that now I feel myself on fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What, in this state, to shun, and what desire."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She, thereon, with a voice so wond'rous sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And earnest look replied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By turns with hope and fear it made my quick heart beat:—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Rarely has man, in this full crowd below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en partial knowledge of my worth possess'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who felt not in his breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At least awhile some spark of spirit glow:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But soon my foe, each germ of good abhorr'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quenches that light, and every virtue dies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While reigns some other lord<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who promises a calmer life shall rise:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love, of your mind, to him that naked lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So shows the great desire with which you burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That safely I divine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It yet shall win for you an honour'd urn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Already one of my few friends you are,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now shall see in sign<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lady who shall make your fond eyes happier far."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"It may not, cannot be," I thus began;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—When she, "Turn hither, and in yon calm nook<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span><span class="i0">Upon the lady look<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So seldom seen, so little sought of man!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I turn'd, and o'er my brow the mantling shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within me as I felt that new fire swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of conscious treason came.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She softly smiled, "I understand you well;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en as the sun's more powerful rays dispel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And drive the meaner stars of heaven from sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So I less fair appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dwindling and darken'd now in her more light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But not for this I bar you from my train,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As one in jealous fear—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One birth, the elder she, produced us, sisters twain."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Meanwhile the cold and heavy chain was burst<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of silence, which a sense of shame had flung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around my powerless tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I was conscious of her notice first:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus I spoke, "If what I hear be true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bless'd be the sire, and bless'd the natal day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which graced our world with you!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blest the long years pass'd in your search away!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the right path if e'er I went astray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It grieves me more than, haply, I can show:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But of your state, if I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deserve more knowledge, more I long to know."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She paused, then, answering pensively, so bent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On me her eloquent eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That to my inmost heart her looks and language went:—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"As seem'd to our Eternal Father best,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We two were made immortal at our birth:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To man so small our worth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Better on us that death, like yours, should rest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though once beloved and lovely, young and bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So slighted are we now, my sister sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Already plumes for flight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her wings to bear her to her own old seat;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Myself am but a shadow thin and fleet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus have I told you, in brief words, whate'er<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You sought of us to find:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now farewell! before I mount in air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This favour take, nor fear that I forget."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span><span class="i0">Whereat she took and twined<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A wreath of laurel green, and round my temples set.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My song! should any deem thy strain obscure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say, that I care not, and, ere long to hear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In certain words and clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Truth's welcome message, that my hope is sure;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For this alone, unless I widely err<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of him who set me on the task, I came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That others I might stir<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To honourable acts of high and holy aim.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>MADRIGALE IV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Or vedi, Amor, che giovinetta donna.</i></h3> + +<h4>A PRAYER TO LOVE THAT HE WILL TAKE VENGEANCE ON THE SCORNFUL PRIDE OF +LAURA.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Now</span>, Love, at length behold a youthful fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who spurns thy rule, and, mocking all my care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mid two such foes, is safe and fancy free.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art well arm'd, 'mid flowers and verdure she,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In simplest robe and natural tresses found,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against thee haughty still and harsh to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am thy thrall: but, if thy bow be sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If yet one shaft be thine, in pity, take<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vengeance upon her for our common sake.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XCVI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Quelle pietose rime, in ch' io m' accorsi.</i></h3> + +<h4>TO ANTONIO OF FERRARA, WHO, IN A POEM, HAD LAMENTED PETRARCH'S SUPPOSED +DEATH.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Those</span> pious lines wherein are finely met<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proofs of high genius and a spirit kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had so much influence on my grateful mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That instantly in hand my pen I set<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To tell you that death's final blow—which yet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall me and every mortal surely find—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have not felt, though I, too, nearly join'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The confines of his realm without regret;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I turn'd back again because I read<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span><span class="i0">Writ o'er the threshold that the time to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of life predestinate not all was fled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though its last day and hour I could not see.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then once more let your sad heart comfort know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And love the living worth which dead it honour'd so.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XCVII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Dicesett' anni ha già rivolto il cielo.</i></h3> + +<h4>E'EN IN OUR ASHES LIVE OUR WONTED FIRES.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> seventeenth summer now, alas! is gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still with ardour unconsumed I glow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet find, whene'er myself I seek to know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amidst the fire a frosty chill come on.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Truly 'tis said, 'Ere Habit quits her throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Years bleach the hair.' The senses feel life's snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But not less hot the tides of passion flow:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such is our earthly nature's malison!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! come the happy day, when doom'd to smart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more, from flames and lingering sorrows free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Calm I may note how fast youth's minutes flew!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! will it e'er be mine the hour to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When with delight, nor duty nor my heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can blame, these eyes once more that angel face may view?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrangham.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">For</span> seventeen summers heaven has o'er me roll'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since first I burn'd, nor e'er found respite thence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when to weigh our state my thoughts commence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feel amidst the flames a frosty cold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We change the form, not nature, is an old<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And truthful proverb: thus, to dull the sense<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Makes not the human feelings less intense;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dark shades of our painful veil still hold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! alas! will e'er that day appear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, my life's flight beholding, I may find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Issue from endless fire and lingering pain,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The day which, crowning all my wishes here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that fair face the angel air and kind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall to my longing eyes restore again?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET XCVIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Quel vago impallidir che 'l dolce riso.</i></h3> + +<h4>LEAVE-TAKING.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">That</span> witching paleness, which with cloud of love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Veil'd her sweet smile, majestically bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So thrill'd my heart, that from the bosom's night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Midway to meet it on her face it strove.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then learnt I how, 'mid realms of joy above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blest behold the blest: in such pure light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I scann'd her tender thought, to others' sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Viewless!—but my fond glances would not rove.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each angel grace, each lowly courtesy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'er traced in dame by Love's soft power inspired,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would seem but foils to those which prompt my lay:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the ground was cast her gentle eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still methought, though silent, she inquired,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"What bears my faithful friend so soon, so far away?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrangham.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">There</span> was a touching paleness on her face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which chased her smiles, but such sweet union made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of pensive majesty and heavenly grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if a passing cloud had veil'd her with its shade;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then knew I how the blessed ones above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gaze on each other in their perfect bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For never yet was look of mortal love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So pure, so tender, so serene as this.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The softest glance fond woman ever sent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To him she loved, would cold and rayless be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Compared to this, which she divinely bent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earthward, with angel sympathy, on me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That seem'd with speechless tenderness to say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Who takes from me my faithful friend away?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">E. (<i>New Monthly Magazine</i>.)<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XCIX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Amor, Fortuna, e la mia mente schiva.</i></h3> + +<h4>THE CAUSES OF HIS WOE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Love</span>, Fortune, and my melancholy mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sick of the present, lingering on the past,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span><span class="i0">Afflict me so, that envious thoughts I cast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On those who life's dark shore have left behind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love racks my bosom: Fortune's wintry wind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kills every comfort: my weak mind at last<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is chafed and pines, so many ills and vast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Expose its peace to constant strifes unkind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor hope I better days shall turn again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But what is left from bad to worse may pass:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ah! already life is on the wane.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not now of adamant, but frail as glass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see my best hopes fall from me or fade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And low in dust my fond thoughts broken laid.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Love</span>, Fortune, and my ever-faithful mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which loathes the present in its memoried past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So wound my spirit, that on all I cast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An envied thought who rest in darkness find.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart Love prostrates, Fortune more unkind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No comfort grants, until its sorrow vast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Impotent frets, then melts to tears at last:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus I to painful warfare am consign'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My halcyon days I hope not to return,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But paint my future by a darker tint;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My spring is gone—my summer well-nigh fled:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! wretched me! too well do I discern<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each hope is now (unlike the diamond flint)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fragile mirror, with its fragments shed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CANZONE XIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Se 'l pensier che mi strugge.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE SEEKS IN VAIN TO MITIGATE HIS WOE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Oh</span>! that my cheeks were taught<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the fond, wasting thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wear such hues as could its influence speak;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then the dear, scornful fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might all my ardour share;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where Love slumbers now he might awake!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Less oft the hill and mead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My wearied feet should tread;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span><span class="i0">Less oft, perhaps, these eyes with tears should stream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If she, who cold as snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With equal fire would glow—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She who dissolves me, and converts to flame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Since Love exerts his sway,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bears my sense away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I chant uncouth and inharmonious songs:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor leaves, nor blossoms show,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor rind, upon the bough,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What is the nature that thereto belongs.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love, and those beauteous eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath whose shade he lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Discover all the heart can comprehend:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When vented are my cares<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In loud complaints, and tears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These harm myself, and others those offend.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet lays of sportive vein,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which help'd me to sustain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love's first assault, the only arms I bore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This flinty breast say who<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall once again subdue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I with song may soothe me as before?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some power appears to trace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within me Laura's face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whispers her name; and straight in verse I strive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To picture her again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the fond effort's vain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me of my solace thus doth Fate deprive.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">E'en as some babe unties<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its tongue in stammering guise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who cannot speak, yet will not silence keep:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So fond words I essay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And listen'd be the lay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By my fair foe, ere in the tomb I sleep!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if, of beauty vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She treats me with disdain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do thou, O verdant shore, attend my sighs:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let them so freely flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That all the world may know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My sorrow thou at least didst not despise!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span><span class="i0">And well art thou aware,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That never foot so fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The soil e'er press'd as that which trod thee late;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My sunk soul and worn heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now seek thee, to impart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The secret griefs that on my passion wait.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If on thy margent green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or 'midst thy flowers, were seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some traces of her footsteps lingering there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My wearied life 'twould cheer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bitter'd with many a tear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! now what means are left to soothe my care?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where'er I bend mine eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What sweet serenity<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feel, to think here Laura shone of yore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each plant and scented bloom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I gather, seems to come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From where she wander'd on the custom'd shore:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ofttimes in this retreat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fresh and fragrant seat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She found; at least so fancy's vision shows:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never let truth seek<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Th' illusion dear to break—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O spirit blest, from whom such magic flows!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To thee, my simple song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No polish doth belong;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thyself art conscious of thy little worth!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Solicit not renown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Throughout the busy town,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But dwell within the shade that gave thee birth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CANZONE XIV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Chiare, fresche e dolci acque.</i></h3> + +<h4>TO THE FOUNTAIN OF VAUOLUSE—CONTEMPLATIONS OF DEATH.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Ye</span> limpid brooks, by whose clear streams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My goddess laid her tender limbs!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye gentle boughs, whose friendly shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gave shelter to the lovely maid!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye herbs and flowers, so sweetly press'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By her soft rising snowy breast!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span><span class="i0">Ye Zephyrs mild, that breathed around<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The place where Love my heart did wound!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now at my summons all appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to my dying words give ear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If then my destiny requires,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Heaven with my fate conspires,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Love these eyes should weeping close,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here let me find a soft repose.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So Death will less my soul affright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, free from dread, my weary spright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Naked alone will dare t' essay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The still unknown, though beaten way;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pleased that her mortal part will have<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So safe a port, so sweet a grave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The cruel fair, for whom I burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May one day to these shades return,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And smiling with superior grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her lover seek around this place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when instead of me she finds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some crumbling dust toss'd by the winds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She may feel pity in her breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, sighing, wish me happy rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drying her eyes with her soft veil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such tears must sure with Heaven prevail.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Well I remember how the flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Descended from these boughs in showers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Encircled in the fragrant cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She set, nor midst such glory proud.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These blossoms to her lap repair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These fall upon her flowing hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Like pearls enchased in gold they seem,)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These on the ground, these on the stream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In giddy rounds these dancing say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here Love and Laura only sway.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In rapturous wonder oft I said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sure she in Paradise was made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thence sprang that bright angelic state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those looks, those words, that heavenly gait,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That beauteous smile, that voice divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those graces that around her shine:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span><span class="i0">Transported I beheld the fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sighing cried, How came I here?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In heaven, amongst th' immortal blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here let me fix and ever rest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Molesworth.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Ye</span> waters clear and fresh, to whose blight wave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She all her beauties gave,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sole of her sex in my impassion'd mind!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou sacred branch so graced,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(With sighs e'en now retraced!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On whose smooth shaft her heavenly form reclined!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Herbage and flowers that bent the robe beneath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose graceful folds compress'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her pure angelic breast!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye airs serene, that breathe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Love first taught me in her eyes his lore!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet once more all attest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The last sad plaintive lay my woe-worn heart may pour!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If so I must my destiny fulfil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Love to close these weeping eyes be doom'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By Heaven's mysterious will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! grant that in this loved retreat, entomb'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My poor remains may lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my freed soul regain its native sky!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Less rude shall Death appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If yet a hope so dear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smooth the dread passage to eternity!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No shade so calm—serene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My weary spirit finds on earth below;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No grave so still—so green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In which my o'ertoil'd frame may rest from mortal woe!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet one day, haply, she—so heavenly fair!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So kind in cruelty!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With careless steps may to these haunts repair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where her beaming eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Met mine in days so blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A wistful glance may yet unconscious rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And seeking me around,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May mark among the stones a lowly mound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That speaks of pity to the shuddering sense!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then may she breathe a sigh,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span><span class="i0">Of power to win me mercy from above!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doing Heaven violence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All-beautiful in tears of late relenting love!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still dear to memory! when, in odorous showers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scattering their balmy flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To summer airs th' o'ershadowing branches bow'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The while, with humble state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all the pomp of tribute sweets she sate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wrapt in the roseate cloud!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now clustering blossoms deck her vesture's hem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now her bright tresses gem,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(In that all-blissful day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like burnish'd gold with orient pearls inwrought,)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some strew the turf—some on the waters float!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some, fluttering, seem to say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In wanton circlets toss'd, "Here Love holds sovereign sway!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oft I exclaim'd, in awful tremor rapt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Surely of heavenly birth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This gracious form that visits the low earth!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So in oblivion lapp'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was reason's power, by the celestial mien,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The brow,—the accents mild—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The angelic smile serene!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That now all sense of sad reality<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'erborne by transport wild,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Alas! how came I here, and when?" I cry,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deeming my spirit pass'd into the sky!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en though the illusion cease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In these dear haunts alone my tortured heart finds peace.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If thou wert graced with numbers sweet, my song!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To match thy wish to please;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaving these rocks and trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou boldly might'st go forth, and dare th' assembled throng.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Dacre.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Clear</span>, fresh, and dulcet streams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which the fair shape, who seems<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To me sole woman, haunted at noon-tide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair bough, so gently fit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(I sigh to think of it,)<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span><span class="i0">Which lent a pillar to her lovely side;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And turf, and flowers bright-eyed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er which her folded gown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flow'd like an angel's down;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you, O holy air and hush'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where first my heart at her sweet glances gush'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give ear, give ear, with one consenting,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To my last words, my last and my lamenting.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If 'tis my fate below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Heaven will have it so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Love must close these dying eyes in tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May my poor dust be laid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In middle of your shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While my soul, naked, mounts to its own spheres.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thought would calm my fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When taking, out of breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The doubtful step of death;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For never could my spirit find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A stiller port after the stormy wind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor in more calm, abstracted bourne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slip from my travail'd flesh, and from my bones outworn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Perhaps, some future hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To her accustom'd bower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might come the untamed, and yet the gentle she;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where she saw me first,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might turn with eyes athirst<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And kinder joy to look again for me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, oh! the charity!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seeing amidst the stones<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The earth that held my bones,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sigh for very love at last<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might ask of Heaven to pardon me the past:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Heaven itself could not say nay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As with her gentle veil she wiped the tears away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How well I call to mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When from those boughs the wind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shook down upon her bosom flower on flower;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there she sat, meek-eyed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In midst of all that pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sprinkled and blushing through an amorous shower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some to her hair paid dower,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span><span class="i0">And seem'd to dress the curls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Queenlike, with gold and pearls;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some, snowing, on her drapery stopp'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some on the earth, some on the water dropp'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While others, fluttering from above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seem'd wheeling round in pomp, and saying, "Here reigns Love."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How often then I said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Inward, and fill'd with dread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Doubtless this creature came from Paradise!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For at her look the while,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her voice, and her sweet smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heavenly air, truth parted from mine eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So that, with long-drawn sighs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I said, as far from men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"How came I here, and when?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I had forgotten; and alas!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fancied myself in heaven, not where I was;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from that time till this, I bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such love for the green bower, I cannot rest elsewhere.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Leigh Hunt.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CANZONE XV.</h2> + +<h3><i>In quella parte dov' Amor mi sprona.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE FINDS HER IMAGE EVERYWHERE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">When</span> Love, fond Love, commands the strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The coyest muse must sure obey;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love bids my wounded breast complain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whispers the melodious lay:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet when such griefs restrain the muse's wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How shall she dare to soar, or how attempt to sing?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! could my heart express its woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How poor, how wretched should I seem!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But as the plaintive accents flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft comfort spreads her golden gleam;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And each gay scene, that Nature holds to view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bids Laura's absent charms to memory bloom anew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though Fate's severe decrees remove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her gladsome beauties from my sight,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span><span class="i0">Yet, urged by pity, friendly Love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bids fond reflection yield delight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If lavish spring with flowerets strews the mead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her lavish beauties all to fancy are displayed!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When to this globe the solar beams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their full meridian blaze impart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It pictures Laura, that inflames<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With passion's fires each human heart:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the sun completes his daily race,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see her riper age complete each growing grace.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When milder planets, warmer skies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er winter's frozen reign prevail;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When groves are tinged with vernal dyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And violets scent the wanton gale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those flowers, the verdure, then recall that day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In which my Laura stole this heedless heart away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The blush of health, that crimson'd o'er<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her youthful cheek; her modest mien;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gay-green garment that she wore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have ever dear to memory been;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More dear they grow as time the more inflames<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This tender breast o'ercome by passion's wild extremes!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sun, whose cheering lustre warms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bosom of yon snow-clad hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seems a just emblem of the charms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose power controls my vanquish'd will;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When near, they gild with joy this frozen heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where ceaseless winter reigns, whene'er those charms depart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yon sun, too, paints the locks of gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That play around her face so fair—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her face which, oft as I behold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prompts the soft sigh of amorous care!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Laura smiles, all-conscious of that love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which from this faithful breast no time can e'er remove.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If to the transient storm of night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Succeeds a star-bespangled sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the clear rain-drops catch the light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glittering on all the foliage nigh;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span><span class="i0">Methinks her eyes I view, as on that day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When through the envious veil they shot their magic ray.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With brightness making heaven more bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As then they did, I see them now;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see them, when the morning light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Purples the misty mountain's brow:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When day declines, and darkness spreads the pole;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Methinks 'tis Laura flies, and sadness wraps my soul.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In stately jars of burnish'd gold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should lilies spread their silvery pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With fresh-blown roses that unfold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their leaves, in heaven's own crimson dyed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then Laura's bloom I see, and sunny hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flowing adown her neck than ivory whiter far.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The flowerets brush'd by zephyr's wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Waving their heads in frolic play,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft to my fond remembrance bring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The happy spot, the happier day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In which, disporting with the gale, I view'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those sweet unbraided locks, that all my heart subdued.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! could I count those orbs that shine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nightly o'er yon ethereal plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or in some scanty vase confine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each drop that ocean's bounds contain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then might I hope to fly from beauty's rays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laura o'er flaming worlds can spread bright beauty's blaze.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Should I all heaven, all earth explore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I still should lovely Laura find;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laura, whose beauties I adore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is ever present to my mind:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She's seen in all that strikes these partial eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her dear name still dwells in all my tender sighs.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But soft, my song,—not thine the power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To paint that never-dying flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which gilds through life the gloomy hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which nurtures this love-wasted frame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For since with Laura dwells my wander'd heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cheer'd by that fostering flame, I brave Death's ebon dart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anon 1777.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a id="image13" name="image13"></a><a href="images/13large.jpg"> + <img src="images/13.jpg" + alt="GENOA." + title="GENOA." /></a><br /> + <span class="caption">GENOA.</span> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> +<h2>CANZONE XVI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Italia mia, benchè 'l parlar sia indarno.</i></h3> + +<h4>TO THE PRINCES OF ITALY, EXHORTING THEM TO SET HER FREE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">O my</span> own Italy! though words are vain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mortal wounds to close,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unnumber'd, that thy beauteous bosom stain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet may it soothe my pain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sigh forth Tyber's woes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Arno's wrongs, as on Po's sadden'd shore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sorrowing I wander, and my numbers pour.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ruler of heaven! By the all-pitying love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That could thy Godhead move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To dwell a lowly sojourner on earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turn, Lord! on this thy chosen land thine eye:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See, God of Charity!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From what light cause this cruel war has birth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the hard hearts by savage discord steel'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou, Father! from on high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Touch by my humble voice, that stubborn wrath may yield!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye, to whose sovereign hands the fates confide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of this fair land the reins,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(This land for which no pity wrings your breast)—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why does the stranger's sword her plains invest?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That her green fields be dyed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hope ye, with blood from the Barbarians' veins?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beguiled by error weak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye see not, though to pierce so deep ye boast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who love, or faith, in venal bosoms seek:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When throng'd your standards most,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye are encompass'd most by hostile bands.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O hideous deluge gather'd in strange lands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That rushing down amain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'erwhelms our every native lovely plain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! if our own hands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have thus our weal betray'd, who shall our cause sustain?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Well did kind Nature, guardian of our state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rear her rude Alpine heights,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lofty rampart against German hate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But blind ambition, seeking his own ill,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span><span class="i0">With ever restless will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the pure gales contagion foul invites:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within the same strait fold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gentle flocks and wolves relentless throng,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where still meek innocence must suffer wrong:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And these,—oh, shame avow'd!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are of the lawless hordes no tie can hold:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fame tells how Marius' sword<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Erewhile their bosoms gored,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor has Time's hand aught blurr'd the record proud!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When they who, thirsting, stoop'd to quaff the flood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the cool waters mix'd, drank of a comrade's blood!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Great Cæsar's name I pass, who o'er our plains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pour'd forth the ensanguin'd tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drawn by our own good swords from out their veins;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now—nor know I what ill stars preside—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven holds this land in hate!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To you the thanks!—whose hands control her helm!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You, whose rash feuds despoil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all the beauteous earth the fairest realm!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are ye impell'd by judgment, crime, or fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To oppress the desolate?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From broken fortunes, and from humble toil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hard-earn'd dole to wring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While from afar ye bring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dealers in blood, bartering their souls for hire?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In truth's great cause I sing.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor hatred nor disdain my earnest lay inspire.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nor mark ye yet, confirm'd by proof on proof,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bavaria's perfidy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who strikes in mockery, keeping death aloof?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Shame, worse than aught of loss, in honour's eye!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While ye, with honest rage, devoted pour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your inmost bosom's gore!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet give one hour to thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ye shall own, how little he can hold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another's glory dear, who sets his own at nought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Latin blood of old!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arise, and wrest from obloquy thy fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor bow before a name<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span><span class="i0">Of hollow sound, whose power no laws enforce!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For if barbarians rude<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have higher minds subdued,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ours! ours the crime!—not such wise Nature's course.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! is not this the soil my foot first press'd?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And here, in cradled rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was I not softly hush'd?—here fondly rear'd?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! is not this my country?—so endear'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By every filial tie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In whose lap shrouded both my parents lie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! by this tender thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your torpid bosoms to compassion wrought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look on the people's grief!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, after God, of you expect relief;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if ye but relent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Virtue shall rouse her in embattled might,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against blind fury bent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor long shall doubtful hang the unequal fight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For no,—the ancient flame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is not extinguish'd yet, that raised the Italian name!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mark, sovereign Lords! how Time, with pinion strong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swift hurries life along!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en now, behold! Death presses on the rear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We sojourn here a day—the next, are gone!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The soul disrobed—alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must shuddering seek the doubtful pass we fear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! at the dreaded bourne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Abase the lofty brow of wrath and scorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Storms adverse to the eternal calm on high!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ye, whose cruelty<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has sought another's harm, by fairer deed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of heart, or hand, or intellect, aspire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To win the honest meed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of just renown—the noble mind's desire!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus sweet on earth the stay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus to the spirit pure, unbarr'd is Heaven's way!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My song! with courtesy, and numbers sooth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy daring reasons grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thou the mighty, in their pride of place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must woo to gentle ruth,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span><span class="i0">Whose haughty will long evil customs nurse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ever to truth averse!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thee better fortunes wait,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the virtuous few—the truly great!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell them—but who shall bid my terrors cease?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peace! Peace! on thee I call! return, O heaven-born Peace!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Dacre.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">See</span> Time, that flies, and spreads his hasty wing!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See Life, how swift it runs the race of years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on its weary shoulders death appears!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now all is life and all is spring:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think on the winter and the darker day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the soul, naked and alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must prove the dubious step, the still unknown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet ever beaten way.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And through this fatal vale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would you be wafted with some gentle gale?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Put off that eager strife and fierce disdain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clouds that involve our life's serene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And storms that ruffle all the scene;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your precious hours, misspent in others' pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On nobler deeds, worthy yourselves, bestow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whether with hand or wit you raise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some monument of peaceful praise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some happy labour of fair love:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis all of heaven that you can find below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And opens into all above.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Basil Kennet.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CANZONE XVII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Di pensier in pensier, di monte in monte.</i></h3> + +<h4>DISTANCE AND SOLITUDE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">From</span> hill to hill I roam, from thought to thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Love my guide; the beaten path I fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For there in vain the tranquil life is sought:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If 'mid the waste well forth a lonely rill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or deep embosom'd a low valley lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In its calm shade my trembling heart's still;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there, if Love so will,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span><span class="i0">I smile, or weep, or fondly hope, or fear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While on my varying brow, that speaks the soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wild emotions roll,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now dark, now bright, as shifting skies appear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That whosoe'er has proved the lover's state<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would say, He feels the flame, nor knows his future fate.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On mountains high, in forests drear and wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I find repose, and from the throng'd resort<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of man turn fearfully my eyes aside;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At each lone step thoughts ever new arise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of her I love, who oft with cruel sport<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will mock the pangs I bear, the tears, the sighs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet e'en these ills I prize,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though bitter, sweet, nor would they were removed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For my heart whispers me, Love yet has power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To grant a happier hour:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perchance, though self-despised, thou yet art loved:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en then my breast a passing sigh will heave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! when, or how, may I a hope so wild believe?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where shadows of high rocking pines dark wave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I stay my footsteps, and on some rude stone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With thought intense her beauteous face engrave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roused from the trance, my bosom bathed I find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With tears, and cry, Ah! whither thus alone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hast thou far wander'd, and whom left behind?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But as with fixed mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On this fair image I impassion'd rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, viewing her, forget awhile my ills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love my rapt fancy fills;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In its own error sweet the soul is blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While all around so bright the visions glide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! might the cheat endure, I ask not aught beside.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her form portray'd within the lucid stream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will oft appear, or on the verdant lawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or glossy beech, or fleecy cloud, will gleam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So lovely fair, that Leda's self might say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her Helen sinks eclipsed, as at the dawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A star when cover'd by the solar ray:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, as o'er wilds I stray<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span><span class="i0">Where the eye nought but savage nature meets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There Fancy most her brightest tints employs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when rude truth destroys<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The loved illusion of those dreamed sweets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sit me down on the cold rugged stone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Less coid, less dead than I, and think, and weep alone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where the huge mountain rears his brow sublime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On which no neighbouring height its shadow flings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Led by desire intense the steep I climb;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tracing in the boundless space each woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose sad remembrance my torn bosom wrings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tears, that bespeak the heart o'erfraught, will flow:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While, viewing all below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From me, I cry, what worlds of air divide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beauteous form, still absent and still near!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, chiding soft the tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I whisper low, haply she too has sigh'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thou art far away: a thought so sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awhile my labouring soul will of its burthen cheat.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Go thou, my song, beyond that Alpine bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the pure smiling heavens are most serene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There by a murmuring stream may I be found,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose gentle airs around<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Waft grateful odours from the laurel green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nought but my empty form roams here unblest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There dwells my heart with her who steals it from my breast.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Dacre.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET C.</h2> + +<h3><i>Poi che 'l cammin m' è chiuso di mercede.</i></h3> + +<h4>THOUGH FAR FROM LAURA, SOLITARY AND UNHAPPY, ENVY STILL PURSUES HIM.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Since</span> mercy's door is closed, alas! to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hopeless paths my poor life separate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From her in whom, I know not by what fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The guerdon lay of all my constancy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart that lacks not other food, on sighs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feed: to sorrow born, I live on tears:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor therefore mourn I: sweeter far appears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My present grief than others can surmise.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span><span class="i0">On thy dear portrait rests alone my view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which nor Praxiteles nor Xeuxis drew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a more bold and cunning pencil framed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What shore can hide me, or what distance shield,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If by my cruel exile yet untamed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Insatiate Envy finds me here concealed?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Io canterei d' Amor sì novamente.</i></h3> + +<h4>REPLY TO A SONNET OF JACOPO DA LENTINO.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Ways</span> apt and new to sing of love I'd find,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forcing from her hard heart full many a sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And re-enkindle in her frozen mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Desires a thousand, passionate and high;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er her fair face would see each swift change pass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See her fond eyes at length where pity reigns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As one who sorrows when too late, alas!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For his own error and another's pains;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See the fresh roses edging that fair snow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Move with her breath, that ivory descried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which turns to marble him who sees it near;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See all, for which in this brief life below<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Myself I weary not but rather pride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Heaven for later times has kept me here.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CII.</h2> + +<h3><i>S' Amor non è, che dunque è quel ch' i' sento?</i></h3> + +<h4>THE CONTRADICTIONS OF LOVE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">If</span> no love is, O God, what fele I so?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if love is, what thing and which is he?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If love be gode, from whence cometh my woe?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If it be wicke, a wonder thinketh me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When every torment and adversite<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That cometh of him may to me savory thinke:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For aye more thurst I the more that I drinke.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if that at my owne lust I brenne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From whence cometh my wailing and my pleinte?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If harme agre me whereto pleine I thenne?<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span><span class="i0">I not nere why unwery that I feinte.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O quickè deth, O surelè harme so quainte,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How may I see in me such quantite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if that I consent that so it be?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Chaucer.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">If</span> 'tis not love, what is it feel I then?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If 'tis, how strange a thing, sweet powers above!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If love be kind, why does it fatal prove?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If cruel, why so pleasing is the pain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If 'tis my will to love, why weep, why plain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If not my will, tears cannot love remove.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O living death! O rapturous pang!—why, love!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I consent not, canst thou o'er me reign?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I consent, 'tis wrongfully I mourn:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus on a stormy sea my bark is borne<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By adverse winds, and with rough tempest tost;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus unenlightened, lost in error's maze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My blind opinion ever dubious strays;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm froze by summer, scorched by winter's frost.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anon. 1777.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Amor m' ha posto come segno a strale.</i></h3> + +<h4>LOVE'S ARMOURY.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Love</span> makes me as the target for his dart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As snow in sunshine, or as wax in flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or gale-driven cloud; and, Laura, on thy name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I call, but thou no pity wilt impart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy radiant eyes first caused my bosom's smart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No time, no place can shield me from their beam;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From thee (but, ah, thou treat'st it as a dream!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proceed the torments of my suff'ring heart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each thought's an arrow, and thy face a sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My passion's flame: and these doth Love employ<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wound my breast, to dazzle, and destroy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy heavenly song, thy speech with which I'm won,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All thy sweet breathings of such strong controul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Form the dear gale that bears away my soul.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Me</span> Love has placed as mark before the dart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As to the sun the snow, as wax to fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As clouds to wind: Lady, e'en now I tire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Craving the mercy which never warms thy heart.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span><span class="i0">From those bright eyes was aim'd the mortal blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Gainst which nor time nor place avail'd me aught;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From thee alone—nor let it strange be thought—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun, the fire, the wind whence I am so.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The darts are thoughts of thee, thy face the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fire my passion; such the weapons be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With which at will Love dazzles yet destroys.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy fragrant breath and angel voice—which won<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart that from its thrall shall ne'er be free—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wind which vapour-like my frail life flies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CIV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Pace non trovo, e non ho da far guerra.</i></h3> + +<h4>LOVE'S INCONSISTENCY.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">I fynde</span> no peace and all my warre is done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feare and hope, I bourne and freese lyke yse;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I flye above the wynde, yet cannot ryse;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nought I have, yet all the worlde I season,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That looseth, nor lacketh, holdes me in pryson,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And holdes me not, yet can I escape no wyse.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor lets me leeve, nor die at my devyce,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet of death it giveth none occasion.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without eye I see, and without tongue I playne;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I desyre to perishe, yet aske I health;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I love another, and yet I hate my self;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feede in sorrow and laughe in all my payne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lykewyse pleaseth me both death and lyf,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my delight is cawser of my greif.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wyatt.<a name="FNanchor_S_19" id="FNanchor_S_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_S_19" class="fnanchor">[S]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Warfare</span> I cannot wage, yet know not peace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fear, I hope, I burn, I freeze again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mount to the skies, then bow to earth my face;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grasp the whole world, yet nothing can obtain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His prisoner Love nor frees, nor will detain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In toils he holds me not, nor will release;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He slays me not, nor yet will he unchain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor joy allows, nor lets my sorrow cease.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sightless I see my fair; though mute, I mourn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I scorn existence, and yet court its stay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Detest myself, and for another burn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By grief I'm nurtured; and, though tearful, gay;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span><span class="i0">Death I despise, and life alike I hate:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such, lady, dost thou make my wayward state!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CANZONE XVIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Qual più diversa e nova.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE COMPARES HIMSELF TO ALL THAT IS MOST STRANGE IN CREATION.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Whate'er</span> most wild and new<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was ever found in any foreign land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If viewed and valued true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Most likens me 'neath Love's transforming hand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence the bright day breaks through,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone and consortless, a bird there flies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who voluntary dies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To live again regenerate and entire:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So ever my desire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone, itself repairs, and on the crest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of its own lofty thoughts turns to our sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There melts and is undone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sinking to its first state of unrest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So burns and dies, yet still its strength resumes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, Phœnix-like, afresh in force and beauty blooms.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where Indian billows sweep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A wondrous stone there is, before whose strength<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stout navies, weak to keep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their binding iron, sink engulf'd at length:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So prove I, in this deep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of bitter grief, whom, with her own hard pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That fair rock knew to guide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where now my life in wreck and ruin drives:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus too the soul deprives,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By theft, my heart, which once so stonelike was,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It kept my senses whole, now far dispersed:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For mine, O fate accurst!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A rock that lifeblood and not iron draws,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom still i' the flesh a magnet living, sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drags to the fatal shore a certain doom to meet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Neath the far Ethiop skies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A beast is found, most mild and meek of air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which seems, yet in her eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Danger and dool and death she still does bear:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span><span class="i0">Much needs he to be wise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To look on hers whoever turns his mien:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Although her eyes unseen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All else securely may be viewed at will<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I to mine own ill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Run ever in rash grief, though well I know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My sufferings past and future, still my mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its eager, deaf and blind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Desire o'ermasters and unhinges so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That in her fine eyes and sweet sainted face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fatal, angelic, pure, my cause of death I trace.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the rich South there flows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fountain from the sun its name that wins,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This marvel still that shows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Boiling at night, but chill when day begins;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cold, yet more cold it grows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the sun's mounting car we nearer see:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So happens it with me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Who am, alas! of tears the source and seat),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the bright light and sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My only sun retires, and lone and drear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My eyes are left, in night's obscurest reign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I burn, but if again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gold rays of the living sun appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My slow blood stiffens, instantaneous, strange;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within me and without I feel the frozen change!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Another fount of fame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Springs in Epirus, which, as bards have told,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kindles the lurking flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the live quenches, while itself is cold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul, that, uncontroll'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And scathless from love's fire till now had pass'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Carelessly left at last<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Near the cold fair for whom I ceaseless sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was kindled instantly:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like martyrdom, ne'er known by day or night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A heart of marble had to mercy shamed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which first her charms inflamed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her fair and frozen virtue quenched the light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thus she crushed and kindled my heart's fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well know I who have felt in long and useless ire.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span><span class="i0">Beyond our earth's known brinks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the famed Islands of the Blest, there be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two founts: of this who drinks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dies smiling: who of that to live is free.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A kindred fate Heaven links<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To my sad life, who, smilingly, could die<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For like o'erflowing joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But soon such bliss new cries of anguish stay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love! still who guidest my way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, dim and dark, the shade of fame invites,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not of that fount we speak, which, full each hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ever with larger power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'erflows, when Taurus with the Sun unites;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So are my eyes with constant sorrow wet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in that season most when I my Lady met.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Should any ask, my Song!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or how or where I am, to such reply:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the tall mountain throws<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its shade, in the lone vale, whence Sorga flows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He roams, where never eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save Love's, who leaves him not a step, is by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And one dear image who his peace destroys,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone with whom to muse all else in life he flies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Fiamma dal ciel su le tue treccie piova.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE INVEIGHS AGAINST THE COURT OF ROME.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Vengeaunce</span> must fall on thee, thow filthie whore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Babilon, thow breaker of Christ's fold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That from achorns, and from the water colde,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Art riche become with making many poore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thow treason's neste that in thie harte dost holde<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of cankard malice, and of myschief more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than pen can wryte, or may with tongue be tolde,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slave to delights that chastitie hath solde;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For wyne and ease which settith all thie store<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Uppon whoredome and none other lore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thye pallais of strompetts yonge and olde<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Theare walks Plentie, and Belzebub thye Lorde:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span><span class="i0">Guydes thee and them, and doth thye raigne upholde:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is but late, as wryting will recorde,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That poore thow weart withouten lande or goolde;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet now hathe golde and pryde, by one accorde,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In wickednesse so spreadd thie lyf abrode,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That it dothe stincke before the face of God.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">(?) Wyatt.<a name="FNanchor_T_20" id="FNanchor_T_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_T_20" class="fnanchor">[T]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">May</span> fire from heaven rain down upon thy head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou most accurst; who simple fare casts by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made rich and great by others' poverty;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How dost thou glory in thy vile misdeed!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nest of all treachery, in which is bred<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whate'er of sin now through the world doth fly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of wine the slave, of sloth, of gluttony;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With sensuality's excesses fed!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old men and harlots through thy chambers dance;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then in the midst see Belzebub advance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With mirrors and provocatives obscene.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Erewhile thou wert not shelter'd, nursed on down;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But naked, barefoot on the straw wert thrown:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now rank to heaven ascends thy life unclean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CVI.</h2> + +<h3><i>L' avara Babilonia ha colmo 'l sacco.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE PREDICTS TO ROME THE ARRIVAL OF SOME GREAT PERSONAGE WHO WILL BRING +HER BACK TO HER OLD VIRTUE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Covetous</span> Babylon of wrath divine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By its worst crimes has drain'd the full cup now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for its future Gods to whom to bow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not Pow'r nor Wisdom ta'en, but Love and Wine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though hoping reason, I consume and pine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet shall her crown deck some new Soldan's brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who shall again build up, and we avow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One faith in God, in Rome one head and shrine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her idols shall be shatter'd, in the dust<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her proud towers, enemies of Heaven, be hurl'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her wardens into flames and exile thrust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair souls and friends of virtue shall the world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Possess in peace; and we shall see it made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All gold, and fully its old works display'd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET CVII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Fontana di dolore, albergo d' ira.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE ATTRIBUTES THE WICKEDNESS OF THE COURT OF ROME TO ITS GREAT WEALTH.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Spring</span> of all woe, O den of curssed ire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scoole of errour, temple of heresye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thow Pope, I meane, head of hypocrasye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thow and thie churche, unsaciat of desyre,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have all the world filled full of myserye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well of disceate, thow dungeon full of fyre,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That hydes all truthe to breed idolatrie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thow wicked wretche, Chryste cannot be a lyer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behold, therefore, thie judgment hastelye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thye first founder was gentill povertie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But there against is all thow dost requyre.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thow shameless beaste wheare hast thow thie trust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thie whoredome, or in thie riche attyre?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loe! Constantyne, that is turned into dust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall not retourne for to mayntaine thie lust;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now his heires, that might not sett thee higher,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thie greate pryde shall teare thye seate asonder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And scourdge thee so that all the world shall wonder.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">(?) Wyatt.<a name="FNanchor_U_21" id="FNanchor_U_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_U_21" class="fnanchor">[U]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Fountain</span> of sorrows, centre of mad ire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rank error's school and fane of heresy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once Rome, now Babylon, the false and free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom fondly we lament and long desire.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O furnace of deceits, O prison dire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where good roots die and the ill-weed grows a tree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hell upon earth, great marvel will it be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If Christ reject thee not in endless fire.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Founded in humble poverty and chaste,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against thy founders lift'st thou now thy horn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Impudent harlot! Is thy hope then placed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thine adult'ries and thy wealth ill-born?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since comes no Constantine his own to claim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The vext world must endure, or end its shame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET CVIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Quanto più desiose l' ali spando.</i></h3> + +<h4>FAR FROM HIS FRIENDS, HE FLIES TO THEM IN THOUGHT.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> more my own fond wishes would impel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My steps to you, sweet company of friends!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fortune with their free course the more contends,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And elsewhere bids me roam, by snare and spell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heart, sent forth by me though it rebel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is still with you where that fair vale extends,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In whose green windings most our sea ascends,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From which but yesterday I wept farewell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It took the right-hand way, the left I tried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I dragg'd by force in slavery to remain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It left at liberty with Love its guide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But patience is great comfort amid pain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long habits mutually form'd declare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That our communion must be brief and rare.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CIX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Amor che nel pensier mio vive e regna.</i></h3> + +<h4>THE COURAGE AND TIMIDITY OF LOVE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> long Love that in my thought I harbour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in my heart doth keep his residence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into my face pressèth with bold pretence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there campèth displaying his bannèr.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She that me learns to love and to suffèr,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wills that my trust, and lust's negligence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be rein'd by reason, shame, and reverence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With his hardiness takes displeasure.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherewith Love to the heart's forest he fleeth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaving his enterprise with pain and cry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there him hideth, and not appearèth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What may I do, when my master fearèth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in the field with him to live and die?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For good is the life, ending faithfully.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wyatt.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Love</span>, that liveth and reigneth in my thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That built its seat within my captive breast;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span><span class="i0">Clad in the arms wherein with me he fought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft in my face he doth his banner rest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She, that me taught to love, and suffer pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My doubtful hope, and eke my hot desire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With shamefaced cloak to shadow and restrain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her smiling grace converteth straight to ire.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And coward love then to the heart apace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Taketh his flight; whereas he lurks, and plains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His purpose lost, and dare not show his face.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For my lord's guilt thus faultless bide I pains.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet from my lord shall not my foot remove:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet is his death, that takes his end by love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Surrey.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Love</span> in my thought who ever lives and reigns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in my heart still holds the upper place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At times come forward boldly in my face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There plants his ensign and his post maintains:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She, who in love instructs us and its pains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would fain that reason, shame, respect should chase<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Presumptuous hope and high desire abase,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And at our daring scarce herself restrains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love thereon to my heart retires dismay'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Abandons his attempt, and weeps and fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hiding there, no more my friend appears.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What can the liege whose lord is thus afraid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More than with him, till life's last gasp, to dwell?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For who well loving dies at least dies well.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Come talora al caldo tempo suole.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE LIKENS HIMSELF TO THE INSECT WHICH, FLYING INTO ONE'S EYES, MEETS ITS +DEATH.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">As</span> when at times in summer's scorching heats.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lured by the light, the simple insect flies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a charm'd thing, into the passer's eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence death the one and pain the other meets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus ever I, my fatal sun to greet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rush to those eyes where so much sweetness lies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That reason's guiding hand fierce Love defies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by strong will is better judgment beat.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I clearly see they value me but ill,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span><span class="i0">And, for against their torture fails my strength.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I am doom'd my life to lose at length:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Love so dazzles and deludes me still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart their pain and not my loss laments,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blind, to its own death my soul consents.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SESTINA V.</h2> + +<h3><i>Alia dolce ombra de le belle frondi.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE TELLS THE STORY OF HIS LOVE, RESOLVING HENCEFORTH TO DEVOTE HIMSELF +TO GOD.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Beneath</span> the pleasant shade of beauteous leaves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ran for shelter from a cruel light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en here below that burnt me from high heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the last snow had ceased upon the hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And amorous airs renew'd the sweet spring time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on the upland flourish'd herbs and boughs.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ne'er did the world behold such graceful boughs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor ever wind rustled so verdant leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As were by me beheld in that young time:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So that, though fearful of the ardent light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sought not refuge from the shadowing hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But of the plant accepted most in heaven.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A laurel then protected from that heaven:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence, oft enamour'd with its lovely boughs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A roamer I have been through woods, o'er hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But never found I other trunk, nor leaves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like these, so honour'd with supernal light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which changed not qualities with changing time.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wherefore each hour more firm, from time to time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Following where I heard my call from heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And guided ever by a soft clear light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I turn'd, devoted still, to those first boughs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or when on earth are scatter'd the sere leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or when the sun restored makes green the hills.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The woods, the rocks, the fields, the floods, and hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All that is made, are conquer'd, changed by time:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And therefore ask I pardon of those leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If after many years, revolving heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sway'd me to flee from those entangling boughs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I begun to see its better light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span><span class="i0">So dear to me at first was the sweet light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That willingly I pass'd o'er difficult hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But to be nearer those beloved boughs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now shortening life, the apt place and full time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Show me another path to mount to heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to make fruit not merely flowers and leaves.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Other love, other leaves, and other light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Other ascent to heaven by other hills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I seek—in sooth 'tis time—and other boughs.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Quand' io v' odo parlar si dolcemente.</i></h3> + +<h4>TO ONE WHO SPOKE TO HIM OF LAURA.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Whene'er</span> you speak of her in that soft tone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which Love himself his votaries surely taught,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My ardent passion to such fire is wrought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That e'en the dead reviving warmth might own:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where'er to me she, dear or kind, was known<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There the bright lady is to mind now brought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the same bearing which, to waken thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Needed no sound but of my sighs alone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Half-turn'd I see her looking, on the breeze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her light hair flung; so true her memories roll<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On my fond heart of which she keeps the keys;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the surpassing bliss which floods my soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So checks my tongue, to tell how, queen-like, there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She sits as on her throne, I never dare.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Nè così bello il sol giammai levarsi.</i></h3> + +<h4>THE CHARMS OF LAURA WHEN SHE FIRST MET HIS SIGHT.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Ne'er</span> can the sun such radiance soft display,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Piercing some cloud that would its light impair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ne'er tinged some showery arch the humid air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With variegated lustre half so gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As when, sweet-smiling my fond heart away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All-beauteous shone my captivating fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For charms what mortal can with her compare!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But truth, impartial truth! much more might say.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span><span class="i0">I saw young Cupid, saw his laughing eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With such bewitching, am'rous sweetness roll,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That every human glance I since despise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Believe, dear friend! I saw the wanton boy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bent was his bow to wound my tender soul;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, ah! once more I'd view the dang'rous joy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anon. 1777.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Sun</span> never rose so beautiful and bright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When skies above most clear and cloudless show'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor, after rain, the bow of heaven e'er glow'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With tints so varied, delicate, and light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As in rare beauty flash'd upon my sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The day I first took up this am'rous load,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That face whose fellow ne'er on earth abode—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even my praise to paint it seems a slight!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then saw I Love, who did her fine eyes bend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So sweetly, every other face obscure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has from that hour till now appear'd to me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The boy-god and his bow, I saw them, friend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From whom life since has never been secure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom still I madly yearn again to see.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Pommi ove 'l sol occide i fiori e l' erba.</i></h3> + +<h4>HIS INVINCIBLE CONSTANCY.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Place</span> me where herb and flower the sun has dried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or where numb winter's grasp holds sterner sway:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Place me where Phœbus sheds a temperate ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where first he glows, where rests at eventide.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Place me in lowly state, in power and pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where lour the skies, or where bland zephyrs play<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Place me where blind night rules, or lengthened day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In age mature, or in youth's boiling tide:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Place me in heaven, or in the abyss profound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On lofty height, or in low vale obscure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A spirit freed, or to the body bound;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bank'd with the great, or all unknown to fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I still the same will be! the same endure!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my trilustral sighs still breathe the same!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Dacre.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Place</span> me where Phœbus burns each herb, each flower;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or where cold snows, and frost o'ercome his rays:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Place me where rolls his car with temp'rate blaze;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In climes that feel not, or that feel his power.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Place me where fortune may look bright, or lour;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mid murky airs, or where soft zephyr plays:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Place me in night, in long or short-lived days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where age makes sad, or youth gilds ev'ry hour:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Place me on mountains high, in vallies drear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In heaven, on earth, in depths unknown to-day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whether life fosters still, or flies this clay:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Place me where fame is distant, where she's near:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still will I love; nor shall those sighs yet cease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which thrice five years have robb'd this breast of peace.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anon. 1777.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Place</span> me where angry Titan burns the Moor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thirsty Afric fiery monsters brings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or where the new-born phœnix spreads her wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And troops of wond'ring birds her flight adore:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Place me by Gange, or Ind's empamper'd shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where smiling heavens on earth cause double springs:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Place me where Neptune's quire of Syrens sings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or where, made hoarse through cold, he leaves to roar:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me place where Fortune doth her darlings crown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A wonder or a spark in Envy's eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or late outrageous fates upon me frown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pity wailing, see disaster'd me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Affection's print my mind so deep doth prove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I may forget myself, but not my love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Drummond.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXIV.</h2> + +<h3><i>O d' ardente virtute ornata e calda.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE CELEBRATES LAURA'S BEAUTY AND VIRTUE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">O mind</span>, by ardent virtue graced and warm'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To whom my pen so oft pours forth my heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mansion of noble probity, who art<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A tower of strength 'gainst all assault full arm'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O rose effulgent, in whose foldings, charm'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We view with fresh carnation snow take part!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O pleasure whence my wing'd ideas start<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span><span class="i0">To that bless'd vision which no eye, unharm'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Created, may approach—thy name, if rhyme<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could bear to Bactra and to Thule's coast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nile, Tanaïs, and Calpe should resound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dread Olympus.—But a narrower bound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Confines my flight: and thee, our native clime<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between the Alps and Apennine must boast.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Capel Lofft.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">With</span> glowing virtue graced, of warm heart known,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet Spirit! for whom so many a page I trace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tower in high worth which foundest well thy base!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Centre of honour, perfect, and alone!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O blushes! on fresh snow like roses thrown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherein I read myself and mend apace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O pleasures! lifting me to that fair face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brightest of all on which the sun e'er shone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! if so far its sound may reach, your name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On my fond verse shall travel West and East,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From southern Nile to Thule's utmost bound.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But such full audience since I may not claim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It shall be heard in that fair land at least<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which Apennine divides, which Alps and seas surround.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Quando 'l voler, che con duo sproni ardenti.</i></h3> + +<h4>HER LOOKS BOTH COMFORT AND CHECK HIM.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">When</span>, with two ardent spurs and a hard rein,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Passion, my daily life who rules and leads,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From time to time the usual law exceeds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That calm, at least in part, my spirits may gain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It findeth her who, on my forehead plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dread and daring of my deep heart reads,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And seeth Love, to punish its misdeeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lighten her piercing eyes with worse disdain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherefore—as one who fears the impending blow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of angry Jove—it back in haste retires,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For great fears ever master great desires;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the cold fire and shrinking hopes which so<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lodge in my heart, transparent as a glass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er her sweet face at times make gleams of grace to pass.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET CXVI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Non Tesin, Po, Varo, Arno, Adige e Tebro.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE EXTOLS THE LAUREL AND ITS FAVOURITE STREAM.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Not</span> all the streams that water the bright earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not all the trees to which its breast gives birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can cooling drop or healing balm impart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To slack the fire which scorches my sad heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As one fair brook which ever weeps with me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or, which I praise and sing, as one dear tree.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This only help I find amid Love's strife;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherefore it me behoves to live my life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In arms, which else from me too rapid goes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus on fresh shore the lovely laurel grows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who planted it, his high and graceful thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Neath its sweet shade, to Sorga's murmurs, wrote.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>[IMITATION.]</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Nor</span> Arne, nor Mincius, nor stately Tiber,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sebethus, nor the flood into whose streams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He fell who burnt the world with borrow'd beams;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gold-rolling Tagus, Munda, famous Iber,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sorgue, Rhone, Loire, Garron, nor proud-bank'd Seine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peneus, Phasis, Xanthus, humble Ladon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor she whose nymphs excel her who loved Adon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair Tamesis, nor Ister large, nor Rhine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Euphrates, Tigris, Indus, Hermus, Gange,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pearly Hydaspes, serpent-like Meander,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gulf bereft sweet Hero her Leander—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nile, that far, far his hidden head doth range,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have ever had so rare a cause of praise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As Ora, where this northern Phœnix stays.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Drummond.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>BALLATA VI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Di tempo in tempo mi si fa men dura.</i></h3> + +<h4>THOUGH SHE BE LESS SEVERE, HE IS STILL NOT CONTENTED AND TRANQUIL AT +HEART.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">From</span> time to time more clemency for me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In that sweet smile and angel form I trace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seem too her lovely face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lustrous eyes at length more kind to be.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span><span class="i0">Yet, if thus honour'd, wherefore do my sighs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In doubt and sorrow flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Signs that too truly show<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My anguish'd desperate life to common eyes?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haply if, where she is, my glance I bend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This harass'd heart to cheer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Methinks that Love I hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pleading my cause, and see him succour lend.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not therefore at an end the strife I deem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor in sure rest my heart at last esteem;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Love most burns within<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Hope most pricks us on the way to win.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">From</span> time to time less cruelty I trace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In her sweet smile and form divinely fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Less clouded doth appear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heaven of her fine eyes and lovely face.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What then at last avail to me those sighs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which from my sorrows flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in my semblance show<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The life of anguish and despair I lead?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If towards her perchance I bend mine eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some solace to bestow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon my bosom's woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Methinks Love takes my part, and lends me aid:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet still I cannot find the conflict stay'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor tranquil is my heart in every state:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, ah! my passion's heat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More strongly glows within as my fond hopes increase.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXVII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Che fai, alma? che pensi? avrem mai pace?</i></h3> + +<h4>DIALOGUE OF THE POET WITH HIS HEART.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>P.</i> <span class="smcap">What</span> actions fire thee, and what musings fill?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Soul! is it peace, or truce, or war eterne?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>H.</i> Our lot I know not, but, as I discern,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her bright eyes favour not our cherish'd ill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>P.</i> What profit, with those eyes if she at will<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Makes us in summer freeze, in winter burn?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>H.</i> From him, not her those orbs their movement learn.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span><span class="i0"><i>P.</i> What's he to us, she sees it and is still.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>H.</i> Sometimes, though mute the tongue, the heart laments<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fondly, and, though the face be calm and bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bleeds inly, where no eye beholds its grief.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>P.</i> Nathless the mind not thus itself contents,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Breaking the stagnant woes which there unite,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For misery in fine hopes finds no relief.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>P.</i> <span class="smcap">What</span> act, what dream, absorbs thee, O my soul?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Say, must we peace, a truce, or warfare hail?<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>H.</i> Our fate I know not; but her eyes unveil<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The grief our woe doth in her heart enrol.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>P.</i> But that is vain, since by her eyes' control<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With nature I no sympathy inhale.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>H.</i> Yet guiltless she, for Love doth there prevail.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>P.</i> No balm to me, since she will not condole.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>H.</i> When man is mute, how oft the spirit grieves,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In clamorous woe! how oft the sparkling eye<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Belies the inward tear, where none can gaze!<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>P.</i> Yet restless still, the grief the mind conceives<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is not dispell'd, but stagnant seems to lie.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wretched hope not, though hope aid might raise.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXVIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Nom d' atra e tempestosa onda marina.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE IS LED BY LOVE TO REASON.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">No</span> wearied mariner to port e'er fled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the dark billow, when some tempest's nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As from tumultuous gloomy thoughts I fly—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thoughts by the force of goading passion bred:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor wrathful glance of heaven so surely sped<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Destruction to man's sight, as does that eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within whose bright black orb Love's Deity<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sharpens each dart, and tips with gold its head.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enthroned in radiance there he sits, not blind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quiver'd, and naked, or by shame just veil'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A live, not fabled boy, with changeful wing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thence unto me he lends instruction kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And arts of verse from meaner bards conceal'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus am I taught whate'er of love I write or sing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Ne'er</span> from the black and tempest-troubled brine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The weary mariner fair haven sought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As shelter I from the dark restless thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whereto hot wishes spur me and incline:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor mortal vision ever light divine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dazzled, as mine, in their rare splendour caught<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those matchless orbs, with pride and passion fraught,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Love aye haunts his darts to gild and fine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Him, blind no more, but quiver'd, there I view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Naked, except so far as shame conceals,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A winged boy—no fable—quick and true.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What few perceive he thence to me reveals;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So read I clearly in her eyes' dear light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whate'er of love I speak, whate'er I write.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXIX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Questa umil fera, un cor di tigre o d' orsa.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE PRAYS HER EITHER TO WELCOME OR DISMISS HIM AT ONCE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Fiercer</span> than tiger, savager than bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In human guise an angel form appears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who between fear and hope, from smiles to tears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So tortures me that doubt becomes despair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere long if she nor welcomes me, nor frees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, as her wont, between the two retains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the sweet poison circling through my veins,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My life, O Love! will soon be on its lees.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No longer can my virtue, worn and frail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With such severe vicissitudes, contend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At once which burn and freeze, make red and pale:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By flight it hopes at length its grief to end,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As one who, hourly failing, feels death nigh:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Powerless he is indeed who cannot even die!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Ite, caldi sospiri, al freddo core.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE IMPLORES MERCY OR DEATH.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Go</span>, my warm sighs, go to that frozen breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burst the firm ice, that charity denies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, if a mortal prayer can reach the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let death or pity give my sorrows rest!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span><span class="i0">Go, softest thoughts! Be all you know express'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that unnoticed by her lovely eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though fate and cruelty against me rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Error at least and hope shall be repress'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell her, though fully you can never tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, while her days calm and serenely flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In darkness and anxiety I dwell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love guides your flight, my thoughts securely go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fortune may change, and all may yet be well;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If my sun's aspect not deceives my woe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Charlemont.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Go</span>, burning sighs, to her cold bosom go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its circling ice which hinders pity rend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if to mortal prayer Heaven e'er attend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let death or mercy finish soon my woe.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go forth, fond thoughts, and to our lady show<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The love to which her bright looks never bend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If still her harshness, or my star offend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We shall at least our hopeless error know.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go, in some chosen moment, gently say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our state disquieted and dark has been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even as hers pacific and serene.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go, safe at last, for Love escorts your way:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From my sun's face if right the skies I guess<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well may my cruel fortune now be less.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXXI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Le stelle e 'l cielo e gli elementi a prova.</i></h3> + +<h4>LAURA'S UNPARALLELED BEAUTY AND VIRTUE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> stars, the elements, and Heaven have made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With blended powers a work beyond compare;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All their consenting influence, all their care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To frame one perfect creature lent their aid.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence Nature views her loveliness display'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With sun-like radiance sublimely fair:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor mortal eye can the pure splendour bear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love, sweetness, in unmeasured grace array'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The very air illumed by her sweet beams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breathes purest excellence; and such delight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That all expression far beneath it gleams.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No base desire lives in that heavenly light,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span><span class="i0">Honour alone and virtue!—fancy's dreams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never saw passion rise refined by rays so bright.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Capel Lofft.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> stars, the heaven, the elements, I ween,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Put forth their every art and utmost care<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In that bright light, as fairest Nature fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose like on earth the sun has nowhere seen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So noble, elegant, unique her mien,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarce mortal glance to rest on it may dare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love so much softness and such graces rare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Showers from those dazzling and resistless een.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The atmosphere, pervaded and made pure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By their sweet rays, kindles with goodness so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thought cannot equal it nor language show.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here no ill wish, no base desires endure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But honour, virtue. Here, if ever yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has lust his death from supreme beauty met.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXXII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Non fur mai Giove e Cesare sì mossi.</i></h3> + +<h4>LAURA IN TEARS.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">High</span> Jove to thunder ne'er was so intent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So resolute great Cæsar ne'er to strike,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That pity had not quench'd the ire of both,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from their hands the accustom'd weapons shook.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Madonna wept: my Lord decreed that I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should see her then, and there her sorrows hear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So joy, desire should fill me to the brim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrilling my very marrow and my bones.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love show'd to me, nay, sculptured on my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sweet and sparkling tear, and those soft words<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wrote with a diamond on its inmost core,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where with his constant and ingenious keys<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He still returneth often, to draw thence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">True tears of mine and long and heavy sighs.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXXIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>I' vidi in terra angelici costumi.</i></h3> + +<h4>THE EFFECTS OF HER GRIEF.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">On</span> earth reveal'd the beauties of the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Angelic features, it was mine to hail;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span><span class="i0">Features, which wake my mingled joy and wail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While all besides like dreams or shadows flies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fill'd with tears I saw those two bright eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which oft have turn'd the sun with envy pale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from those lips I heard—oh! such a tale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As might awake brute Nature's sympathies!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wit, pity, excellence, and grief, and love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With blended plaint so sweet a concert made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As ne'er was given to mortal ear to prove:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heaven itself such mute attention paid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That not a breath disturb'd the listening grove—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even æther's wildest gales the tuneful charm obey'd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrangham.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Yes</span>, I beheld on earth angelic grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And charms divine which mortals rarely see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such as both glad and pain the memory;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vain, light, unreal is all else I trace:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tears I saw shower'd from those fine eyes apace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of which the sun ofttimes might envious be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Accents I heard sigh'd forth so movingly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As to stay floods, or mountains to displace.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love and good sense, firmness, with pity join'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wailful grief, a sweeter concert made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than ever yet was pour'd on human ear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heaven unto the music so inclined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That not a leaf was seen to stir the shade;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such melody had fraught the winds, the atmosphere.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXXIV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Quel sempre acerbo ed onorato giorno.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE RECALLS HER AS HE SAW HER WHEN IN TEARS.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">That</span> ever-painful, ever-honour'd day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So left her living image on my heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond or lover's wit or poet's art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That oft to it will doting memory stray.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A gentle pity softening her bright mien,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her sorrow there so sweet and sad was heard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doubt in the gazer's bosom almost stirr'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Goddess or mortal, which made heaven serene.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span><span class="i0">Fine gold her hair, her face as sunlit snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her brows and lashes jet, twin stars her eyne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence the young archer oft took fatal aim;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each loving lip—whence, utterance sweet and low<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her pent grief found—a rose which rare pearls line,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her tears of crystal and her sighs of flame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">That</span> ever-honour'd, yet too bitter day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her image hath so graven in my breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That only memory can return it dress'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In living charms, no genius could portray:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her air such graceful sadness did display,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her plaintive, soft laments my ear so bless'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ask'd if mortal, or a heavenly guest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did thus the threatening clouds in smiles array.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her locks were gold, her cheeks were breathing snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her brows with ebon arch'd—bright stars her eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherein Love nestled, thence his dart to aim:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her teeth were pearls—the rose's softest glow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dwelt on that mouth, whence woke to speech grief's sighs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her tears were crystal—and her breath was flame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXXV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Ove ch' i' posi gli occhi lassi o giri.</i></h3> + +<h4>HER IMAGE IS EVER IN HIS HEART.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Where'er</span> I rest or turn my weary eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ease the longings which allure them still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love pictures my bright lady at his will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ever my desire may verdant rise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep pity she with graceful grief applies—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Warm feelings ever gentle bosoms fill—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While captived equally my fond ears thrill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With her sweet accents and seraphic sighs.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love and fair Truth were both allied to tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The charms I saw were in the world alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That 'neath the stars their like was never known.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor ever words so dear and tender fell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On listening ear: nor tears so pure and bright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From such fine eyes e'er sparkled in the light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET CXXVI.</h2> + +<h3><i>In qual parte del cielo, in quale idea.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE EXTOLS THE BEAUTY AND VIRTUE OF LAURA.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Say</span> from what part of heaven 'twas Nature drew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From what idea, that so perfect mould<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To form such features, bidding us behold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In charms below, what she above could do?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What fountain-nymph, what dryad-maid e'er threw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the wind such tresses of pure gold?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What heart such numerous virtues can unfold?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Although the chiefest all my fond hopes slew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He for celestial charms may look in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who has not seen my fair one's radiant eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And felt their glances pleasingly beguile.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How Love can heal his wounds, then wound again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He only knows, who knows how sweet her sighs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How sweet her converse, and how sweet her smile.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">In</span> what celestial sphere—what realm of thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dwelt the bright model from which Nature drew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That fair and beauteous face, in which we view<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her utmost power, on earth, divinely wrought?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What sylvan queen—what nymph by fountain sought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the breeze such golden tresses threw?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When did such virtues one sole breast imbue?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though with my death her chief perfection's fraught.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For heavenly beauty he in vain inquires,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who ne'er beheld her eyes' celestial stain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where'er she turns around their brilliant fires:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He knows not how Love wounds, and heals again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who knows not how she sweetly smiles, respires<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sweetest sighs, and speaks in sweetest strain!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anon.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXXVII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Amor ed io sì pien di maraviglia.</i></h3> + +<h4>HER EVERY ACTION IS DIVINE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">As</span> one who sees a thing incredible,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In mutual marvel Love and I combine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Confessing, when she speaks or smiles divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">None but herself can be her parallel.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span><span class="i0">Where the fine arches of that fair brow swell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So sparkle forth those twin true stars of mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than whom no safer brighter beacons shine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His course to guide who'd wisely love and well.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What miracle is this, when, as a flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She sits on the rich grass, or to her breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Snow-white and soft, some fresh green shrub is press'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oh! how sweet, in some fair April hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see her pass, alone, in pure thought there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weaving fresh garlands in her own bright hair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXXVIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>O passi sparsi, o pensier vaghi e pronti.</i></h3> + +<h4>EVERY CIRCUMSTANCE OF HIS PASSION IS A TORMENT TO HIM.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">O scatter'd</span> steps! O vague and busy thoughts!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O firm-set memory! O fierce desire!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O passion powerful! O failing heart!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O eyes of mine, not eyes, but fountains now!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O leaf, which honourest illustrious brows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sole sign of double valour, and best crown!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O painful life, O error oft and sweet!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That make me search the lone plains and hard hills.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O beauteous face! where Love together placed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spurs and curb, to strive with which is vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They prick and turn me so at his sole will.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O gentle amorous souls, if such there be!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you, O naked spirits of mere dust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tarry and see how great my suffering is!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXXIX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Lieti flori e felici, e ben nate erbe.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE ENVIES EVERY SPOT THAT SHE FREQUENTS.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Gay</span>, joyous blooms, and herbage glad with showers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er which my pensive fair is wont to stray!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou plain, that listest her melodious lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As her fair feet imprint thy waste of flowers!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye shrubs so trim; ye green, unfolding bowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye violets clad in amorous, pale array;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span><span class="i0">Thou shadowy grove, gilded by beauty's ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose top made proud majestically towers!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O pleasant country! O translucent stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bathing her lovely face, her eyes so clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And catching of their living light the beam!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I envy ye her actions chaste and dear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No rock shall stud thy waters, but shall learn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Henceforth with passion strong as mine to burn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">O bright</span> and happy flowers and herbage blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On which my lady treads!—O favour'd plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That hears her accents sweet, and can retain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The traces by her fairy steps impress'd!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pure shrubs, with tender verdure newly dress'd,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pale amorous violets,—leafy woods, whose reign<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy sun's bright rays transpierce, and thus sustain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your lofty stature, and umbrageous crest;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O thou, fair country, and thou, crystal stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which bathes her countenance and sparkling eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stealing fresh lustre from their living beam;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How do I envy thee these precious ties!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy rocky shores will soon be taught to gleam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the same flame that burns in all my sighs.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrottesley.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXXX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Amor, che vedi ogni pensiero aperto.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE CARES NOT FOR SUFFERINGS, SO THAT HE DISPLEASE NOT LAURA.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Love</span>, thou who seest each secret thought display'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the sad steps I take, with thee sole guide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This throbbing breast, to thee thrown open wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To others' prying barr'd, thine eyes pervade.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou know'st what efforts, following thee, I made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While still from height to height thy pinions glide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor deign'st one pitying look to turn aside<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On him who, fainting, treads a trackless glade.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I mark from far the mildly-beaming ray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To which thou goad'st me through the devious maze;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! I want thy wings, to speed my way—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Henceforth, a distant homager, I'll gaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Content by silent longings to decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So that my sighs for her in her no anger raise.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrangham.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">O Love</span>, that seest my heart without disguise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And those hard toils from thee which I sustain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look to my inmost thought; behold the pain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thee unveil'd, hid from all other eyes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou know'st for thee this breast what suffering tries;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me still from day to day o'er hill and plain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou chasest; heedless still, while I complain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As to my wearied steps new thorns arise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">True, I discern far off the cheering light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To which, through trackless wilds, thou urgest me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But wings like thine to bear me to delight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I want:—Yet from these pangs I would not flee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Finding this only favour in her sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That not displeased my love and death she see.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Capel Lofft.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXXXI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Or che 'l ciel e la terra e 'l vento tace.</i></h3> + +<h4>NIGHT BRINGS PEACE TO ALL SAVE HIM.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">O'er</span> earth and sky her lone watch silence keeps,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bird and beast in stirless slumber lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her starry chariot Night conducts on high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in its bed the waveless ocean sleeps.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wake, muse, burn, and weep; of all my pain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The one sweet cause appears before me still;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">War is my lot, which grief and anger fill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thinking but of her some rest I gain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus from one bright and living fountain flows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bitter and the sweet on which I feed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One hand alone can harm me or can heal:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus my martyrdom no limit knows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thousand deaths and lives each day I feel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So distant are the paths to peace which lead.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">'Tis</span> now the hour when midnight silence reigns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er earth and sea, and whispering Zephyr dies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within his rocky cell; and Morpheus chains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each beast that roams the wood, and bird that wings the skies.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span><span class="i0">More blest those rangers of the earth and air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom night awhile relieves from toil and pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Condemn'd to tears and sighs, and wasting care.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To me the circling sun descends in vain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah me! that mingling miseries and joys,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too near allied, from one sad fountain flow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The magic hand that comforts and annoys<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can hope, and fell despair, and life, and death bestow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too great the bliss to find in death relief:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fate has not yet fill'd up the measure of my grief.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Woodhouselee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXXXII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Come 'l candido piè per l' erba fresca.</i></h3> + +<h4>HER WALK, LOOKS, WORDS, AND AIR.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">As</span> o'er the fresh grass her fair form its sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And graceful passage makes at evening hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seems as around the newly-wakening flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Found virtue issue from her delicate feet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love, which in true hearts only has his seat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor elsewhere deigns to prove his certain powers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So warm a pleasure from her bright eyes showers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No other bliss I ask, no better meat.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with her soft look and light step agree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her mild and modest, never eager air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sweetest words in constant union rare.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From these four sparks—nor only these we see—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Springs the great fire wherein I live and burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which makes me from the sun as night-birds turn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXXXIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>S' io fossi stato fermo alla spelunca.</i></h3> + +<h4>TO ONE WHO DESIRED LATIN VERSE OF HIM.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Still</span> had I sojourn'd in that Delphic cave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where young Apollo prophet first became,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Verona, Mantua were not sole in fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Florence, too, her poet now might have:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But since the waters of that spring no more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enrich my land, needs must that I pursue<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span><span class="i0">Some other planet, and, with sickle new,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reap from my field of sticks and thorns its store.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dried is the olive: elsewhere turn'd the stream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose source from famed Parnassus was derived.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whereby of yore it throve in best esteem.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me fortune thus, or fault perchance, deprived<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all good fruit—unless eternal Jove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shower on my head some favour from above.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXXXIV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Quando Amor i begli occhi a terra inchina.</i></h3> + +<h4>LAURA SINGS.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">If</span> Love her beauteous eyes to earth incline,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all her soul concentring in a sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then breathe it in her voice of melody,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Floating clear, soft, angelical, divine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart, forth-stolen so gently, I resign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, all my hopes and wishes changed, I cry,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Oh, may my last breath pass thus blissfully,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If Heaven so sweet a death for me design!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the rapt sense, by such enchantment bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the strong will, thus listening to possess<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven's joys on earth, my spirit's flight delay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus I live; and thus drawn out and wound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is my life's thread, in dreamy blessedness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By this sole syren from the realms of day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Dacre.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Her</span> bright and love-lit eyes on earth she bends—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Concentres her rich breath in one full sigh—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A brief pause—a fond hush—her voice on high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clear, soft, angelical, divine, ascends.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such rapine sweet through all my heart extends,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">New thoughts and wishes so within me vie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perforce I say,—"Thus be it mine to die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If Heaven to me so fair a doom intends!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, ah! those sounds whose sweetness laps my sense,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The strong desire of more that in me yearns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Restrain my spirit in its parting hence.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus at her will I live; thus winds and turns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The yarn of life which to my lot is given,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth's single siren, sent to us from heaven.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET CXXXV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Amor mi manda quel dolce pensero.</i></h3> + +<h4>LIFE WILL FAIL HIM BEFORE HOPE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Love</span> to my mind recalling that sweet thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ancient confidant our lives between,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well comforts me, and says I ne'er have been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So near as now to what I hoped and sought.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I, who at times with dangerous falsehood fraught,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At times with partial truth, his words have seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Live in suspense, still missing the just mean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twixt yea and nay a constant battle fought.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meanwhile the years pass on: and I behold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In my true glass the adverse time draw near<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her promise and my hope which limits here.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So let it be: alone I grow not old;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Changes not e'en with age my loving troth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My fear is this—the short life left us both.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXXXVI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Pien d' un vago pensier, che me desvia.</i></h3> + +<h4>HIS TONGUE IS TIED BY EXCESS OF PASSION.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Such</span> vain thought as wonted to mislead me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In desert hope, by well-assurèd moan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Makes me from company to live alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In following her whom reason bids me flee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She fleeth as fast by gentle cruelty;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And after her my heart would fain be gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But armèd sighs my way do stop anon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twixt hope and dread locking my liberty;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet as I guess, under disdainful brow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One beam of ruth is in her cloudy look:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which comforteth the mind, that erst for fear shook:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And therewithal bolded I seek the way how<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To utter the smart I suffer within;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But such it is, I not how to begin.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wyatt.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Full</span> of a tender thought, which severs me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From all my kind, a lonely musing thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From my breast's solitude I sometimes spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still seeking her whom most I ought to flee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And see her pass though soft, so adverse she,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span><span class="i0">That my soul spreads for flight a trembling wing:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of armèd sighs such legions does she bring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fair antagonist of Love and me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet from beneath that dark disdainful brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or much I err, one beam of pity flows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soothing with partial warmth my heart's distress:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Again my bosom feels its wonted glow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when my simple hope I would disclose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My o'er-fraught faltering tongue the crowded thoughts oppress.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrangham.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXXXVII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Più volte già dal bel sembiante umano.</i></h3> + +<h4>LOVE UNMANS HIS RESOLUTION.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Oft</span> as her angel face compassion wore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With tears whose eloquence scarce fails to move,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With bland and courteous speech, I boldly strove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To soothe my foe, and in meek guise implore:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But soon her eyes inspire vain hopes no more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For all my fortune, all my fate in love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My life, my death, the good, the ills I prove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To her are trusted by one sovereign power.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hence 'tis, whene'er my lips would silence break,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarce can I hear the accents which I vent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By passion render'd spiritless and weak.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! now I find that fondness to excess<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fetters the tongue, and overpowers intent:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faint is the flame that language can express!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Oft</span> have I meant my passion to declare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When fancy read compliance in her eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oft with courteous speech, with love-lorn sighs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have wish'd to soften my obdurate fair:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But let that face one look of anger wear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The intention fades; for all that fate supplies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or good, or ill, all, all that I can prize,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My life, my death, Love trusts to her dear care.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en I can scarcely hear my amorous moan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So much my voice by passion is confined;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So faint, so timid are my accents grown!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span><span class="i0">Ah! now the force of love I plainly see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What can the tongue, or what the impassion'd mind?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He that could speak his love, ne'er loved like me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anon. 1777.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXXXVIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Giunto m' ha Amor fra belle e crude braccia.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE CANNOT END HER CRUELTY, NOR SHE HIS HOPE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Me</span> Love has left in fair cold arms to lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which kill me wrongfully: if I complain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My martyrdom is doubled, worse my pain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Better in silence love, and loving die!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For she the frozen Rhine with burning eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can melt at will, the hard rock break in twain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So equal to her beauty her disdain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That others' pleasure wakes her angry sigh.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A breathing moving marble all the rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of very adamant is made her heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So hard, to move it baffles all my art.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Despite her lowering brow and haughty breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One thing she cannot, my fond heart deter<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From tender hopes and passionate sighs for her.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXXXIX.</h2> + +<h3><i>O Invidia, nemica di virtute.</i></h3> + +<h4>ENVY MAY DISTURB, BUT CANNOT DESTROY HIS HOPE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">O deadly</span> Envy, virtue's constant foe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With good and lovely eager to contest!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stealthily, by what way, in that fair breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hast entrance found? by what arts changed it so?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thence by the roots my weal hast thou uptorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too blest in love hast shown me to that fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who welcomed once my chaste and humble prayer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But seems to treat me now with hate and scorn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But though you may by acts severe and ill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sigh at my good and smile at my distress,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You cannot change for me a single thought.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not though a thousand times each day she kill<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span><span class="i0">Can I or hope in her or love her less.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For though she scare, Love confidence has taught.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXL.</h2> + +<h3><i>Mirando 'l sol de' begli occhi sereno.</i></h3> + +<h4>THE SWEETS AND BITTERS OF LOVE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Marking</span> of those bright eyes the sun serene<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where reigneth Love, who mine obscures and grieves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My hopeless heart the weary spirit leaves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once more to gain its paradise terrene;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, finding full of bitter-sweet the scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the world how vast the web it weaves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A secret sigh for baffled love it heaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose spurs so sharp, whose curb so hard have been.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By these two contrary and mix'd extremes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With frozen or with fiery wishes fraught,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To stand 'tween misery and bliss she seems:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seldom in glad and oft in gloomy thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But mostly contrite for its bold emprize,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For of like seed like fruit must ever rise!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXLI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Fera stella (se 'l cielo ha forza in noi).</i></h3> + +<h4>TO PINE FOR HER IS BETTER THAN TO ENJOY HAPPINESS WITH ANY OTHER.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Ill-omen'd</span> was that star's malignant gleam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ruled my hapless birth; and dim the morn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That darted on my infant eyes the beam;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And harsh the wail, that told a man was born;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hard the sterile earth, which first was worn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath my infant feet; but harder far,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And harsher still, the tyrant maid, whose scorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In league with savage Love, inflamed the war<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all my passions.—Love himself more tame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With pity soothes my ills; while that cold heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Insensible to the devouring flame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which wastes my vitals, triumphs in my smart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One thought is comfort—that her scorn to bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Excels e'er prosperous love, with other earthly fair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Woodhouselee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">An</span> evil star usher'd my natal morn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(If heaven have o'er us power, as some have said),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hard was the cradle where I lay when born,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hard the earth where first my young feet play'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cruel the lady who, with eyes of scorn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fatal bow, whose mark I still was made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dealt me the wound, O Love, which since I mourn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose cure thou only, with those arms, canst aid.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, ah! to thee my torments pleasure bring:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She, too, severer would have wished the blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A spear-head thrust, and not an arrow-sting.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One comfort rests—better to suffer so<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For her, than others to enjoy: and I,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sworn on thy golden dart, on this for death rely.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXLII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Quando mi vene innanzi il tempo e 'l loco.</i></h3> + +<h4>RECOLLECTIONS OF EARLY LOVE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> time and scene where I a slave became<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I remember, and the knot so dear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which Love's own hand so firmly fasten'd here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which made my bitter sweet, my grief a game;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart, with fuel stored, is, as a flame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of those soft sighs familiar to mine ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So lit within, its very sufferings cheer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On these I live, and other aid disclaim.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sun, alone which beameth for my sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With his strong rays my ruin'd bosom burns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now in the eve of life as in its prime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from afar so gives me warmth and light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fresh and entire, at every hour, returns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On memory the knot, the scene, the time.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXLIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Per mezzo i boschi inospiti e selvaggi.</i></h3> + +<h4>EVER THINKING ON HER, HE PASSES FEARLESS AND SAFE THROUGH THE FOREST OF +ARDENNES.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Through</span> woods inhospitable, wild, I rove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where armèd travellers bend their fearful way;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span><span class="i0">Nor danger dread, save from that sun of love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright sun! which darts a soul-enflaming ray.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of her I sing, all-thoughtless as I stray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose sweet idea strong as heaven's shall prove:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oft methinks these pines, these beeches, move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like nymphs; 'mid which fond fancy sees her play<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I seem to hear her, when the whispering gale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Steals through some thick-wove branch, when sings a bird,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When purls the stream along yon verdant vale.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How grateful might this darksome wood appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where horror reigns, where scarce a sound is heard;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, ah! 'tis far from all my heart holds dear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anon. 1777.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Amid</span> the wild wood's lone and difficult ways,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where travel at great risk e'en men in arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I pass secure—for only me alarms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sun, which darts of living love the rays—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Singing fond thoughts in simple lays to her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom time and space so little hide from me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en here her form, nor hers alone, I see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But maids and matrons in each beech and fir:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Methinks I hear her when the bird's soft moan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sighing leaves I hear, or through the dell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where its bright lapse some murmuring rill pursues.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rarely of shadowing wood the silence lone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The solitary horror pleased so well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Except that of my sun too much I lose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXLIV</h2> + +<h3><i>Mille piagge in un giorno e mille rivi.</i></h3> + +<h4>TO BE NEAR HER RECOMPENSES HIM FOR ALL THE PERILS OF THE WAY.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Love</span>, who his votary wings in heart and feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the third heaven that lightly he may soar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In one short day has many a stream and shore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Given to me, in famed Ardennes, to meet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unarm'd and single to have pass'd is sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where war in earnest strikes, nor tells before—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A helmless, sail-less ship 'mid ocean's roar—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My breast with dark and fearful thoughts replete;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But reach'd my dangerous journey's far extreme,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remembering whence I came, and with whose wings,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span><span class="i0">From too great courage conscious terror springs.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But this fair country and belovèd stream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With smiling welcome reassures my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where dwells its sole light ready to depart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXLV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Amor mi sprona in un tempo ed affrena.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE HEARS THE VOICE OF REASON, BUT CANNOT OBEY.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Love</span> in one instant spurs me and restrains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Assures and frightens, freezes me and burns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smiles now and scowls, now summons me and spurns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In hope now holds me, plunges now in pains:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now high, now low, my weary heart he hurls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until fond passion loses quite the path,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And highest pleasure seems to stir but wrath—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My harass'd mind on such strange errors feeds!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A friendly thought there points the proper track,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not of such grief as from the full eye breaks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To go where soon it hopes to be at ease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, as if greater power thence turn'd it back,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Despite itself, another way it takes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to its own slow death and mine agrees.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXLVI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Geri, quando talor meco s' adira.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE APPEASES HER BY HUMILITY, AND EXHORTS A FRIEND TO DO LIKEWISE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">When</span> my sweet foe, so haughty oft and high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moved my brief ire no more my sight can thole,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One comfort is vouchsafed me lest I die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through whose sole strength survives my harass'd soul;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where'er her eyes—all light which would deny<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To my sad life—in scorn or anger roll,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mine with such true humility reply,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soon their meek glances all her rage control,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were it not so, methinks I less could brook<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To gaze on hers than on Medusa's mien,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which turn'd to marble all who met her look.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My friend, act thus with thine, for closed I ween<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All other aid, and nothing flight avails<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against the wings on which our master sails.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET CXLVII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Po, ben puo' tu portartene la scorza.</i></h3> + +<h4>TO THE RIVER PO, ON QUITTING LAURA.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Thou Po</span> to distant realms this frame mayst bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On thy all-powerful, thy impetuous tide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the free spirit that within doth bide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor for thy might, nor any might doth care:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not varying here its course, nor shifting there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the favouring gale it joys to glide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plying its wings toward the laurel's pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In spite of sails or oars, of sea or air.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Monarch of floods, magnificent and strong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That meet'st the sun as he leads on the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in the west dost quit a fairer light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy curvèd course this body wafts along;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My spirit on Love's pinions speeds its way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to its darling home directs its flight!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Po</span>, thou upon thy strong and rapid tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This frame corporeal mayst onward bear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a free spirit is concealèd there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which nor thy power nor any power can guide.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That spirit, light on breeze auspicious buoy'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With course unvarying backward cleaves the air—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor wave, nor wind, nor sail, nor oar its care—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And plies its wings, and seeks the laurel's pride.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis thine, proud king of rivers, eastward borne<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To meet the sun, as he leads on the day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from a brighter west 'tis thine to turn:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy hornèd flood these passive limbs obey—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, uncontrollèd, to its sweet sojourn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On Love's untiring plumes my spirit speeds its way.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrangham.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXLVIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Amor fra l' orbe una leggiadra rete.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE COMPARES HIMSELF TO A BIRD CAUGHT IN A NET.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Love</span> 'mid the grass beneath a laurel green—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The plant divine which long my flame has fed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose shade for me less bright than sad is seen—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A cunning net of gold and pearls had spread:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span><span class="i0">Its bait the seed he sows and reaps, I ween<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bitter and sweet, which I desire, yet dread:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gentle and soft his call, as ne'er has been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since first on Adam's eyes the day was shed:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the bright light which disenthrones the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was flashing round, and in her hand, more fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than snow or ivory, was the master rope.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So fell I in the snare; their slave so won<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her speech angelical and winning air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pleasure, and fond desire, and sanguine hope.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXLIX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Amor che 'ncende 'l cor d' ardente zelo.</i></h3> + +<h4>LOVE AND JEALOUSY.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">'Tis</span> Love's caprice to freeze the bosom now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With bolts of ice, with shafts of flame now burn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And which his lighter pang, I scarce discern—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or hope or fear, or whelming fire or snow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In heat I shiver, and in cold I glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now thrill'd with love, with jealousy now torn:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if her thin robe by a rival worn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or veil, had screen'd him from my vengeful blow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But more 'tis mine to burn by night, by day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And how I love the death by which I die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor thought can grasp, nor tongue of bard can sing:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not so my freezing fire—impartially<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She shines to all; and who would speed his way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To that high beam, in vain expands his fluttering wing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrangham.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Love</span> with hot zeal now burns the heart within,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now holds it fetter'd with a frozen fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaving it doubtful to our judgment here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If hope or dread, if flame or frost, shall win.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In June I shiver, burn December in,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full of desires, from jealousy ne'er clear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en as a lady who her loving fee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hides 'neath a little veil of texture thin.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the two ills the first is all mine own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By day, by night to burn; how sweet that pain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dwells not in thought, nor ever poet sings:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not so the other, my fair flame, is shown,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span><span class="i0">She levels all: who hopes the crest to gain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that proud light expands in vain his wings.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CL.</h2> + +<h3><i>Se 'l dolce sguardo di costei m' ancide.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE IS CONTINUALLY IN FEAR OF DISPLEASING HER.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">If</span> thus the dear glance of my lady slay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On her sweet sprightly speech if dangers wait,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If o'er me Love usurp a power so great,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft as she speaks, or when her sun-smiles play;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! what were it if she put away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or for my fault, or by my luckless fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her eyes from pity, and to death's full hate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which now she keeps aloof, should then betray.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus if at heart with terror I am cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When o'er her fair face doubtful shadows spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The feeling has its source in sufferings old.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Woman by nature is a fickle thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And female hearts—time makes the proverb sure—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can never long one state of love endure.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">If</span> the soft glance, the speech, both kind and wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that beloved one can wound me so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if, whene'er she lets her accents flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or even smiles, Love gains such victories;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! what should I do, were those dear eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which now secure my life through weal and woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From fault of mine, or evil fortune, slow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To shed on me their light in pity's guise?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if my trembling spirit groweth cold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whene'er I see change to her aspect spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This fear is only born of trials old;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Woman by nature is a fickle thing,)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hence I know her heart hath power to hold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a brief space Love's sweet imagining!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrottesley.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CLI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Amor, Natura, e la bell' alma umile.</i></h3> + +<h4>DURING A SERIOUS ILLNESS OF LAURA.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Love</span>, Nature, Laura's gentle self combines,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She where each lofty virtue dwells and reigns,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span><span class="i0">Against my peace: To pierce with mortal pains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love toils—such ever are his stern designs.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nature by bonds so slight to earth confines<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her slender form, a breath may break its chains;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she, so much her heart the world disdains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Longer to tread life's wearying round repines.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hence still in her sweet frame we view decay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All that to earth can joy and radiance lend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or serve as mirror to this laggard age;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Death's dread purpose should not Pity stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too well I see where all those hopes must end,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With which I fondly soothed my lingering pilgrimage.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrangham.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Love</span>, Nature, and that gentle soul as bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where every lofty virtue dwells and reigns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are sworn against my peace. As wont, Love strains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His every power that I may perish quite.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nature her delicate form by bonds so slight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Holds in existence, that no help sustains;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She is so modest that she now disdains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Longer to brook this vile life's painful fight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus fades and fails the spirit day by day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which on those dear and lovely limbs should wait,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our mirror of true grace which wont to give:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And soon, if Mercy turn not Death away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! too well I see in what sad state<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are those vain hopes wherein I loved to live.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CLII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Questa Fenice dell' aurata piuma.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE COMPARES HER TO THE PHŒNIX.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">This</span> wondrous Phœnix with the golden plumes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forms without art so rare a ring to deck<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That beautiful and soft and snowy neck,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That every heart it melts, and mine consumes:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forms, too, a natural diadem which lights<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The air around, whence Love with silent steel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Draws liquid subtle fire, which still I feel<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span><span class="i0">Fierce burning me though sharpest winter bites;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Border'd with azure, a rich purple vest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sprinkled with roses, veils her shoulders fair:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rare garment hers, as grace unique, alone!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fame, in the opulent and odorous breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Arab mountains, buries her sole lair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who in our heaven so high a pitch has flown.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CLIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Se Virgilio ed Omero avessin visto.</i></h3> + +<h4>THE MOST FAMOUS POETS OF ANTIQUITY WOULD HAVE SUNG HER ONLY, HAD THEY +SEEN HER.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Had</span> tuneful Maro seen, and Homer old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The living sun which here mine eyes behold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The best powers they had join'd of either lyre,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweetness and strength, that fame she might acquire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unsung had been, with vex'd Æneas, then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Achilles and Ulysses, godlike men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for nigh sixty years who ruled so well<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world; and who before Ægysthus fell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, that old flower of virtues and of arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As this new flower of chastity and charms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A rival star, had scarce such radiance flung.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In rugged verse him honour'd Ennius sung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I her in mine. Grant, Heaven! on my poor lays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She frown not, nor disdain my humble praise.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anon.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CLIV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Giunto Alessandro alla famosa tomba.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE FEARS THAT HE IS INCAPABLE OF WORTHILY CELEBRATING HER.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> son of Philip, when he saw the tomb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of fierce Achilles, with a sigh, thus said:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"O happy, whose achievements erst found room<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From that illustrious trumpet to be spread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er earth for ever!"—But, beyond the gloom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of deep Oblivion shall that loveliest maid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose like to view seems not of earthly doom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By my imperfect accents be convey'd?<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span><span class="i0">Her of the Homeric, the Orphèan Lyre,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Most worthy, or that shepherd, Mantua's pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be the theme of their immortal lays;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her stars and unpropitious fate denied<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This palm:—and me bade to such height aspire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, haply, dim her glories by my praise.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Capel Lofft.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">When</span> Alexander at the famous tomb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of fierce Achilles stood, the ambitious sigh<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burst from his bosom—"Fortunate! on whom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Th' eternal bard shower'd honours bright and high."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, ah! for so to each is fix'd his doom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This pure fair dove, whose like by mortal eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was never seen, what poor and scanty room<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For her great praise can my weak verse supply?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom, worthiest Homer's line and Orpheus' song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or his whom reverent Mantua still admires—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sole and sufficient she to wake such lyres!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An adverse star, a fate here only wrong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Entrusts to one who worships her dear name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet haply injures by his praise her fame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CLV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Almo Sol, quella fronde ch' io sola amo.</i></h3> + +<h4>TO THE SUN, WHOSE SETTING HID LAURA'S DWELLING FROM HIS VIEW.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">O blessed</span> Sun! that sole sweet leaf I love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">First loved by thee, in its fair seat, alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bloometh without a peer, since from above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Adam first our shining ill was shown.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pause we to look on her! Although to stay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy course I pray thee, yet thy beams retire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their shades the mountains fling, and parting day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Parts me from all I most on earth desire.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shadows from yon gentle heights that fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where sparkles my sweet fire, where brightly grew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That stately laurel from a sucker small,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Increasing, as I speak, hide from my view<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beauteous landscape and the blessèd scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where dwells my true heart with its only queen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET CLVI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Passa la nave mia colma d' oblio.</i></h3> + +<h4>UNDER THE FIGURE OF A TEMPEST-TOSSED VESSEL, HE DESCRIBES HIS OWN SAD +STATE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">My</span> bark, deep laden with oblivion, rides<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er boisterous waves, through winter's midnight gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twixt Scylla and Charybdis, while, in room<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of pilot, Love, mine enemy, presides;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At every oar a guilty fancy bides,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Holding at nought the tempest and the tomb;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A moist eternal wind the sails consume,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of sighs, of hopes, and of desire besides.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A shower of tears, a fog of chill disdain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bathes and relaxes the o'er-wearied cords,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With error and with ignorance entwined;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My two loved lights their wonted aid restrain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reason or Art, storm-quell'd, no help affords,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor hope remains the wish'd-for port to find.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Charlemont.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">My</span> lethe-freighted bark with reckless prore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cleaves the rough sea 'neath wintry midnight skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My old foe at the helm our compass eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Scylla and Charybdis on each shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A prompt and daring thought at every oar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which equally the storm and death defies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While a perpetual humid wind of sighs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of hopes, and of desires, its light sail tore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bathe and relax its worn and weary shrouds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Which ignorance with error intertwines),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Torrents of tears, of scorn and anger clouds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hidden the twin dear lights which were my signs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reason and Art amid the waves lie dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hope of gaining port is almost fled.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CLVII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Una candida cerva sopra l' erba.</i></h3> + +<h4>THE VISION OF THE FAWN.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Beneath</span> a laurel, two fair streams between,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At early sunrise of the opening year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A milk-white fawn upon the meadow green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of gold its either horn, I saw appear;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span><span class="i0">So mild, yet so majestic, was its mien,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I left, to follow, all my labours here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As miners after treasure, in the keen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Desire of new, forget the old to fear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Let none impede"—so, round its fair neck, run<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The words in diamond and topaz writ—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"My lord to give me liberty sees fit."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now the sun his noontide height had won<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I, with weary though unsated view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fell in the stream—and so my vision flew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">A form I</span> saw with secret awe, nor ken I what it warns;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pure as the snow, a gentle doe it seem'd, with silver horns:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Erect she stood, close by a wood, between two running streams;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And brightly shone the morning sun upon that land of dreams!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pictured hind fancy design'd glowing with love and hope;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Graceful she stepp'd, but distant kept, like the timid antelope;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Playful, yet coy, with secret joy her image fill'd my soul;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And o'er the sense soft influence of sweet oblivion stole.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gold I beheld and emerald on the collar that she wore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Words, too—but theirs were characters of legendary lore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Cæsar's decree hath made me free; and through his solemn charge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Untouch'd by men o'er hill and glen I wander here at large."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun had now, with radiant brow, climb'd his meridian throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet still mine eye untiringly gazed on that lovely one.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A voice was heard—quick disappear'd my dream—the spell was broken.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then came distress: to the consciousness of life I had awoken.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Father Prout.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CLVIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Siccome eterna vita è veder Dio.</i></h3> + +<h4>ALL HIS HAPPINESS IS IN GAZING UPON HER.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">As</span> life eternal is with God to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No void left craving, there of all possess'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So, lady mine, to be with you makes blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This brief frail span of mortal life to me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So fair as now ne'er yet was mine to see—<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span><span class="i0">If truth from eyes to heart be well express'd—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lovely and blessèd spirit of my breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which levels all high hopes and wishes free.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor would I more demand if less of haste<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She show'd to part; for if, as legends tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And credence find, are some who live by smell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On water some, or fire who touch and taste,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All, things which neither strength nor sweetness give,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why should not I upon your dear sight live?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CLIX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Stiamo, Amor, a veder la gloria nostra.</i></h3> + +<h4>TO LOVE, ON LAURA WALKING ABROAD.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Here</span> stand we, Love, our glory to behold—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How, passing Nature, lovely, high, and rare!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behold! what showers of sweetness falling there!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What floods of light by heaven to earth unroll'd!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How shine her robes, in purple, pearls, and gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So richly wrought, with skill beyond compare!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How glance her feet!—her beaming eyes how fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the dark cloister which these hills enfold!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The verdant turf, and flowers of thousand hues<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath yon oak's old canopy of state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spring round her feet to pay their amorous duty.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heavens, in joyful reverence, cannot choose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But light up all their fires, to celebrate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her praise, whose presence charms their awful beauty.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Merivale.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Here</span> tarry, Love, our glory to behold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nought in creation so sublime we trace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! see what sweetness showers upon that face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven's brightness to this earth those eyes unfold!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See, with what magic art, pearls, purple, gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That form transcendant, unexampled, grace:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath the shadowing hills observe her pace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her glance replete with elegance untold!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The verdant turf, and flowers of every hue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clustering beneath yon aged holm-oak's gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the sweet pressure of her fair feet sue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The orbs of fire that stud yon beauteous sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cheer'd by her presence and her smiles, assume<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Superior lustre and serenity.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET CLX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Pasco la mente d' un sì nobil cibo.</i></h3> + +<h4>TO SEE AND HEAR HER IS HIS GREATEST BLISS.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">I feed</span> my fancy on such noble food,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Jove I envy not his godlike meal;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see her—joy invades me like a flood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lethe of all other bliss I feel;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hear her—instantly that music rare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bids from my captive heart the fond sigh flow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Borne by the hand of Love I know not where,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A double pleasure in one draught I know.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even in heaven that dear voice pleaseth well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So winning are its words, its sound so sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">None can conceive, save who had heard, their spell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus, in the same small space, visibly, meet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All charms of eye and ear wherewith our race<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Art, Genius, Nature, Heaven have join'd to grace.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Such</span> noble aliment sustains my soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Jove I envy not his godlike food;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I gaze on her—and feel each other good<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Engulph'd in that blest draught at Lethe's bowl:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her every word I in my heart enrol,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That on its grief it still may constant brood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prostrate by Love—my doom not understood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From that one form, I feel a twin control.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My spirit drinks the music of her voice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose speaking harmony (to heaven so dear)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They only feel who in its tone partake:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Again within her face my eyes rejoice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For in its gentle lineaments appear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What Genius, Nature, Art, and Heaven can wake.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CLXI.</h2> + +<h3><i>L' aura gentil che rasserena i poggi.</i></h3> + +<h4>JOURNEYING TO VISIT LAURA, HE FEELS RENEWED ARDOUR AS HE APPROACHES.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> gale, that o'er yon hills flings softer blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wakes to life each bud that gems the glade,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span><span class="i0">I know; its breathings such impression made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wafting me fame, but wafting sorrow too:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My wearied soul to soothe, I bid adieu<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To those dear Tuscan haunts I first survey'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, to dispel the gloom around me spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I seek this day my cheering sun to view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose sweet attraction is so strong, so great,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Love again compels me to its light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then he so dazzles me, that vain were flight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not arms to brave, 'tis wings to 'scape, my fate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ask; but by those beams I'm doom'd to die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When distant which consume, and which enflame when nigh.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> gentle air, which brightens each green hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wakening the flowers that paint this bowery glade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I recognise it by its soft breath still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My sorrow and renown which long has made:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Again where erst my sick heart shelter sought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From my dear native Tuscan air I flee:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That light may cheer my dark and troubled thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I seek my sun, and hope to-day to see.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sun so great and genial sweetness brings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Love compels me to his beams again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which then so dazzle me that flight is vain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ask for my escape not arms, but wings:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven by this light condemns me sure to die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which from afar consumes, and burns when nigh.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CLXII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Di dì in dì vo cangiando il viso e 'l pelo.</i></h3> + +<h4>HIS WOUNDS CAN BE HEALED ONLY BY PITY OR DEATH.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">I alter</span> day by day in hair and mien,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet shun not the old dangerous baits and dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor sever from the laurel, limed and green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which nor the scorching sun, nor fierce cold sear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dry shall the sea, the sky be starless seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere I shall cease to covet and to fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her lovely shadow, and—which ill I screen—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To like, yet loathe, the deep wound cherish'd here:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span><span class="i0">For never hope I respite from my pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From bones and nerves and flesh till I am free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unless mine enemy some pity deign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till things impossible accomplish'd be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">None but herself or death the blow can heal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which Love from her bright eyes has left my heart to feel.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CLXIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>L' aura serena che fra verdi fronde.</i></h3> + +<h4>THE GENTLE BREEZE (L' AURA) RECALLS TO HIM THE TIME WHEN HE FIRST SAW +HER.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> gentle gale, that plays my face around,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Murmuring sweet mischief through the verdant grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fond remembrance brings the time, when Love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">First gave his deep, although delightful wound;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gave me to view that beauteous face, ne'er found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Veil'd, as disdain or jealousy might move;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To view her locks that shone bright gold above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then loose, but now with pearls and jewels bound:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those locks she sweetly scatter'd to the wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then coil'd up again so gracefully,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That but to think on it still thrills the sense.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These Time has in more sober braids confined;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bound my heart with such a powerful tie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That death alone can disengage it thence.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> balmy airs that from yon leafy spray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My fever'd brow with playful murmurs greet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Recall to my fond heart the fatal day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Love his first wound dealt, so deep yet sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gave me the fair face—in scorn away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since turn'd, or hid by jealousy—to meet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The locks, which pearls and gems now oft array,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose shining tints with finest gold compete,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So sweetly on the wind were then display'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or gather'd in with such a graceful art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their very thought with passion thrills my mind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Time since has twined them in more sober braid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with a snare so powerful bound my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death from its fetters only can unbind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET CLXIV.</h2> + +<h3><i>L' aura celeste che 'n quel verde Lauro.</i></h3> + +<h4>HER HAIR AND EYES.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> heavenly airs from yon green laurel roll'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Love to Phœbus whilom dealt his stroke,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where on my neck was placed so sweet a yoke,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That freedom thence I hope not to behold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er me prevail, as o'er that Arab old<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Medusa, when she changed him to an oak;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor ever can the fairy knot be broke<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose light outshines the sun, not merely gold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I mean of those bright locks the curlèd snare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which folds and fastens with so sweet a grace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul, whose humbleness defends alone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her mere shade freezes with a cold despair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart, and tinges with pale fear my face;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oh! her eyes have power to make me stone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CLXV.</h2> + +<h3><i>L' aura soave ch' al sol spiega e vibra.</i></h3> + +<h4>HIS HEART LIES TANGLED IN HER HAIR.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> pleasant gale, that to the sun unplaits<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And spreads the gold Love's fingers weave, and braid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er her fine eyes, and all around her head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fetters my heart, the wishful sigh creates:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No nerve but thrills, no artery but beats,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Approaching my fair arbiter with dread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who in her doubtful scale hath ofttimes weigh'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whether or death or life on me awaits;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beholding, too, those eyes their fires display,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on those shoulders shine such wreaths of hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose witching tangles my poor heart ensnare.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But how this magic's wrought I cannot say;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For twofold radiance doth my reason blind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sweetness to excess palls and o'erpowers my mind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> soft gale to the sun which shakes and spreads<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gold which Love's own hand has spun and wrought.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span><span class="i0">There, with her bright eyes and those fairy threads,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Binds my poor heart and sifts each idle thought.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My veins of blood, my bones of marrow fail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrills all my frame when I, to hear or gaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Draw near to her, who oft, in balance frail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My life and death together holds and weighs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And see those love-fires shine wherein I burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, as its snow each sweetest shoulder heaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flash the fair tresses right and left by turn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Verse fails to paint what fancy scarce conceives.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From two such lights is intellect distress'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by such sweetness weary and oppress'd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CLXVI.</h2> + +<h3><i>O bella man, che mi distringi 'l core.</i></h3> + +<h4>THE STOLEN GLOVE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">O beauteous</span> hand! that dost my heart subdue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in a little space my life confine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hand where their skill and utmost efforts join<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nature and Heaven, their plastic powers to show!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet fingers, seeming pearls of orient hue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To my wounds only cruel, fingers fine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love, who towards me kindness doth design,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For once permits ye naked to our view.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou glove most dear, most elegant and white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Encasing ivory tinted with the rose;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More precious covering ne'er met mortal sight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would I such portion of thy veil had gain'd!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O fleeting gifts which fortune's hand bestows!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis justice to restore what theft alone obtain'd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">O beauteous</span> hand! which robb'st me of my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And holdest all my life in little space;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hand! which their utmost effort and best art<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nature and Heaven alike have join'd to grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O sister pearls of orient hue, ye fine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fairy fingers! to my wounds alone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cruel and cold, does Love awhile incline<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In my behalf, that naked ye are shown?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O glove! most snowy, delicate, and dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which spotless ivory and fresh roses set,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span><span class="i0">Where can on earth a sweeter spoil be met,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unless her fair veil thus reward us here?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Inconstancy of human things! the theft<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Late won and dearly prized too soon from me is reft!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CLXVII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Non pur quell' una bella ignuda mano.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE RETURNS THE GLOVE, BEWAILING THE EFFECT OF HER BEAUTY.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Not</span> of one dear hand only I complain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which hides it, to my loss, again from view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But its fair fellow and her soft arms too<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are prompt my meek and passive heart to pain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love spreads a thousand toils, nor one in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amid the many charms, bright, pure, and new,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That so her high and heavenly part endue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No style can equal it, no mind attain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That starry forehead and those tranquil eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fair angelic mouth, where pearl and rose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Contrast each other, whence rich music flows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These fill the gazer with a fond surprise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fine head, the bright tresses which defied<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun to match them in his noonday pride.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CLXVIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Mia ventura ed Amor m' avean sì adorno.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE REGRETS HAVING RETURNED HER GLOVE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Me</span> Love and Fortune then supremely bless'd!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her glove which gold and silken broidery bore!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I seem'd to reach of utmost bliss the crest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Musing within myself on her who wore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ne'er on that day I think, of days the best,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which made me rich, then beggar'd as before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But rage and sorrow fill mine aching breast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With slighted love and self-shame boiling o'er;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That on my precious prize in time of need<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I kept not hold, nor made a firmer stand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Gainst what at best was merely angel force,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That my feet were not wings their flight to speed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so at last take vengeance on the hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make my poor eyes of tears the too oft source.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET CLXIX.</h2> + +<h3><i>D' un bel, chiaro, polito e vivo ghiaccio.</i></h3> + +<h4>THOUGH RACKED BY AGONY, HE DOES NOT COMPLAIN OF HER.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> flames that ever on my bosom prey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From living ice or cold fair marble pour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so exhaust my veins and waste my core,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Almost insensibly I melt away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death, his stern arm already rear'd to slay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As thunders angry heaven or lions roar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pursues my life that vainly flies before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While I with terror shake, and mute obey.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet, were Love and Pity friends, they might<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A double column for my succour throw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between my worn soul and the mortal blow:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It may not be; such feelings in the sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of my loved foe and mistress never stir;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fault is in my fortune, not in her.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CLXX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Lasso, ch' i' ardo, ed altri non mel crede!</i></h3> + +<h4>POSTERITY WILL ACCORD TO HIM THE PITY WHICH LAURA REFUSES.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Alas</span>, with ardour past belief I glow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">None doubt this truth, except one only fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who all excels, for whom alone I care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She plainly sees, yet disbelieves my woe.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O rich in charms, but poor in faith! canst thou<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look in these eyes, nor read my whole heart there?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were I not fated by my baleful star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For me from pity's fount might favour flow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My flame, of which thou tak'st so little heed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thy high praises pour'd through all my song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er many a breast may future influence spread:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These, my sweet fair, so warns prophetic thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Closed thy bright eye, and mute thy poet's tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en after death shall still with sparks be fraught.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Alas</span>! I burn, yet credence fail to gain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All others credit it save only she<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All others who excels, alone for me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She seems to doubt it still, yet sees it plain<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span><span class="i0">Infinite beauty, little faith and slow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perceive ye not my whole heart in mine eyes?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well might I hope, save for my hostile skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From mercy's fount some pitying balm to flow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet this my flame which scarcely moves your care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And your warm praises sung in these fond rhymes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May thousands yet inflame in after times;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These I foresee in fancy, my sweet fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though your bright eyes be closed and cold my breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall lighten other loves and live in death.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CLXXI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Anima, che diverse cose tante.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE REJOICES AT BEING ON EARTH WITH HER, AS HE IS THEREBY ENABLED BETTER +TO IMITATE HER VIRTUES.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Soul</span>! with such various faculties endued<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To think, write, speak, to read, to see, to hear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My doting eyes! and thou, my faithful ear!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where drinks my heart her counsels wise and good;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your fortune smiles; if after or before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The path were won so badly follow'd yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye had not then her bright eyes' lustre met,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor traced her light feet earth's green carpet o'er.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now with so clear a light, so sure a sign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twere shame to err or halt on the brief way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which makes thee worthy of a home divine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That better course, my weary will, essay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To pierce the cloud of her sweet scorn be thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pursuing her pure steps and heavenly ray.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CLXXII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Dolci ire, dolci sdegni e dolci paci.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE CONSOLES HIMSELF WITH THE THOUGHT THAT HE WILL BE ENVIED BY +POSTERITY.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Sweet</span> scorn, sweet anger, and sweet misery,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forgiveness sweet, sweet burden, and sweet ill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet accents that mine ear so sweetly thrill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sweetly bland, now sweetly fierce can be.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span><span class="i0">Mourn not, my soul, but suffer silently;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And those embitter'd sweets thy cup that fill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the sweet honour blend of loving still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her whom I told: "Thou only pleasest me."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hereafter, moved with envy, some may say:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"For that high-boasted beauty of his day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enough the bard has borne!" then heave a sigh.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Others: "Oh! why, most hostile Fortune, why<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could not these eyes that lovely form survey?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why was she early born, or wherefore late was I?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Sweet</span> anger, sweet disdain, and peace as sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet ill, sweet pain, sweet burthen that I bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet speech as sweetly heard; sweet speech, my fair!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That now enflames my soul, now cools its heat.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Patient, my soul! endure the wrongs you meet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all th' embitter'd sweets you're doomed to share<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blend with that sweetest bliss, the maid to greet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In these soft words, "Thou only art my care!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haply some youth shall sighing envious say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Enough has borne the bard so fond, so true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For that bright beauty, brightest of his day!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While others cry, "Sad eyes! how hard your fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why could I ne'er this matchless beauty view?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why was she born so soon, or I so late?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anon. 1777.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CANZONE XIX.</h2> + +<h3><i>S' il dissi mai, ch' i' venga in odio a quella.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE VEHEMENTLY REBUTS THE CHARGE OF LOVING ANOTHER.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Perdie</span>! I said it not,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor never thought to do:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As well as I, ye wot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have no power thereto.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if I did, the lot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That first did me enchain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May never slake the knot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But strait it to my pain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And if I did, each thing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That may do harm or woe,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span><span class="i0">Continually may wring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart, where so I go!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Report may always ring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of shame on me for aye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If in my heart did spring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The words that you do say.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And if I did, each star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That is in heaven above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May frown on me, to mar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hope I have in love!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if I did, such war<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As they brought unto Troy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bring all my life afar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From all his lust and joy!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And if I did so say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beauty that me bound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Increase from day to day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More cruel to my wound!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all the moan that may<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To plaint may turn my song;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My life may soon decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without redress, by wrong!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If I be clear from thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why do you then complain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then is this thing but sought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To turn my heart to pain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then this that you have wrought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You must it now redress;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of right, therefore, you ought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such rigour to repress.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And as I have deserved,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So grant me now my hire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You know I never swerved,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You never found me liar.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Rachel have I served,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Leah cared I never;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her I have reserved<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within my heart for ever.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wyatt.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">If</span> I said so, may I be hated by<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her on whose love I live, without which I should die—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I said so, my days be sad and short,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May my false soul some vile dominion court.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I said so, may every star to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be hostile; round me grow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pale fear and jealousy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she, my foe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As cruel still and cold as fair she aye must be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If I said so, may Love upon my heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Expend his golden shafts, on her the leaden dart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be heaven and earth, and God and man my foe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she still more severe if I said so:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I said so, may he whose blind lights lead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me straightway to my grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trample yet worse his slave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor she behave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gentle and kind to me in look, or word, or deed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If I said so, then through my brief life may<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All that is hateful block my worthless weary way:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I said so, may the proud frost in thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grow prouder as more fierce the fire in me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I said so, no more then may the warm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sun or bright moon be view'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor maid, nor matron's form,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But one dread storm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such as proud Pharaoh saw when Israel he pursued.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If I said so, despite each contrite sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let courtesy for me and kindly feeling die:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I said so, that voice to anger swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which was so sweet when first her slave I fell:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I said so, I should offend whom I,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en from my earliest breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until my day of death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would gladly take,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone in cloister'd cell my single saint to make.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But if I said not so, may she who first,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In life's green youth, my heart to hope so sweetly nursed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deign yet once more my weary bark to guide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With native kindness o'er the troublous tide;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span><span class="i0">And graceful, grateful, as her wont before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, for I could no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My all, myself I gave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be her slave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forget not the deep faith with which I still adore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I did not, could not, never would say so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For all that gold can give, cities or courts bestow:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let truth, then, take her old proud seat on high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And low on earth let baffled falsehood lie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou know'st me, Love! if aught my state within<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Belief or care may win,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell her that I would call<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Him blest o'er all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, doom'd like me to pine, dies ere his strife begin.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rachel I sought, not Leah, to secure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor could I this vain life with other fair endure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, should from earth Heaven summon her again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Myself would gladly die<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For her, or with her, when<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Elijah's fiery car her pure soul wafts on high.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CANZONE XX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Ben mi credea passar mio tempo omai.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE CANNOT LIVE WITHOUT SEEING HER, BUT WOULD NOT DIE THAT HE MAY STILL +LOVE HER.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">As</span> pass'd the years which I have left behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To pass my future years I fondly thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amid old studies, with desires the same;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, from my lady since I fail to find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The accustom'd aid, the work himself has wrought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let Love regard my tempter who became;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet scarce I feel the shame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, at my age, he makes me thus a thief<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that bewitching light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For which my life is steep'd in cureless grief;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In youth I better might<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have ta'en the part which now I needs must take,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For less dishonour boyish errors make.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span><span class="i0">Those sweet eyes whence alone my life had health<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were ever of their high and heavenly charms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So kind to me when first my thrall begun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, as a man whom not his proper wealth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But some extern yet secret succour arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I lived, with them at ease, offending none:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me now their glances shun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As one injurious and importunate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, poor and hungry, did<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Myself the very act, in better state<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which I, in others, chid.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From mercy thus if envy bar me, be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My amorous thirst and helplessness my plea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In divers ways how often have I tried<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If, reft of these, aught mortal could retain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en for a single day in life my frame:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, ah! my soul, which has no rest beside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speeds back to those angelic lights again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I, though but of wax, turn to their flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Planting my mind's best aim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where less the watch o'er what I love is sure:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As birds i' th' wild wood green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where less they fear, will sooner take the lure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So on her lovely mien,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now one and now another look I turn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherewith at once I nourish me and burn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Strange sustenance! upon my death I feed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And live in flames, a salamander rare!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet no marvel, as from love it flows.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A blithe lamb 'mid the harass'd fleecy breed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilom I lay, whom now to worst despair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fortune and Love, as is their wont, expose.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Winter with cold and snows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With violets and roses spring is rife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus if I obtain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some few poor aliments of else weak life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who can of theft complain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So rich a fair should be content with this,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though others live on hers, if nought she miss.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span><span class="i0">Who knows not what I am and still have been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the first day I saw those beauteous eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which alter'd of my life the natural mood?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Traverse all lands, explore each sea between,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who can acquire all human qualities?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There some on odours live by Ind's vast flood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here light and fire are food<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My frail and famish'd spirit to appease!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love! more or nought bestow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With lordly state low thrift but ill agrees;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou hast thy darts and bow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take with thy hands my not unwilling breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life were well closed with honourable death.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pent flames are strongest, and, if left to swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not long by any means can rest unknown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This own I, Love, and at your hands was taught.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I thus silent burn'd, you knew it well;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now e'en to me my cries are weary grown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Annoy to far and near so long that wrought.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O false world! O vain thought!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O my hard fate! where now to follow thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! from what meteor light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sprung in my heart the constant hope which she,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, armour'd with your might,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drags me to death, binds o'er it as a chain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yours is the fault, though mine the loss and pain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus bear I of true love the pains along,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Asking forgiveness of another's debt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for mine own; whose eyes should rather shun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That too great light, and to the siren's song<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My ears be closed: though scarce can I regret<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That so sweet poison should my heart o'errun.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet would that all were done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That who the first wound gave my last would deal;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, if I right divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It were best mercy soon my fate to seal;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since not a chance is mine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he may treat me better than before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis well to die if death shut sorrow's door.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span><span class="i0">My song! with fearless feet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The field I keep, for death in flight were shame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Myself I needs must blame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For these laments; tears, sighs, and death to meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such fate for her is sweet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Own, slave of Love, whose eyes these rhymes may catch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth has no good that with my grief can match.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a id="image14" name="image14"></a><a href="images/14large.jpg"> + <img src="images/14.jpg" + alt="AVIGNON." + title="AVIGNON." /></a><br /> + <span class="caption">AVIGNON.</span> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CLXXIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Rapido fiume che d' alpestra vena.</i></h3> + +<h4>JOURNEYING ALONG THE RHONE TO AVIGNON, PETRARCH BIDS THE RIVER KISS +LAURA'S HAND, AS IT WILL ARRIVE AT HER DWELLING BEFORE HIM.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Impetuous</span> flood, that from the Alps' rude head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eating around thee, dost thy name obtain;<a name="FNanchor_V_22" id="FNanchor_V_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_V_22" class="fnanchor">[V]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Anxious like me both night and day to gain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where thee pure nature, and me love doth lead;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pour on: thy course nor sleep nor toils impede;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, ere thou pay'st thy tribute to the main,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, tarry where most verdant looks the plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where most serenity the skies doth spread!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There beams my radiant sun of cheering ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which deck thy left banks, and gems o'er with flowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en now, vain thought! perhaps she chides my stay:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kiss then her feet, her hand so beauteous fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In place of language let thy kiss declare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strong is my will, though feeble are my powers.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">O rapid flood! which from thy mountain bed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gnawest thy shores, whence (in my tongue) thy name;<a name="FNanchor_V_21" id="FNanchor_V_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_V_22" class="fnanchor">[V]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art my partner, night and day the same,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where I by love, thou art by nature led:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Precede me now; no weariness doth shed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its spell o'er thee, no sleep thy course can tame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet ere the ocean waves thy tribute claim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pause, where the herb and air seem brighter fed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There beams our sun of life, whose genial ray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With brighter verdure thy left shore adorns;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perchance (vain hope!) e'en now my stay she mourns.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kiss then her foot, her lovely hand, and may<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy kiss to her in place of language speak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET CLXXIV.</h2> + +<h3><i>I' dolci colli ov' io lasciai me stesso.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE LEAVES VAUCLUSE, BUT HIS SPIRIT REMAINS THERE WITH LAURA.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> loved hills where I left myself behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence ever 'twas so hard my steps to tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before me rise; at each remove I bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dear load to my lot by Love consign'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Often I wonder inly in my mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That still the fair yoke holds me, which despair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would vainly break, that yet I breathe this air;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though long the chain, its links but closer bind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as a stag, sore struck by hunter's dart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose poison'd iron rankles in his breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flies and more grieves the more the chase is press'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So I, with Love's keen arrow in my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Endure at once my death and my delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rack'd with long grief, and weary with vain flight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Those</span> gentle hills which hold my spirit still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(For though I fly, my heart there must remain),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are e'er before me, whilst my burthen's pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By love bestow'd, I bear with patient will.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I marvel oft that I can yet fulfil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That yoke's sweet duties, which my soul enchain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I seek release, but find the effort vain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The more I fly, the nearer seems my ill.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So, like the stag, who, wounded by the dart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its poison'd iron rankling in his side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flies swifter at each quickening anguish'd throb,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feel the fatal arrow at my heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet with its poison, joy awakes its tide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My flight exhausts me—grief my life doth rob!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CLXXV.</h2> + + +<h3><i>Non dall' Ispano Ibero all' Indo Idaspe.</i></h3> + +<h4>HIS WOES ARE UNEXAMPLED.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">From</span> Spanish Ebro to Hydaspes old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exploring ocean in its every nook,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span><span class="i0">From the Red Sea to the cold Caspian shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In earth, in heaven one only Phœnix dwells.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What fortunate, or what disastrous bird<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Omen'd my fate? which Parca winds my yarn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I alone find Pity deaf as asp,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wretched live who happy hoped to be?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let me not speak of her, but him her guide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who all her heart with love and sweetness fills—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gifts which, from him o'erflowing, follow her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, that my sweets may sour and cruel be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dissembleth, careth not, or will not see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That silver'd, ere my time, these temples are.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CLXXVI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Voglia mi sprona; Amor mi guida e scorge.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE DESCRIBES HIS STATE, SPECIFYING THE DATE OF HIS ATTACHMENT.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Passion</span> impels me, Love escorts and leads,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pleasure attracts me, habits old enchain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hope with its flatteries comforts me again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, at my harass'd heart, with fond touch pleads.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poor wretch! it trusts her still, and little heeds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blind and faithless leader of our train;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reason is dead, the senses only reign:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One fond desire another still succeeds.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Virtue and honour, beauty, courtesy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With winning words and many a graceful way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart entangled in that laurel sweet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thirteen hundred seven and twenty, I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—'Twas April, the first hour, on its sixth day—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enter'd Love's labyrinth, whence is no retreat.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">By</span> will impell'd, Love o'er my path presides;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By Pleasure led, o'ercome by Habit's reign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet Hope deludes, and comforts me again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At her bright touch, my heart's despair subsides.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It takes her proffer'd hand, and there confides.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To doubt its blind disloyal guide were vain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each sense usurps poor Reason's broken rein;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On each desire, another wilder rides!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grace, virtue, honour, beauty, words so dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have twined me with that laurell'd bough, whose power<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span><span class="i0">My heart hath tangled in its lab'rinth sweet:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thirteen hundred twenty-seventh year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sixth of April's suns—in that first hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My entrance mark'd, whence I see no retreat.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CLXXVII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Beato in sogno, e di languir contento.</i></h3> + +<h4>THOUGH SO LONG LOVE'S FAITHFUL SERVANT, HIS ONLY REWARD HAS BEEN TEARS.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Happy</span> in visions, and content to pine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shadows to clasp, to chase the summer gale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On shoreless and unfathom'd sea to sail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To build on sand, and in the air design,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun to gaze on till these eyes of mine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Abash'd before his noonday splendour fail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To chase adown some soft and sloping vale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wingèd stag with maim'd and heavy kine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weary and blind, save my own harm to all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which day and night I seek with throbbing heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On Love, on Laura, and on Death I call.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus twenty years of long and cruel smart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In tears and sighs I've pass'd, because I took<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under ill stars, alas! both bait and hook.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CLXXVIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Grazie ch' a pochi 'l ciel largo destina.</i></h3> + +<h4>THE ENCHANTMENTS THAT ENTHRALL HIM</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Graces</span>, that liberal Heaven on few bestows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rare excellence, scarce known to human kind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With youth's bright locks age's ripe judgment join'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Celestial charms, which a meek mortal shows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An elegance unmatch'd; and lips, whence flows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Music that can the sense in fetters bind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A goddess step; a lovely ardent mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That breaks the stubborn, and the haughty bows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eyes, whose refulgence petrifies the heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To glooms, to shades that can a light impart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lift high the lover's soul, or plunge it low;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speech link'd by tenderness and dignity;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With many a sweetly-interrupted sigh;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such are the witcheries that transform me so.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Graces</span> which liberal Heaven grants few to share:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rare virtue seldom witness'd by mankind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Experienced judgment with fair hair combined;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">High heavenly beauty in a humble fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A gracefulness most excellent and rare;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A voice whose music sinks into the mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An angel gait; wit glowing and refined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hard to break, the high and haughty tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And brilliant eyes which turn the heart to stone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strong to enlighten hell and night, and take<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Souls from our bodies and their own to make;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A speech where genius high yet gentle shone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Evermore broken by the balmiest sighs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Such magic spells transform'd me in this wise.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SESTINA VI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Anzi tre di creata era alma in parte.</i></h3> + +<h4>THE HISTORY OF HIS LOVE; AND PRAYER FOR HELP.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Life's</span> three first stages train'd my soul in part<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To place its care on objects high and new,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to disparage what men often prize,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, left alone, and of her fatal course<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As yet uncertain, frolicsome, and free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She enter'd at spring-time a lovely wood.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A tender flower there was, born in that wood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The day before, whose root was in a part<br /></span> +<span class="i0">High and impervious e'en to spirit free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For many snares were there of forms so new,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And such desire impell'd my sanguine course,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That to lose freedom were to gain a prize.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dear, sweet, yet perilous and painful prize!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which quickly drew me to that verdant wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doom'd to mislead me midway in life's course;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world I since have ransack'd part by part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For rhymes, or stones, or sap of simples new,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which yet might give me back the spirit, free.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But ah! I feel my body must be free<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From that hard knot which is its richest prize,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span><span class="i0">Ere medicine old or incantations new<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can heal the wounds which pierced me in that wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thorny and troublous, where I play'd such part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaving it halt who enter'd with hot course.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes! full of snares and sticks, a difficult course<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have I to run, where easy foot and sure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were rather needed, healthy in each part;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou, Lord, who still of pity hast the prize,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stretch to me thy right hand in this wild wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And let thy sun dispel my darkness new.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Look on my state, amid temptations new,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, interrupting my life's tranquil course,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have made me denizen of darkling wood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If good, restore me, fetterless and free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My wand'ring consort, and be thine the prize<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If yet with thee I find her in blest part.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lo! thus in part I put my questions new,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If mine be any prize, or run its course,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be my soul free, or captived in close wood.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CLXXIX.</h2> + +<h3><i>In nobil sangue vita umile e queta.</i></h3> + +<h4>SHE UNITES IN HERSELF THE HIGHEST EXCELLENCES OF VIRTUE AND BEAUTY.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">High</span> birth in humble life, reserved yet kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On youth's gay flower ripe fruits of age and rare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A virtuous heart, therewith a lofty mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A happy spirit in a pensive air;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her planet, nay, heaven's king, has fitly shrined<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All gifts and graces in this lady fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">True honour, purest praises, worth refined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above what rapt dreams of best poets are.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Virtue and Love so rich in her unite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With natural beauty dignified address,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gestures that still a silent grace express,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in her eyes I know not what strange light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That makes the noonday dark, the dusk night clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bitter the sweet, and e'en sad absence dear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Though</span> nobly born, so humbly calm she dwells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So bright her intellect—so pure her mind—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blossom and its bloom in her we find;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With pensive look, her heart with mirth rebels:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus by her planets' union she excels,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Nay—His, the stars' proud sov'reign, who enshrined<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There honour, worth, and fortitude combined!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which to the bard inspired, his hope dispels.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love blooms in her, but 'tis his home most pure;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her daily virtues blend with native grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her noiseless movements speak, though she is mute:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such power her eyes, they can the day obscure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Illume the night,—the honey's sweetness chase,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wake its stream, where gall doth oft pollute.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CLXXX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Tutto 'l di piango; e poi la notte, quando.</i></h3> + +<h4>HER CRUELTY RENDERS LIFE WORSE THAN DEATH TO HIM.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Through</span> the long lingering day, estranged from rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My sorrows flow unceasing; doubly flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Painful prerogative of lover's woe!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In that still hour, when slumber soothes th' unblest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With such deep anguish is my heart opprest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So stream mine eyes with tears! Of things below<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Most miserable I; for Cupid's bow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has banish'd quiet from this heaving breast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah me! while thus in suffering, morn to morn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And eve to eve succeeds, of death I view<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(So should this life be named) one-half gone by—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet this I weep not, but another's scorn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That she, my friend, so tender and so true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should see me hopeless burn, and yet her aid deny.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrangham.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CLXXXI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Già desiai con sì giusta querela.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE LIVES DESTITUTE OF ALL HOPE SAVE THAT OF RENDERING HER IMMORTAL.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Erewhile</span> I labour'd with complaint so true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in such fervid rhymes to make me heard,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span><span class="i0">Seem'd as at last some spark of pity stirr'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the hard heart which frost in summer knew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Th' unfriendly cloud, whose cold veil o'er it grew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Broke at the first breath of mine ardent word<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or low'ring still she others' blame incurr'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her bright and killing eyes who thus withdrew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No ruth for self I crave, for her no hate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wish not this—<i>that</i> passes power of mine:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such was mine evil star and cruel fate.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I shall ever sing her charms divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, when I have resign'd this mortal breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world may know how sweet to me was death.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CLXXXII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Tra quantunque leggiadre donne e belle.</i></h3> + +<h4>ALL NATURE WOULD BE IN DARKNESS WERE SHE, ITS SUN, TO PERISH.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Where'er</span> she moves, whatever dames among,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beauteous or graceful, matchless she below.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With her fair face she makes all others show<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dim, as the day's bright orb night's starry throng.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Love still whispers, with prophetic tongue,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Long as on earth is seen that glittering brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall life have charms: but she shall cease to glow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with her all my power shall fleet along,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should Nature from the skies their twin-lights wrest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hush every breeze, each herb and flower destroy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strip man of reason—speech; from Ocean's breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His tides, his tenants chase—such, earth's annoy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, still more darken'd were it and unblest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had she, thy Laura, closed her eyes to love and joy."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrangham.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Whene'er</span> amidst the damsels, blooming bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She shows herself, whose like was never made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At her approach all other beauties fade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As at morn's orient glow the gems of night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love seems to whisper,—"While to mortal sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her graces shall on earth be yet display'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life shall be blest; 'till soon with her decay'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The virtues, and my reign shall sink outright."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span><span class="i0">Of moon and sun, should nature rob the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The air of winds, the earth of herbs and leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mankind of speech and intellectual eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ocean's bed of fish, and dancing waves;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even so shall all things dark and lonely lye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When of her beauty Death the world bereaves!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Charlemont.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CLXXXIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Il cantar novo e 'l pianger degli augelli.</i></h3> + +<h4>MORNING.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> birds' sweet wail, their renovated song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At break of morn, make all the vales resound;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With lapse of crystal waters pouring round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In clear, swift runnels, the fresh shores among.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She, whose pure passion knows nor guile nor wrong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With front of snow, with golden tresses crown'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Combing her aged husband's hoar locks found,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wakes me when sportful wakes the warbling throng.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus, roused from sleep, I greet the dawning day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And its succeeding sun, with one more bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still dazzling, as in early youth, my sight:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Both suns I've seen at once uplift their ray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This drives the radiance of the stars away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that which gilds my life eclipses e'en his light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Soon</span> as gay morn ascends her purple car,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The plaintive warblings of the new-waked grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The murmuring streams, through flowery meads that rove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fill with sweet melody the valleys fair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aurora, famed for constancy in love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose face with snow, whose locks with gold compare.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smoothing her aged husband's silvery hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bids me the joys of rural music prove.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, waking, I salute the sun of day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But chief that beauteous sun, whose cheering ray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once gilt, nay gilds e'en now, life's scene so bright.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear suns! which oft I've seen together rise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This dims each meaner lustre of the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that sweet sun I love dims every light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anon. 1777.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET CLXXXIV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Onde tolse Amor l' oro e di qual vena.</i></h3> + +<h4>THE CHARMS OF HER COUNTENANCE AND VOICE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Whence</span> could Love take the gold, and from what vein,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To form those bright twin locks? What thorn could grow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those roses? And what mead that white bestow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the fresh dews, which pulse and breath obtain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence came those pearls that modestly restrain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Accents which courteous, sweet, and rare can flow?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whence those charms that so divinely show,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spread o'er a face serene as heaven's blue plain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Taught by what angel, or what tuneful sphere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was that celestial song, which doth dispense<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such potent magic to the ravish'd ear?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What sun illumed those bright commanding eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which now look peaceful, now in hostile guise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now torture me with hope, and now with fear?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Say</span>, from what vein did Love procure the gold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To make those sunny tresses? From what thorn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stole he the rose, and whence the dew of morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bidding them breathe and live in Beauty's mould?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What depth of ocean gave the pearls that told<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those gentle accents sweet, though rarely born?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence came so many graces to adorn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That brow more fair than summer skies unfold?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! say what angels lead, what spheres control<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The song divine which wastes my life away?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Who can with trifles now my senses move?)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What sun gave birth unto the lofty soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of those enchanting eyes, whose glances stray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To burn and freeze my heart—the sport of Love?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrottesley.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CLXXXV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Qual mio destin, qual forza o qual inganno.</i></h3> + +<h4>THOUGH HER EYES DESTROY HIM, HE CANNOT TEAR HIMSELF AWAY.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">What</span> destiny of mine, what fraud or force,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unarm'd again conducts me to the field,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where never came I but with shame to yield<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Scape I or fall, which better is or worse?<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span><span class="i0">—Not worse, but better; from so sweet a source<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shine in my heart those lights, so bright reveal'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fatal fire, e'en now as then, which seal'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My doom, though twenty years have roll'd their course<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feel death's messengers when those dear eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dazzling me from afar, I see appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if on me they turn as she draw near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love with such sweetness tempts me then and tries,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell it I cannot, nor recall in sooth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For wit and language fail to reach the truth!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CLXXXVI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Liete e pensose, accompagnate e sole.</i></h3> + +<h4>NOT FINDING HER WITH HER FRIENDS, HE ASKS THEM WHY SHE IS ABSENT.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>P.</i> <span class="smcap">Pensive</span> and glad, accompanied, alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ladies who cheat the time with converse gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where does my life, where does my death delay?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why not with you her form, as usual, shown?<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>L.</i> Glad are we her rare lustre to have known,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sad from her dear company to stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which jealousy and envy keep away<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er other's bliss, as their own ill who moan.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>P.</i> Who lovers can restrain, or give them law?<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>L.</i> No one the soul, harshness and rage the frame;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As erst in us, this now in her appears.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As oft the face, betrays the heart, we saw<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Clouds that, obscuring her high beauty, came,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And in her eyes the dewy trace of tears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CLXXXVII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Quando 'l sol bagna in mur l' aurato carro.</i></h3> + +<h4>HIS NIGHTS ARE, LIKE HIS DAYS, PASSED IN TORMENT.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">When</span> in the sea sinks the sun's golden light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on my mind and nature darkness lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the pale moon, faint stars and clouded skies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I pass a weary and a painful night:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To her who hears me not I then rehearse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My sad life's fruitless toils, early and late;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with the world and with my gloomy fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Love, with Laura and myself, converse.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span><span class="i0">Sleep is forbid me: I have no repose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sighs and groans instead, till morn returns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tears, with which mine eyes a sad heart feeds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then comes the dawn, the thick air clearer grows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But not my soul; the sun which in it burns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone can cure the grief his fierce warmth breeds.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">When</span> Phœbus lashes to the western main<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His fiery steeds, and shades the lurid air;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grief shades my soul, my night is spent in care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yon moon, yon stars, yon heaven begin my pain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wretch that I am! full oft I urge in vain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To heedless beings all those pangs I bear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the false world, of an unpitying fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Love, and fickle fortune I complain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From eve's last glance, till morning's earliest ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleep shuns my couch; rest quits my tearful eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my rack'd breast heaves many a plaintive sigh.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then bright Aurora cheers the rising day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But cheers not me—for to my sorrowing heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One sun alone can cheering light impart!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anon. 1777.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CLXXVIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>S' una fede amorosa, un cor non finto.</i></h3> + +<h4>THE MISERY OF HIS LOVE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">If</span> faith most true, a heart that cannot feign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If Love's sweet languishment and chasten'd thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wishes pure by nobler feelings taught,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If in a labyrinth wanderings long and vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If on the brow each pang pourtray'd to bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or from the heart low broken sounds to draw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Withheld by shame, or check'd by pious awe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If on the faded cheek Love's hue to wear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If than myself to hold one far more dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If sighs that cease not, tears that ever flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wrung from the heart by all Love's various woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In absence if consumed, and chill'd when near,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If these be ills in which I waste my prime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though I the sufferer be, yours, lady, is the crime.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Dacre.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">If</span> fondest faith, a heart to guile unknown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By melting languors the soft wish betray'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If chaste desires, with temper'd warmth display'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If weary wanderings, comfortless and lone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If every thought in every feature shown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or in faint tones and broken sounds convey'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As fear or shame my pallid cheek array'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In violet hues, with Love's thick blushes strown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If more than self another to hold dear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If still to weep and heave incessant sighs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To feed on passion, or in grief to pine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To glow when distant, and to freeze when near,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If hence my bosom's anguish takes its rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thine, lady, is the crime, the punishment is mine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrangham.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CLXXXIX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Dodici donne onestamente lasse.</i></h3> + +<h4>HAPPY WHO STEERED THE BOAT, OR DROVE THE CAR, WHEREIN SHE SAT AND SANG.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Twelve</span> ladies, their rare toil who lightly bore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rather twelve stars encircling a bright sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw, gay-seated a small bark upon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose like the waters never cleaved before:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not such took Jason to the fleece of yore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose fatal gold has ev'ry heart now won,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor such the shepherd boy's, by whom undone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Troy mourns, whose fame has pass'd the wide world o'er.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw them next on a triumphal car,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, known by her chaste cherub ways, aside<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Laura sate and to them sweetly sung.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Things not of earth to man such visions are!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blest Tiphys! blest Automedon! to guide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bark, or car of band so bright and young.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXC</h2> + +<h3><i>Passer mai solitario in alcun tetto.</i></h3> + +<h4>FAR FROM HIS BELOVED, LIFE IS MISERABLE BY NIGHT AS BY DAY.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Never</span> was bird, spoil'd of its young, more sad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or wild beast in his lair more lone than me,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span><span class="i0">Now that no more that lovely face I see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The only sun my fond eyes ever had.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In ceaseless sorrow is my chief delight:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My food to poison turns, to grief my joy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The night is torture, dark the clearest sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my lone pillow a hard field of fight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleep is indeed, as has been well express'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Akin to death, for it the heart removes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the dear thought in which alone I live.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Land above all with plenty, beauty bless'd!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye flowery plains, green banks and shady groves!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye hold the treasure for whose loss I grieve!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXCI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Aura, che quelle chiome bionde e crespe.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE ENVIES THE BREEZE WHICH SPORTS WITH HER, THE STREAM THAT FLOWS +TOWARDS HER.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Ye</span> laughing gales, that sporting with my fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The silky tangles of her locks unbraid;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And down her breast their golden treasures spread;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then in fresh mazes weave her curling hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You kiss those bright destructive eyes, that bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flaming darts by which my heart has bled;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My trembling heart! that oft has fondly stray'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To seek the nymph, whose eyes such terrors wear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Methinks she's found—but oh! 'tis fancy's cheat!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Methinks she's seen—but oh! 'tis love's deceit!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Methinks she's near—but truth cries "'tis not so!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go happy gale, and with my Laura dwell!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go happy stream, and to my Laura tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What envied joys in thy clear crystal flow!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anon. 1777.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Thou</span> gale, that movest, and disportest round<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those bright crisp'd locks, by them moved sweetly too,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That all their fine gold scatter'st to the view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then coil'st them up in beauteous braids fresh wound;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">About those eyes thou playest, where abound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The am'rous swarms, whose stings my tears renew!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I my treasure tremblingly pursue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like some scared thing that stumbles o'er the ground.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span><span class="i0">Methinks I find her now, and now perceive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She's distant; now I soar, and now descend;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now what I wish, now what is true believe.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stay and enjoy, blest air, the living beam;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thou, O rapid, and translucent stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why can't I change my course, and thine attend?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXCII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Amor con la man destra il lato manco.</i></h3> + +<h4>UNDER THE FIGURE OF A LAUREL, HE RELATES THE GROWTH OF HIS LOVE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">My</span> poor heart op'ning with his puissant hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love planted there, as in its home, to dwell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Laurel, green and bright, whose hues might well<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In rivalry with proudest emeralds stand:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plough'd by my pen and by my heart-sighs fann'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cool'd by the soft rain from mine eyes that fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It grew in grace, upbreathing a sweet smell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unparallel'd in any age or land.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair fame, bright honour, virtue firm, rare grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The chastest beauty in celestial frame,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These be the roots whence birth so noble came.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such ever in my mind her form I trace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A happy burden and a holy thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To which on rev'rent knee with loving prayer I cling.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXCIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Cantai, or piango; e non men di dolcezza.</i></h3> + +<h4>THOUGH IN THE MIDST OF PAIN, HE DEEMS HIMSELF THE HAPPIEST OF MEN.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">I sang</span>, who now lament; nor less delight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than in my song I found, in tears I find;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For on the cause and not effect inclined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My senses still desire to scale that height:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence, mildly if she smile or hardly smite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cruel and cold her acts, or meek and kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All I endure, nor care what weights they bind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en though her rage would break my armour quite.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span><span class="i0">Let Love and Laura, world and fortune join,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still pursue their usual course for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I care not, if unblest, in life to be.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let me or burn to death or living pine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No gentler state than mine beneath the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since from a source so sweet my bitters run.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXCIV.</h2> + +<h3><i>I' piansi, or canto; che 'l celeste lume.</i></h3> + +<h4>AT HER RETURN, HIS SORROWS VANISH.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">I wept</span>, but now I sing; its heavenly light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That living sun conceals not from my view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But virtuous love therein revealeth true<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His holy purposes and precious might;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence, as his wont, such flood of sorrow springs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To shorten of my life the friendless course,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor bridge, nor ford, nor oar, nor sails have force<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To forward mine escape, nor even wings.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But so profound and of so full a vein<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My suff'ring is, so far its shore appears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarcely to reach it can e'en thought contrive:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor palm, nor laurel pity prompts to gain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But tranquil olive, and the dark sky clears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And checks my grief and wills me to survive.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXCV.</h2> + +<h3><i>I' mi vivea di mia sorte contento.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE FEARS THAT AN ILLNESS WHICH HAS ATTACKED THE EYES OF LAURA MAY +DEPRIVE HIM OF THEIR SIGHT.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">I lived</span> so tranquil, with my lot content,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No sorrow visited, nor envy pined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To other loves if fortune were more kind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One pang of mine their thousand joys outwent;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But those bright eyes, whence never I repent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pains I feel, nor wish them less to find,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So dark a cloud and heavy now does blind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seems as my sun of life in them were spent.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Nature! mother pitiful yet stern,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence is the power which prompts thy wayward deeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such lovely things to make and mar in turn?<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span><span class="i0">True, from one living fount all power proceeds:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But how couldst Thou consent, great God of Heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That aught should rob the world of what thy love had given?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXCVI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Vincitore Alessandro l' ira vinse.</i></h3> + +<h4>THE EVIL RESULTS OF UNRESTRAINED ANGER.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">What</span> though the ablest artists of old time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Left us the sculptured bust, the imaged form<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of conq'ring Alexander, wrath o'ercame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And made him for the while than Philip less?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wrath to such fury valiant Tydeus drove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That dying he devour'd his slaughter'd foe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wrath made not Sylla merely blear of eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But blind to all, and kill'd him in the end.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well Valentinian knew that to such pain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wrath leads, and Ajax, he whose death it wrought.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strong against many, 'gainst himself at last.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wrath is brief madness, and, when unrestrain'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long madness, which its master often leads<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To shame and crime, and haply e'en to death.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anon.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXCVII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Qual ventura mi fu, quando dall' uno.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE REJOICES AT PARTICIPATING IN HER SUFFERINGS.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Strange</span>, passing strange adventure! when from one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the two brightest eyes which ever were,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beholding it with pain dis urb'd and dim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moved influence which my own made dull and weak.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I had return'd, to break the weary fast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of seeing her, my sole care in this world,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kinder to me were Heaven and Love than e'en<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If all their other gifts together join'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When from the right eye—rather the right sun—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of my dear Lady to my right eye came<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ill which less my pain than pleasure makes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if it intellect possess'd and wings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It pass'd, as stars that shoot along the sky:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nature and pity then pursued their course.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anon.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET CXCVIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>O cameretta che già fosti un porto.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE NO LONGER FINDS RELIEF IN SOLITUDE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Thou</span> little chamber'd haven to the woes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose daily tempest overwhelms my soul!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From shame, I in Heaven's light my grief control;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art its fountain, which each night o'erflows.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My couch! that oft hath woo'd me to repose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mid sorrows vast—Love's iv'ried hand hath stole<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Griefs turgid stream, which o'er thee it doth roll,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That hand which good on all but me bestows.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not only quiet and sweet rest I fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But from myself and thought, whose vain pursuit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On pinion'd fancy doth my soul transport:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The multitude I did so long defy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now as my hope and refuge I salute,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So much I tremble solitude to court.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Room</span>! which to me hast been a port and shield<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From life's rude daily tempests for long years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now the full fountain of my nightly tears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which in the day I bear for shame conceal'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bed! which, in woes so great, wert wont to yield<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comfort and rest, an urn of doubts and fears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love o'er thee now from those fair hands uprears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cruel and cold to me alone reveal'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But e'en than solitude and rest, I flee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More from myself and melancholy thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In whose vain quest my soul has heavenward flown.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The crowd long hateful, hostile e'en to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strange though it sound, for refuge have I sought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such fear have I to find myself alone!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CXCIX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Lasso! Amor mi trasporta ov' io non voglio.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE EXCUSES HIMSELF FOR VISITING LAURA TOO OFTEN, AND LOVING HER TOO +MUCH.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Alas</span>! Love bears me where I would not go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And well I see how duty is transgress'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And how to her who, queen-like, rules my breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More than my wont importunate I grow.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span><span class="i0">Never from rocks wise sailor guarded so<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His ship of richest merchandise possess'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As evermore I shield my bark distress'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From shocks of her hard pride that would o'erthrow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Torrents of tears, fierce winds of infinite sighs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—For, in my sea, nights horrible and dark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pitiless winter reign—have driven my bark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sail-less and helm-less where it shatter'd lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or, drifting at the mercy of the main,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trouble to others bears, distress to me and pain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CC.</h2> + +<h3><i>Amor, io fallo e veggio il mio fallire.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE PRAYS LOVE, WHO IS THE CAUSE OF HIS OFFENCES, TO OBTAIN PARDON FOR +HIM.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">O Love</span>, I err, and I mine error own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As one who burns, whose fire within him lies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And aggravates his grief, while reason dies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With its own martyrdom almost o'erthrown.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I strove mine ardent longing to restrain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her fair calm face that I might ne'er disturb:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I can no more; falls from my hand the curb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my despairing soul is bold again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherefore if higher than her wont she aim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The act is thine, who firest and spur'st her so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No way too rough or steep for her to go:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the rare heavenly gifts are most to blame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shrined in herself: let her at least feel this,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest of my faults her pardon I should miss.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SESTINA VII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Non ha tanti animali il mar fra l' onde.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE DESPAIRS OF ESCAPE FROM THE TORMENTS BY WHICH HE IS SURROUNDED.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Nor</span> Ocean holds such swarms amid his waves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not overhead, where circles the pale moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were stars so numerous ever seen by night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor dwell so many birds among the woods,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span><span class="i0">Nor plants so many clothe the field or hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As holds my tost heart busy thoughts each eve.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Each day I hope that this my latest eve<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall part from my quick clay the sad salt waves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And leave me in last sleep on some cold hill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So many torments man beneath the moon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ne'er bore as I have borne; this know the woods<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through which I wander lonely day and night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For never have I had a tranquil night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ceaseless sighs instead from morn till eve,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since love first made me tenant of the woods:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sea, ere I can rest, shall lose his waves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun his light shall borrow from the moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And April flowers be blasted o'er each hill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus, to myself a prey, from hill to hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pensive by day I roam, and weep at night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No one state mine, but changeful as the moon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when I see approaching the brown eve,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sighs from my bosom, from my eyes fall waves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The herbs to moisten and to move the woods.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hostile the cities, friendly are the woods<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thoughts like mine, which, on this lofty hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mingle their murmur with the moaning waves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the sweet silence of the spangled night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So that the livelong day I wait the eve,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the sun sets and rises the fair moon.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Would, like Endymion, 'neath the enamour'd moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That slumbering I were laid in leafy woods,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that ere vesper she who makes my eve,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Love and Luna on that favour'd hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone, would come, and stay but one sweet night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While stood the sun nor sought his western waves.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Upon the hard waves, 'neath the beaming moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Song, that art born of night amid the woods,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou shalt a rich hill see to-morrow eve!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Count</span> the ocean's finny droves;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Count the twinkling host of stars.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round the night's pale orb that moves;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Count the groves' wing'd choristers;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span><span class="i0">Count each verdant blade that grows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Counted then will be my woes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When shall these eyes cease to weep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When shall this world-wearied frame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cover'd by the cold sod, sleep?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sure, beneath yon planet's beam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">None like me have made such moan;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This to every bower is known.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sad my nights; from morn till eve,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tenanting the woods, I sigh:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, ere I shall cease to grieve,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ocean's vast bed shall be dry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suns their light from moons shall gain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And spring wither on each plain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pensive, weeping, night and day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From this shore to that I fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Changeful as the lunar ray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, when evening veils the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then my tears might swell the floods,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then my sighs might bow the woods!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Towns I hate, the shades I love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For relief to yon green height,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the rill resounds, I rove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the grateful calm of night;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There I wait the day's decline,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the welcome moon to shine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, that in some lone retreat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like Endymion I were lain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that she, who rules my fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There one night to stay would deign;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never from his billowy bed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More might Phœbus lift his head!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Song, that on the wood-hung stream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the silent hour wert born,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Witness'd but by Cynthia's beam.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soon as breaks to-morrow's morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou shalt seek a glorious plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There with Laura to remain!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Dacre.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p> +<h2>SESTINA VIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Là ver l' aurora, che sì dolce l' aura.</i></h3> + +<h4>SHE IS MOVED NEITHER BY HIS VERSES NOR HIS TEARS.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">When</span> music warbles from each thorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Zephyr's dewy wings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweep the young flowers; what time the morn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her crimson radiance flings:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, as the smiling year renews,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feel renew'd Love's tender pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Renew'd is Laura's cold disdain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I for comfort court the weeping muse.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! could my sighs in accents flow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So musically lorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thou might'st catch my am'rous woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cease, proud Maid! thy scorn:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, ere within thy icy breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The smallest spark of passion's found,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Winter's cold temples shall be bound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all the blooms that paint spring's glowing vest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The drops that bathe the grief-dew'd eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The love-impassion'd strain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To move thy flinty bosom try<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full oft;—but, ah! in vain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would tears, and melting song avail;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As vainly might the silken breeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That bends the flowers, that fans the trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some rugged rock's tremendous brow assail.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Both gods and men alike are sway'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By Love, as poets tell;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I, when flowers in every shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their bursting gems reveal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">First felt his all-subduing power:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Laura knows not yet the smart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor heeds the tortures of my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My prayers, my plaints, and sorrow's pearly shower!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy wrongs, my soul! with patience bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While life shall warm this clay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And soothing sounds to Laura's ear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My numbers shall convey;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span><span class="i0">Numbers with forceful magic charm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All nature o'er the frost-bound earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wake summer's fragrant buds to birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the fierce serpent of its rage disarm.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The blossom'd shrubs in smiles are drest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now laughs his purple plain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shall the nymph a foe profest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To tenderness remain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But oh! what solace shall I find,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If fortune dooms me yet to bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The frowns of my relentless Fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save with soft moan to vex the pitying wind?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In baffling nets the light-wing'd gale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd fetter as it blows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The vernal rose that scents the vale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd cull on wintery snows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still I'd ne'er hope that mind to move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which dares defy the wiles of verse, and Love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anon. 1777.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CCI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Real natura, angelico intelletto.</i></h3> + +<h4>ON THE KISS OF HONOUR GIVEN BY CHARLES OF LUXEMBURG TO LAURA AT A +BANQUET.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">A kingly</span> nature, an angelic mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A spotless soul, prompt aspect and keen eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quick penetration, contemplation high<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And truly worthy of the breast which shrined:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In bright assembly lovely ladies join'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To grace that festival with gratulant joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amid so many and fair faces nigh<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soon his good judgment did the fairest find.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of riper age and higher rank the rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gently he beckon'd with his hand aside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lovingly drew near the perfect <span class="smcap">one</span>:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So courteously her eyes and brow he press'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All at his choice in fond approval vied—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Envy through my sole veins at that sweet freedom run.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">A sovereign</span> nature,—an exalted mind,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A soul proud—sleepless—with a lynx's eye,—<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span><span class="i0">An instant foresight,—thought as towering high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en as the heart in which they are enshrined:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bright assembly on that day combined<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each other in his honour to outvie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When 'mid the fair his judgment did descry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sweet perfection all to her resign'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unmindful of her rival sisterhood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He motion'd silently his preference,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fondly welcomed her, that humblest one:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So pure a kiss he gave, that all who stood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though fair, rejoiced in beauty's recompense:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By that strange act nay heart was quite undone!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CCII.</h2> + +<h3><i>I' ho pregato Amor, e nel riprego.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE PLEADS THE EXCESS OF HIS PASSION IN PALLIATION OF HIS FAULT.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Oft</span> have I pray'd to Love, and still I pray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My charming agony, my bitter joy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he would crave your grace, if consciously<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the right path my guilty footsteps stray.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Reason, which o'er happier minds holds sway,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is quell'd of Appetite, I not deny;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hence, through tracks my better thoughts would fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The victor hurries me perforce away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You, in whose bosom Genius, Virtue reign<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With mingled blaze lit by auspicious skies—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ne'er shower'd kind star its beams on aught so rare!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You, you should say with pity, not disdain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"How could he 'scape, lost wretch! these lightning eyes—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So passionate he, and I so direly fair?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrangham.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CCIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>L' alto signor, dinanzi a cui non vale.</i></h3> + +<h4>HIS SORROW FOR THE ILLNESS OF LAURA INCREASES, NOT LESSENS, HIS FLAME.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> sovereign Lord, 'gainst whom of no avail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Concealment, or resistance is, or flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My mind had kindled to a new delight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By his own amorous and ardent ail:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span><span class="i0">Though his first blow, transfixing my best mail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were mortal sure, to push his triumph quite<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He took a shaft of sorrow in his right,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So my soft heart on both sides to assail.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A burning wound the one shed fire and flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The other tears, which ever grief distils,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through eyes for your weak health that are as rills.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But no relief from either fountain came<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My bosom's conflagration to abate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, passion grew by very pity great.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CCIV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Mira quel colle, o stanco mio cor vago.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE BIDS HIS HEART RETURN TO LAURA, NOT PERCEIVING THAT IT HAD NEVER LEFT +HER.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><i>P.</i> <span class="smcap">Look</span> on that hill, my fond but harass'd heart!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yestreen we left her there, who 'gan to take<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some care of us and friendlier looks to dart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now from our eyes she draws a very lake:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Return alone—I love to be apart—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Try, if perchance the day will ever break<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To mitigate our still increasing smart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Partner and prophet of my lifelong ache.<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>H.</i> O wretch! in whom vain thoughts and idle swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou, who thyself hast tutor'd to forget,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speak'st to thy heart as if 'twere with thee yet?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When to thy greatest bliss thou saidst farewell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou didst depart alone: it stay'd with her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor cares from those bright eyes, its home, to stir.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CCV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Fresco ambroso fiorito e verde colle.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE CONGRATULATES HIS HEART ON ITS REMAINING WITH HER.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">O hill</span> with green o'erspread, with groves o'erhung!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where musing now, now trilling her sweet lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Most like what bards of heavenly spirits say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sits she by fame through every region sung:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart, which wisely unto her has clung—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More wise, if there, in absence blest, it stay!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span><span class="i0">Notes now the turf o'er which her soft steps stray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now where her angel-eyes' mild beam is flung;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then throbs and murmurs, as they onward rove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Ah! were he here, that man of wretched lot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doom'd but to taste the bitterness of love!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She, conscious, smiles: our feelings tally not:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heartless am I, mere stone; heaven is thy grove—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O dear delightful shade, O consecrated spot!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrangham.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Fresh</span>, shaded hill! with flowers and verdure crown'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, in fond musings, or with music sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To earth a heaven-sent spirit takes her seat!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She who from all the world has honour found.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forsaking me, to her my fond heart bound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Divorce for aye were welcome as discreet—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Notes where the turf is mark'd by her fair feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or from these eyes for her in sorrow drown'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then inly whispers as her steps advance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Would for awhile that wreteh were here alone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who pines already o'er his bitter lot."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She conscious smiles. Not equal is the chance;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An Eden thou, while I a heartless stone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O holy, happy, and beloved spot!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CCVI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Il mal mi preme, e mi spaventa il peggio.</i></h3> + +<h4>TO A FRIEND, IN LOVE LIKE HIMSELF, HE CAN GIVE NO ADVICE BUT TO RAISE +HIS SOUL TO GOD.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Evil</span> oppresses me and worse dismay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To which a plain and ample way I find;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Driven like thee by frantic passion, blind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Urged by harsh thoughts I bend like thee my way.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor know I if for war or peace to pray:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To war is ruin, shame to peace, assign'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But wherefore languish thus?—Rather, resign'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whate'er the Will Supreme ordains, obey.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">However ill that honour me beseem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By thee conferr'd, whom that affection cheats<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which many a perfect eye to error sways,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To raise thy spirit to that realm supreme<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My counsel is, and win those blissful seats:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For short the time, and few the allotted days.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Capel Lofft.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> bad oppresses me, the worse dismays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To which so broad and plain a path I see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My spirit, to like frenzy led with thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tried by the same hard thoughts, in dotage strays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor knows if peace or war of God it prays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though great the loss and deep the shame to me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But why pine longer? Best our lot will be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What Heaven's high will ordains when man obeys.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though I of that great honour worthless prove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Offer'd by thee—herein Love leads to err<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who often makes the sound eye to see wrong—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My counsel this, instant on Heaven above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy soul to elevate, thy heart to spur,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For though the time be short, the way is long.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CCVII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Due rose fresche, e colte in paradiso.</i></h3> + +<h4>THE TWO ROSES.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Two</span> brilliant roses, fresh from Paradise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which there, on May-day morn, in beauty sprung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair gift, and by a lover old and wise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Equally offer'd to two lovers young:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At speech so tender and such winning guise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As transports from a savage might have wrung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A living lustre lit their mutual eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And instant on their cheeks a soft blush hung.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun ne'er look'd upon a lovelier pair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a sweet smile and gentle sigh he said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pressing the hands of both and turn'd away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of words and roses each alike had share.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en now my worn heart thrill with joy and dread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O happy eloquence! O blessed day!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CCVIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>L' aura che 'l verde Lauro e l' aureo crine.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE PRAYS THAT HE MAY DIE BEFORE LAURA.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> balmy gale, that, with its tender sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moves the green laurel and the golden hair,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span><span class="i0">Makes with its graceful visitings and rare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gazer's spirit from his body fly.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sweet and snow-white rose in hard thorns set!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where in the world her fellow shall we find?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The glory of our age! Creator kind!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grant that ere hers my death shall first be met.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So the great public loss I may not see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world without its sun, in darkness left,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from my desolate eyes their sole light reft,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My mind with which no other thoughts agree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mine ears which by no other sound are stirr'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Except her ever pure and gentle word.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CCIX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Parrà forse ad alcun, che 'n lodar quella.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE INVITES THOSE TO WHOM HIS PRAISES SEEM EXCESSIVE TO BEHOLD THE OBJECT +OF THEM.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Haply</span> my style to some may seem too free<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In praise of her who holds my being's chain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Queen of her sex describing her to reign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wise, winning, good, fair, noble, chaste to be:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To me it seems not so; I fear that she<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My lays as low and trifling may disdain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Worthy a higher and a better strain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Who thinks not with me let him come and see.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then will he say, She whom his wishes seek<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is one indeed whose grace and worth might tire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The muses of all lands and either lyre.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But mortal tongue for state divine is weak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And may not soar; by flattery and force,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As Fate not choice ordains, Love rules its course.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CCX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Chi vuol veder quantunque può Natura.</i></h3> + +<h4>WHOEVER BEHOLDS HER MUST ADMIT THAT HIS PRAISES CANNOT REACH HER +PERFECTION.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Who</span> wishes to behold the utmost might<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Heaven and Nature, on her let him gaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sole sun, not only in my partial lays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But to the dark world, blind to virtue's light!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span><span class="i0">And let him haste to view; for death in spite<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The guilty leaves, and on the virtuous preys;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For this loved angel heaven impatient stays;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mortal charms are transient as they're bright!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here shall he see, if timely he arrive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Virtue and beauty, royalty of mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In one bless'd union join'd. Then shall he say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That vainly my weak rhymes to praise her strive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose dazzling beams have struck my genius blind:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He must for ever weep if he delay!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Charlemont.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Stranger</span>, whose curious glance delights to trace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What Heaven and Nature join'd to frame most rare;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here view mine eyes' bright sun—a sight so fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That purblind worlds, like me, enamour'd gaze.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But speed thy step; for Death with rapid pace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pursues the best, nor makes the bad his care:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Call'd to the skies through yon blue fields of air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On buoyant plume the mortal grace obeys.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then haste, and mark in one rich form combined<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(And, for that dazzling lustre dimm'd mine eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chide the weak efforts of my trembling lay)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each charm of person, and each power of mind—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, slowly if thy lingering foot comply,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grief and repentant shame shall mourn the brief delay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrangham.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CCXI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Qual paura ho, quando mi torna a mente.</i></h3> + +<h4>MELANCHOLY RECOLLECTIONS AND PRESAGES.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">O Laura</span>! when my tortured mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sad remembrance bears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that ill-omen'd day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, victim to a thousand doubts and fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I left my soul behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That soul that could not from its partner stray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In nightly visions to my longing eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy form oft seems to rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As ever thou wert seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair like the rose, 'midst paling flowers the queen,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span><span class="i0">But loosely in the wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unbraided wave the ringlets of thy hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That late with studious care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw with pearls and flowery garlands twined:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On thy wan lip, no cheerful smile appears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy beauteous face a tender sadness wears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Placid in pain thou seem'st, serene in grief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As conscious of thy fate, and hopeless of relief!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cease, cease, presaging heart! O angels, deign<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hear my fervent prayer, that all my fears be vain!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Woodhouselee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">What</span> dread I feel when I revolve the day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I left my mistress, sad, without repose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart too with her: and my fond thought knows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nought on which gladlier, oft'ner it can stay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Again my fancy doth her form portray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meek among beauty's train, like to some rose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Midst meaner flowers; nor joy nor grief she shows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not with misfortune prest but with dismay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then were thrown by her custom'd cheerfulness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her pearls, her chaplets, and her gay attire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her song, her laughter, and her mild address;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus doubtingly I quitted her I love:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now dark ideas, dreams, and bodings dire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Raise terrors, which Heaven grant may groundless prove!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CCXII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Solea lontana in sonno consolarme.</i></h3> + +<h4>SHE ANNOUNCES TO HIM, IN A VISION, THAT HE WILL NEVER SEE HER MORE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">To</span> soothe me distant far, in days gone by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With dreams of one whose glance all heaven combined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was mine; now fears and sorrow haunt my mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor can I from that grief, those terrors fly:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For oft in sleep I mark within her eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep pity with o'erwhelming sadness join'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oft I seem to hear on every wind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Accents, which from my breast chase peace and joy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"That last dark eve," she cries, "remember'st thou,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When to those doting eyes I bade farewell,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span><span class="i0">Forced by the time's relentless tyranny?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I had not then the power, nor heart to tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What thou shalt find, alas! too surely true—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hope not again on earth thy Laura's face to see."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrangham.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CCXIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>O misera ed orribil visione.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE CANNOT BELIEVE IN HER DEATH, BUT IF TRUE, HE PRAYS GOD TO TAKE HIM +ALSO FROM LIFE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">O misery</span>! horror! can it, then, be true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the sweet light before its time is spent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mid all its pains which could my life content,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ever with fresh hopes of good renew?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If so, why sounds not other channels through,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor only from herself, the great event?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No! God and Nature could not thus consent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my dark fears are groundless and undue.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still it delights my heart to hope once more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The welcome sight of that enchanting face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The glory of our age, and life to me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if, to her eternal home to soar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That heavenly spirit have left her earthly place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! then not distant may my last day be!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CCXIV.</h2> + +<h3><i>In dubbio di mio stato, or piango, or canto.</i></h3> + +<h4>TO HIS LONGING TO SEE HER AGAIN IS NOW ADDED THE FEAR OF SEEING HER NO +MORE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Uncertain</span> of my state, I weep and sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hope and tremble, and with rhymes and sighs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ease my load, while Love his utmost tries<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How worse my sore afflicted heart to sting.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will her sweet seraph face again e'er bring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their former light to these despairing eyes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(What to expect, alas! or how advise)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or must eternal grief my bosom wring?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For heaven, which justly it deserves to win,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span><span class="i0">It cares not what on earth may be their fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose sun it was, where centred their sole gaze.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such terror, so perpetual warfare in,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Changed from my former self, I live of late<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As one who midway doubts, and fears and strays.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CCXV.</h2> + +<h3><i>O dolci sguardi, o parolette accorte.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE SIGHS FOR THOSE GLANCES FROM WHICH, TO HIS GRIEF, FORTUNE EVER +DELIGHTS TO WITHDRAW HIM.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">O angel</span> looks! O accents of the skies!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall I or see or hear you once again?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O golden tresses, which my heart enchain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lead it forth, Love's willing sacrifice!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O face of beauty given in anger's guise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which still I not enjoy, and still complain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O dear delusion! O bewitching pain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Transports, at once my punishment and prize!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If haply those soft eyes some kindly beam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Eyes, where my soul and all my thoughts reside)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vouchsafe, in tender pity to bestow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sudden, of all my joys the murtheress tried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fortune with steed or ship dispels the gleam;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fortune, with stern behest still prompt to work my woe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrangham.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">O gentle</span> looks! O words of heavenly sound!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall I behold you, hear you once again?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O waving locks, that Love has made the chain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In which this wretched ruin'd heart is bound!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O face divine! whose magic spells surround<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul, distemper'd with unceasing pain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O dear deceit! O loving errors vain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hug the dart and doat upon the wound!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did those soft eyes, in whose angelic light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My life, my thoughts, a constant mansion find,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ever impart a pure unmixed delight?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or if they have one moment, then unkind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fortune steps in, and sends me from their sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gives my opening pleasures to the wind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Morehead.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET CCXVI.</h2> + +<h3><i>I' pur ascolto, e non odo novella.</i></h3> + +<h4>HEARING NO TIDINGS OF HER, HE BEGINS TO DESPAIR.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Still</span> do I wait to hear, in vain still wait,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that sweet enemy I love so well:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What now to think or say I cannot tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twixt hope and fear my feelings fluctuate:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beautiful are still the marks of fate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sure her worth and beauty most excel:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What if her God have call'd her hence, to dwell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where virtue finds a more congenial state?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If so, she will illuminate that sphere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even as a sun: but I—'tis done with me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I then am nothing, have no business here!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O cruel absence! why not let me see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The worst? my little tale is told, I fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My scene is closed ere it accomplish'd be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Morehead.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">No</span> tidings yet—I listen, but in vain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of her, my beautiful belovèd foe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What or to think or say I nothing know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So thrills my heart, my fond hopes so sustain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Danger to some has in their beauty lain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fairer and chaster she than others show;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God haply seeks to snatch from earth below<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Virtue's best friend, that heaven a star may gain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or rather sun. If what I dread be nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My life, its trials long, its brief repose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are ended all. O cruel absence! why<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Didst thou remove me from the menaced woes?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My short sad story is already done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And midway in its course my vain race run.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CCXVII.</h2> + +<h3><i>La sera desiar, odiar l' aurora.</i></h3> + +<h4>CONTRARY TO THE WONT OF LOVERS, HE PREFERS MORN TO EVE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Tranquil</span> and happy loves in this agree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The evening to desire and morning hate:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On me at eve redoubled sorrows wait—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Morning is still the happier hour for me.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span><span class="i0">For then my sun and Nature's oft I see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Opening at once the orient's rosy gate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So match'd in beauty and in lustre great,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven seems enamour'd of our earth to be!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As when in verdant leaf the dear boughs burst<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose roots have since so centred in my core,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another than myself is cherish'd more.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus the two hours contrast, day's last and first:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reason it is who calms me to desire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fear and hate who fiercer feed my fire.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CCXVIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Far potess' io vendetta di colei.</i></h3> + +<h4>HIS SOUL VISITS HER IN SLEEP.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Oh</span>! that from her some vengeance I could wrest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With words and glances who my peace destroys,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then abash'd, for my worse sorrow, flies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Veiling her eyes so cruel, yet so blest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus mine afflicted spirits and oppress'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By sure degrees she sorely drains and dries,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in my heart, as savage lion, cries<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even at night, when most I should have rest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul, which sleep expels from his abode,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The body leaves, and, from its trammels free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seeks her whose mien so often menace show'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I marvel much, if heard its advent be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That while to her it spake, and o'er her wept,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And round her clung, asleep she alway kept.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CCXIX.</h2> + +<h3><i>In quel bel viso, ch' i' sospiro e bramo.</i></h3> + +<h4>ON LAURA PUTTING HER HAND BEFORE HER EYES WHILE HE WAS GAZING ON HER.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">On</span> the fair face for which I long and sigh<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mine eyes were fasten'd with desire intense.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, to my fond thoughts, Love, in best reply,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her honour'd hand uplifting, shut me thence.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart there caught—as fish a fair hook by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or as a young bird on a limèd fence—<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span><span class="i0">For good deeds follow from example high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To truth directed not its busied sense.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But of its one desire my vision reft,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As dreamingly, soon oped itself a way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which closed, its bliss imperfect had been left:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul between those rival glories lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fill'd with a heavenly and new delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose strange surpassing sweets engross'd it quite.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CCXX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Vive faville uscian de' duo bei lumi.</i></h3> + +<h4>A SMILING WELCOME, WHICH LAURA GAVE HIM UNEXPECTEDLY, ALMOST KILLS HIM +WITH JOY.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Live</span> sparks were glistening from her twin bright eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So sweet on me whose lightning flashes beam'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And softly from a feeling heart and wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of lofty eloquence a rich flood stream'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even the memory serves to wake my sighs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I recall that day so glad esteem'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in my heart its sinking spirit dies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As some late grace her colder wont redeem'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul in pain and grief that most has been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(How great the power of constant habit is!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seems weakly 'neath its double joy to lean:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For at the sole taste of unusual bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trembling with fear, or thrill'd by idle hope,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft on the point I've been life's door to ope.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CCXXI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Cercato ho sempre solitaria vita.</i></h3> + +<h4>THINKING ALWAYS OF LAURA, IT PAINS HIM TO REMEMBER WHERE SHE IS LEFT.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Still</span> have I sought a life of solitude;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The streams, the fields, the forests know my mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I might 'scape the sordid and the blind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who paths forsake trod by the wise and good:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fain would I leave, were mine own will pursued,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These Tuscan haunts, and these soft skies behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sorga's thick-wooded hills again to find;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span><span class="i0">And sing and weep in concert with its flood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Fortune, ever my sore enemy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Compels my steps, where I with sorrow see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cast my fair treasure in a worthless soil:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet less a foe she justly deigns to prove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For once, to me, to Laura, and to love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Favouring my song, my passion, with her smile.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Still</span> have I sought a life of solitude—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This know the rivers, and each wood and plain—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I might 'scape the blind and sordid train<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who from the path have flown of peace and good:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could I my wish obtain, how vainly would<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This cloudless climate woo me to remain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sorga's embowering woods I'd seek again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sing, weep, wander, by its friendly flood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, ah! my fortune, hostile still to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Compels me where I must, indignant, find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amid the mire my fairest treasure thrown:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet to my hand, not all unworthy, she<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now proves herself, at least for once, more kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since—but alone to Love and Laura be it known.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CCXXII.</h2> + +<h3><i>In tale Stella duo begli occhi vidi.</i></h3> + +<h4>THE BEAUTY OF LAURA IS PEERLESS.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">In</span> one fair star I saw two brilliant eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With sweetness, modesty, so glistening o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That soon those graceful nests of Love before<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My worn heart learnt all others to despise:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Equall'd not her whoever won the prize<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In ages gone on any foreign shore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not she to Greece whose wondrous beauty bore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unnumber'd ills, to Troy death's anguish'd cries:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not the fair Roman, who, with ruthless blade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Piercing her chaste and outraged bosom, fled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dishonour worse than death, like charms display'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such excellence should brightest glory shed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On Nature, as on me supreme delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, ah! too lately come, too soon it takes its flight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET CCXXIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Qual donna attende a gloriosa fama.</i></h3> + +<h4>THE EYES OF LAURA ARE THE SCHOOL OF VIRTUE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Feels</span> any fair the glorious wish to gain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of sense, of worth, of courtesy, the praise?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On those bright eyes attentive let her gaze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of her miscall'd my love, but sure my foe.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Honour to gain, with love of God to glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Virtue more bright how native grace displays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May there be learn'd; and by what surest ways<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To heaven, that for her coming pants, to go.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The converse sweet, beyond what poets write,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is there; the winning silence, and the meek<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And saint-like manners man would paint in vain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The matchless beauty, dazzling to the sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can ne'er be learn'd; for bootless 'twere to seek<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By art, what by kind chance alone we gain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anon., Ox., 1795.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CCXXIV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Cara la vita, e dopo lei mi pare.</i></h3> + +<h4>HONOUR TO BE PREFERRED TO LIFE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Methinks</span> that life in lovely woman first,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And after life true honour should be dear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, wanting honour—of all wants the worst—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Friend! nought remains of loved or lovely here.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And who, alas! has honour's barrier burst,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unsex'd and dead, though fair she yet appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leads a vile life, in shame and torment curst,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lingering death, where all is dark and drear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To me no marvel was Lucretia's end,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save that she needed, when that last disgrace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone sufficed to kill, a sword to die.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sophists in vain the contrary defend:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their arguments are feeble all and base,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And truth alone triumphant mounts on high!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET CCXXV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Arbor vittoriosa e trionfale.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE EXTOLS THE VIRTUE OF LAURA.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Tree</span>, victory's bright guerdon, wont to crown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heroes and bards with thy triumphal leaf,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How many days of mingled joy and grief<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have I from thee through life's short passage known.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lady, who, reckless of the world's renown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reapest in virtue's field fair honour's sheaf;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor fear'st Love's limed snares, "that subtle thief,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While calm discretion on his wiles looks down.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pride of birth, with all that here we deem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Most precious, gems and gold's resplendent grace.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Abject alike in thy regard appear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, even thine own unrivall'd beauties beam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No charm to thee—save as their circling blaze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clasps fitly that chaste soul, which still thou hold'st most dear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrangham.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Blest</span> laurel! fadeless and triumphant tree!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of kings and poets thou the fondest pride!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How much of joy and sorrow's changing tide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In my short breath hath been awaked by thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lady, the will's sweet sovereign! thou canst see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No bliss but virtue, where thou dost preside;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love's chain, his snare, thou dost alike deride;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From man's deceit thy wisdom sets thee free.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Birth's native pride, and treasure's precious store,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Whose bright possession we so fondly hail)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thee as burthens valueless appear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy beauty's excellence—(none viewed before)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy soul had wearied—but thou lov'st the veil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That shrine of purity adorneth here.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CANZONE XXI.</h2> + +<h3><i>I' vo pensando, e nel pensier m' assale.</i></h3> + +<h4>SELF-CONFLICT.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Ceaseless</span> I think, and in each wasting thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So strong a pity for myself appears,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span><span class="i0">That often it has brought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My harass'd heart to new yet natural tears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seeing each day my end of life draw nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Instant in prayer, I ask of God the wings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With which the spirit springs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Freed from its mortal coil, to bliss on high;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But nothing, to this hour, prayer, tear, or sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whatever man could do, my hopes sustain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so indeed in justice should it be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Able to stay, who went and fell, that he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should prostrate, in his own despite, remain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, lo! the tender arms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In which I trust are open to me still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though fears my bosom fill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of others' fate, and my own heart alarms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which worldly feelings spur, haply, to utmost ill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One thought thus parleys with my troubled mind—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"What still do you desire, whence succour wait?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! wherefore to this great,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This guilty loss of time so madly blind?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take up at length, wisely take up your part:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tear every root of pleasure from your heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which ne'er can make it blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor lets it freely play, nor calmly rest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If long ago with tedium and disgust<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You view'd the false and fugitive delights<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With which its tools a treacherous world requites,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why longer then repose in it your trust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence peace and firmness are in exile thrust?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While life and vigour stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bridle of your thoughts is in your power:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grasp, guide it while you may:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So clogg'd with doubt, so dangerous is delay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The best for wise reform is still the present hour.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Well known to you what rapture still has been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shed on your eyes by the dear sight of her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom, for your peace it were<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Better if she the light had never seen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you remember well (as well you ought)<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span><span class="i0">Her image, when, as with one conquering bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your heart in prey she caught,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where flame from other light no entrance found.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She fired it, and if that fallacious heat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lasted long years, expecting still one day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which for our safety came not, to repay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It lifts you now to hope more blest and sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Uplooking to that heaven around your head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Immortal, glorious spread;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If but a glance, a brief word, an old song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had here such power to charm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your eager passion, glad of its own harm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How far 'twill then exceed if now the joy so strong."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Another thought the while, severe and sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laborious, yet delectable in scope,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Takes in my heart its seat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Filling with glory, feeding it with hope;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till, bent alone on bright and deathless fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It feels not when I freeze, or burn in flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I am pale or ill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if I crush it rises stronger still.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This, from my helpless cradle, day by day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has strengthen'd with my strength, grown with my growth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till haply now one tomb must cover both:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When from the flesh the soul has pass'd away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more this passion comrades it as here;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For fame—if, after death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Learning speak aught of me—is but a breath:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherefore, because I fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hopes to indulge which the next hour may chase,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would old error leave, and the one truth embrace.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But the third wish which fills and fires my heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'ershadows all the rest which near it spring:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Time, too, dispels a part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While, but for her, self-reckless grown, I sing.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then the rare light of those beauteous eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweetly before whose gentle heat I melt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a fine curb is felt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To combat which avails not wit or force;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span><span class="i0">What boots it, trammell'd by such adverse ties,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If still between the rocks must lie her course,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To trim my little bark to new emprize?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! wilt Thou never, Lord, who yet dost keep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me safe and free from common chains, which bind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In different modes, mankind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deign also from my brow this shame to sweep?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, as one sunk in sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Methinks death ever present to my sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet when I would resist I have no arms to fight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Full well I see my state, in nought deceived<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By truth ill known, but rather forced by Love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who leaves not him to move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In honour, who too much his grace believed:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For o'er my heart from time to time I feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A subtle scorn, a lively anguish, steal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence every hidden thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where all may see, upon my brow is writ.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For with such faith on mortal things to dote,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As unto God alone is just and fit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Disgraces worst the prize who covets most:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should reason, amid things of sense, be lost.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This loudly calls her to the proper track:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, when she would obey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And home return, ill habits keep her back,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to my view portray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her who was only born my death to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too lovely in herself, too loved, alas! by me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I neither know, to me what term of life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven destined when on earth I came at first<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To suffer this sharp strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Gainst my own peace which I myself have nursed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor can I, for the veil my body throws,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet see the time when my sad life may close.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feel my frame begin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fail, and vary each desire within:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now that I believe my parting day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is near at hand, or else not distant lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like one whom losses wary make and wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I travel back in thought, where first the way,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span><span class="i0">The right-hand way, I left, to peace which led.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While through me shame and grief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Recalling the vain past on this side spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On that brings no relief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Passion, whose strength I now from habit, feel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So great that it would dare with death itself to deal.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Song! I am here, my heart the while more cold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With fear than frozen snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feels in its certain core death's coming blow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thus, in weak self-communing, has roll'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of my vain life the better portion by:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Worse burden surely ne'er<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tried mortal man than that which now I bear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though death be seated nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For future life still seeking councils new,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know and love the good, yet, ah! the worse pursue.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET CCXXVI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Aspro core e selvaggio, e cruda voglia.</i></h3> + +<h4>HOPE ALONE SUPPORTS HIM IN HIS MISERY.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Hard</span> heart and cold, a stern will past belief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In angel form of gentle sweet allure;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If thus her practised rigour long endure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er me her triumph will be poor and brief.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For when or spring, or die, flower, herb, and leaf.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When day is brightest, night when most obscure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alway I weep. Great cause from Fortune sure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From Love and Laura have I for my grief.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I live in hope alone, remembering still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How by long fall of small drops I have seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Marble and solid stone that worn have been.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No heart there is so hard, so cold no will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By true tears, fervent prayers, and faithful love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That will not deign at length to melt and move.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET CCXXVII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Signor mio caro, ogni pensier mi tira.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE LAMENTS HIS ABSENCE FROM LAURA AND COLONNA, THE ONLY OBJECTS OF HIS +AFFECTION.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">My</span> lord and friend! thoughts, wishes, all inclined<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart to visit one so dear to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Fortune—can she ever worse decree?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Held me in hand, misled, or kept behind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since then the dear desire Love taught my mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But leads me to a death I did not see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And while my twin lights, wheresoe'er I be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are still denied, by day and night I've pined.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Affection for my lord, my lady's love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bonds have been wherewith in torments long<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have been bound, which round myself I wove.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Laurel green, a Column fair and strong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This for three lustres, that for three years more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In my fond breast, nor wish'd it free, I bore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a id="image15" name="image15"></a><a href="images/15large.jpg"> + <img src="images/15.jpg" + alt="SELVA PIANA, NEAR PARMA." + title="SELVA PIANA, NEAR PARMA." /></a><br /> + <span class="caption">SELVA PIANA, NEAR PARMA.</span> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p> +<h2>TO LAURA IN DEATH.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET I.</h2> + +<h3><i>Oimè il bel viso! oimè il soave sguardo!</i></h3> + +<h4>ON THE ANNOUNCEMENT OF THE DEATH OF LAURA.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Woe</span> for the 'witching look of that fair face!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The port where ease with dignity combined!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Woe for those accents, that each savage mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To softness tuned, to noblest thoughts the base!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the sweet smile, from whence the dart I trace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which now leaves death my only hope behind!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exalted soul, most fit on thrones to 've shined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that too late she came this earth to grace!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For you I still must burn, and breathe in you;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I was ever yours; of you bereft,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full little now I reck all other care.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With hope and with desire you thrill'd me through,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When last my only joy on earth I left:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But caught by winds each word was lost in air.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anon., Ox., 1795.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Alas</span>! that touching glance, that beauteous face!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! that dignity with sweetness fraught!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! that speech which tamed the wildest thought!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That roused the coward, glory to embrace!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! that smile which in me did encase<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That fatal dart, whence here I hope for nought—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! hadst thou earlier our regions sought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world had then confess'd thy sovereign grace!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thee I breathed, life's flame was nursed by thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I was thine; and since of thee bereaved,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span><span class="i0">Each other woe hath lost its venom'd sting:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul's blest joy! when last thy voice on me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In music fell, my heart sweet hope conceived;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! thy words have sped on zephyrs' wings!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CANZONE I.</h2> + +<h3><i>Che debb' io far? che mi consigli, Amore?</i></h3> + +<h4>HE ASKS COUNSEL OF LOVE, WHETHER HE SHOULD FOLLOW LAURA, OR STILL ENDURE +EXISTENCE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">What</span> should I do? what, Love, dost thou advise?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full time it is to die:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And longer than I wish have I delay'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My mistress is no more, and with her gone my heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To follow her, I must need<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Break short the course of my afflictive years:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To view her here below<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ne'er can hope; and irksome 'tis to wait.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since that my every joy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By her departure unto tears is turn'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all its sweets my life has been deprived.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou, Love, dost feel, therefore to thee I plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How grievous is my loss;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know my sorrows grieve and weigh thee down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en as our common cause: for on one rock<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We both have wreck'd our bark;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in one instant was its sun obscured.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What genius can with words<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rightly describe my lamentable state?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, blind, ungrateful world!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou hast indeed just cause with me to mourn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That beauty thou didst hold with her is fled!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fall'n is thy glory, and thou seest it not;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unworthy thou with her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While here she dwelt, acquaintance to maintain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or to be trodden by her saintly feet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For that, which is so fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should with its presence decorate the skies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I, a wretch who, reft<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of her, prize nor myself nor mortal life,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span><span class="i0">Recall her with my tears:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This only of my hope's vast sum remains;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And this alone doth still support me here.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, me! her charming face is earth become,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which wont unto our thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To picture heaven and happiness above!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her viewless form inhabits paradise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Divested of that veil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which shadow'd while below her bloom of life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once more to put it on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never then to cast it off again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When so much more divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And glorious render'd, 'twill by us be view'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As mortal beauty to eternal yields.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">More bright than ever, and a lovelier fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before me she appears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where most she's conscious that her sight will please<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is one pillar that sustains my life;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The other her dear name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That to my heart sounds so delightfully.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But tracing in my mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That she who form'd my choicest hope is dead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en in her blossom'd prime;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou knowest, Love, full well what I become:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She I trust sees it too, who dwells with truth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye sweet associates, who admired her charms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her life angelical,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her demeanour heavenly upon earth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For me lament, and be by pity wrought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No wise for her, who, risen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To so much peace, me has in warfare left;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such, that should any shut<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The road to follow her, for some length of time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What Love declares to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone would check my cutting through the tie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in this guise he reasons from within:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The mighty grief transporting thee restrain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For passions uncontroll'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forfeit that heaven, to which thy soul aspires,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where she is living whom some fancy dead;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span><span class="i0">While at her fair remains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She smiles herself, sighing for thee alone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that her fame, which lives<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In many a clime hymn'd by thy tongue, may ne'er<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Become extinct, she prays;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that her name should harmonize thy voice;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If e'er her eyes were lovely held, and dear."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fly the calm, green retreat;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ne'er approach where song and laughter dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O strain; but wail be thine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It suits thee ill with the glad throng to stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou sorrowing widow wrapp'd in garb of woe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET II.</h2> + +<h3><i>Rotta è l' alta Colonna, e 'l verde Lauro.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE BEWAILS HIS DOUBLE LOSS IN THE DEATHS OF LAURA, AND OF COLONNA.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Fall'n</span> that proud Column, fall'n that Laurel tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose shelter once relieved my wearied mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm reft of what I ne'er again shall find,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though ransack'd every shore and every sea:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Double the treasure death has torn from me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In which life's pride was with its pleasure join'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not eastern gems, nor the world's wealth combined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can give it back, nor land, nor royalty.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, if so fate decrees, what can I more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than with unceasing tears these eyes bedew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Abase my visage, and my lot deplore?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, what is life, so lovely to the view!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How quickly in one little morn is lost<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What years have won with labour and with cost!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">My</span> laurell'd hope! and thou, Colonna proud!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your broken strength can shelter me no more!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor Boreas, Auster, Indus, Afric's shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can give me that, whose loss my soul hath bow'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My step exulting, and my joy avow'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death now hath quench'd with ye, my heart's twin store;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor earth's high rule, nor gems, nor gold's bright ore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can e'er bring back what once my heart endow'd<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span><span class="i0">But if this grief my destiny hath will'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What else can I oppose but tearful eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sorrowing bosom, and a spirit quell'd?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O life! whose vista seems so brightly fill'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sunny breath, and that exhaling, dies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hope, oft, many watchful years have swell'd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CANZONE II.</h2> + +<h3><i>Amor, se vuoi ch' i' torni al giogo antico.</i></h3> + +<h4>UNLESS LOVE CAN RESTORE HER TO LIFE, HE WILL NEVER AGAIN BE HIS SLAVE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">If</span> thou wouldst have me, Love, thy slave again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One other proof, miraculous and new,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must yet be wrought by you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere, conquer'd, I resume my ancient chain—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lift my dear love from earth which hides her now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For whose sad loss thus beggar'd I remain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once more with warmth endow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wise chaste heart where wont my life to dwell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if as some divine, thy influence so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From highest heaven unto the depths of hell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prevail in sooth—for what its scope below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mid us of common race,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Methinks each gentle breast may answer well—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rob Death of his late triumph, and replace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy conquering ensign in her lovely face!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Relume on that fair brow the living light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which was my honour'd guide, and the sweet flame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though spent, which still the same<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kindles me now as when it burn'd most bright;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thirsty hind with such desire did ne'er<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long for green pastures or the crystal brook,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As I for the dear look,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence I have borne so much, and—if aright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I read myself and passion—more must bear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This makes me to one theme my thoughts thus bind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An aimless wanderer where is pathway none,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With weak and wearied mind<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span><span class="i0">Pursuing hopes which never can be won.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hence to thy summons answer I disdain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thine is no power beyond thy proper reign.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Give me again that gentle voice to hear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As in my heart are heard its echoes still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which had in song the skill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hate to disarm, rage soften, sorrow cheer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To tranquillize each tempest of the mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from dark lowering clouds to keep it clear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which sweetly then refined<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And raised my verse where now it may not soar.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, with desire that hope may equal vie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since now my mind is waked in strength, restore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their proper business to my ear and eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awanting which life must<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All tasteless be and harder than to die.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vainly with me to your old power you trust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While my first love is shrouded still in dust.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Give her dear glance again to bless my sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, as the sun on snow, beam'd still for me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Open each window bright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where pass'd my heart whence no return can be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Resume thy golden shafts, prepare thy bow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And let me once more drink with old delight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that dear voice the sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence what love is I first was taught to know.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, for the lures, which still I covet so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were rifest, richest there my soul that bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Waken to life her tongue, and on the breeze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let her light silken hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loosen'd by Love's own fingers, float at ease;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do this, and I thy willing yoke will bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Else thy hope faileth my free will to snare.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! never my gone heart those links of gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Artlessly negligent, or curl'd with grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor her enchanting face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweetly severe, can captive cease to hold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These, night and day, the amorous wish in me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kept, more than laurel or than myrtle, green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, doff'd or donn'd, we see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of fields the grass, of woods their leafy screen.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span><span class="i0">And since that Death so haughty stands and stern<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bond now broken whence I fear'd to flee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor thine the art, howe'er the world may turn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bind anew the chain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What boots it, Love, old arts to try again?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their day is pass'd: thy power, since lost the arms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which were my terror once, no longer harms.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy arms were then her eyes, unrivall'd, whence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Live darts were freely shot of viewless flame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No help from reason came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For against Heaven avails not man's defence;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thought, Silence, Feeling, Gaiety, Wit, Sense,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Modest demeanour, affable discourse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In words of sweetest force<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence every grosser nature gentle grew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That angel air, humble to all and kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose praise, it needs not mine, from all we find;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stood she, or sat, a grace which often threw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doubt on the gazer's mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To which the meed of highest praise was due—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er hardest hearts thy victory was sure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With arms like these, which lost I am secure.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The minds which Heaven abandons to thy reign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haply are bound in many times and ways,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But mine one only chain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its wisdom shielding me from more, obeys;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet freedom brings no joy, though that he burst.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rather I mournful ask, "Sweet pilgrim mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! what doom divine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me earliest bound to life yet frees thee first:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God, who has snatch'd thee from the world so soon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only to kindle our desires, the boon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of virtue, so complete and lofty, gave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, Love, I may deride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy future wounds, nor fear to be thy slave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In vain thy bow is bent, its bolts fall wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When closed her brilliant eyes their virtue died.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Death from thy every law my heart has freed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She who my lady was is pass'd on high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaving me free to count dull hours drag by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To solitude and sorrow still decreed."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET III.</h2> + +<h3><i>L' ardente nodo ov' io fui, d' ora in ora.</i></h3> + +<h4>ON THE DEATH OF ANOTHER LADY.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">That</span> burning toil, in which I once was caught,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While twice ten years and one I counted o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death has unloosed: like burden I ne'er bore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That grief ne'er fatal proves I now am taught.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Love, who to entangle me still sought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spread in the treacherous grass his net once more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So fed the fire with fuel as before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That my escape I hardly could have wrought.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, but that my first woes experience gave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Snarèd long since and kindled I had been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the more, as I'm become less green:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My freedom death again has come to save,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And break my bond; that flame now fades, and fails,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Gainst which nor force nor intellect prevails.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET IV.</h2> + +<h3><i>La vita fugge, e non s' arresta un' ora.</i></h3> + +<h4>PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE ARE NOW ALIKE PAINFUL TO HIM.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Life</span> passes quick, nor will a moment stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And death with hasty journeys still draws near;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the present joins my soul to tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With every past and every future day:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to look back or forward, so does prey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On this distracted breast, that sure I swear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did I not to myself some pity bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I were e'en now from all these thoughts away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Much do I muse on what of pleasures past<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This woe-worn heart has known; meanwhile, t' oppose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My passage, loud the winds around me roar.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see my bliss in port, and torn my mast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sails, my pilot faint with toil, and those<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair lights, that wont to guide me, now no more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anon., Ox., 1795.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Life</span> ever flies with course that nought may stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death follows after with gigantic stride;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ills past and present on my spirit prey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And future evils threat on every side:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span><span class="i0">Whether I backward look or forward fare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thousand ills my bosom's peace molest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And were it not that pity bids me spare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My nobler part, I from these thoughts would rest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If ever aught of sweet my heart has known,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remembrance wakes its charms, while, tempest tost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I mark the clouds that o'er my course still frown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en in the port I see the storm afar;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weary my pilot, mast and cable lost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And set for ever my fair polar star.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Dacre.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET V.</h2> + +<h3><i>Che fai? che pensi? che pur dietro guardi.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE ENCOURAGES HIS SOUL TO LIFT ITSELF TO GOD, AND TO ABANDON THE +VANITIES OF EARTH.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">What</span> dost thou? think'st thou? wherefore bend thine eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Back on the time that never shall return?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The raging fire, where once 'twas thine to burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why with fresh fuel, wretched soul, supply?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those thrilling tones, those glances of the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which one by one thy fond verse strove to adorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are fled; and—well thou knowest, poor forlorn!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To seek them here were bootless industry.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then toil not bliss so fleeting to renew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To chase a thought so fair, so faithless, cease:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou rather that unwavering good pursue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which guides to heaven; since nought below can please.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fatal for us that beauty's torturing view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Living or dead alike which desolates our peace.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrangham.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET VI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Datemi pace, o duri miei pensieri.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE COMPARES HIMSELF TO A BESIEGED CITY, AND ACCUSES HIS OWN HEART OF +TREASON.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">O tyrant</span> thoughts, vouchsafe me some repose!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sufficeth not that Love, and Death, and Fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make war all round me to my very gate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I must in me armèd hosts enclose?<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span><span class="i0">And thou, my heart, to me alone that shows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Disloyal still, what cruel guides of late<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thee find shelter, now the chosen mate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of my most mischievous and bitter foes?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love his most secret embassies in thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thee her worst results hard Fate explains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Death the memory of that blow, to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which shatters all that yet of hope remains;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thee vague thoughts themselves with error arm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thee alone I blame for all my harm.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET VII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Occhi miei, oscurato è 'l nostro sole.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE ENDEAVOURS TO FIND PEACE IN THE THOUGHT THAT SHE IS IN HEAVEN.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Mine</span> eyes! our glorious sun is veil'd in night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or set to us, to rise 'mid realms of love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There we may hail it still, and haply prove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It mourn'd that we delay'd our heavenward flight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mine ears! the music of her tones delight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those, who its harmony can best approve;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My feet! who in her track so joy'd to move.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye cannot penetrate her regions bright!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But wherefore should your wrath on me descend?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No spell of mine hath hush'd for ye the joy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of seeing, hearing, feeling, she was near:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go, war with Death—yet, rather let us bend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Him who can create—who can destroy—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bids the ready smile succeed the tear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">O my</span> sad eyes! our sun is overcast,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, rather borne to heaven, and there is shining,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Waiting our coming, and perchance repining<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At our delay; there shall we meet at last:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there, mine ears, her angel words float past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those who best understand their sweet divining;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Howe'er, my feet, unto the search inclining,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye cannot reach her in those regions vast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why, then, do ye torment me thus, for, oh!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is no fault of mine, that ye no more<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span><span class="i0">Behold, and hear, and welcome her below;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blame Death,—or rather praise Him and adore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who binds and frees, restrains and letteth go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to the weeping one can joy restore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrottesley.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET VIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Poichè la vista angelica serena.</i></h3> + +<h4>WITH HER, HIS ONLY SOLACE, IS TAKEN AWAY ALL HIS DESIRE OF LIFE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Since</span> her calm angel face, long beauty's fane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My beggar'd soul by this brief parting throws<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In darkest horrors and in deepest woes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I seek by uttering to allay my pain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Certes, just sorrow leads me to complain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This she, who is its cause, and Love too shows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No other remedy my poor heart knows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against the troubles that in life obtain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death! thou hast snatch'd her hence with hand unkind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thou, glad Earth! that fair and kindly face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now hidest from me in thy close embrace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why leave me here, disconsolate and blind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since she who of mine eyes the light has been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet, loving, bright, no more with me is seen?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET IX.</h2> + +<h3><i>S' Amor novo consiglio non n' apporta.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE DESCRIBES HIS SAD STATE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">If</span> Love to give new counsel still delay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My life must change to other scenes than these;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My troubled spirit grief and terror freeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Desire augments while all my hopes decay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus ever grows my life, by night and day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Despondent, and dismay'd, and ill at ease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Harass'd and helmless on tempestuous seas,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With no sure escort on a doubtful way.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her path a sick imagination guides,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its true light underneath—ah, no! on high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence on my heart she beams more bright than eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not on mine eyes; from them a dark veil hides<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those lovely orbs, and makes me, ere life's span<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is measured half, an old and broken man.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET X.</h2> + +<h3><i>Nell' età sua più bella e più fiorita.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE DESIRES TO DIE, THAT HIS SOUL MAY BE WITH HER, AS HIS THOUGHTS +ALREADY ARE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">E'en</span> in youth's fairest flower, when Love's dear sway<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is wont with strongest power our hearts to bind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaving on earth her fleshly veil behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My life, my Laura, pass'd from me away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Living, and fair, and free from our vile clay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From heaven she rules supreme my willing mind:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! why left me in this mortal rind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That first of peace, of sin that latest day?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As my fond thoughts her heavenward path pursue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So may my soul glad, light, and ready be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To follow her, and thus from troubles flee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whate'er delays me as worst loss I rue:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Time makes me to myself but heavier grow:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death had been sweet to-day three years ago!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Se lamentar augelli, o Verdi fronde.</i></h3> + +<h4>SHE IS EVER PRESENT TO HIM.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">If</span> the lorn bird complain, or rustling sweep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft summer airs o'er foliage waving slow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the hoarse brook come murmuring down the steep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where on the enamell'd bank I sit below<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With thoughts of love that bid my numbers flow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis then I see her, though in earth she sleep!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her, form'd in heaven! I see, and hear, and know!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Responsive sighing, weeping as I weep:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Alas," she pitying says, "ere yet the hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why hurry life away with swifter flight?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why from thy eyes this flood of sorrow pour?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No longer mourn my fate! through death my days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Become eternal! to eternal light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These eyes, which seem'd in darkness closed, I raise!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Dacre.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Where</span> the green leaves exclude the summer beam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And softly bend as balmy breezes blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where with liquid lapse the lucid stream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Across the fretted rock is heard to flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pensive I lay: when she whom earth conceals<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if still living to my eye appears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pitying Heaven her angel form reveals<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To say, "Unhappy Petrarch, dry your tears.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! why, sad lover, thus before your time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In grief and sadness should your life decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, like a blighted flower, your manly prime<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In vain and hopeless sorrow fade away?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! yield not thus to culpable despair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But raise thine eyes to heaven and think I wait thee there!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Charlotte Smith.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Moved</span> by the summer wind when all is still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The light leaves quiver on the yielding spray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sighs from its flowery bank the lucid rill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the birds answer in their sweetest lay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vain to this sickening heart these scenes appear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No form but hers can meet my tearful eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In every passing gale her voice I hear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It seems to tell me, "I have heard thy sighs.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But why," she cries, "in manhood's towering prime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In grief's dark mist thy days, inglorious, hide?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! dost thou murmur, that my span of time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has join'd eternity's unchanging tide?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yes, though I seem'd to shut mine eyes in night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They only closed to wake in everlasting light!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anne Bannerman.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Mai non fu' in parte ove sì chiar' vedessi.</i></h3> + +<h4>VAUCLUSE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Nowhere</span> before could I so well have seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her whom my soul most craves since lost to view;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nowhere in so great freedom could have been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breathing my amorous lays 'neath skies so blue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never with depths of shade so calm and green<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A valley found for lover's sigh more true;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span><span class="i0">Methinks a spot so lovely and serene<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love not in Cyprus nor in Gnidos knew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All breathes one spell, all prompts and prays that I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like them should love—the clear sky, the calm hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Winds, waters, birds, the green bough, the gay flower—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thou, beloved, who call'st me from on high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the sad memory of thine early fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pray that I hold the world and these sweet snares in hate.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Never</span> till now so clearly have I seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her whom my eyes desire, my soul still views;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never enjoy'd a freedom thus serene;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ne'er thus to heaven breathed my enamour'd muse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As in this vale sequester'd, darkly green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where my soothed heart its pensive thought pursues,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nought intrusively may intervene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all my sweetly-tender sighs renews.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Love and meditation, faithful shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Receive the breathings of my grateful breast!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love not in Cyprus found so sweet a nest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As this, by pine and arching laurel made!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The birds, breeze, water, branches, whisper love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Herb, flower, and verdant path the lay symphonious move.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Capel Lofft.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Quante fiate al mio dolce ricetto.</i></h3> + +<h4>HER FORM STILL HAUNTS HIM IN SOLITUDE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">How</span> oft, all lonely, to my sweet retreat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From man and from myself I strive to fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bathing with dewy eyes each much-loved seat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And swelling every blossom with a sigh!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How oft, deep musing on my woes complete,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Along the dark and silent glens I lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thought again that dearest form to meet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By death possess'd, and therefore wish to die!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How oft I see her rising from the tide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Sorga, like some goddess of the flood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or pensive wander by the river's side;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or tread the flowery mazes of the wood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright as in life; while angel pity throws<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er her fair face the impress of my woes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Merivale.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET XIV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Alma felice, che sovente torni.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE THANKS HER THAT FROM TIME TO TIME SHE RETURNS TO CONSOLE HIM WITH HER +PRESENCE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">O blessed</span> spirit! who dost oft return,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ministering comfort to my nights of woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From eyes which Death, relenting in his blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has lit with all the lustres of the morn:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How am I gladden'd, that thou dost not scorn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er my dark days thy radiant beam to throw!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus do I seem again to trace below<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy beauties, hovering o'er their loved sojourn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There now, thou seest, where long of thee had been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My sprightlier strain, of thee my plaint I swell—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thee!—oh, no! of mine own sorrows keen.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One only solace cheers the wretched scene:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By many a sign I know thy coming well—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy step, thy voice and look, and robe of favour'd green.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrangham.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">When</span> welcome slumber locks my torpid frame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see thy spirit in the midnight dream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thine eyes that still in living lustre beam:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all but frail mortality the same.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! then, from earth and all its sorrows free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Methinks I meet thee in each former scene:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once the sweet shelter of a heart serene;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now vocal only while I weep for thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thee!—ah, no! From human ills secure.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy hallow'd soul exults in endless day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis I who linger on the toilsome way:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No balm relieves the anguish I endure;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save the fond feeble hope that thou art near<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To soothe my sufferings with an angel's tear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anne Bannerman.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Discolorato hai, Morte, il più bel volto.</i></h3> + +<h4>HER PRESENCE IN VISIONS IS HIS ONLY CONSOLATION.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Death</span>, thou of fairest face hast 'reft the hue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And quench'd in deep thick night the brightest eyes,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span><span class="i0">And loosed from all its tenderest, closest ties<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A spirit to faith and ardent virtue true.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In one short hour to all my bliss adieu!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hush'd are those accents worthy of the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unearthly sounds, whose loss awakes my sighs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all I hear is grief, and all I view.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet oft, to soothe this lone and anguish'd heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By pity led, she comes my couch to seek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor find I other solace here below:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if her thrilling tones my strain could speak<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And look divine, with Love's enkindling dart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not man's sad breast alone, but fiercest beasts should glow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrangham.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Thou</span> hast despoil'd the fairest face e'er seen—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou hast extinguish'd, Death, the brightest eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And snapp'd the cord in sunder of the ties<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which bound that spirit brilliantly serene:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In one short moment all I love has been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Torn from me, and dark silence now supplies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those gentle tones; my heart, which bursts with sighs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor sight nor sound from weariness can screen:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet doth my lady, by compassion led,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Return to solace my unfailing woe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth yields no other balm:—oh! could I tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How bright she seems, and how her accents flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not unto man alone Love's flames would spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But even bears and tigers share the spell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrottesley.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XVI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Sì breve è 'l tempo e 'l pensier sì veloce.</i></h3> + +<h4>THE REMEMBRANCE OF HER CHASES SADNESS FROM HIS HEART.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">So</span> brief the time, so fugitive the thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which Laura yields to me, though dead, again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Small medicine give they to my giant pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still, as I look on her, afflicts me nought.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love, on the rack who holds me as he brought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fears when he sees her thus my soul retain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where still the seraph face and sweet voice reign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which first his tyranny and triumph wrought.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span><span class="i0">As rules a mistress in her home of right,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From my dark heavy heart her placid brow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dispels each anxious thought and omen drear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul, which bears but ill such dazzling light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Says with a sigh: "O blessed day! when thou<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Didst ope with those dear eyes thy passage here!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XVII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Nè mai pietosa madre al caro figlio.</i></h3> + +<h4>HER COUNSEL ALONE AFFORDS HIM RELIEF.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Ne'er</span> did fond mother to her darling son,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or zealous spouse to her belovèd mate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sage counsel give, in perilous estate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With such kind caution, in such tender tone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As gives that fair one, who, oft looking down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On my hard exile from her heavenly seat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With wonted kindness bends upon my fate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her brow, as friend or parent would have done:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now chaste affection prompts her speech, now fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Instructive speech, that points what several ways<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To seek or shun, while journeying here below;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then all the ills of life she counts, and prays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul ere long may quit this terrene sphere:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by her words alone I'm soothed and freed from woe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Ne'er</span> to the son, in whom her age is blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The anxious mother—nor to her loved lord<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wedded dame, impending ill to ward,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With careful sighs so faithful counsel press'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As she, who, from her high eternal rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bending—as though my exile she deplored—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all her wonted tenderness restored,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And softer pity on her brow impress'd!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now with a mother's fears, and now as one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who loves with chaste affection, in her speech<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She points what to pursue and what to shun!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our years retracing of long, various grief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wooing my soul at higher good to reach,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And while she speaks, my bosom finds relief!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Dacre.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET XVIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Se quell' aura soave de' sospiri.</i></h3> + +<h4>SHE RETURNS IN PITY TO COMFORT HIM WITH HER ADVICE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">If</span> that soft breath of sighs, which, from above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hear of her so long my lady here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, now in heaven, yet seems, as of our sphere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To breathe, and move, to feel, and live, and love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I could but paint, my passionate verse should move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Warmest desires; so jealous, yet so dear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er me she bends and breathes, without a fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That on the way I tire, or turn, or rove.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She points the path on high: and I who know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her chaste anxiety and earnest prayer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In whispers sweet, affectionate, and low,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Train, at her will, my acts and wishes there:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And find such sweetness in her words alone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As with their power should melt the hardest stone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XIX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Sennuccio mio, benchè doglioso e solo.</i></h3> + +<h4>ON THE DEATH OF HIS FRIEND SENNUCCIO.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">O friend</span>! though left a wretched pilgrim here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By thee though left in solitude to roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet can I mourn that thou hast found thy home,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On angel pinions borne, in bright career?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now thou behold'st the ever-turning sphere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stars that journey round the concave dome;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now thou behold'st how short of truth we come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How blind our judgment, and thine own how clear!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thou art happy soothes my soul oppress'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O friend! salute from me the laurell'd band,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Guitton and Cino, Dante, and the rest:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tell my Laura, friend, that here I stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wasting in tears, scarce of myself possess'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While her blest beauties all my thoughts command.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Morehead.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Sennuccio</span> mine! I yet myself console,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though thou hast left me, mournful and alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For eagerly to heaven thy spirit has flown,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span><span class="i0">Free from the flesh which did so late enrol;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thence, at one view, commands it either pole,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The planets and their wondrous courses known,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And human sight how brief and doubtful shown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus with thy bliss my sorrow I control.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One favour—in the third of those bright spheres.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Guido and Dante, Cino, too, salute,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Franceschin and all that tuneful train,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tell my lady how I live, in tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Savage and lonely as some forest brute)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her sweet face and fair works when memory brings again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XX.</h2> + +<h3><i>I' ho pien di sospir quest' aer tutto.</i></h3> + +<h4>VAUCLUSE HAS BECOME TO HIM A SCENE OF PAIN.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">To</span> every sound, save sighs, this air is mute,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When from rude rocks, I view the smiling land<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where she was born, who held my life in hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From its first bud till blossoms turn'd to fruit:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To heaven she's gone, and I'm left destitute<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To mourn her loss, and cast around in pain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These wearied eyes, which, seeking her in vain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where'er they turn, o'erflow with grief acute;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's not a root or stone amongst these hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor branch nor verdant leaf 'midst these soft glades,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor in the valley flowery herbage grows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor liquid drop the sparkling fount distils,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor savage beast that shelters in these shades,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But knows how sharp my grief—how deep my woes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrottesley.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XXI.</h2> + +<h3><i>L' alma mia fiamma oltra le belle bella.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE ACKNOWLEDGES THE WISDOM OF HER PAST COLDNESS TO HIM.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">My</span> noble flame—more fair than fairest are<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom kind Heaven here has e'er in favour shown—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before her time, alas for me! has flown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To her celestial home and parent star.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span><span class="i0">I seem but now to wake; wherein a bar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She placed on passion 'twas for good alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As, with a gentle coldness all her own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She waged with my hot wishes virtuous war.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My thanks on her for such wise care I press,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That with her lovely face and sweet disdain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She check'd my love and taught me peace to gain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O graceful artifice! deserved success!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I with my fond verse, with her bright eyes she,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glory in her, she virtue got in me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XXII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Come va 'l mondo! or mi diletta e piace.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE BLESSES LAURA FOR HER VIRTUE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">How</span> goes the world! now please me and delight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What most displeased me: now I see and feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My trials were vouchsafed me for my weal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That peace eternal should brief war requite.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O hopes and wishes, ever fond and slight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In lovers most, which oftener harm than heal!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Worse had she yielded to my warm appeal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom Heaven has welcomed from the grave's dark night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But blind love and my dull mind so misled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sought to trespass even by main force<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where to have won my precious soul were dead.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blessèd be she who shaped mine erring course<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To better port, by turns who curb'd and lured<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My bold and passionate will where safety was secured.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Alas</span>! this changing world! my present joy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was once my grief's dark source, and now I feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My sufferings pass'd were but my soul to heal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its fearful warfare—peace's soft decoy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poor human wishes! Hope, thou fragile toy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To lovers oft! my woe had met its seal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had she but hearken'd to my love's appeal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, throned in heaven, hath fled this world's alloy.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span><span class="i0">My blinded love, and yet more stubborn mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Resistless urged me to my bosom's shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where my soul's destruction I had met:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But blessèd she who bade life's current find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A holier course, who still'd my spirit's flame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With gentle hope that soul might triumph yet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XXIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Quand' io veggio dal ciel scender l' Aurora.</i></h3> + +<h4>MORN RENDERS HIS GRIEF MORE POIGNANT.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">When</span> from the heavens I see Aurora beam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With rosy-tinctured cheek and golden hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love bids my face the hue of sadness wear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"There Laura dwells!" I with a sigh exclaim.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou knowest well the hour that shall redeem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Happy Tithonus, thy much-valued fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But not to her I love can I repair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till death extinguishes this vital flame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet need'st thou not thy separation mourn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Certain at evening's close is the return<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of her, who doth not thy hoar locks despise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But my nights sad, my days are render'd drear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By her, who bore my thoughts to yonder skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And only a remember'd name left here.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">When</span> from the east appears the purple ray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of morn arising, and salutes the eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wear the night in watching for the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus speaks my heart: "In yonder opening skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In yonder fields of bliss, my Laura lies!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou sun, that know'st to wheel thy burning car,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each eve, to the still surface of the deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there within thy Thetis' bosom sleep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! could I thus my Laura's presence share,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How would my patient heart its sorrows bear!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adored in life, and honour'd in the dust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She that in this fond breast for ever reigns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has pass'd the gulph of death!—To deck that bust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No trace of her but the sad name remains.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Woodhouselee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET XXIV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Gli occhi di ch' io parlai sì caldamente.</i></h3> + +<h4>HIS LYRE IS NOW ATTUNED ONLY TO WOE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> eyes, the face, the limbs of heavenly mould,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So long the theme of my impassion'd lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Charms which so stole me from myself away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That strange to other men the course I hold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The crispèd locks of pure and lucid gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lightning of the angelic smile, whose ray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To earth could all of paradise convey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A little dust are now!—to feeling cold!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet I live!—but that I live bewail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sunk the loved light that through the tempest led<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My shatter'd bark, bereft of mast and sail:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hush'd be for aye the song that breathed love's fire!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lost is the theme on which my fancy fed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And turn'd to mourning my once tuneful lyre.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Dacre.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> eyes, the arms, the hands, the feet, the face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which made my thoughts and words so warm and wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I was almost from myself exiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And render'd strange to all the human race;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lucid locks that curl'd in golden grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lightening beam that, when my angel smiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Diffused o'er earth an Eden heavenly mild;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What are they now? Dust, lifeless dust, alas!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I live on, a melancholy slave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Toss'd by the tempest in a shatter'd bark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reft of the lovely light that cheer'd the wave.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flame of genius, too, extinct and dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here let my lays of love conclusion have;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mute be the lyre: tears best my sorrows mark.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Morehead.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Those</span> eyes whose living lustre shed the heat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of bright meridian day; the heavenly mould<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that angelic form; the hands, the feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The taper arms, the crispèd locks of gold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Charms that the sweets of paradise enfold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The radiant lightning of her angel-smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every grace that could the sense beguile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are now a pile of ashes, deadly cold!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span><span class="i0">And yet I bear to drag this cumbrous chain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That weighs my soul to earth—to bliss or pain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alike insensible:—her anchor lost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The frail dismantled bark, all tempest-toss'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Surveys no port of comfort—closed the scene<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of life's delusive joys;—and dry the Muse's vein.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Woodhouselee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Those</span> eyes, sweet subject of my rapturous strain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The arms, the hands, the feet, that lovely face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By which I from myself divided was,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And parted from the vulgar and the vain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those crispèd locks, pure gold unknown to stain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that angelic smile the lightening grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which wont to make this earth a heavenly place!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dissolved to senseless ashes now remain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet I live, to endless grief a prey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Reft of that star, my loved, my certain guide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Disarm'd my bark, while tempests round me blow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stop, then, my verse—dry is the fountain's tide.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That fed my genius! Cease, my amorous lay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Changed is my lyre, attuned to endless woe!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Charlemont.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XXV.</h2> + +<h3><i>S' io avessi pensato che sì care.</i></h3> + +<h4>HIS POEMS WERE WRITTEN ONLY TO SOOTHE HIS OWN GRIEF: OTHERWISE HE WOULD +HAVE LABOURED TO MAKE THEM MORE DESERVING OF THE FAME THEY HAVE +ACQUIRED.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Had</span> I e'er thought that to the world so dear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The echo of my sighs would be in rhyme,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would have made them in my sorrow's prime<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rarer in style, in number more appear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since she is dead my muse who prompted here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">First in my thoughts and feelings at all time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All power is lost of tender or sublime<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My rough dark verse to render soft and clear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And certes, my sole study and desire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was but—I knew not how—in those long years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To unburthen my sad heart, not fame acquire.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wept, but wish'd no honour in my tears.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fain would I now taste joy; but that high fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silent and weary, calls me to her there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Oh</span>! had I deem'd my sighs, in numbers rung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could e'er have gain'd the world's approving smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I had awoke my rhymes in choicer style,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My sorrow's birth more tunefully had sung:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But she is gone whose inspiration hung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On all my words, and did my thoughts beguile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My numbers harsh seem'd melody awhile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now she is mute who o'er them music flung.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor fame, nor other incense, then I sought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But how to quell my heart's o'erwhelming grief;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wept, but sought no honour in my tear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But could the world's fair suffrage now be bought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twere joy to gain, but that my hour is brief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her lofty spirit waves me to her bier.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XXVI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Soleasi nel mio cor star bella e viva.</i></h3> + +<h4>SINCE HER DEATH, NOTHING IS LEFT TO HIM BUT GRIEF.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">She</span> stood within my heart, warm, young, alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As in a humble home a lady bright;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By her last flight not merely am I grown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mortal, but dead, and she an angel quite.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A soul whence every bliss and hope is flown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love shorn and naked of its own glad light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might melt with pity e'en a heart of stone:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But none there is to tell their grief or write;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These plead within, where deaf is every ear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Except mine own, whose power its griefs so mar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That nought is left me save to suffer here.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Verily we but dust and shadows are!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Verily blind and evil is our will!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Verily human hopes deceive us still!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">'Mid</span> life's bright glow she dwelt within my soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sovereign tenant of a humble cell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when for heaven she bade the world farewell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death seem'd to grasp me in his fierce control:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My wither'd love torn from its brightening goal—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul without its treasure doom'd to dwell—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could I but trace their grief, their sorrow tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A stone might wake, and fain with them condole.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span><span class="i0">They inly mourn, where none can hear their woe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save I alone, who too with grief oppress'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can only soothe my anguish by my sighs:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life is indeed a shadowy dream below;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our blind desires by Reason's chain unbless'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst Hope in treacherous wither'd fragments lies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XXVII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Soleano i miei pensier soavemente.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE COMFORTS HIMSELF WITH THE HOPE THAT SHE HEARS HIM.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">My</span> thoughts in fair alliance and array<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hold converse on the theme which most endears:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pity approaches and repents delay:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en now she speaks of us, or hopes, or fears.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since the last day, the terrible hour when Fate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This present life of her fair being reft,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From heaven she sees, and hears, and feels our state:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No other hope than this to me is left.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O fairest miracle! most fortunate mind!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O unexampled beauty, stately, rare!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence lent too late, too soon, alas! rejoin'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hers is the crown and palm of good deeds there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who to the world so eminent and clear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made her great virtue and my passion here.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">My</span> thoughts were wont with sentiment so sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To meditate their object in my breast—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps her sympathies my wishes meet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With gentlest pity, seeing me distress'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor when removed to that her sacred rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The present life changed for that blest retreat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vanish'd in air my former visions fleet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My hopes, my tears, in vain to her address'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O lovely miracle! O favour'd mind!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beauty beyond example high and rare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So soon return'd from us to whence it came!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There the immortal wreaths her temples bind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sacred palm is hers: on earth so fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who shone by her own virtues and my flame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Capel Lofft.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET XXVIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>I' mi soglio accusare, ed or mi scuso.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE GLORIES IN HIS LOVE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">I now</span> excuse myself who wont to blame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, more, I prize and even hold me dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For this fair prison, this sweet-bitter shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which I have borne conceal'd so many a year.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O envious Fates! that rare and golden frame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rudely ye broke, where lightly twined and clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yarn of my bonds, the threads of world-wide fame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which lovely 'gainst his wont made Death appear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For not a soul was ever in its days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of joy, of liberty, of life so fond,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That would not change for her its natural ways,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Preferring thus to suffer and despond,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than, fed by hope, to sing in others' praise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Content to die, or live in such a bond.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XXIX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Due gran nemiche insieme erano aggiunte.</i></h3> + +<h4>THE UNION OF BEAUTY AND VIRTUE IS DISSOLVED BY HER DEATH.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Two</span> mortal foes in one fair breast combined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beauty and Virtue, in such peace allied<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ne'er rebellion ruffled that pure mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in rare union dwelt they side by side;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By Death they now are shatter'd and disjoin'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One is in heaven, its glory and its pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One under earth, her brilliant eyes now blind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence stings of love once issued far and wide.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That winning air, that rare discourse and meek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Surely from heaven inspired, that gentle glance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which wounded my poor heart, and wins it still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are gone; if I am slow her road to seek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hope her fair and graceful name perchance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To consecrate with this worn weary quill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Within</span> one mortal shrine two foes had met—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beauty and Virtue—yet they dwelt so bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ne'er within the soul did they excite<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rebellious thought, their union might beget:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span><span class="i0">But, parted to fulfil great nature's debt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One blooms in heaven, exulting in its height;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its twin on earth doth rest, from whose veil'd night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more those eyes of love man's soul can fret.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That speech by Heaven inspired, so humbly wise—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That graceful air—her look so winning, meek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That woke and kindles still my bosom's pain—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They all have fled; but if to gain her skies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I tardy seem, my weary pen would seek<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For her blest name a consecrated reign!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XXX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Quand' io mi volgo indietro a mirar gli anni.</i></h3> + +<h4>THE REMEMBRANCE OF THE PAST ENHANCES HIS MISERY.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">When</span> I look back upon the many years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which in their flight my best thoughts have entomb'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And spent the fire, that, spite her ice, consumed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And finish'd the repose so full of tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Broken the faith which Love's young dream endears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the two parts of all my blessing doom'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This low in earth, while heaven has that resumed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lost the guerdon of my pains and fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wake, and feel me to the bitter wind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So bare, I envy the worst lot I see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Self-terror and heart-grief on me so wait.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Death, O Fate, O Fortune, stars unkind!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O day for ever dark and drear to me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How have ye sunk me in this abject state!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">When</span> memory turns to gaze on time gone by<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Which in its flight hath arm'd e'en thought with wings),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to my troubled rest a period brings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quells, too, the flame which long could ice defy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when I mark Love's promise wither'd lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That treasure parted which my bosom wrings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(For she in heaven, her shrine to nature clings),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst thus my toils' reward she doth deny;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I then awake and feel bereaved indeed!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The darkest fate on earth seems bliss to mine—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So much I fear myself, and dread its woe!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Fortune!—Death! O star! O fate decreed!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span><span class="i0">O bitter day! that yet must sweetly shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! too surely thou hast laid me low!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XXXI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Ov' è la fronte che con picciol cenno.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE ENUMERATES AND EULOGISES THE GRACES OF LAURA.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Where</span> is the brow whose gentlest beckonings led<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My raptured heart at will, now here, now there?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the twin stars, lights of this lower sphere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which o'er my darkling path their radiance shed?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where is true worth, and wit, and wisdom fled?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The courteous phrase, the melting accent, where?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, group'd in one rich form, the beauties rare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which long their magic influence o'er me shed?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where is the shade, within whose sweet recess<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My wearied spirit still forgot its sighs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all my thoughts their constant record found?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, where is she, my life's sole arbitress?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, wretched world! and wretched ye, mine eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Of her pure light bereft) which aye with tears are drown'd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrangham.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Where</span> is that face, whose slightest air could move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My trembling heart, and strike the springs of love?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That heaven, where two fair stars, with genial ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shed their kind influence on life's dim way?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where are that science, sense, and worth confess'd?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That speech by virtue, by the graces dress'd?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where are those beauties, where those charms combined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That caused this long captivity of mind?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the dear shade of all that once was fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The source, the solace, of each amorous care—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart's sole sovereign, Nature's only boast?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Lost to the world, to me for ever lost!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Langhorne.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XXXII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Quanta invidia ti porto, avara terra.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE ENVIES EARTH, HEAVEN, AND DEATH THEIR POSSESSION OF HIS TREASURE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">O earth</span>, whose clay-cold mantle shrouds that face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And veils those eyes that late so brightly shone,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span><span class="i0">Whence all that gave delight on earth was known,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How much I envy thee that harsh embrace!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O heaven, that in thy airy courts confined<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That purest spirit, when from earth she fled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sought the mansions of the righteous dead;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How envious, thus to leave my panting soul behind!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O angels, that in your seraphic choir<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Received her sister-soul, and now enjoy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still present, those delights without alloy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which my fond heart must still in vain desire!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In her I lived—in her my life decays;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet envious Fate denies to end my hapless days.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Woodhouselee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">What</span> envy of the greedy earth I bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That holds from me within its cold embrace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The light, the meaning, of that angel face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On which to gaze could soften e'en despair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What envy of the saints, in realms so fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who eager seem'd, from that bright form of grace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spirit pure to summon to its place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amidst those joys, which few can hope to share;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What envy of the blest in heaven above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With whom she dwells in sympathies divine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Denied to me on earth, though sought in sighs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oh! what envy of stern Death I prove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That with her life has ta'en the light of mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet calls me not,—though fixed and cold those eyes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrottesley.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XXXIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Valle che d' lamenti miei se' piena.</i></h3> + +<h4>ON HIS RETURN TO VAUCLUSE AFTER LAURA'S DEATH.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Valley</span>, which long hast echoed with my cries;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stream, which my flowing tears have often fed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beasts, fluttering birds, and ye who in the bed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Cabrieres' wave display your speckled dyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Air, hush'd to rest and soften'd by my sighs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear path, whose mazes lone and sad I tread;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hill of delight—though now delight is fled—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To rove whose haunts Love still my foot decoys;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span><span class="i0">Well I retain your old unchanging face!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Myself how changed! in whom, for joy's light throng,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Infinite woes their constant mansion find!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here bloom'd my bliss: and I your tracks retrace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To mark whence upward to her heaven she sprung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaving her beauteous spoil, her robe of flesh behind!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrangham.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Ye</span> vales, made vocal by my plaintive lay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye streams, embitter'd with the tears of love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye tenants of the sweet melodious grove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye tribes that in the grass fringed streamlet play;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye tepid gales, to which my sighs convey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A softer warmth; ye flowery plains, that move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reflection sad; ye hills, where yet I rove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since Laura there first taught my steps to stray;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You, you are still the same! How changed, alas,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Am I! who, from a state of life so blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Am now the gloomy dwelling-place of woe!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas here I saw my love: here still I trace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her parting steps, when she her mortal vest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cast to the earth, and left these scenes below.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anon.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XXXIV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Levommi il mio pensier in parte ov' era.</i></h3> + +<h4>SOARING IN IMAGINATION TO HEAVEN, HE MEETS LAURA, AND IS HAPPY.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Fond</span> fancy raised me to the spot, where strays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She, whom I seek but find on earth no more:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, fairer still and humbler than before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw her, in the third heaven's blessèd maze.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She took me by the hand, and "Thou shalt trace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If hope not errs," she said, "this happy shore:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I, I am she, thy breast with slights who tore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ere its evening closed my day's brief space.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What human heart conceives, my joys exceed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thee only I expect, and (what remain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Below) the charms, once objects of thy love."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why ceased she? Ah! my captive hand why freed?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such of her soft and hallow'd tones the chain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From that delightful heaven my soul could scarcely move.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrangham.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Thither</span> my ecstatic thought had rapt me, where<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She dwells, whom still on earth I seek in vain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there, with those whom the third heavens contain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw her, much more kind, and much more fair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My hand she took, and said: "Within this sphere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If hope deceive me not, thou shalt again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With me reside: who caused thy mortal pain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Am I, and even in summer closed my year.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My bliss no human thought can understand:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thee only I await; and, that erewhile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You held so dear, the veil I left behind."—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She ceased—ah why? Why did she loose my hand?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For oh! her hallow'd words, her roseate smile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In heaven had well nigh fix'd my ravish'd mind!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Charlemont.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XXXV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Amor che meco al buon tempo ti stavi.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE VENTS HIS SORROW TO ALL WHO WITNESSED HIS FORMER FELICITY.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Love</span>, that in happier days wouldst meet me here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Along these meads that nursed our kindred strains;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that old debt to clear which still remains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet converse with the stream and me wouldst share:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye flowers, leaves, grass, woods, grots, rills, gentle air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Low valleys, lofty hills, and sunny plains:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The harbour where I stored my love-sick pains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all my various chance, my racking care:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye playful inmates of the greenwood shade;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye nymphs, and ye that in the waves pursue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That life its cool and grassy bottom lends:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My days were once so fair; now dark and dread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As death that makes them so. Thus the world through<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On each as soon as born his fate attends.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anon., Ox., 1795.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">On</span> these green banks in happier days I stray'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Love, who whisper'd many a tender tale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the glad waters, winding through the dale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heard the sweet eloquence fond Love display'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You, purpled plain, cool grot, and arching glade;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye hills, ye streams, where plays the silken gale;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span><span class="i0">Ye pathless wilds, you rock-encircled vale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which oft have beard the tender plaints I made;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye blue-hair'd nymphs, who ceaseless revel keep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the cool bosom of the crystal deep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye woodland maids who climb the mountain's brow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye mark'd how joy once wing'd each hour so gay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, mark how sad each hour now wears away!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So fate with human bliss blends human woe!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anon. 1777.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XXXVI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Mentre che 'l cor dagli amorosi vermi.</i></h3> + +<h4>HAD SHE NOT DIED SO EARLY, HE WOULD HAVE LEARNED TO PRAISE HER MORE +WORTHILY.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">While</span> on my heart the worms consuming prey'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Love, and I with all his fire was caught;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The steps of my fair wild one still I sought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To trace o'er desert mountains as she stray'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And much I dared in bitter strains to upbraid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Both Love and her, whom I so cruel thought;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But rude was then my genius, and untaught<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My rhymes, while weak and new the ideas play'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dead is that fire; and cold its ashes lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In one small tomb; which had it still grown on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en to old age, as oft by others felt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arm'd with the power of rhyme, which wretched I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en now disclaim, my riper strains had won<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en stones to burst, and in soft sorrows melt.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anon., Ox., 1795.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XXXVII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Anima bella, da quel nodo sciolta.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE PRAYS LAURA TO LOOK DOWN UPON HIM FROM HEAVEN.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Bright</span> spirit, from those earthly bonds released,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The loveliest ever wove in Nature's loom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From thy bright skies compassionate the gloom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shrouding my life that once of joy could taste!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each false suggestion of thy heart has ceased,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That whilom bade thee stem disdain assume;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span><span class="i0">Now, all secure, heaven's habitant become,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">List to my sighs, thy looks upon me cast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mark the huge rock, whence Sorga's waters rise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And see amidst its waves and borders stray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One fed by grief and memory that ne'er dies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But from that spot, oh! turn thy sight away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where I first loved, where thy late dwelling lies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That in thy friends thou nought ungrateful may'st survey!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Blest</span> soul, that, loosen'd from those bands, art flown—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bands than which Nature never form'd more fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look down and mark how changed to carking care<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From gladdest thoughts I pass my days unknown.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each false opinion from my heart is gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That once to me made thy sweet sight appear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Most harsh and bitter; now secure from fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here turn thine eyes, and listen to my moan.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turn to this rock whence Sorga's waters rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mark, where through the mead its waters flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One who of thee still mindful ceaseless sighs:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But leave me there unsought for, where to glow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our flames began, and where thy mansion lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest thou in thine shouldst see what grieved thee so.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anon., Ox., 1795.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XXXVIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Quel sol che mi mostrava il cammin destro.</i></h3> + +<h4>LOVE AND HE SEEK LAURA, BUT FIND NO TRACES OF HER EXCEPT IN THE SKY.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">That</span> sun, which ever signall'd the right road,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where flash'd her own bright feet, to heaven to fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Returning to the Eternal Sun on high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has quench'd my light, and cast her earthly load;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus, lone and weary, my oft steps have trode,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As some wild animal, the sere woods by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fleeing with heavy heart and downcast eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world which since to me a blank has show'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still with fond search each well-known spot I pace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where once I saw her: Love, who grieves me so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My only guide, directs me where to go.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span><span class="i0">I find her not: her every sainted trace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seeks, in bright realms above, her parent star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From grisly Styx and black Avernus far.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XXXIX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Io pensava assai destro esser sull' ale.</i></h3> + +<h4>UNWORTHY TO HAVE LOOKED UPON HER, HE IS STILL MORE SO TO ATTEMPT HER +PRAISES.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">I thought</span> me apt and firm of wing to rise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Not of myself, but him who trains us all)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In song, to numbers fitting the fair thrall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which Love once fasten'd and which Death unties.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slow now and frail, the task too sorely tries,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a great weight upon a sucker small:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Who leaps," I said, "too high may midway fall:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Man ill accomplishes what Heaven denies."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So far the wing of genius ne'er could fly—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poor style like mine and faltering tongue much less—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As Nature rose, in that rare fabric, high.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love follow'd Nature with such full success<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In gracing her, no claim could I advance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even to look, and yet was bless'd by chance.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XL.</h2> + +<h3><i>Quella per cui con Sorga ho cangiat' Arno.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE ATTEMPTS TO PAINT HER BEAUTIES, BUT NOT HER VIRTUES.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">She</span>, for whose sake fair Arno I resign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for free poverty court-affluence spurn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has known to sour the precious sweets to turn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On which I lived, for which I burn and pine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though since, the vain attempt has oft been mine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That future ages from my song should learn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her heavenly beauties, and like me should burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My poor verse fails her sweet face to define.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gifts, though all her own, which others share,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which were but stars her bright sky scatter'd o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haply of these to sing e'en I might dare;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when to the diviner part I soar,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span><span class="i0">To the dull world a brief and brilliant light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Courage and wit and art are baffled quite.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XLI.</h2> + +<h3><i>L' alto e novo miracol ch' a dì nostri.</i></h3> + +<h4>IT IS IMPOSSIBLE FOR HIM TO DESCRIBE HER EXCELLENCES.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> wonder, high and new, that, in our days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dawn'd on the world, yet would not there remain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which heaven but show'd to us to snatch again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Better to blazon its own starry ways;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That to far times I her should paint and praise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love wills, who prompted first my passionate strain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now wit, leisure, pen, page, ink in vain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the fond task a thousand times he sways.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My slow rhymes struggle not to life the while;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feel it, and whoe'er to-day below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or speak or write of love will prove it so.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who justly deems the truth beyond all style,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here silent let him muse, and sighing say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blessèd the eyes who saw her living day!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XLII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Zefiro torna, e 'l bel tempo rimena.</i></h3> + +<h4>RETURNING SPRING BRINGS TO HIM ONLY INCREASE OF GRIEF.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Zephyr</span> returns; and in his jocund train<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brings verdure, flowers, and days serenely clear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brings Progne's twitter, Philomel's lorn strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With every bloom that paints the vernal year;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cloudless the skies, and smiling every plain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With joyance flush'd, Jove views his daughter dear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love's genial power pervades earth, air, and main;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All beings join'd in fond accord appear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But nought to me returns save sorrowing sighs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forced from my inmost heart by her who bore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those keys which govern'd it unto the skies:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blossom'd meads, the choristers of air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet courteous damsels can delight no more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each face looks savage, and each prospect drear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> spring returns, with all her smiling train;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wanton Zephyrs breathe along the bowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The glistening dew-drops hang on bending flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tender green light-shadows o'er the plain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thou, sweet Philomel, renew'st thy strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breathing thy wild notes to the midnight grove:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All nature feels the kindling fire of love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The vital force of spring's returning reign.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But not to me returns the cheerful spring!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O heart! that know'st no period to thy grief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor Nature's smiles to thee impart relief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor change of mind the varying seasons bring:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She, she is gone! All that e'er pleased before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adieu! ye birds ye flowers, ye fields, that charm no more!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Woodhouselee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Returning</span> Zephyr the sweet season brings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With flowers and herbs his breathing train among,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Progne twitters, Philomela sings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leading the many-colour'd spring along;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Serene the sky, and fair the laughing field,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jove views his daughter with complacent brow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth, sea, and air, to Love's sweet influence yield,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And creatures all his magic power avow:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But nought, alas! for me the season brings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save heavier sighs, from my sad bosom drawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By her who can from heaven unlock its springs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And warbling birds and flower-bespangled lawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fairest acts of ladies fair and mild,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A desert seem, and its brute tenants wild.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Dacre.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Zephyr</span> returns and winter's rage restrains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With herbs, with flowers, his blooming progeny!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now Progne prattles, Philomel complains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And spring assumes her robe of various dye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The meadows smile, heaven glows, nor Jove disdains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To view his daughter with delighted eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Love through universal nature reigns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And life is fill'd with amorous sympathy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But grief, not joy, returns to me forlorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sighs, which from my inmost heart proceed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For her, by whom to heaven its keys were borne.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span><span class="i0">The song of birds, the flower-enamell'd mead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And graceful acts, which most the fair adorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A desert seem, and beasts of savage prey!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Charlemont.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XLIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Quel rosignuol che sì soave piagne.</i></h3> + +<h4>THE SONG OF THE NIGHTINGALE REMINDS HIM OF HIS UNHAPPY LOT.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Yon</span> nightingale, whose bursts of thrilling tone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pour'd in soft sorrow from her tuneful throat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haply her mate or infant brood bemoan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Filling the fields and skies with pity's note;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here lingering till the long long night is gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awakes the memory of my cruel lot—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I my wretched self must wail alone:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fool, who secure from death an angel thought!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O easy duped, who thus on hope relies!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who would have deem'd the darkness, which appears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From orbs more brilliant than the sun should rise?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now know I, made by sad experience wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Fate would teach me by a life of tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On wings how fleeting fast all earthly rapture flies!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrangham.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Yon</span> nightingale, whose strain so sweetly flows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mourning her ravish'd young or much-loved mate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A soothing charm o'er all the valleys throws<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And skies, with notes well tuned to her sad state:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the night she seems my kindred woes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With me to weep and on my sorrows wait;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sorrows that from my own fond fancy rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who deem'd a goddess could not yield to fate.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How easy to deceive who sleeps secure!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who could have thought that to dull earth would turn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those eyes that as the sun shone bright and pure?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! now what Fortune wills I see full sure:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That loathing life, yet living I should see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How few its joys, how little they endure!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anon., Ox., 1795.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">That</span> nightingale, who now melodious mourns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps his children or his consort dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heavens with sweetness fills; the distant bourns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Resound his notes, so piteous and so clear;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span><span class="i0">With me all night he weeps, and seems by turns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To upbraid me with my fault and fortune drear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose fond and foolish heart, where grief sojourns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A goddess deem'd exempt from mortal fear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Security, how easy to betray!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The radiance of those eyes who could have thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should e'er become a senseless clod of clay?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Living, and weeping, late I've learn'd to say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That here below—Oh, knowledge dearly bought!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whate'er delights will scarcely last a day!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Charlemont.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XLIV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Nè per sereno cielo ir vaghe stelle.</i></h3> + +<h4>NOTHING THAT NATURE OFFERS CAN AFFORD HIM CONSOLATION.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Not</span> skies serene, with glittering stars inlaid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor gallant ships o'er tranquil ocean dancing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor gay careering knights in arms advancing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor wild herds bounding through the forest glade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor tidings new of happiness delay'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor poesie, Love's witchery enhancing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor lady's song beside clear fountain glancing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In beauty's pride, with chastity array'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor aught of lovely, aught of gay in show,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall touch my heart, now cold within her tomb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who was erewhile my life and light below!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So heavy—tedious—sad—my days unblest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I, with strong desire, invoke Death's gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her to behold, whom ne'er to have seen were best!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Dacre.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Nor</span> stars bright glittering through the cool still air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor proud ships riding on the tranquil main,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor armed knights light pricking o'er the plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor deer in glades disporting void of care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor tidings hoped by recent messenger,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor tales of love in high and gorgeous strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor by clear stream, green mead, or shady lane<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet-chaunted roundelay of lady fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor aught beside my heart shall e'er engage—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sepulchred, as 'tis henceforth doom'd to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With her, my eyes' sole mirror, beam, and bliss.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! how I long this weary pilgrimage<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span><span class="i0">To close; that I again that form may see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which never to have seen had been my happiness!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrangham.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XLV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Passato è 'l tempo omai, lasso! che tanto.</i></h3> + +<h4>HIS ONLY DESIRE IS AGAIN TO BE WITH HER.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Fled</span>—fled, alas! for ever—is the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which to my flame some soothing whilom brought;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fled is she of whom I wept and wrote:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet still the pang, the tear, prolong their stay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fled that angel vision far away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But flying, with soft glance my heart it smote<br /></span> +<span class="i0">('Twas then my own) which straight, divided, sought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her, who had wrapp'd it in her robe of clay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Part shares her tomb, part to her heaven is sped;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where now, with laurel wreathed, in triumph's car<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She reaps the meed of matchless holiness:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So might I, of this flesh discumberèd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which holds me prisoner here, from sorrow far<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With her expatiate free 'midst realms of endless bliss!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrangham.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Ah</span>! gone for ever are the happy years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That soothed my soul amid Love's fiercest fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she for whom I wept and tuned my lyre<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has gone, alas!—But left my lyre, my tears:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gone is that face, whose holy look endears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in my heart, ere yet it did retire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Left the sweet radiance of its eyes, entire;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart? Ah; no! not mine! for to the spheres<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of light she bore it captive, soaring high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In angel robe triumphant, and now stands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crown'd with the laurel wreath of chastity:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! could I throw aside these earthly bands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That tie me down where wretched mortals sigh,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To join blest spirits in celestial lands!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Morehead.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XLVI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Mente mia che presaga de' tuoi danni.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE RECALLS WITH GRIEF THEIR LAST MEETING.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">My</span> mind! prophetic of my coming fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pensive and gloomy while yet joy was lent,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span><span class="i0">On the loved lineaments still fix'd, intent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To seek dark bodings, ere thy sorrow's date!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From her sweet acts, her words, her looks, her gait,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From her unwonted pity with sadness blent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou might'st have said, hadst thou been prescient,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I taste my last of bliss in this low state!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My wretched soul! the poison, oh, how sweet!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That through my eyes instill'd the burning smart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gazing on hers, no more on earth to meet!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To them—my bosom's wealth! condemn'd to part<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On a far journey—as to friends discreet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All my fond thoughts I left, and lingering heart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Dacre.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XLVII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Tutta la mia fiorita e verde etade.</i></h3> + +<h4>JUST WHEN HE MIGHT FAIRLY HOPE SOME RETURN OF AFFECTION, ENVIOUS DEATH +CARRIES HER OFF.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">All</span> my green years and golden prime of man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had pass'd away, and with attemper'd sighs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My bosom heaved—ere yet the days arise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When life declines, contracting its brief span.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Already my loved enemy began<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To lull suspicion, and in sportive guise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With timid confidence, though playful, wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In gentle mockery my long pains to scan:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hour was near when Love, at length, may mate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Chastity; and, by the dear one's side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lover's thoughts and words may freely flow:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death saw, with envy, my too happy state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en its fair promise—and, with fatal pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strode in the midway forth, an armèd foe!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Dacre.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Now</span> of my life each gay and greener year<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pass'd by, and cooler grew each hour the flame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With which I burn'd: and to that point we came<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence life descends, as to its end more near;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now 'gan my lovely foe each virtuous fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gently to lay aside, as safe from blame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though with saint-like virtue still the same,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mock'd my sweet pains indeed, but deign'd to hear<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span><span class="i0">Nigh drew the time when Love delights to dwell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Chastity; and lovers with their mate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can fearless sit, and all they muse of tell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death envied me the joys of such a state;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, e'en the hopes I form'd: and on them fell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en in midway, like some arm'd foe in wait.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anon., Ox., 1795.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XLVIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Tempo era omai da trovar pace o tregua.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE CONSOLES HIMSELF WITH THE BELIEF THAT SHE NOW AT LAST SYMPATHISES +WITH HIM.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">'Twas</span> time at last from so long war to find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some peace or truce, and, haply, both were nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Death their welcome feet has turn'd behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who levels all distinctions, low as high;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as a cloud dissolves before the wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So she, who led me with her lustrous eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom ever I pursue with faithful mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her fair life briefly ending, sought the sky.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had she but stay'd, as I grew changed and old<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her tone had changed, and no distrust had been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To parley with me on my cherish'd ill:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With what frank sighs and fond I then had told<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My lifelong toils, which now from heaven, I ween,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She sees, and with me sympathises still.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">My</span> life's long warfare seem'd about to cease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peace had my spirit's contest well nigh freed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But levelling Death, who doth to all concede<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An equal doom, clipp'd Time's blest wings of peace:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As zephyrs chase the clouds of gathering fleece,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So did her life from this world's breath recede,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their vision'd light could once my footsteps lead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now my all, save thought, she doth release.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! would that she her flight awhile had stay'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Time had stamp'd on me his warning hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And calmer I had told my storied love:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To her in virtue's tone I had convey'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart's long grief—now, she doth understand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sympathises with that grief above.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET XLIX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Tranquillo porto avea mostrato Amore.</i></h3> + +<h4>DEATH HAS ROBBED HIM IN ONE MOMENT OF THE FRUIT OF HIS LIFE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">From</span> life's long storm of trouble and of tears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love show'd a tranquil haven and fair end<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mid better thoughts which riper age attend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That vice lays bare and virtue clothes and cheers.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She saw my true heart, free from doubts and fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And its high faith which could no more offend;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, cruel Death! how quick wert thou to rend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In so few hours the fruit of many years!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A longer life the time had surely brought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When in her chaste ear my full heart had laid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ancient burthen of its dearest thought;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she, perchance, might then have answer made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forth-sighing some blest words, whilst white and few<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our locks became, and wan our cheeks in hue.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET L.</h2> + +<h3><i>Al cader d' una pianta che si svelse.</i></h3> + +<h4>UNDER THE ALLEGORY OF A LAUREL HE AGAIN DEPLORES HER DEATH.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">As</span> a fair plant, uprooted by oft blows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of trenchant spade, or which the blast upheaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scatters on earth its green and lofty leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And its bare roots to the broad sunlight shows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love such another for my object chose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of whom for me the Muse a subject weaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who in my captured heart her home achieves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As on some wall or tree the ivy grows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That living laurel—where their chosen nest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My high thoughts made, where sigh'd mine ardent grief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet never stirr'd of its fair boughs a leaf—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To heaven translated, in my heart, her rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Left deep its roots, whence ever with sad cry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I call on her, who ne'er vouchsafes reply.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET LI.</h2> + +<h3><i>I dì miei più leggier che nessun cervo.</i></h3> + +<h4>HIS PASSION FINDS ITS ONLY CONSOLATION IN CONTEMPLATING HER IN HEAVEN.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">My</span> days more swiftly than the forest hind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have fled like shadows, and no pleasure seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save for a moment, and few hours serene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose bitter-sweet I treasure in true mind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O wretched world, unstable, wayward! Blind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose hopes in thee alone have centred been;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thee my heart was captived by her mien<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who bore it with her when she earth rejoin'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her better spirit, now a deathless flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the highest heaven that still shall be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each day inflames me with its beauties more.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone, though frailer, fonder every hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I muse on her—Now what, and where is she,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And what the lovely veil which here she wore?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Oh</span>! swifter than the hart my life hath fled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A shadow'd dream; one winged glance hath seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its only good; its hours (how few serene!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sweet and bitter tide of thought have fed:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ephemeral world! in pride and sorrow bred,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who hope in thee, are blind as I have been;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hoped in thee, and thus my heart's loved queen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath borne it mid her nerveless, kindred dead.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her form decay'd—its beauty still survives,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For in high heaven that soul will ever bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With which each day I more enamour'd grow:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus though my locks are blanch'd, my hope revives<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thinking on her home—her soul's high doom:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! how changed the shrine she left below!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Sente l' aura mia antica, e i dolci colli.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE REVISITS VAUCLUSE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">I feel</span> the well-known gale; the hills I spy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So pleasant, whence my fair her being drew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which made these eyes, while Heaven was willing, shew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wishful, and gay; now sad, and never dry.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span><span class="i0">O feeble hopes! O thoughts of vanity!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wither'd the grass, the rills of turbid hue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And void and cheerless is that dwelling too,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In which I live, in which I wish'd to die;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hoping its mistress might at length afford<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some respite to my woes by plaintive sighs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sorrows pour'd from her once-burning eyes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I've served a cruel and ungrateful lord:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While lived my beauteous flame, my heart be fired;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And o'er its ashes now I weep expired.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Once</span> more, ye balmy gales, I feel you blow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Again, sweet hills, I mark the morning beams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gild your green summits; while your silver streams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through vales of fragrance undulating flow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But you, ye dreams of bliss, no longer here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give life and beauty to the glowing scene:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For stern remembrance stands where you have been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blasts the verdure of the blooming year.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Laura! Laura! in the dust with thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would I could find a refuge from despair!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is this thy boasted triumph. Love, to tear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A heart thy coward malice dares not free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bid it live, while every hope is fled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To weep, among the ashes of the dead?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anne Bannerman.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>E questo 'l nido in che la mia Fenice.</i></h3> + +<h4>THE SIGHT OF LAURA'S HOUSE REMINDS HIM OF HIS MISERY.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Is</span> this the nest in which my phœnix first<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her plumage donn'd of purple and of gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath her wings who knew my heart to hold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For whom e'en yet its sighs and wishes burst?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prime root in which my cherish'd ill had birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where is the fair face whence that bright light came.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alive and glad which kept me in my flame?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now bless'd in heaven as then alone on earth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wretched and lonely thou hast left me here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fond lingering by the scenes, with sorrows drown'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thee which consecrate I still revere.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span><span class="i0">Watching the hills as dark night gathers round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence its last flight to heaven thy soul did take,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where my day those bright eyes wont to make.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Is</span> this the nest in which her wings of gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of gold and purple plume, my phœnix laid?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How flutter'd my fond heart beneath their shade!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now its sighs proclaim that dwelling cold:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet source! from which my bliss, my bane, have roll'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where is that face, in living light array'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That burn'd me, yet my sole enjoyment made?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unparallel'd on earth, the heavens now hold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thee bless'd!—but I am left wretched, alone!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet ever in my grief return to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And honour this sweet place, though thou art gone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A black night veils the hills, whence rising free<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou took'st thy heavenward flight! Ah! when they shone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In morning radiance, it was all from thee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Morehead.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LIV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Mai non vedranno le mie luci asciutte.</i></h3> + +<h4>TO THE MEMORY OF GIACOMO COLONNA, WHO DIED BEFORE PETRARCH COULD REPLY +TO A LETTER OF HIS.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Ne'er</span> shall I see again with eyes unwet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or with the sure powers of a tranquil mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those characters where Love so brightly shined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his own hand affection seem'd to set;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spirit! amid earth's strifes unconquer'd yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breathing such sweets from heaven which now has shrined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As once more to my wandering verse has join'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The style which Death had led me to forget.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another work, than my young leaves more bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I thought to show: what envying evil star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Snatch'd thee, my noble treasure, thus from me?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So soon who hides thee from my fond heart's sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from thy praise my loving tongue would bar?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul has rest, sweet sigh! alone in thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Oh</span>! ne'er shall I behold with tearless eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or tranquil soul those characters of thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In which affection doth so brightly shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And charity's own hand I can descry!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span><span class="i0">Blest soul! that could this earthly strife defy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy sweets instilling from thy home divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou wakest in me the tone which once was mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sing my rhymes Death's power did long deny.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With these, my brow's young leaves, I fondly dream'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another work than this had greeted thee:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What iron planet envied thus our love?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My treasure! veil'd ere age had darkly gleam'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou—whom my song records—my heart doth see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou wakest my sigh, and sighing, rest I prove.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CANZONE III.</h2> + +<h3><i>Standomi un giorno solo alla finestra.</i></h3> + +<h4>UNDER VARIOUS ALLEGORIES HE PAINTS THE VIRTUE, BEAUTY, AND UNTIMELY +DEATH OF LAURA.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">While</span> at my window late I stood alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So new and many things there cross'd my sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To view them I had almost weary grown.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dappled hind appear'd upon the right,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In aspect gentle, yet of stately stride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By two swift greyhounds chased, a black and white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who tore in the poor side<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that fair creature wounds so deep and wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That soon they forced her where ravine and rock<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The onward passage block:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then triumph'd Death her matchless beauties o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And left me lonely there her sad fate to deplore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Upon the summer wave a gay ship danced,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her cordage was of silk, of gold her sails,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her sides with ivory and ebon glanced,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sea was tranquil, favouring were the gales,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heaven as when no cloud its azure veils.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A rich and goodly merchandise is hers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But soon the tempest wakes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wind and wave to such mad fury stirs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, driven on the rocks, in twain she breaks;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart with pity aches,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That a short hour should whelm, a small space hide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Riches for which the world no equal had beside.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span><span class="i0">In a fair grove a bright young laurel made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Surely to Paradise the plant belongs!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of sacred boughs a pleasant summer shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From whose green depths there issued so sweet songs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of various birds, and many a rare delight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of eye and ear, what marvel from the world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They stole my senses quite!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While still I gazed, the heavens grew black around,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fatal lightning flash'd, and sudden hurl'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Uprooted to the ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That blessed birth. Alas! for it laid low,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And its dear shade whose like we ne'er again shall know.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A crystal fountain in that very grove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gush'd from a rock, whose waters fresh and clear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shed coolness round and softly murmur'd love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never that leafy screen and mossy seat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drew browsing flock or whistling rustic near<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But nymphs and muses danced to music sweet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There as I sat and drank<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With infinite delight their carols gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mark'd their sport, the earth before me sank<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bore with it away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fountain and the scene, to my great grief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who now in memory find a sole and scant relief.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A lovely and rare bird within the wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose crest with gold, whose wings with purple gleam'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone, but proudly soaring, next I view'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of heavenly and immortal birth which seem'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flitting now here, now there, until it stood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where buried fount and broken laurel lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sadly seeing there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fallen trunk, the boughs all stripp'd and bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The channel dried—for all things to decay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So tend—it turn'd away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if in angry scorn, and instant fled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While through me for her loss new love and pity spread.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At length along the flowery sward I saw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So sweet and fair a lady pensive move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That her mere thought inspires a tender awe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meek in herself, but haughty against Love,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span><span class="i0">Flow'd from her waist a robe so fair and fine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seem'd gold and snow together there to join:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, ah! each charm above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was veil'd from sight in an unfriendly cloud:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stung by a lurking snake, as flowers that pine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her head she gently bow'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And joyful pass'd on high, perchance secure:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! that in the world grief only should endure.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My song! in each sad change,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These visions, as they rise, sweet, solemn, strange,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But show how deeply in thy master's breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fond desire abides to die and be at rest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>BALLATA I.</h2> + +<h3><i>Amor, quando fioria.</i></h3> + +<h4>HIS GRIEF AT SURVIVING HER IS MITIGATED BY THE CONSCIOUSNESS THAT SHE +NOW KNOWS HIS HEART.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Yes</span>, Love, at that propitious time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When hope was in its bloomy prime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when I vainly fancied nigh<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The meed of all my constancy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then sudden she, of whom I sought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Compassion, from my sight was caught.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O ruthless Death! O life severe!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The one has sunk me deep in care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And darken'd cruelly my day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That shone with hope's enlivening ray:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The other, adverse to my will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth here on earth detain me still;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And interdicts me to pursue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her, who from all its scenes withdrew:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet in my heart resides the fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ever, ever present there;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who well perceives the ills that wait<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon my wretched, mortal state.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Yes</span>, Love, while hope still bloom'd with me in pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While seem'd of all my faith the guerdon nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She, upon whom for mercy I relied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was ravish'd from my doting desolate eye.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span><span class="i0">O ruthless Death! O life unwelcome! this<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plunged me in deepest woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rudely crush'd my every hope of bliss;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against my will that keeps me here below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who else would yearn to go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And join the sainted fair who left us late;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet present every hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In my heart's core there wields she her old power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And knows, whate'er my life, its every state!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CANZONE IV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Tacer non posso, e temo non adopre.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE RECALLS HER MANY GRACES.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Fain</span> would I speak—too long has silence seal'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lips that would gladly with my full heart move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With one consent, and yield<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Homage to her who listens from above;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet how can I, without thy prompting, Love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With mortal words e'er equal things divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And picture faithfully<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The high humility whose chosen shrine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was that fair prison whence she now is free?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which held, erewhile, her gentle spirit, when<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So in my conscious heart her power began.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, instantly, I ran,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Alike o' th' year and me 'twas April then—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From these gay meadows round sweet flowers to bind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hoping rich pleasure at her eyes to find.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The walls were alabaster, the roof gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ivory the doors, the sapphire windows lent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence on my heart of old<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its earliest sigh, as shall my last, was sent;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In arrowy jets of fire thence came and went<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arm'd messengers of love, whereof to think<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As then they were, with awe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Though now for them with laurel crown'd—I shrink<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of one rare diamond, square, without a flaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">High in the midst a stately throne was placed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where sat the lovely lady all alone:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span><span class="i0">In front a column shone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of crystal, and thereon each thought was traced<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In characters so clear, and quick, and true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By turns it gladden'd me and grieved to view.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To weapons such as these, sharp, burning, bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the green glorious banner waved above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—'Gainst which would fail in fight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mars, Polypheme, Apollo, mighty Jove—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While still my sorrow fresh and verdant throve,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I stood defenceless, doom'd; her easy prey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She led me as she chose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence to escape I knew nor art nor way;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, as a friend, who, haply, grieves yet goes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sees something still to lure his eyes and heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just so on her, for whom I am in thrall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sole perfect work of all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That graced her age, unable to depart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With such desire my rapt regards I set,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As soon myself and misery to forget.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On earth myself, my heart in Eden dwelt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lost in sweet Lethe every other care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As my live frame I felt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To marble turn, watching that wonder rare;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When old in years, but youthful still in air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lady briefly, quietly drew nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus beholding me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With reverent aspect and admiring eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kind offer made my counsellor to be:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"My power," she said, "is more than mortals know—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lighter than air, I, in an instant, make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their hearts exult or ache,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I loose and bind whate'er is seen below;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thine eyes, upon that sun, as eagles', bend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But to my words with willing ears attend.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The day when she was born, the stars that win<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prosperity for man shone bright above;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their high glad homes within<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each on the other smiled with gratulant love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair Venus, and, with gentle aspect, Jove<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span><span class="i0">The beautiful and lordly mansions held:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seem'd as each adverse light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Throughout all heaven was darken'd and dispell'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun ne'er look'd upon a day so bright;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The air and earth rejoiced; the waves had rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By lake and river, and o'er ocean green:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mid the enchanting scene<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One distant cloud alone my thought distress'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest sometime it might be of tears the source<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unless kind Heaven should elsewhere turn its course.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"When first she enter'd on this life below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, to say sooth, not worthy was to hold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas strange to see her so<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Angelical and dear in baby mould;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A snowy pearl she seem'd in finest gold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Next as she crawl'd, or totter'd with short pace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wood, water, earth, and stone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grew green, and clear, and soft; with livelier grace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sward beneath her feet and fingers shone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With flowers the champain to her bright eyes smiled;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At her sweet voice, babbling through lips that yet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From Love's own fount were wet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hoarse wind silent grew, the tempest mild:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus clearly showing to the dull blind world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How much in her was heaven's own light unfurl'd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"At length, her life's third flowery epoch won,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She, year by year, so grew in charms and worth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ne'er, methinks, the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such gracefulness and beauty saw on earth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her eyes so full of modesty and mirth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Music and welcome on her words so hung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That mute in her high praise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which thine alone may sound, is every tongue:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So bright her countenance with heavenly rays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not long thy dazzled vision there may rest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From this her fair and fleshly tenement<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such fire through thine is sent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Though gentler never kindled human breast),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That yet I fear her sudden flight may be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too soon the cause of bitter grief to thee."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span><span class="i0">This said, she turn'd her to the rapid wheel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whereon she winds of mortal life the thread;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too true did she reveal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The doom of woe which darken'd o'er my head!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A few brief years flew by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When she, for whom I so desire to die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By black and pitiless Death, who could not slay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fairer form than hers, was snatch'd away!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Or hai fatto l' estremo di tua possa.</i></h3> + +<h4>DEATH MAY DEPRIVE HIM OF THE SIGHT OF HER BEAUTIES, BUT NOT OF THE +MEMORY OF HER VIRTUES.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Now</span> hast thou shown, fell Death! thine utmost might.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through Love's bright realm hast want and darkness spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hast now cropp'd beauty's flower, its heavenly light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quench'd, and enclosed in the grave's narrow bed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now hast thou life despoil'd of all delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its ornament and sovereign honour shed:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But fame and worth it is not thine to blight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These mock thy power, and sleep not with the dead.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be thine the mortal part; heaven holds the best,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, glorying in its brightness, brighter glows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While memory still records the great and good.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O thou, in thine high triumph, angel blest!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let thy heart yield to pity of my woes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en as thy beauty here my soul subdued.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Dacre.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Now</span> hast thou shown the utmost of thy might,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O cruel Death! Love's kingdom hast thou rent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And made it poor; in narrow grave hast pent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blooming flower of beauty and its light!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our wretched life thou hast despoil'd outright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of every honour, every ornament!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But then her fame, her worth, by thee unblent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall still survive!—her dust is all thy right;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rest heaven holds, proud of her charms divine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As of a brighter sun. Nor dies she here—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her memory lasts, to good men ever dear!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O angel new, in thy celestial sphere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let pity now thy sainted heart incline,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As here below thy beauty vanquish'd mine!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Charlemont.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET LVI.</h2> + +<h3><i>L' aura e l' odore e 'l refrigerio e l' ombra.</i></h3> + +<h4>HER OWN VIRTUES IMMORTALISE HER IN HEAVEN, AND HIS PRAISES ON EARTH.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> air and scent, the comfort and the shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of my sweet laurel, and its flowery sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That to my weary life gave rest and light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death, spoiler of the world, has lowly laid.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As when the moon our sun's eclipse has made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My lofty light has vanish'd so in night;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For aid against himself I Death invite;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With thoughts so dark does Love my breast invade.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou didst but sleep, bright lady, a brief sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In bliss amid the chosen spirits to wake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who gaze upon their God, distinct and near:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if my verse shall any value keep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Preserved and praised 'mid noble minds to make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy name, its memory shall be deathless here.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> fragrant gale, and the refreshing shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of my sweet laurel, and its verdant form,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That were my shelter in life's weary storm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have felt the power that makes all nature fade:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now has my light been lost in gloomy shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en as the sun behind his sister's form:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I call for Death to free me from Death's storm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Love descends and brings me better aid!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He tells me, lady, that one moment's sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone was thine, and then thou didst awake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the elect, and in thy Maker's arms:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if my verse oblivion's power can keep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aloof, thy name its place on earth-will take<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Genius still will dote upon thy charms!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Morehead.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LVII.</h2> + +<h3><i>L' ultimo, lasso! de' miei giorni allegri.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE REVERTS TO THEIR LAST MEETING.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> last, alas! of my bright days and glad<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Few have been mine in this brief life below—<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span><span class="i0">Had come; I felt my heart as tepid snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Presage, perchance, of days both dark and sad.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As one in nerves, and pulse, and spirits bad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who of some frequent fever waits the blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en so I felt—for how could I foreknow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such near end of the half-joys I have had?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her beauteous eyes, in heaven now bright and bless'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the pure light whence health and life descends,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Wretched and beggar'd leaving me behind,)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With chaste and soul-lit beams our grief address'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Tarry ye here in peace, beloved friends,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though here no more, we yet shall there be join'd."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Ah</span> me! the last of all my happy days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Not many happy days my years can show)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was come! I felt my heart as turn'd to snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Presage, perhaps, that happiness decays!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en as the man whose shivering frame betrays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fluttering pulse, the ague's coming blow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas thus I felt!—but could I therefore know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How soon would end the bliss that never stays?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those eyes that now, in heaven's delicious light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drink in pure beams which life and glory rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just as they left mine, blinded, sunk in night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seem'd thus to say, sparkling unwonted bright,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Awhile, beloved friends, in peace remain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, we shall yet elsewhere exchange fond looks again!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Morehead.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LVIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>O giorno, o ora, o ultimo momento.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE MOURNS HIS WANT OF PERCEPTION AT THAT MEETING.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">O Day</span>, O hour, O moment sweetest, last,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O stars conspired to make me poor indeed!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O look too true, in which I seem'd to read.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At parting, that my happiness was past;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now my full loss I know, I feel at last:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then I believed (ah! weak and idle creed!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas but a part alone I lost; instead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was there a hope that flew not with the blast?<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span><span class="i0">For, even then, it was in heaven ordain'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the sweet light of all my life should die:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas written in her sadly-pensive eye!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But mine unconscious of the truth remain'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or, what it would not see, to see refrain'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I might sink in sudden misery!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Morehead.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Dark</span> hour, last moment of that fatal day!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stars which to beggar me of bliss combined!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O faithful glance, too well which seem'dst to say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Farewell to me, farewell to peace of mind!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awaken'd now, my losses I survey:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! I fondly thought—thoughts weak and blind!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That absence would take part, not all, away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How many hopes it scatter'd to the wind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven had already doom'd it otherwise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To quench for ever my life's genial light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in her sad sweet face 'twas written so.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Surely a veil was placed around mine eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That blinded me to all before my sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sank at once my life in deepest woe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LIX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Quel vago, dolce, caro, onesto sguardo.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE SHOULD HAVE FORESEEN HIS LOSS IN THE UNUSUAL LUSTRE OF HER EYES.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">That</span> glance of hers, pure, tender, clear, and sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Methought it said, "Take what thou canst while nigh;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For here no more thou'lt see me, till on high<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From earth have mounted thy slow-moving feet."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O intellect than forest pard more fleet!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet slow and dull thy sorrow to descry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How didst thou fail to see in her bright eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What since befell, whence I my ruin meet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silently shining with a fire sublime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They said, "O friendly lights, which long have been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mirrors to us where gladly we were seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven waits for you, as ye shall know in time;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who bound us to the earth dissolves our bond,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But wills in your despite that you shall live beyond."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p> +<h2>CANZONE V.</h2> + +<h3><i>Solea dalla fontana di mia vita.</i></h3> + +<h4>MEMORY IS HIS ONLY SOLACE AND SUPPORT.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">I who</span> was wont from life's best fountain far<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So long to wander, searching land and sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pursuing not my pleasure, but my star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And alway, as Love knows who strengthen'd me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ready in bitter exile to depart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For hope and memory both then fed my heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! now wring my hands, and to unkind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And angry Fortune, which away has reft<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That so sweet hope, my armour have resign'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, memory only left,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feed my great desire on that alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence frail and famish'd is my spirit grown.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As haply by the way, if want of food<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Compel the traveller to relax his speed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Losing that strength which first his steps endued,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So feeling, for my weary life, the need<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that dear nourishment Death rudely stole,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaving the world all bare, and sad my soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From time to time fair pleasures pall, my sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bitter turns, fear rises, and hopes fail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My course, though brief, that I shall e'er complete:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cloudlike before the gale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To win some resting-place from rest I flee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—If such indeed my doom, so let it be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Never to mortal life could I incline,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Be witness, Love, with whom I parley oft—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Except for her who was its light and mine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And since, below extinguish'd, shines aloft<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The life in which I lived, if lawful 'twere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My chief desire would be to follow her:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But mine is ample cause of grief, for I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see my future fate was ill supplied;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This Love reveal'd within her beauteous eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Elsewhere my hopes to guide:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too late he dies, disconsolate and sad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom death a little earlier had made glad.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span><span class="i0">In those bright eyes, where wont my heart to dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until by envy my hard fortune stirr'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rose from so rich a temple to expel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love with his proper hand had character'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In lines of pity what, ere long, I ween<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The issue of my old desire had been.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dying alone, and not my life with me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comely and sweet it then had been to die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaving my life's best part unscathed and free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now my fond hopes lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dead in her silent dust: a secret chill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shoots through me when I think that I live still.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If my poor intellect had but the force<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To help my need, and if no other lure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had led it from the plain and proper course,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon my lady's brow 'twere easy sure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To have read this truth, "Here all thy pleasure dies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hence thy lifelong trial dates its rise."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My spirit then had gently pass'd away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In her dear presence from all mortal care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Freed from this troublesome and heavy clay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mounting, before her, where<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Angels and saints prepared on high her place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom I but follow now with slow sad pace.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My song! if one there be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who in his love finds happiness and rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell him this truth from me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Die, while thou still art bless'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For death betimes is comfort, not dismay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And who can rightly die needs no delay."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SESTINA I.</h2> + +<h3><i>Mia benigna fortuna e 'l viver lieto.</i></h3> + +<h4>IN HIS MISERY HE DESIRES DEATH THE MORE HE REMEMBERS HIS PAST +CONTENTMENT AND COMFORT.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">My</span> favouring fortune and my life of joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My days so cloudless, and my tranquil nights,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tender sigh, the pleasing power of song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which gently wont to sound in verse and rhyme,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span><span class="i0">Suddenly darken'd into grief and tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make me hate life and inly pray for death!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O cruel, grim, inexorable Death!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How hast thou dried my every source of joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And left me to drag on a life of tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through darkling days and melancholy nights.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heavy sighs no longer meet in rhyme,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my hard martyrdom exceeds all song!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where now is vanish'd my once amorous song?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To talk of anger and to treat with death;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the fond verses, where the happy rhyme<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Welcomed by gentle hearts with pensive joy?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where now Love's communings that cheer'd my nights?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My sole theme, my one thought, is now but tears!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Erewhile to my desire so sweet were tears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their tenderness refined my else rude song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And made me wake and watch the livelong nights;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sorrow now to me is worse than death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since lost for aye that look of modest joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lofty subject of my lowly rhyme!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love in those bright eyes to my ready rhyme<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gave a fair theme, now changed, alas! to tears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With grief remembering that time of joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My changed thoughts issue find in other song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Evermore thee beseeching, pallid Death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To snatch and save me from these painful nights!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sleep has departed from my anguish'd nights,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Music is absent from my rugged rhyme,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which knows not now to sound of aught but death;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its notes, so thrilling once, all turn'd to tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love knows not in his reign such varied song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As full of sadness now as then of joy!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Man lived not then so crown'd as I with joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Man lives not now such wretched days and nights;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my full festering grief but swells the song<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which from my bosom draws the mournful rhyme;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I lived in hope, who now live but in tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor against death have other hope save death!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span><span class="i0">Me Death in her has kill'd; and only Death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can to my sight restore that face of joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which pleasant made to me e'en sighs and tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Balmy the air, and dewy soft the nights,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherein my choicest thoughts I gave to rhyme<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Love inspirited my feeble song!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Would that such power as erst graced Orpheus' song<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were mine to win my Laura back from death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As he Eurydice without a rhyme;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then would I live in best excess of joy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or, that denied me, soon may some sad night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Close for me ever these twin founts of tears!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love! I have told with late and early tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My grievous injuries in doleful song;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not that I hope from thee less cruel nights;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And therefore am I urged to pray for death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which hence would take me but to crown with joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where lives she whom I sing in this sad rhyme!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If so high may aspire my weary rhyme,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To her now shelter'd safe from rage and tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose beauties fill e'en heaven with livelier joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well would she recognise my alter'd song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which haply pleased her once, ere yet by death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her days were cloudless made and dark my nights!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O ye, who fondly sigh for better nights,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who listen to love's will, or sing in rhyme,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pray that for me be no delay in death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The port of misery, the goal of tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But let him change for me his ancient song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since what makes others sad fills me with joy!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ay! for such joy, in one or in few nights,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I pray in rude song and in anguish'd rhyme,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That soon my tears may ended be in death!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Ite, rime dolenti, al duro sasso.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE PRAYS THAT SHE WILL BE NEAR HIM AT HIS DEATH, WHICH HE FEELS +APPROACHING.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Go</span>, plaintive verse, to the cold marble go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which hides in earth my treasure from these eyes;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span><span class="i0">There call on her who answers from yon skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Although the mortal part dwells dark and low.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of life how I am wearied make her know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of stemming these dread waves that round me rise:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, copying all her virtues I so prize,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her track I follow, yet my steps are slow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sing of her, living, or dead, alone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Dead, did I say? She is immortal made!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That by the world she should be loved, and known.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! in my passage hence may she be near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To greet my coming that's not long delay'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And may I hold in heaven the rank herself holds there!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Go</span>, melancholy rhymes! your tribute bring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To that cold stone, which holds the dear remains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all that earth held precious;—uttering,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If heaven should deign to hear them, earthly strains.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell her, that sport of tempests, fit no more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To stem the troublous ocean,—here at last<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her votary treads the solitary shore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His only pleasure to recall the past.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell her, that she who living ruled his fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In death still holds her empire: all his care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So grant the Muse her aid,—to celebrate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her every word, and thought, and action fair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be this my meed, that in the hour of death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her kindred spirit may hail, and bless my parting breath!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Woodhouselee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXI.</h2> + +<h3><i>S' onesto amor può meritar mercede.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE PRAYS THAT, IN REWARD FOR HIS LONG AND VIRTUOUS ATTACHMENT, SHE WILL +VISIT HIM IN DEATH.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">If</span> Mercy e'er rewardeth virtuous love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If Pity still can do, as she has done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I shall have rest, for clearer than the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My lady and the world my faith approve.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who fear'd me once, now knows, yet scarce believes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am the same who wont her love to seek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who seek it still; where she but heard me speak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or saw my face, she now my soul perceives.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span><span class="i0">Wherefore I hope that e'en in heaven she mourns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heavy anguish, and on me the while<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her sweet face eloquent of pity turns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that when shuffled off this mortal coil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her way to me with that fair band she'll wend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">True follower of Christ and virtue's friend.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">If</span> virtuous love doth merit recompense—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If pity still maintain its wonted sway—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I that reward shall win, for bright as day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To earth and Laura breathes my faith's incense.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She fear'd me once—now heavenly confidence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reveals my heart's first hope's unchanging stay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A word, a look, could this alone convey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart she reads now, stripp'd of earth's defence.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus I hope, she for my heavy sighs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To heaven complains, to me she pity shows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By sympathetic visits in my dream:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when this mortal temple breathless lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! may she greet my soul, enclosed by those<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom heaven and virtue love—our friends supreme.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Vidi fra mille donne una già tale.</i></h3> + +<h4>BEAUTY SHOWED ITSELF IN, AND DISAPPEARED WITH, LAURA.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">'Mid</span> many fair one such by me was seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That amorous fears my heart did instant seize,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beholding her—nor false the images—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Equal to angels in her heavenly mien.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nothing in her was mortal or terrene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As one whom nothing short of heaven can please;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul well train'd for her to burn and freeze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sought in her wake to mount the blue serene.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ah! too high for earthly wings to rise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her pitch, and soon she wholly pass'd from sight:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The very thought still makes me cold and numb;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O beautiful and high and lustrous eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Death, who fills the world with grief and fright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Found entrance in so fair a form to come.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET LXIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Tornami a mente, anzi v' è dentro quella.</i></h3> + +<h4>SHE IS SO FIXED IN HIS HEART THAT AT TIMES HE BELIEVES HER STILL ALIVE, +AND IS FORCED TO RECALL THE DATE OF HER DEATH.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Oh!</span> to my soul for ever she returns;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or rather Lethe could not blot her thence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such as she was when first she struck my sense,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In that bright blushing age when beauty burns:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So still I see her, bashful as she turns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Retired into herself, as from offence:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I cry—"'Tis she! she still has life and sense:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, speak to me, my love!"—Sometimes she spurns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My call; sometimes she seems to answer straight:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, starting from my waking dream, I say,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Alas! poor wretch, thou art of mind bereft!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forget'st thou the first hour of the sixth day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of April, the three hundred, forty eight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thousandth year,—when she her earthly mansion left?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Morehead.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">My</span> mind recalls her; nay, her home is there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor can Lethean draught drive thence her form,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see that star's pure ray her spirit warm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose grace and spring-time beauty she doth wear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As thus my vision paints her charms so rare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That none to such perfection may conform,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I cry, "'Tis she! death doth to life transform!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then to hear that voice, I wake my prayer.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She now replies, and now doth mute appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like one whose tottering mind regains its power;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I speak my heart: "Thou must this cheat resign;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thirteen hundred, eight and fortieth year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sixth of April's suns, his first bright hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou know'st that soul celestial fled its shrine!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXIV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Questo nostro caduco e fragil bene.</i></h3> + +<h4>NATURE DISPLAYED IN HER EVERY CHARM, BUT SOON WITHDREW HER FROM SIGHT.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">This</span> gift of beauty which a good men name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frail, fleeting, fancied, false, a wind, a shade,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span><span class="i0">Ne'er yet with all its spells one fair array'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save in this age when for my cost it came.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not such is Nature's duty, nor her aim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One to enrich if others poor are made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now on one is all her wealth display'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Ladies, your pardon let my boldness claim.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like loveliness ne'er lived, or old or new,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor ever shall, I ween, but hid so strange,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarce did our erring world its marvel view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So soon it fled; thus too my soul must change<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The little light vouchsafed me from the skies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only for pleasure of her sainted eyes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXV.</h2> + +<h3><i>O tempo, o ciel volubil che fuggendo.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE NO LONGER CONTEMPLATES THE MORTAL, BUT THE IMMORTAL BEAUTIES OF +LAURA.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">O Time!</span> O heavens! whose flying changes frame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Errors and snares for mortals poor and blind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O days more swift than arrows or the wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Experienced now, I know your treacherous aim.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You I excuse, myself alone I blame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Nature for your flight who wings design'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To me gave eyes which still I have inclined<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To mine own ill, whence follow grief and shame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An hour will come, haply e'en now is pass'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their sight to turn on my diviner part<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so this infinite anguish end at last.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rejects not your long yoke, O Love, my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But its own ill by study, sufferings vast:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Virtue is not of chance, but painful art.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">O Time!</span> O circling heavens! in your flight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Us mortals ye deceive—so poor and blind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O days! more fleeting than the shaft or wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Experience brings your treachery to my sight!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But mine the error—ye yourselves are right;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your flight fulfils but that your wings design'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My eyes were Nature's gift, yet ne'er could find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But one blest light—and hence their present blight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It now is time (perchance the hour is pass'd)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That they a safer dwelling should select,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span><span class="i0">And thus repose might soothe my grief acute:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love's yoke the spirit may not from it cast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(With oh what pain!) it may its ill eject;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But virtue is attain'd but by pursuit!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXVI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Quel, che d' odore e di color vincea.</i></h3> + +<h4>THE LAUREL, IN WHOM HE PLACED ALL HIS JOY HAS BEEN TAKEN FROM HIM TO +ADORN HEAVEN.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">That</span> which in fragrance and in hue defied<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The odoriferous and lucid East,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fruits, flowers and herbs and leaves, and whence the West<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all rare excellence obtain'd the prize,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My laurel sweet, which every beauty graced,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where every glowing virtue loved to dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beheld beneath its fair and friendly shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Lord, and by his side my Goddess sit.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still have I placed in that beloved plant<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My home of choicest thoughts: in fire, in frost<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shivering or burning, still I have been bless'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world was of her perfect honours full<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When God, his own bright heaven therewith to grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reclaim'd her for Himself, for she was his.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXVII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Lasciato hai, Morte, senza sole il mondo.</i></h3> + +<h4>HER TRUE WORTH WAS KNOWN ONLY TO HIM AND TO HEAVEN.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Death</span>, thou the world, since that dire arrow sped,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sunless and cold hast left; Love weak and blind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beauty and grace their brilliance have resign'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from my heavy heart all joy is fled;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Honour is sunk, and softness banishèd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I weep alone the woes which all my kind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should weep—for virtue's fairest flower has pined<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath thy touch: what second blooms instead?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let earth, sea, air, with common wail bemoan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Man's hapless race; which now, since Laura died,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span><span class="i0">A flowerless mead, a gemless ring appears.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world possess'd, nor knew her worth, till flown!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I knew it well, who here in grief abide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heaven too knows, which decks its forehead with my tears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrangham.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Thou</span>, Death, hast left this world's dark cheerless way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without a sun: Love blind and stripp'd of arms;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Left mirth despoil'd; beauty bereaved of charms;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And me self-wearied, to myself a prey;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Left vanish'd, sunk, whate'er was courteous, gay:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I only weep, yet all must feel alarms:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If beauty's bud the hand of rapine harms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It dies, and not a second views the day!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let air, earth, ocean weep for human kind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For human kind, deprived of Laura, seems<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A flowerless mead, a ring whose gem is lost.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">None knew her worth while to this orb confined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save me her bard, whose sorrow ceaseless streams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heaven, that's made more beauteous at my cost.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXVIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Conobbi, quanto il ciel gli occhi m' aperse.</i></h3> + +<h4>HER PRAISES ARE, COMPARED WITH HER DESERTS, BUT AS A DROP TO THE OCEAN.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">So</span> far as to mine eyes its light heaven show'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So far as love and study train'd my wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Novel and beautiful but mortal things<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From every star I found on her bestow'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So many forms in rare and varied mode<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of heavenly beauty from immortal springs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My panting intellect before me brings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sunk my weak sight before their dazzling load.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hence, whatsoe'er I spoke of her or wrote,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, at God's right, returns me now her prayers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is in that infinite abyss a mote:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For style beyond the genius never dares;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus, though upon the sun man fix his sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He seeth less as fiercer burns its light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET LXIX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Dolce mio caro e prezioso pegno.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE PRAYS HER TO APPEAR BEFORE HIM IN A VISION.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Dear</span> precious pledge, by Nature snatch'd away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But yet reserved for me in realms undying;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O thou on whom my life is aye relying,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why tarry thus, when for thine aid I pray?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Time was, when sleep could to mine eyes convey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet visions, worthy thee;—why is my sighing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unheeded now?—who keeps thee from replying?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Surely contempt in heaven cannot stay:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Often on earth the gentlest heart is fain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To feed and banquet on another's woe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Thus love is conquer'd in his own domain),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thou, who seest through me, and dost know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All that I feel,—thou, who canst soothe my pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! let thy blessed shade its peace bestow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrottesley.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Deh qual pietà, qual angel fu sì presto.</i></h3> + +<h4>HIS PRAYER IS HEARD.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">What</span> angel of compassion, hovering near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heard, and to heaven my heart grief instant bore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence now I feel descending as of yore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My lady, in that bearing chaste and dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My lone and melancholy heart to cheer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So free from pride, of humbleness such store,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In fine, so perfect, though at death's own door,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I live, and life no more is dull and drear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blessèd is she who so can others bless<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With her fair sight, or with that tender speech<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To whose full meaning love alone can reach.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Dear friend," she says, "thy pangs my soul distress;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But for our good I did thy homage shun"—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In sweetest tones which might arrest the sun.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET LXXI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Del cibo onde 'l signor mio sempre abbonda.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE DESCRIBES THE APPARITION OF LAURA.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Food</span> wherewithal my lord is well supplied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With tears and grief my weary heart I've fed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As fears within and paleness o'er me spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft thinking on its fatal wound and wide:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in her time with whom no other vied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Equal or second, to my suffering bed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comes she to look on whom I almost dread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And takes her seat in pity by my side.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With that fair hand, so long desired in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She check'd my tears, while at her accents crept<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sweetness to my soul, intense, divine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Is this thy wisdom, to parade thy pain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No longer weep! hast thou not amply wept?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would that such life were thine as death is mine!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">With</span> grief and tears (my soul's proud sovereign's food)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ever nourish still my aching heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feel my blanching cheek, and oft I start<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As on Love's sharp engraven wound I brood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But she, who e'er on earth unrivall'd stood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flits o'er my couch, when prostrate by his dart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I lie; and there her presence doth impart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst scarce my eyes dare meet their vision'd good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With that fair hand in life I so desired,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She stays my eyes' sad tide; her voice's tone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awakes the balm earth ne'er to man can give:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus she speaks:—"Oh! vain hath wisdom fired<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hopeless mourner's breast; no more bemoan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am not dead—would thou like me couldst live!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXXII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Ripensando a quel ch' oggi il ciel onora.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE WOULD DIE OF GRIEF WERE SHE NOT SOMETIMES TO CONSOLE HIM BY HER +PRESENCE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">To</span> that soft look which now adorns the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The graceful bending of the radiant head,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span><span class="i0">The face, the sweet angelic accents fled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That soothed me once, but now awake my sighs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! when to these imagination flies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wonder that I am not long since dead!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis she supports me, for her heavenly tread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is round my couch when morning visions rise!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In every attitude how holy, chaste!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How tenderly she seems to hear the tale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of my long woes, and their relief to seek!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when day breaks she then appears in haste<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The well-known heavenward path again to scale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With moisten'd eye, and soft expressive cheek!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Morehead.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">'Tis</span> sweet, though sad, my trembling thoughts to raise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As memory dwells upon that form so dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And think that now e'en angels join to praise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gentle virtues that adorn'd her here;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That face, that look, in fancy to behold—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hear that voice that did with music vie—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bending head, crown'd with its locks of gold—<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>All, all</i> that charm'd, now but sad thoughts supply.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How had I lived her bitter loss to weep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If that pure spirit, pitying my woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had not appear'd to bless my troubled sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere memory broke upon the world below?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What pure, what gentle greetings then were mine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In what attention wrapt she paused to hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My life's sad course, of which she bade me speak!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But as the dawn from forth the East did shine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Back to that heaven to which her way was clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She fled,—while falling tears bedew'd each cheek.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrottesley.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXXIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Fu forse un tempo dolce cosa amore.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE COMPLAINS OF HIS SUFFERINGS, WHICH ADMIT OF NO RELIEF.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Love</span>, haply, was erewhile a sweet relief;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I scarce know when; but now it bitter grows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond all else. Who learns from life well knows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As I have learnt to know from heavy grief;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span><span class="i0">She, of our age, who was its honour chief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who now in heaven with brighter lustre glows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has robb'd my being of the sole repose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It knew in life, though that was rare and brief.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pitiless Death my every good has ta'en!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not the great bliss of her fair spirit freed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can aught console the adverse life I lead.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wept and sang; who now can wake no strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But day and night the pent griefs of my soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From eyes and tongue in tears and verses roll.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXXIV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Spinse amor e dolor ove ir non debbe.</i></h3> + +<h4>REFLECTING THAT LAURA IS IN HEAVEN, HE REPENTS HIS EXCESSIVE GRIEF, AND +IS CONSOLED.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Sorrow</span> and Love encouraged my poor tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Discreet in sadness, where it should not go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To speak of her for whom I burn'd and sung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What, even were it true, 'twere wrong to show.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That blessèd saint my miserable state<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might surely soothe, and ease my spirit's strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since she in heaven is now domesticate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Him who ever ruled her heart in life.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherefore I am contented and consoled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor would again in life her form behold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, I prefer to die, and live alone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fairer than ever to my mental eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see her soaring with the angels high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before our Lord, her maker and my own.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">My</span> love and grief compell'd me to proclaim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart's lament, and urged me to convey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, were it true, of her I should not say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who woke alike my song and bosom's flame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I should comfort find, 'mid this world's shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To mark her soul's beatified array,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To think that He who here had own'd its sway,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth now within his home its presence claim.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And true I comfort find—myself resign'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would not woo her back to earthly gloom;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span><span class="i0">Oh! rather let me die, or live still lone!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My mental eye, that holds her there enshrined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now paints her wing'd, bright with celestial bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prostrate beneath our mutual Heaven's throne.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXXV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Gli angeli eletti e l' anime beate.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE DIRECTS ALL HIS THOUGHTS TO HEAVEN, WHERE LAURA AWAITS AND BECKONS +HIM.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> chosen angels, and the spirits blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Celestial tenants, on that glorious day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Lady join'd them, throng'd in bright array<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around her, with amaze and awe imprest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"What splendour, what new beauty stands confest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto our sight?"—among themselves they say;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"No soul, in this vile age, from sinful clay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To our high realms has risen so fair a guest."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Delighted to have changed her mortal state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She ranks amid the purest of her kind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ever and anon she looks behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To mark my progress and my coming wait;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now my whole thought, my wish to heaven I cast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis Laura's voice I hear, and hence she bids me haste.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> chosen angels, and the blest above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven's citizens!—the day when Laura ceased<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To adorn the world, about her thronging press'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Replete with wonder and with holy love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"What sight is this?—what will this beauty prove?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Said they; "for sure no form in charms so dress'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From yonder globe to this high place of rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all the latter age, did e'er remove!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She, pleased and happy with her mansion new,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Compares herself with the most perfect there;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now and then she casts a glance to view<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If yet I come, and seems to wish me near.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rise then, my thoughts, to heaven!—vain world, adieu!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Laura calls! her quickening voice I hear!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Charlemont.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET LXXVI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Donna che lieta col Principio nostro.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE CONJURES LAURA, BY THE PURE LOVE HE EVER BORE HER, TO OBTAIN FOR HIM +A SPEEDY ADMISSION TO HER IN HEAVEN.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Lady</span>, in bliss who, by our Maker's feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As suited for thine excellent life alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Art now enthroned in high and glorious seat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adorn'd with charms nor pearls nor purple own;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O model high and rare of ladies sweet!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now in his face to whom all things are known,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look on my love, with that pure faith replete,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As long my verse and truest tears have shown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And know at last my heart on earth to thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was still as now in heaven, nor wish'd in life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More than beneath thine eyes' bright sun to be:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherefore, to recompense the tedious strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which turn'd my liege heart from the world away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pray that I soon may come with thee to stay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Lady</span>! whose gentle virtues have obtain'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thee a dwelling with thy Maker blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sit enthroned above, in angels' vest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Whose lustre gold nor purple had attain'd):<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! thou who here the most exalted reign'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now through the eyes of Him who knows each breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That heart's pure faith and love thou canst attest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which both my pen and tears alike sustain'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou, knowest, too, my heart was thine on earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As now it is in heaven; no wish was there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But to avow thine eyes, its only shrine:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus to reward the strife which owes its birth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thee, who won my each affection'd care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pray God to waft me to his home and thine!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXXVII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Da' più begli occhi e dal più chiaro viso.</i></h3> + +<h4>HIS ONLY COMFORT IS THE EXPECTATION OF MEETING HER AGAIN IN HEAVEN.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> brightest eyes, the most resplendent face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ever shone; and the most radiant hair,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span><span class="i0">With which nor gold nor sunbeam could compare;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sweetest accent, and a smile all grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hands, arms, that would e'en motionless abase<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those who to Love the most rebellious were;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fine, nimble feet; a form that would appear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like that of her who first did Eden trace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These fann'd life's spark: now heaven, and all its choir<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of angel hosts those kindred charms admire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While lone and darkling I on earth remain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet is not comfort fled; she, who can read<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each secret of my soul, shall intercede;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I her sainted form behold again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Yes</span>, from those finest eyes, that face most sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ever shone, and from that loveliest hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With which nor gold nor sunbeam may compare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That speech with love, that smile with grace replete,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From those soft hands, those white arms which defeat.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Themselves unmoved, the stoutest hearts that e'er<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Love were rebels; from those feet so fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From her whole form, for Eden only meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My spirit took its life—now these delight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The King of Heaven and his angelic train,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While, blind and naked, I am left in night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One only balm expect I 'mid my pain—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That she, mine every thought who now can see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May win this grace—that I with her may be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXXVIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>E' mi par d' or in ora udire il messo.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE FEELS THAT THE DAY OF THEIR REUNION IS AT HAND.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Methinks</span> from hour to hour her voice I hear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Lady calls me! I would fain obey;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within, without, I feel myself decay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And am so alter'd—not with many a year—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That to myself a stranger I appear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All my old usual life is put away—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could I but know how long I have to stay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grant, Heaven, the long-wish'd summons may be near!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, blest the day when from this earthly gaol<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I shall be freed, when burst and broken lies<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span><span class="i0">This mortal guise, so heavy yet so frail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When from this black night my saved spirit flies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soaring up, up, above the bright serene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where with my Lord my Lady shall be seen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXXIX.</h2> + +<h3><i>L' aura mia sacra al mio stanco riposo.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE TELLS HER IN SLEEP OF HIS SUFFERINGS, AND, OVERCOME BY HER SYMPATHY, +AWAKES.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">On</span> my oft-troubled sleep my sacred air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So softly breathes, at last I courage take,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To tell her of my past and present ache,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which never in her life my heart did dare.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I first that glance so full of love declare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which served my lifelong torment to awake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Next, how, content and wretched for her sake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love day by day my tost heart knew to tear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She speaks not, but, with pity's dewy trace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Intently looks on me, and gently sighs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While pure and lustrous tears begem her face;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My spirit, which her sorrow fiercely tries,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So to behold her weep with anger burns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And freed from slumber to itself returns.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXXX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Ogni giorno mi par più di mill' anni.</i></h3> + +<h4>FAR FROM FEARING, HE PRAYS FOR DEATH.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Each</span> day to me seems as a thousand years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I my dear and faithful star pursue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who guided me on earth, and guides me too<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By a sure path to life without its tears.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For in the world, familiar now, appears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No snare to tempt; so rare a light and true<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shines e'en from heaven my secret conscience through,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of lost time and loved sin the glass it rears.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not that I need the threats of death to dread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Which He who loved us bore with greater pain)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, firm and constant, I his path should tread:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis but a brief while since in every vein<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of her he enter'd who my fate has been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet troubled not the least her brow serene.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET LXXXI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Non può far morte il dolce viso amaro.</i></h3> + +<h4>SINCE HER DEATH HE HAS CEASED TO LIVE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Death</span> cannot make that beauteous face less fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that sweet face may lend to death a grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My spirit's guide! from her each good I trace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who learns to die, may seek his lesson there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That holy one! who not his blood would spare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But did the dark Tartarean bolts unbrace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He, too, doth from my soul death's terrors chase:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then welcome, death! thy impress I would wear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And linger not! 'tis time that I had fled;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! my stay hath little here avail'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since she, my Laura blest, resign'd her breath:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life's spring in me hath since that hour lain dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In her I lived, my life in hers exhaled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hour she died I felt within me death!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CANZONE VI.</h2> + +<h3><i>Quando il suave mio fido conforto.</i></h3> + +<h4>SHE APPEARS TO HIM, AND, WITH MORE THAN WONTED AFFECTION, ENDEAVOURS TO +CONSOLE HIM.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">When</span> she, the faithful soother of my pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This life's long weary pilgrimage to cheer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vouchsafes beside my nightly couch to appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With her sweet speech attempering reason's strain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'ercome by tenderness, and terror vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I cry, "Whence comest thou, O spirit blest?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She from her beauteous breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A branch of laurel and of palm displays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, answering, thus she says.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"From th' empyrean seat of holy love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone thy sorrows to console I move."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In actions, and in words, in humble guise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I speak my thanks, and ask, "How may it be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thou shouldst know my wretched state?" and she<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Thy floods of tears perpetual, and thy sighs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breathed forth unceasing, to high heaven arise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there disturb thy blissful state serene;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So grievous hath it been,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span><span class="i0">That freed from this poor being, I at last<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To a better life have pass'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which should have joy'd thee hadst thou loved as well<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As thy sad brow, and sadder numbers tell."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh! not thy ills, I but deplore my own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In darkness, and in grief remaining here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Certain that thou hast reach'd the highest sphere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As of a thing that man hath seen and known.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would God and Nature to the world have shown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such virtue in a young and gentle breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were not eternal rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The appointed guerdon of a life so fair?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou! of the spirits rare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, from a course unspotted, pure and high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are suddenly translated to the sky.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But I! how can I cease to weep? forlorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without thee nothing, wretched, desolate!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, in the cradle had I met my fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or at the breast! and not to love been born!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she: "Why by consuming grief thus worn?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were it not better spread aloft thy wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now all mortal things,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With these thy sweet and idle fantasies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At their just value prize,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And follow me, if true thy tender vows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gathering henceforth with me these honour'd boughs?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then answering her:—"Fain would I thou shouldst say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What these two verdant branches signify."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Methinks," she says, "thou may'st thyself reply,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose pen has graced the one by many a lay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The palm shows victory; and in youth's bright day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I overcame the world, and my weak heart:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The triumph mine in part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glory to Him who made my weakness strength!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thou, yet turn at length!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Gainst other powers his gracious aid implore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That we may be with Him thy trial o'er!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Are these the crisped locks, and links of gold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That bind me still? And these the radiant eyes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To me the Sun?" "Err not with the unwise,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span><span class="i0">Nor think," she says, "as they are wont. Behold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In me a spirit, among the blest enroll'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou seek'st what hath long been earth again:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet to relieve thy pain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis given me thus to appear, ere I resume<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That beauty from the tomb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More loved, that I, severe in pity, win<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy soul with mine to Heaven, from death and sin."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I weep; and she my cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft sighing, with her own fair hand will dry;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, gently chiding, speak<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In tones of power to rive hard rocks in twain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then vanishing, sleep follows in her train.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Dacre.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CANZONE VII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Quell' antiquo mio dolce empio signore.</i></h3> + +<h4>LOVE, SUMMONED BY THE POET TO THE TRIBUNAL OF REASON, PASSES A SPLENDID +EULOGIUM ON LAURA.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Long</span> had I suffer'd, till—to combat more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In strength, in hope too sunk—at last before<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Impartial Reason's seat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence she presides our nobler nature o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I summon'd my old tyrant, stern and sweet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, groaning 'neath a weary weight of grief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With fear and horror stung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like one who dreads to die and prays relief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My plea I open'd thus: "When life was young,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I, weakly, placed my peace within his power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nothing from that hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save wrong I've met; so many and so great<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The torments I have borne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That my once infinite patience is outworn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my life worthless grown is held in very hate!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Thus sadly has my time till now dragg'd by<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In flames and anguish: I have left each way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of honour, use, and joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This my most cruel flatterer to obey.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What wit so rare such language to employ<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span><span class="i0">That yet may free me from this wretched thrall.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or even my complaint,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So great and just, against this ingrate paint?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O little sweet! much bitterness and gall!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How have you changed my life, so tranquil, ere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the false witchery blind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That alone lured me to his amorous snare!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If right I judge, a mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I boasted once with higher feelings rife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—But he destroy'd my peace, he plunged me in this strife!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Less for myself to care, through him I've grown.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And less my God to honour than I ought:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through him my every thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On a frail beauty blindly have I thrown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In this my counsellor he stood alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still prompt with cruel aid so to provoke<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My young desire, that I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hoped respite from his harsh and heavy yoke.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, ah! what boots—though changing time sweep by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If from this changeless passion nought can save—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A genius proud and high?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or what Heaven's other envied gifts to have,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If still I groan the slave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the fierce despot whom I here accuse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who turns e'en my sad life to his triumphant use?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Twas he who made me desert countries seek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wild tribes and nations dangerous, manners rude,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My path with thorns he strew'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every error that betrays the weak.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Valley and mountain, marsh, and stream, and sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On every side his snares were set for me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In June December came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With present peril and sharp toil the same;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone they left me never, neither he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor she, whom I so fled, my other foe:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Untimely in my tomb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If by some painful death not yet laid low.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My safety from such doom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven's gracious pity, not this tyrant, deigns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who feeds upon my grief, and profits in my pains!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span><span class="i0">"No quiet hour, since first I own'd his reign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I've known, nor hope to know: repose is fled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From my unfriendly bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor herb nor spells can bring it back again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By fraud and force he gain'd and guards his power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er every sense; soundeth from steeple near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By day, by night, the hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feel his hand in every stroke I hear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never did cankerworm fair tree devour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As he my heart, wherein he, gnawing, lurks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, there, my ruin works.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hence my past martyrdom and tears arise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My present speech, these sighs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which tear and tire myself, and haply thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Judge then between us both, thou knowest him and me!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With fierce reproach my adversary rose:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Lady," he spoke, "the rebel to a close<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is heard at last, the truth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Receive from me which he has shrunk to tell:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Big words to bandy, specious lies to sell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He plies right well the vile trade of his youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Freed from whose shame, to share<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My easy pleasures, by my friendly care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From each false passion which had work'd him ill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kept safe and pure, laments he, graceless, still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sweet life he has gain'd?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, blindly, thus his fortune dares he blame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who owes his very fame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To me, his genius who sublimed, sustain'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the proud flight to which he, else, had dared not aim?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Well knows he how, in history's every page,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The laurell'd chief, the monarch on his throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The poet and the sage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Favourites of fortune, or for virtue known,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were cursed by evil stars, in loves debased,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soulless and vile, their hearts, their fame, to waste:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While I, for him alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From all the lovely ladies of the earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chose one, so graced with beauty and with worth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The eternal sun her equal ne'er beheld.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span><span class="i0">Such charm was in her life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such virtue in her speech with music rife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their wondrous power dispell'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each vain and vicious fancy from his heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—A foe I am indeed, if this a foeman's part!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Such was my anger, these my hate and slights,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than all which others could bestow more sweet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Evil for good I meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If thus ingratitude my grace requites.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So high, upon my wings, he soar'd in fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hear his song, fair dames and gentle knights<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In throngs delighted came.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the gifted spirits of our time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His name conspicuous shines; in every clime<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Admired, approved, his strains an echo find.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such is he, but for me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A mere court flatterer who was doom'd to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unmark'd amid his kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till, in my school, exalted and made known<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By her, who, of her sex, stood peerless and alone!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"If my great service more there need to tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have so fenced and fortified him well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That his pure mind on nought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of gross or grovelling now can brook to dwell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Modest and sensitive, in deed, word, thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her captive from his youth, she so her fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And virtuous image press'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon his heart, it left its likeness there:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whate'er his life has shown of good or great,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In aim or action, he from us possess'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never was midnight dream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So full of error as to us his hate!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Heaven's and man's esteem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If still he keep, the praise is due to us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom in its thankless pride his blind rage censures thus!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"In fine, 'twas I, my past love to exceed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who heavenward fix'd his hope, who gave him wings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fly from mortal things,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which to eternal bliss the path impede;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span><span class="i0">With his own sense, that, seeing how in her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Virtues and charms so great and rare combined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A holy pride might stir<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to the Great First Cause exalt his mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(In his own verse confess'd this truth we see,)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While that dear lady whom I sent to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The grace, the guard, and guide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of his vain life"—But here a heart-deep groan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sudden gave, and cried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Yes! sent and snatch'd her from me." He replied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Not I, but Heaven above, which will'd her for its own!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At length before that high tribunal each—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With anxious trembling I, while in his mien<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was conscious triumph seen—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With earnest prayer concluded thus his speech:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Speak, noble lady! we thy judgment wait."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She then with equal air:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"It glads me to have heard your keen debate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in a cause so great,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More time and thought it needs just verdict to declare!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>[OF PARTS ONLY]</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">I cited</span> once t' appear before the noble queen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ought to guide each mortal life that in this world is seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That pleasant cruel foe that robbeth hearts of ease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now doth frown, and then doth fawn, and can both grieve and please;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there, as gold in fire full fined to each intent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Charged with fear, and terror eke I did myself present,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As one that doubted death, and yet did justice crave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus began t' unfold my cause in hope some help to have.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Madam, in tender youth I enter'd first this reign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where other sweet I never felt, than grief and great disdain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And eke so sundry kinds of torments did endure.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As life I loathed, and death desired my cursèd case to cure;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus my woeful days unto this hour have pass'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In smoky sighs and scalding tears, my wearied life to waste;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span><span class="i0">O Lord! what graces great I fled, and eke refused<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To serve this cruel crafty Sire that doubtless trust abused."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What wit can use such words to argue and debate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What tongue express the full effect of mine unhappy state;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What hand with pen can paint t' uncipher this deceit;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What heart so hard that would not yield that once hath seen his bate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What great and grievous wrongs, what threats of ill success,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What single sweet, mingled with mass of double bitterness.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With what unpleasant pangs, with what an hoard of pains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath he acquainted my green years by his false pleasant trains."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Who by resistless power hath forced me sue his dance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That if I be not much abused had found much better<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when I most resolved to lead most quiet life, chance;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He spoil'd me of discordless state, and thrust me in truceless strife.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He hath bewitch'd me so that God the less I served,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And due respect unto myself the further from me swerv'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He hath the love of one so painted in my thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That other thing I can none mind, nor care for as I ought.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all this comes from him, both counsel and the cause.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That whet my young desire so much to th' honour of his laws."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Harington MS.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXXXII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Dicemi spesso il mio fidato speglio.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE AWAKES TO A CONVICTION OF THE NEAR APPROACH OF DEATH.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">My</span> faithful mirror oft to me has told—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My weary spirit and my shrivell'd skin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My failing powers to prove it all begin—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Deceive thyself no longer, thou art old."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Man is in all by Nature best controll'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if with her we struggle, time creeps in;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the sad truth, on fire as waters win,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A long and heavy sleep is off me roll'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I see clearly our vain life depart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That more than once our being cannot be:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her voice sounds ever in my inmost heart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who now from her fair earthly frame is free:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span><span class="i0">She walk'd the world so peerless and alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its fame and lustre all with her are flown.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> mirror'd friend—my changing form hath read.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My every power's incipient decay—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My wearied soul—alike, in warning say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Thyself no more deceive, thy youth hath fled."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis ever best to be by Nature led,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We strive with her, and Death makes us his prey;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At that dread thought, as flames the waters stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dream is gone my life hath sadly fed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wake to feel how soon existence flies:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once known, 'tis gone, and never to return.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still vibrates in my heart the thrilling tone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of her, who now her beauteous shrine defies:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But she, who here to rival, none could learn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath robb'd her sex, and with its fame hath flown.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXXXIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Volo con l' ali de' pensieri al cielo.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE SEEMS TO BE WITH HER IN HEAVEN.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">So</span> often on the wings of thought I fly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up to heaven's blissful seats, that I appear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As one of those whose treasure is lodged there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rent veil of mortality thrown by.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A pleasing chillness thrills my heart, while I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Listen to her voice, who bids me paleness wear—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Ah! now, my friend, I love thee, now revere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For changed thy face, thy manners," doth she cry.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She leads me to her Lord: and then I bow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Preferring humble prayer, He would allow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I his glorious face, and hers might see.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus He replies: "Thy destiny's secure;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To stay some twenty, or some ten years more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is but a little space, though long it seems to thee."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXXXIV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Morte ha spento quel Sol ch' abbagliar suolmi.</i></h3> + +<h4>WEARY OF LIFE, NOW THAT SHE IS NO LONGER WITH HIM, HE DEVOTES HIMSELF TO +GOD.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Death</span> has the bright sun quench'd which wont to burn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her pure and constant eyes his dark realms hold:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span><span class="i0">She now is dust, who dealt me heat and cold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To common trees my chosen laurels turn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hence I at once my bliss and bane discern.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">None now there is my feelings who can mould<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From fire to frost, from timorous to bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In grief to languish or with hope to yearn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of his tyrant hands who harms and heals,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Erewhile who made in it such havoc sore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart the bitter-sweet of freedom feels.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to the Lord whom, thankful, I adore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heavens who ruleth merely with his brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I turn life-weary, if not satiate, now.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXXXV.</h2> + +<h3><i>Tennemi Amor anni ventuno ardendo.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE CONFESSES AND REGRETS HIS SINS, AND PRAYS GOD TO SAVE HIM FROM +ETERNAL DEATH.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Love</span> held me one and twenty years enchain'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His flame was joy—for hope was in my grief!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ten more years I wept without relief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Laura with my heart, to heaven attain'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now weary grown, my life I had arraign'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That in its error, check'd (to my belief)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blest virtue's seeds—now, in my yellow leaf,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I grieve the misspent years, existence stain'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! it might have sought a brighter goal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In flying troublous thoughts, and winning peace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Father! I repentant seek thy throne:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou, in this temple hast enshrined my soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, bless me yet, and grant its safe release!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unjustified—my sin I humbly own.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wollaston.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXXXVI.</h2> + +<h3><i>I' vo piangendo i miei passati tempi.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE HUMBLY CONFESSES THE ERRORS OF HIS PAST LIFE, AND PRAYS FOR DIVINE +GRACE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Weeping</span>, I still revolve the seasons flown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In vain idolatry of mortal things;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not soaring heavenward; though my soul had wings<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span><span class="i0">Which might, perchance, a glorious flight have shown.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Thou, discerner of the guilt I own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Giver of life immortal, King of Kings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heal Thou the wounded heart which conscience stings:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It looks for refuge only to thy throne.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus, although life was warfare and unrest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be death the haven of peace; and if my day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was vain—yet make the parting moment blest!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through this brief remnant of my earthly way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in death's billows, be thy hand confess'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full well Thou know'st, this hope is all my stay!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Sheppard.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Still</span> do I mourn the years for aye gone by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which on a mortal love I lavishèd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor e'er to soar my pinions balancèd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though wing'd perchance no humble height to fly.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou, Dread Invisible, who from on high<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look'st down upon this suffering erring head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, be thy succour to my frailty sped,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with thy grace my indigence supply!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My life in storms and warfare doom'd to spend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Harbour'd in peace that life may I resign:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It's course though idle, pious be its end!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, for the few brief days, which yet are mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for their close, thy guiding hand extend!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou know'st on Thee alone my heart's firm hopes recline.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Wrangham.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXXXVII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Dolci durezze e placide repulse.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE OWES HIS OWN SALVATION TO THE VIRTUOUS CONDUCT OF LAURA.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">O sweet</span> severity, repulses mild,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With chasten'd love, and tender pity fraught;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Graceful rebukes, that to mad passion taught<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Becoming mastery o'er its wishes wild;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speech dignified, in which, united, smiled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All courtesy, with purity of thought;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Virtue and beauty, that uprooted aught<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of baser temper had my heart defiled:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span><span class="i0">Eyes, in whose glance man is beatified—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awful, in pride of virtue, to restrain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aspiring hopes that justly are denied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then prompt the drooping spirit to sustain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These, beautiful in every change, supplied<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Health to my soul, that else were sought in vain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Dacre.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET LXXXVIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Spirto felice, che sì dolcemente.</i></h3> + +<h4>BEHOLDING IN FANCY THE SHADE OF LAURA, HE TELLS HER THE LOSS THAT THE +WORLD SUSTAINED IN HER DEPARTURE.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Blest</span> spirit, that with beams so sweetly clear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those eyes didst bend on me, than stars more bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sighs didst breathe, and words which could delight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Despair; and which in fancy still I hear;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see thee now, radiant from thy pure sphere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the soft grass, and violet's purple light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Move, as an angel to my wondering sight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More present than earth gave thee to appear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet to the Cause Supreme thou art return'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And left, here to dissolve, that beauteous veil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In which indulgent Heaven invested thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Th' impoverish'd world at thy departure mourn'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For love departed, and the sun grew pale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And death then seem'd our sole felicity.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Capel Lofft.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">O blessed</span> Spirit! who those sun-like eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So sweetly didst inform and brightly fill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who the apt words didst frame and tender sighs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which in my fond heart have their echo still.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Erewhile I saw thee, glowing with chaste flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy feet 'mid violets and verdure set,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moving in angel not in mortal frame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life-like and light, before me present yet!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her, when returning with thy God to dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou didst relinquish and that fair veil given<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For purpose high by fortune's grace to thee:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love at thy parting bade the world farewell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Courtesy died; the sun abandon'd heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Death himself our best friend 'gan to be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET LXXXIX.</h2> + +<h3><i>Deh porgi mano all' affannato ingegno.</i></h3> + +<h4>HE BEGS LOVE TO ASSIST HIM, THAT HE MAY WORTHILY CELEBRATE HER.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Ah</span>, Love! some succour to my weak mind deign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lend to my frail and weary style thine aid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sing of her who is immortal made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A citizen of the celestial reign.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And grant, Lord, that my verse the height may gain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of her great praises, else in vain essay'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose peer in worth or beauty never stay'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In this our world, unworthy to retain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love answers: "In myself and Heaven what lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By conversation pure and counsel wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All was in her whom death has snatch'd away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since the first morn when Adam oped his eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like form was ne'er—suffice it this to say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Write down with tears what scarce I tell for sighs."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONNET XC.</h2> + +<h3><i>Vago augelletto che cantando vai.</i></h3> + +<h4>THE PLAINTIVE SONG OF A BIRD RECALLS TO HIM HIS OWN KEENER SORROW.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Poor</span> solitary bird, that pour'st thy lay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or haply mournest the sweet season gone:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As chilly night and winter hurry on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And day-light fades and summer flies away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If as the cares that swell thy little throat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou knew'st alike the woes that wound my rest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, thou wouldst house thee in this kindred breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mix with mine thy melancholy note.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet little know I ours are kindred ills:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She still may live the object of thy song:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not so for me stern death or Heaven wills!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the sad season, and less grateful hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And of past joy and sorrow thoughts that throng<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prompt my full heart this idle lay to pour.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Dacre.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Sweet</span> bird, that singest on thy airy way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or else bewailest pleasures that are past;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What time the night draws nigh, and wintry blast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaving behind each merry month, and day;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span><span class="i0">Oh, couldst thou, as thine own, my state survey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the same gloom of misery o'ercast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto my bosom thou mightst surely haste<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, by partaking, my sad griefs allay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet would thy share of woe not equal mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since the loved mate thou weep'st doth haply live,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While death, and heaven, me of my fair deprive:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But hours less gay, the season's drear decline;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With thoughts on many a sad, and pleasant year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tempt me to ask thy piteous presence here.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Nott.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CANZONE VIII.</h2> + +<h3><i>Vergine bella che di sol vestita.</i></h3> + +<h4>TO THE VIRGIN MARY.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Beautiful</span> Virgin! clothed with the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crown'd with the stars, who so the Eternal Sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well pleasedst that in thine his light he hid;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love pricks me on to utter speech of thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And—feeble to commence without thy aid—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Him who on thy bosom rests in love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her I invoke who gracious still replies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To all who ask in faith,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Virgin! if ever yet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The misery of man and mortal things<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To mercy moved thee, to my prayer incline;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Help me in this my strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though I am but of dust, and thou heaven's radiant Queen!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wise Virgin! of that lovely number one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Virgins blest and wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even the first and with the brightest lamp:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O solid buckler of afflicted hearts!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Neath which against the blows of Fate and Death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not mere deliverance but great victory is;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Relief from the blind ardour which consumes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vain mortals here below!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Virgin! those lustrous eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which tearfully beheld the cruel prints<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the fair limbs of thy beloved Son,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! turn on my sad doubt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who friendless, helpless thus, for counsel come to thee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span><span class="i0">O Virgin! pure and perfect in each part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Maiden or Mother, from thy honour'd birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This life to lighten and the next adorn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O bright and lofty gate of open'd heaven!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By thee, thy Son and His, the Almighty Sire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In our worst need to save us came below:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, from amid all other earthly seats,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou only wert elect,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Virgin supremely blest!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tears of Eve who turnedst into joy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make me, thou canst, yet worthy of his grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O happy without end,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who art in highest heaven a saint immortal shrined.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O holy Virgin! full of every good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, in humility most deep and true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To heaven art mounted, thence my prayers to hear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That fountain thou of pity didst produce,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sun of justice light, which calms and clears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our age, else clogg'd with errors dark and foul.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Three sweet and precious names in thee combine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of mother, daughter, wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Virgin! with glory crown'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Queen of that King who has unloosed our bonds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And free and happy made the world again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By whose most sacred wounds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I pray my heart to fix where true joys only are!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Virgin! of all unparallel'd, alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who with thy beauties hast enamour'd Heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose like has never been, nor e'er shall be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For holy thoughts with chaste and pious acts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the true God a sacred living shrine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thy fecund virginity have made:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By thee, dear Mary, yet my life may be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Happy, if to thy prayers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Virgin meek and mild!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where sin abounded grace shall more abound!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With bended knee and broken heart I pray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thou my guide wouldst be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to such prosperous end direct my faltering way.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span><span class="i0">Bright Virgin! and immutable as bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er life's tempestuous ocean the sure star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each trusting mariner that truly guides,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look down, and see amid this dreadful storm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How I am tost at random and alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And how already my last shriek is near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet still in thee, sinful although and vile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul keeps all her trust;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Virgin! I thee implore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let not thy foe have triumph in my fall;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remember that our sin made God himself,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To free us from its chain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within thy virgin womb our image on Him take!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Virgin! what tears already have I shed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cherish'd what dreams and breathed what prayers in vain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But for my own worse penance and sure loss;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since first on Arno's shore I saw the light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till now, whate'er I sought, wherever turn'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My life has pass'd in torment and in tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For mortal loveliness in air, act, speech,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has seized and soil'd my soul:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Virgin! pure and good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Delay not till I reach my life's last year;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swifter than shaft and shuttle are, my days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mid misery and sin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have vanish'd all, and now Death only is behind!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Virgin! She now is dust, who, living, held<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart in grief, and plunged it since in gloom;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She knew not of my many ills this one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And had she known, what since befell me still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had been the same, for every other wish<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was death to me and ill renown for her;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, Queen of Heaven, our Goddess—if to thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such homage be not sin—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Virgin! of matchless mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou knowest now the whole; and that, which else<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No other can, is nought to thy great power:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deign then my grief to end,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus honour shall be thine, and safe my peace at last!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span><span class="i0">Virgin! in whom I fix my every hope,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who canst and will'st assist me in great need,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forsake me not in this my worst extreme,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Regard not me but Him who made me thus;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let his high image stamp'd on my poor worth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Towards one so low and lost thy pity move:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Medusa spells have made me as a rock<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Distilling a vain flood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Virgin! my harass'd heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With pure and pious tears do thou fulfil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That its last sigh at least may be devout,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And free from earthly taint,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As was my earliest vow ere madness fill'd my veins!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Virgin! benevolent, and foe of pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! let the love of our one Author win,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some mercy for a contrite humble heart:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, if her poor frail mortal dust I loved<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With loyalty so wonderful and long,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Much more my faith and gratitude for thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From this my present sad and sunken state<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If by thy help I rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Virgin! to thy dear name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I consecrate and cleanse my thoughts, speech, pen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My mind, and heart with all its tears and sighs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Point then that better path,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with complacence view my changed desires at last.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The day must come, nor distant far its date,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Time flies so swift and sure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O peerless and alone!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When death my heart, now conscience struck, shall seize:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Commend me, Virgin! then to thy dear Son,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">True God and Very Man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That my last sigh in peace may, in his arms, be breathed!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a id="image16" name="image16"></a><a href="images/16large.jpg"> + <img src="images/16.jpg" + alt="PETRARCH'S HOUSE AT ARQUA." + title="PETRARCH'S HOUSE AT ARQUA." /></a><br /> + <span class="caption">PETRARCH'S HOUSE AT ARQUA.</span> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span></p> +<h2>PETRARCH'S TRIUMPHS.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE.</h2> + +<h4>PART I.</h4> + +<h3><i>Nel tempo che rinova i miei sospiri.</i></h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">It</span> was the time when I do sadly pay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My sighs, in tribute to that sweet-sour day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which first gave being to my tedious woes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun now o'er the Bull's horns proudly goes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Phaëton had renew'd his wonted race;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Love, the season, and my own ill case,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drew me that solitary place to find,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In which I oft unload my chargèd mind:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, tired with raving thoughts and helpless moan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleep seal'd my eyes up, and, my senses gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My waking fancy spied a shining light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In which appear'd long pain, and short delight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A mighty General I then did see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like one, who, for some glorious victory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should to the Capitol in triumph go:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I (who had not been used to such a show<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In this soft age, where we no valour have,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But pride) admired his habit, strange and brave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And having raised mine eyes, which wearied were,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To understand this sight was all my care.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Four snowy steeds a fiery chariot drew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There sat the cruel boy; a threatening yew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His right hand bore, his quiver arrows held,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against whose force no helm or shield prevail'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two party-colour'd wings his shoulders ware;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All naked else; and round about his chair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were thousand mortals: some in battle ta'en,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Many were hurt with darts, and many slain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glad to learn news, I rose, and forward press'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So far, that I was one amongst the rest;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span><span class="i0">As if I had been kill'd with loving pain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before my time; and looking through the train<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of this tear-thirsty king, I would have spied<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some of my old acquaintance, but descried<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No face I knew: if any such there were,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They were transform'd with prison, death, and care.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At last one ghost, less sad than th' others, came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, near approaching, call'd me by my name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And said: "This comes of Love." "What may you be,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I answer'd, wondering much, "that thus know me?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I remember not t' have seen your face."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He thus replied: "It is the dusky place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That dulls thy sight, and this hard yoke I bear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Else I a Tuscan am; thy friend, and dear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thy remembrance." His wonted phrase<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And voice did then discover what he was.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So we retired aside, and left the throng,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thus he spake: "I have expected long<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see you here with us; your face did seem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To threaten you no less. I do esteem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your prophesies; but I have seen what care<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Attends a lover's life; and must beware."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Yet have I oft been beaten in the field,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sometimes hurt," said I, "but scorn'd to yield."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He smiled and said: "Alas! thou dost not see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My son, how great a flame's prepared for thee."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I knew not then what by his words he meant:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But since I find it by the dire event;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in my memory 'tis fix'd so fast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That marble gravings cannot firmer last.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meanwhile my forward youth did thus inquire:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"What may these people be? I much desire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To know their names; pray, give me leave to ask."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I think ere long 'twill be a needless task,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Replied my friend; "thou shalt be of the train,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And know them all; this captivating chain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy neck must bear, (though thou dost little fear,)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sooner change thy comely form and hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than be unfetter'd from the cruel tie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Howe'er thou struggle for thy liberty;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet to fulfil thy wish, I will relate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What I have learn'd. The first that keeps such state,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span><span class="i0">By whom our lives and freedoms we forego,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world hath call'd him Love; and he (you know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But shall know better when he comes to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lord to you, as now he is to me)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is in his childhood mild, fierce in his age;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis best believed of those that feel his rage.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The truth of this thou in thyself shalt find,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I warn thee now, pray keep it in thy mind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of idle looseness he is oft the child;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With pleasant fancies nourish'd, and is styled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or made a god by vain and foolish men:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for a recompense, some meet their bane;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Others, a harder slavery must endure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than many thousand chains and bolts procure.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That other gallant lord is conqueror<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of conquering Rome, led captive by the fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Egyptian queen, with her persuasive art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who in his honours claims the greatest part;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For binding the world's victor with her charms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His trophies are all hers by right of arms.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The next is his adoptive son, whose love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May seem more just, but doth no better prove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For though he did his lovèd Livia wed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She was seducèd from her husband's bed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nero is third, disdainful, wicked, fierce,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet a woman found a way to pierce<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His angry soul. Behold, Marcus, the grave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wise emperor, is fair Faustina's slave.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These two are tyrants: Dionysius,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Alexander, both suspicious,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet both loved: the last a just reward<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Found of his causeless fear. I know y' have heard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of him, who for Creüsa on the rock<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Antandrus mourn'd so long; whose warlike stroke<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At once revenged his friend and won his love:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And of the youth whom Phædra could not move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">T' abuse his father's bed; he left the place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by his virtue lost his life (for base<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unworthy loves to rage do quickly change).<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It kill'd her too; perhaps in just revenge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of wrong'd Theseus, slain Hippolytus,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And poor forsaken Ariadne: thus<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span><span class="i0">It often proves that they who falsely blame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another, in one breath themselves condemn:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And who have guilty been of treachery,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Need not complain, if they deceivèd be.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behold the brave hero a captive made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all his fame, and twixt these sisters led:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, as he joy'd the death of th' one to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His death did ease the other's misery.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The next that followeth, though the world admire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His strength, Love bound him. Th' other full of ire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is great Achilles, he whose pitied fate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was caused by Love. Demophoon did not hate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Impatient Phyllis, yet procured her death.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This Jason is, he whom Medea hath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Obliged by mischief; she to her father proved<br /></span> +<span class="i0">False, to her brother cruel; t' him she loved<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grew furious, by her merit over-prized.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hypsipyle comes next, mournful, despised,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wounded to see a stranger's love prevail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More than her own, a Greek. Here is the frail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair Helena, with her the shepherd boy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose gazing looks hurt Greece, and ruin'd Troy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mongst other weeping souls, you hear the moan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Œnone makes, her Paris being gone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Menelaus, for the woe he had<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To lose his wife. Hermione is sad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And calls her dear Orestes to her aid.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Laodamia, that hapless maid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bewails Protesilaus. Argia proved<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Polynice more faithful than the loved<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(But false and covetous) Amphiaraus' wife.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The groans and sighs of those who lose their life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By this kind lord, in unrelenting flames<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You hear: I cannot tell you half their names.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For they appear not only men that love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gods themselves do fill this myrtle grove:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You see fair Venus caught by Vulcan's art<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With angry Mars; Proserpina apart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From Pluto, jealous Juno, yellow-hair'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Apollo, who the young god's courage dared:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And of his trophies proud, laugh'd at the bow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which in Thessalia gave him such a blow.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span><span class="i0">What shall I say?—here, in a word, are all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gods that Varro mentions, great and small;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each with innumerable bonds detain'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Jupiter before the chariot chain'd."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anna Hume.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>PART II.</h4> + +<h3><i>Stanci già di mirar, non sazio ancora.</i></h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Wearied</span>, not satisfied, with much delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now here, now there, I turn'd my greedy sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And many things I view'd: to write were long,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The time is short, great store of passions throng<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within my breast; when lo, a lovely pair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Join'd hand in hand, who kindly talking were,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drew my attention that way: their attire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And foreign language quicken'd my desire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of further knowledge, which I soon might gain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My kind interpreter did all explain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When both I knew, I boldly then drew near;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He loved our country, though she made it fear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"O Masinissa! I adjure thee by<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Great Scipio, and her who from thine eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drew manly tears," said I; "let it not be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A trouble, what I must demand of thee."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He look'd, and said: "I first desire to know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your name and quality; for well you show<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Y' have heard the combat in my wounded soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Love did Friendship, Friendship Love control."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I am not worth your knowledge, my poor flame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gives little light," said I: "your royal fame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sets hearts on fire, that never see your face:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, pray you, say; are you two led in peace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By him?"—(I show'd their guide)—"Your history<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deserves record: it seemeth strange to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That faith and cruelty should come so near."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He said: "Thine own expressions witness bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou know'st enough, yet I will all relate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thee; 't will somewhat ease my heavy state.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On that brave man my heart was fix'd so much,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Lælius' love to him could be but such;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where'er his colours marchèd, I was nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Fortune did attend with victory:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span><span class="i0">Yet still his merit call'd for more than she<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could give, or any else deserve but he.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When to the West the Roman eagles came<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Myself was also there, and caught a flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A purer never burnt in lover's breast:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But such a joy could not be long possess'd!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our nuptial knot, alas! he soon untied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who had more power than all the world beside.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He cared not for our sighs; and though 't be true<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he divided us, his worth I knew:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He must be blind that cannot see the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But by strict justice Love is quite undone:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Counsel from such a friend gave such a stroke<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To love, it almost split, as on a rock:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For as my father I his wrath did fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as a son he in my love was dear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brothers in age we were, him I obey'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But with a troubled soul and look dismay'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus my dear half had an untimely death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She prized her freedom far above her breath;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I th' unhappy instrument was made;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such force th' intreaty and intreater had!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I rather chose myself than him t' offend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sent the poison brought her to her end:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With what sad thoughts I know, and she'll confess<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you, if you have sense of love, may guess;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No heir she left me, but my tedious moan;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though in her my hopes and joys were gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She was of lower value than my faith!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now farewell, and try if this troop hath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another wonder; for the time is less<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than is the task." I pitied their distress,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose short joy ended in so sharp a woe:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soft heart melted. As they onward go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"This youth for his part, I perhaps could love,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She said; "but nothing can my mind remove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From hatred of the nation." He replied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Good Sophonisba, you may leave this pride;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your city hath by us been three times beat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The last of which, you know, we laid it flat."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Pray use these words t' another, not to me,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Said she; "if Africk mournèd, Italy<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span><span class="i0">Needs not rejoice; search your records, and there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See what you gainèd by the Punic war."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He that was friend to both, without reply<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A little smiling, vanish'd from mine eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amongst the crowd. As one in doubtful way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At every step looks round, and fears to stray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Care stops his journey), so the varied store<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of lovers stay'd me, to examine more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And try what kind of fire burnt every breast:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When on my left hand strayèd from the rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was one, whose look express'd a ready mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In seeking what he joy'd, yet shamed to find;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He freely gave away his dearest wife<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(A new-found way to save a lover's life);<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She, though she joy'd, yet blushèd at the change.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As they recounted their affections strange,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for their Syria mourn'd; I took the way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of these three ghosts, who seem'd their course to stay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And take another path: the first I held<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bid him turn; he started, and beheld<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me with a troubled look, hearing my tongue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was Roman, such a pause he made as sprung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From some deep thought; then spake as if inspired,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For to my wish, he told what I desired<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To know: "Seleucus is," said he, "my name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is Antiochus my son, whose fame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath reach'd your ear; he warrèd much with Rome,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But reason oft by power is overcome.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This woman, once my wife, doth now belong<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To him; I gave her, and it was no wrong<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In our religion; it stay'd his death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Threaten'd by Love; Stratonica she hath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To name: so now we may enjoy one state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And our fast friendship shall outlast all date.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She from her height was willing to descend;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I quit my joy; he rather chose his end<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than our offence; and in his prime had died,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had not the wise Physician been our guide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silence in love o'ercame his vital part;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His love was force, his silence virtuous art.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A father's tender care made me agree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To this strange change." This said, he turn'd from me,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span><span class="i0">As changing his design, with such a pace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere I could take my leave, he had quit the place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">After the ghost was carried from mine eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amazedly I walk'd; nor could untie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My mind from his sad story; till my friend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Admonish'd me, and said, "You must not lend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Attention thus to everything you meet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You know the number's great, and time is fleet."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More naked prisoners this triumph had<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than Xerxes soldiers in his army led:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stretchèd further than my sight could reach;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of several countries, and of differing speech.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One of a thousand were not known to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet might those few make a large history.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perseus was one; and well you know the way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How he was catchèd by Andromeda:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She was a lovely brownet, black her hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And eyes. Narcissus, too, the foolish fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who for his own love did himself destroy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He had so much, he nothing could enjoy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she, who for his loss, deep sorrow's slave.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Changed to a voice, dwells in a hollow cave.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Iphis was there, who hasted his own fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He loved another, but himself did hate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And many more condemn'd like woes to prove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose life was made a curse by hapless love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some modern lovers in my mind remain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But those to reckon here were needless pain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The two, whose constant loves for ever last,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On whom the winds wait while they build their nest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For halcyon days poor labouring sailors please.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in rough winter calm the boisterous seas.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far off the thoughtful Æsacus, in quest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of his Hesperia, finds a rocky rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then diveth in the floods, then mounts i' th' air;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she who stole old Nisus' purple hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His cruel daughter, I observed to fly:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swift Atalanta ran for victory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But three gold apples, and a lovely face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slack'd her quick paces, till she lost the race;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She brought Hippomanes along, and joy'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he, as others, had not been destroyed,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span><span class="i0">But of the victory could singly boast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw amidst the vain and fabulous host,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair Galatea lean'd on Acis' breast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rude Polyphemus' noise disturbs their rest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glaucus alone swims through the dangerous seas,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And missing her who should his fancy please,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Curseth the cruel's Love transform'd her shape.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Canens laments that Picus could not 'scape<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dire enchantress; he in Italy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was once a king, now a pied bird; for she<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who made him such, changed not his clothes nor name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His princely habit still appears the same.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Egeria, while she wept, became a well:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scylla (a horrid rock by Circe's spell)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath made infamous the Sicilian strand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Next, she who holdeth in her trembling hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A guilty knife, her right hand writ her name.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pygmalion next, with his live mistress came.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet Aganippe, and Castalia have<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thousand more; all there sung by the brave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And deathless poets, on their fair banks placed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cydippe by an apple fool'd at last.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anna Hume.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>PART III</h4> + +<h3><i>Era sì pieno il cor di maraviglie.</i></h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">My</span> heart was fill'd with wonder and amaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As one struck dumb, in silence stands at gaze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Expecting counsel, when my friend drew near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And said: "What do you look? why stay you here?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What mean you? know you not that I am one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of these, and must attend? pray, let's be gone."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Dear friend," said I, "consider what desire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To learn the rest hath set my heart on fire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My own haste stops me." "I believe 't," said he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"And I will help; 'tis not forbidden me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This noble man, on whom the others wait<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(You see) is Pompey, justly call'd The Great:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cornelia followeth, weeping his hard fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Ptolemy's unworthy causeless hate.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You see far off the Grecian general;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His base wife, with Ægisthus wrought his fall:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span><span class="i0">Behold them there, and judge if Love be blind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But here are lovers of another kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And other faith they kept. Lynceus was saved<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By Hypermnestra: Pyramus bereaved<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Himself of life, thinking his mistress slain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thisbe's like end shorten'd her mourning pain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leander, swimming often, drown'd at last;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hero her fair self from her window cast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Courteous Ulysses his long stay doth mourn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His chaste wife prayeth for his safe return;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Circe's amorous charms her prayers control,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rather vex than please his virtuous soul.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hamilcar's son, who made great Rome afraid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By a mean wench of Spain is captive led.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This Hypsicratea is, the virtuous fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who for her husband's dear love cut her hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And served in all his wars: this is the wife<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Brutus, Portia, constant in her life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And death: this Julia is, who seems to moan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Pompey lovèd best, when she was gone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look here and see the Patriarch much abused<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who twice seven years for his fair Rachel choosed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To serve: O powerful love increased by woe!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His father this: now see his grandsire go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Sarah from his home. This cruel Love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'ercame good David; so it had power to move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His righteous heart to that abhorrèd crime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For which he sorrow'd all his following time;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just such like error soil'd his wise son's fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For whose idolatry God's anger came:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here's he who in one hour could love and hate:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here Tamar, full of anguish, wails her state;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her brother Absalom attempts t' appease<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her grievèd soul. Samson takes care to please<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His fancy; and appears more strong than wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who in a traitress' bosom sleeping lies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amongst those pikes and spears which guard the place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love, wine, and sleep, a beauteous widow's face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pleasing art hath Holophernes ta'en;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She back again retires, who hath him slain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With her one maid, bearing the horrid head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In haste, and thanks God that so well she sped.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span><span class="i0">The next is Sichem, he who found his death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In circumcision; his father hath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like mischief felt; the city all did prove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The same effect of his rash violent love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You see Ahasuerus how well he bears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His loss; a new love soon expels his cares;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This cure in this disease doth seldom fail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One nail best driveth out another nail.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If you would see love mingled oft with hate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bitter with sweet, behold fierce Herod's state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beset with love and cruelty at once:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enraged at first, then late his fault bemoans,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Mariamne calls; those three fair dames<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Who in the list of captives write their names)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Procris, Deidamia, Artemisia were<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All good, the other three as wicked are—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Semiramis, Byblis, and Myrrha named,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who of their crooked ways are now ashamed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here be the erring knights in ancient scrolls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lancelot, Tristram, and the vulgar souls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wait on these; Guenever, and the fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Isond, with other lovers; and the pair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, as they walk together, seem to plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their just, but cruel fate, by one hand slain."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus he discoursed: and as a man that fears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Approaching harm, when he a trumpet hears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Starts at the blow ere touch'd, my frighted blood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Retired: as one raised from his tomb I stood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When by my side I spied a lovely maid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(No turtle ever purer whiteness had!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And straight was caught (who lately swore I would<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Defend me from a man at arms), nor could<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Resist the wounds of words with motion graced:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The image yet is in my fancy placed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My friend was willing to increase my woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And smiling whisper'd,—"You alone may go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Confer with whom you please, for now we are<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All stained with one crime." My sullen care<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was like to theirs, who are more grieved to know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another's happiness than their own woe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For seeing her, who had enthrall'd my mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Live free in peace, and no disturbance find:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span><span class="i0">And seeing that I knew my hurt too late.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that her beauty was my dying fate:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love, jealousy, and envy held my sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So fix'd on that fair face, no other light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I could behold; like one who in the rage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of sickness greedily his thirst would 'suage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With hurtful drink, which doth his palate please,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus (blind and deaf t' all other joys are ease)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So many doubtful ways I follow'd her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The memory still shakes my soul with fear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since when mine eyes are moist, and view the ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart is heavy, and my steps have found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A solitary dwelling 'mongst the woods,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I stray o'er rocks and fountains, hills and floods:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since when such store my scatter'd papers hold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thoughts, of tears, of ink; which oft I fold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unfold, and tear: since when I know the scope<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Love, and what they fear, and what they hope;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And how they live that in his cloister dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The skilful in their face may read it well.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meanwhile I see, how fierce and gallant she<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cares not for me, nor for my misery,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proud of her virtue, and my overthrow:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on the other side (if aught I know),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This lord, who hath the world in triumph led,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She keeps in fear; thus all my hopes are dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No strength nor courage left, nor can I be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Revenged, as I expected once; for he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who tortures me and others, is abused<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By her; she'll not be caught, and long hath used<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Rebellious as she is!) to shun his wars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And is a sun amidst the lesser stars.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her grace, smiles, slights, her words in order set;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her hair dispersed or in a golden net;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her eyes inflaming with a light divine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So burn my heart, I dare no more repine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, who is able fully to express<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her pleasing ways, her merit? No excess,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No bold hyperboles I need to fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My humble style cannot enough come near<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The truth; my words are like a little stream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Compared with th' ocean, so large a theme<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span><span class="i0">Is that high praise; new worth, not seen before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is seen in her, and can be seen no more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Therefore all tongues are silenced; and I,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her prisoner now, see her at liberty:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And night and day implore (O unjust fate!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She neither hears nor pities my estate:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hard laws of Love! But though a partial lot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I plainly see in this, yet must I not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Refuse to serve: the gods, as well as men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With like reward of old have felt like pain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now know I how the mind itself doth part<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Now making peace, now war, now truce)—what art<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poor lovers use to hide their stinging woe:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And how their blood now comes, and now doth go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Betwixt their heart and cheeks, by shame or fear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How they be eloquent, yet speechless are;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And how they both ways lean, they watch and sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Languish to death, yet life and vigour keep:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I trod the paths made happy by her feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And search the foe I am afraid to meet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know how lovers metamorphosed are<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To that they love: I know what tedious care<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feel; how vain my joy, how oft I change<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Design and countenance; and (which is strange)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I live without a soul: I know the way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To cheat myself a thousand times a day:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know to follow while I flee my fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I freeze when present; absent, my desire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is hot: I know what cruel rigour Love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Practiseth on the mind, and doth remove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All reason thence, and how he racks the heart:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And how a soul hath neither strength nor art<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without a helper to resist his blows:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And how he flees, and how his darts he throws:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And how his threats the fearful lover feels:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And how he robs by force, and how he steals:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How oft his wheels turn round (now high, now low)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With how uncertain hope, how certain woe:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How all his promises be void of faith,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And how a fire hid in our bones he hath:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How in our veins he makes a secret wound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence open flames and death do soon abound.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span><span class="i0">In sum, I know how giddy and how vain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be lovers' lives; what fear and boldness reign<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all their ways; how every sweet is paid.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with a double weight of sour allay'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I also know their customs, sighs, and songs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their sudden muteness, and their stammering tongues:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How short their joy, how long their pain doth last,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How wormwood spoileth all their honey's taste.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anna Hume.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>PART IV.</h4> + +<h3><i>Poscia che mia fortuna in forza altrui.</i></h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">When</span> once my will was captive by my fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I had lost the liberty, which late<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made my life happy; I, who used before<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To flee from Love (as fearful deer abhor<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The following huntsman), suddenly became<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Like all my fellow-servants) calm and tame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And view'd the travails, wrestlings, and the smart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The crooked by-paths, and the cozening art<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That guides the amorous flock: then whilst mine eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I cast in every corner, to espy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some ancient or modern who had proved<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Famous, I saw him, who had only loved<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eurydice, and found out hell, to call<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her dear ghost back; he named her in his fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For whom he died. Aleæus there was known,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Skilful in love and verse: Anacreon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose muse sung nought but love: Pindarus, he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was also there: there I might Virgil see:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Many brave wits I found, some looser rhymes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By others writ, hath pleased the ancient times:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ovid was one: after Catullus came:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Propertius next, his elegies the name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Cynthia bear: Tibullus, and the young<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Greek poetess, who is received among<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The noble troop for her rare Sapphic muse.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus looking here and there (as oft I use),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I spied much people on a flowery plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amongst themselves disputes of love maintain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behold Beatrice with Dante; Selvaggia, she<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brought her Pistoian Cino; Guitton may be<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span><span class="i0">Offended that he is the latter named:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behold both Guidos for their learning famed:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Th' honest Bolognian: the Sicilians first<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wrote love in rhymes, but wrote their rhymes the worst.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Franceschin and Sennuccio (whom all know)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were worthy and humane: after did go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A squadron of another garb and phrase,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of whom Arnaldo Daniel hath most praise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Great master in Love's art, his style, as new<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As sweet, honours his country: next, a few<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom Love did lightly wound: both Peters made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two: one, the less Arnaldo: some have had<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A harder war; both the Rimbaldos, th' one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sung Beatrice, though her quality was known<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too much above his reach in Montferrat.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alvernia's old Piero, and Girault:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Folchetto, who from Genoa was estranged<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And call'd Marsilian, he wisely changed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His name, his state, his country, and did gain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all: Jeffray made haste to catch his bane<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With sails and oars: Guilliam, too, sweetly sung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That pleasing art, was cause he died so young.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amarig, Bernard, Hugo, and Anselm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were there, with thousands more, whose tongues were helm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shield, sword, and spear, all their offensive arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And their defensive to prevent their harms.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From those I turn'd, comparing my own woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To view my country-folks; and there might know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The good Tomasso, who did once adorn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bologna, now Messina holds his urn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, vanish'd joys! Ah, life too full of bane!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How wert thou from mine eyes so quickly ta'en!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since without thee nothing is in my power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To do, where art thou from me at this hour?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What is our life? If aught it bring of ease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sick man's dream, a fable told to please.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some few there from the common road did stray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lælius and Socrates, with whom I may<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A longer progress take: Oh, what a pair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of dear esteemèd friends to me they were!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis not my verse, nor prose, may reach thieir praise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Neither of these can naked virtue raise<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span><span class="i0">Above her own true place: with them I have<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reach'd many heights; one yoke of learning gave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laws to our steps, to them my fester'd wound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I oft have show'd; no time or place I found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To part from them; and hope, and wish we may<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be undivided till my breath decay:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With them I used (too early) to adorn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My head with th' honour'd branches, only worn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For her dear sake I did so deeply love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who fill'd my thoughts; but ah! I daily prove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No fruit nor leaves from thence can gather'd be:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The root hath sharp and bitter been to me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For this I was accustomed much to vex,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I have seen that which my anger checks:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(A theme for buskins, not a comic stage)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She took the God, adored by the rage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of such dull fools as he had captive led:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But first, I'll tell you what of us he made;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, from her hand what was his own sad fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which Orpheus or Homer might relate.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His winged coursers o'er the ditches leapt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we their way as desperately kept,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till he had reached where his mother reigns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor would he ever pull or turn the reins;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But scour'd o'er woods and mountains; none did care<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor could discern in what strange world they were.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond the place, where old Ægeus mourns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An island lies, Phœbus none sweeter burns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor Neptune ever bathed a better shore:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">About the midst a beauteous hill, with store<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of shades and pleasing smells, so fresh a spring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As drowns all manly thoughts: this place doth bring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Venus much joy; 't was given her deity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere blind man knew a truer god than she:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of which original it yet retains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too much, so little goodness there remains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That it the vicious doth only please,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is by the virtuous shunn'd as a disease.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here this fine Lord insulteth o'er us all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tied in a chain, from Thule to Ganges' fall.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Griefs in our breasts, vanity in our arms;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fleeting delights are there, and weighty harms:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span><span class="i0">Repentance swiftly following to annoy:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Such Tarquin found it, and the bane of Troy)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All that whole valley with the echoes rung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of running brooks, and birds that gently sung:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The banks were clothed in yellow, purple, green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarlet and white, their pleasing springs were seen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gliding streams amongst the tender grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thickets and soft winds to refresh the place.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">After when winter maketh sharp the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Warm leaves, and leisure, sports, and gallant cheer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enthrall low minds. Now th' equinox hath made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The day t' equal the night; and Progne had<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With her sweet sister, each their old task ta'en:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Ah! how the faith in fortune placed is vain!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just in the time, and place, and in the hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When humble tears should earthly joys devour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It pleased him, whom th' vulgar honour so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To triumph over me; and now I know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What miserable servitude they prove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What ruin, and what death, that fall in love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Errors, dreams, paleness waiteth on his chair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">False fancies o'er the door, and on the stair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are slippery hopes, unprofitable gain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gainful loss; such steps it doth contain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As who descend, may boast their fortune best;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who most ascend, most fall: a wearied rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And resting trouble, glorious disgrace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A duskish and obscure illustriousness;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unfaithful loyalty, and cozening faith,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That nimble fury, lazy reason hath:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A prison, whose wide ways do all receive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose narrow paths a hard retiring leave:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A steep descent, by which we slide with ease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But find no hold our crawling steps to raise:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within confusion, turbulence, annoy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are mix'd; undoubted woe, and doubtful joy:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vulcano, where the sooty Cyclops dwell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Liparis, Stromboli, nor Mongibel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor Ischia, have more horrid noise and smoke:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He hates himself that stoops to such a yoke.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus were we all throng'd in so strait a cage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I changed my looks and hair, before my age,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span><span class="i0">Dreaming on liberty (by strong desire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul made apt to hope), and did admire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those gallant minds, enslaved to such a woe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(My heart within my breast dissolved like snow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before the sun), as one would side-ways cast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His eye on pictures, which his feet hath pass'd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anna Hume.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE SAME.</h2> + + +<h4>PART I.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> fatal morning dawn'd that brought again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sad memorial of my ancient pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That day, the source of long-protracted woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I began the plagues of Love to know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hyperion's throne, along the azure field,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between the splendid horns of Taurus wheel'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from her spouse the Queen of Morn withdrew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her sandals, gemm'd with frost-bespangled dew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sad recollection, rising with the morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of my disastrous love, repaid with scorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oppressed my sense; till welcome soft repose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gave a short respite from my swelling woes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then seem'd I in a vision borne away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where a deep winding vale sequester'd lay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor long I rested on the flowery green<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere a soft radiance dawn'd along the scene.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fallacious sign of hope! for, close behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dark shades of coming woe were seen combined.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, on his car, a conqu'ring chief I spied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like Rome's proud sons, that led the living tide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of vanquished foes, in long triumphal state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Capitolian Jove's disclosing gate.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With little joy I saw the splendid show,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spent and dejected by my lengthen'd woe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sick of the world, and all its worthless train,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That world, where all the hateful passions reign;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet intent the mystic cause to find,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(For knowledge is the banquet of the mind)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Languid and slow I turn'd my cheerless eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the proud warrior, and his uncouth guise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">High on his seat an archer youth was seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With loaded quiver, and malicious mien<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span><span class="i0">Nor plate, nor mail, his cruel shaft can ward,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor polish'd burganet the temples guard;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His burning chariot seem'd by coursers drawn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While, like the snows that clothe the wintry lawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His waving wings with rainbow colour gay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On either naked shoulder seem'd to play;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, filing far behind, a countless train<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In sad procession hid the groaning plain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some, captive, seem'd in long disastrous strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some, in the deadly fray, bereft of life;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And freshly wounded some. A viewless hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Led me to mingle with the mornful band,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And learn the fortunes of the sentenced crew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, pierced by Love, had bid the world adieu.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With keen survey I mark'd the ghostly show,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To find a shade among the sons of woe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To memory known: but every trace was lost<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the dim features of the moving host:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oblivion's hand had drawn a dark disguise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er their wan lineaments and beamless eyes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At length, a pallid face I seem'd to know;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which wore, methought, a lighter mask of woe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He call'd me by my name.—"Behold!" he cried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"What plagues the hapless thralls of Love abide!"—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"How am I known by thee?" with new surprise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I cried; "no mark recalls thee to my eyes."—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Oh, heavy is my load!" he seem'd to say;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Through this dark medium no detecting ray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Assists thy sight; but I, like thee, can boast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My birth on famed Etruria's ancient coast."—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The secret which his murky mask conceal'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His well-known voice and Tuscan tongue reveal'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thence to a lighter station we repair'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus the phantom spoke, with mild regard:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"We thought to see thy name with ours enroll'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long since; for oft thy looks this fate foretold."—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"True," I replied; "but I survived the strife:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His arrows reach'd me, but were short of life."—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pausing, he spoke:—"A spark to flame will rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bear thy name in glory to the skies."—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His meaning was obscure, but in my breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I felt the substance of his words impress'd,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span><span class="i0">As sculptured stone, or monumental brass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Keeps the firm record, or heroic face.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With youthful ardour new, and hope inspired,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quick from my grave companion I required<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The name and fortunes of the passing train.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And why in mournful pomp they trod the plain—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Time," he return'd, "the secret then will show,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thou shalt join the retinue of woe:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But years shall sprinkle o'er thy locks with gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And alter'd looks the signs of age betray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere at his powerful touch the fetters fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which many a moon thy captive limbs shall gall:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet will I grant thy suit, and give to view<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The various fortunes of the captive crew:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But mark their leader first, that chief renown'd—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Power of Love! by every nation own'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His sway thou soon, as well as we, shalt know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stung to the heart by goads of dulcet woe.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In him unthinking youth's misgovern'd rage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Join'd with the cool malignity of age,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is known to mingle with insidious guile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep, deep conceal'd beneath an infant's smile.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The child of slothful ease, and sensual heat—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By sweet delirious thoughts, in dark retreat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mature in mischief grown—he springs away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A wingèd god, and thousands own his sway.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some, as thou seest, are number'd with the dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And some the bitter drops of sorrow shed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through lingering life, by viewless tangles bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That link the soul, and chain it to the ground.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There Cæsar walks! of Celtic laurels proud.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor feels himself in sensual bondage bow'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He treads the flowery path, nor sees the snare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laid for his honour by the Egyptian fair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here Love his triumph shows, and leads along<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world's great owner in the captive throng;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And o'er the master of unscepter'd kings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exulting soars, and claps his purple wings.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See his adopted son! he knew her guile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nobly scorn'd the siren of the Nile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet fell by Roman charms and from her spouse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pregnant consort bore, regardless of her vows<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span><span class="i0">There, cruel Nero feels his iron heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lanced by imperious Love's resistless dart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Replete with rage, and scorning human ties,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He falls the victim of two conquering eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep ambush'd there in philosophic spoils,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The little tyrant tries his artful wiles:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en in that hallow'd breast, where, deep enshrined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lay all the varied treasures of the mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He lodged his venom'd shaft. The hoary sage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like meaner mortals, felt the passion rage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In boundless fury for a strumpet's charms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And clasp'd the shining mischief in his arms.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See Dionysius link'd with Pheræ's lord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pale doubt and dread on either front abhorr'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scowl terrible! yet Love assign'd their doom;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A wife and mistress mark'd them for the tomb!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The next is he that on Antandros' coast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His fair Crëusa mourn'd, for ever lost;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet cut the bonds of Love on Tyber's shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bought a bride with young Evander's gore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here droop'd the victim of a lawless flame:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The amorous frenzy of the Cretan dame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He fled abhorrent, and contemn'd her tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to the dire suggestion closed his ears.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But nought, alas! his purity avail'd—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fate in his flight the hapless youth assail'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By interdicted Love to Vengeance fired;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by his father's curse the son expired.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stepdame shared his fate, and dearly paid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A spouse, a sister, and a son betray'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her conscience, by the false impeachment stung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon herself return'd the deadly wrong;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he, that broke before his plighted vows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Met his deserts in an adulterous spouse.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See! where he droops between the sister dames,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fondly melts—the other scorns his flames,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mighty slave of Omphale behind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is seen, and he whom Love and fraud combined<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sent to the shades of everlasting night;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still he seems to weep his wretched plight.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, Phyllis mourns Demophoon's broken vows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fell Medea there pursues her spouse;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span><span class="i0">With impious boast, and shrill upbraiding cries,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She tells him how she broke the holy ties<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of kindred for his sake; the guilty shore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That from her poignard drank a brother's gore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The deep affliction of her royal sire.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who heard her flight with imprecations dire.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See! beauteous Helen, with her Trojan swain—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The royal youth that fed his amorous pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With ardent gaze, on those destructive charms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That waken'd half the warring world to arms—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yonder, behold Œnone's wild despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who mourns the triumphs of the Spartan fair!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The injured husband answers groan for groan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And young Hermione with piteous moan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Orestes calls; while Laodamia near<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bewails her valiant consort's fate severe.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adrastus' daughter there laments her spouse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sincere and constant to her nuptial vows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, lured by her, with gold's seductive aid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her lord, Eriphile, to death betray'd."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And now, the baleful anthem, loud and long,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rose in full chorus from the passing throng;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Love's sad name, the cause of all their woes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In execrations seem'd the dirge to close.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But who the number and the names can tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of those that seem'd the deadly strain to swell!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not men alone, but gods my dream display'd—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Celestial wailings fill'd the myrtle shade:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft Venus, with her lover, mourn'd the snare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The King of Shades, and Proserpine the fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Juno, whose frown disclosed her jealous spite;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor, less enthrall'd by Love, the god of light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who held in scorn the wingèd warrior's dart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till in his breast he felt the fatal smart.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each god, whose name the learned Roman told,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Cupid's numerous levy seem'd enroll'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, bound before his car in fetters strong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In sullen state the Thunderer march'd along.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Boyd.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span></p> +<h4>PART II.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Thus</span>, as I view'd th' interminable host,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The prospect seem'd at last in dimness lost:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But still the wish remain'd their doom to know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As, watchful, I survey'd the passing show.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As each majestic form emerged to light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thither, intent, I turn'd my sharpen'd sight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And soon a noble pair my notice drew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, hand in hand approaching, met my view.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In gentle parley, and communion sweet—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With looks of love, they seem'd mine eyes to meet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet strange was their attire—their tongue unknown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spoke them the natives of a distant zone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But every doubt my kind assistant clear'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Instant I knew them, when their names were heard.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To one, encouraged by his aspect mild,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I spoke—the other with a frown recoil'd.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"O Masinissa!"—thus my speech began,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"By Scipio's friendship, and the gentle ban<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of constant love, attend my warm request."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turning around, the solemn shade address'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His answer thus:—"With like desire I glow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your lineage, name, and character, to know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since you have learnt my name." With soft reply<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I said, "A name like mine can nought supply<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The notice of renown like yours to claim.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No smother'd spark like mine emits a flame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To catch the public eye, as you can boast—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A leading name in Cupid's numerous host!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alike his future victims and the past<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall own the common tie, while time itself shall last.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But tell me (if your guide allow a space<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The semblance of those tendant shades to trace)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The names and fortunes of the following pair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who seem the noblest gifts of mind to share."—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"My name," he said, "you seem to know so well<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That faithful Memory all the rest can tell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But as the sad detail may soothe my woes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Listen, while I my mournful doom disclose:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Rome and Scipio's cause my faith was bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en Lælius scarce a warmer friendship own'd:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span><span class="i0">Where'er their ensigns fann'd the summer sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I led my Libyans on, a firm ally;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Propitious Fortune still advanced his name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet more than she bestow'd, his worth might claim.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still we advanced, and still our glory grew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While westward far the Roman eagle flew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With conquest wing'd; but my unlucky star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Led me, unconscious, to the fatal snare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which Love had laid. I saw the regal dame—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our hearts at once confess'd a mutual flame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Caught by the lure of interdicted joys,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proudly I scorn'd the stern forbidding voice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Roman policy; and hoped the vows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At Hymen's altar sworn, might save my spouse.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, oh! that wondrous man, who ne'er would yield<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To passion's call, the cruel sentence seal'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That tore my consort from my fond embrace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And left me sunk in anguish and disgrace.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unmoved he saw my briny sorrows flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unmoved he listen'd to my tale of woe!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But friendship, waked at last, with reverent awe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Obsequious, own'd his mind's superior law;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to that holy and unclouded light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That led him on through passion's dubious night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Submiss I bow'd; for, oh! the beam of day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is dark to him that wants her guiding ray!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love, hardly conquer'd, long repined in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Justice link'd the adamantine chain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cruel Friendship o'er the conquer'd ground<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Raised with strong hand th' insuperable mound.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To him I owed my laurels nobly won—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I loved him as a brother, sire, and son,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For in an equal race our lives had run;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet the sad price I paid with burning tears;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dire was the cause that woke my gloomy fears!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too well the sad result my soul divined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too well I knew the unsubmitting mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Sophonisba would prefer the tomb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To stern captivity's ignoble doom.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I, too, sad victim of celestial wrath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was forced to aid the tardy stroke of death:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With pangs I yielded to her piercing cries,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To speed her passage to the nether skies;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span><span class="i0">And worse than death endured, her mind to save<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From shame, more hateful than the yawning grave.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What was my anguish, when she seized the bowl,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She knows! and you, whose sympathising soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has felt the fiery shaft, may guess my pains—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now tears and anguish are her sole remains.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That treasure, to preserve my faith to Rome,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those hands committed to th' untimely tomb;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every hope and joy of life resign'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To keep the stain of falsehood from my mind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But hasten, and the moving pomp survey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(The light-wing'd moments brook no long delay),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To try if any form your notice claims<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among those love-lorn youths and amorous dames."—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With poignant grief I heard his tale of woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That seem'd to melt my heart like vernal snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When a low voice these sullen accents sung:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Not for himself, but those from whom he sprung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He merits fate; for I detest them all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To whose fell rage I owe my country's fall."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Oh, calm your rage, unhappy Queen!" I cried;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Twice was the land and sea in slaughter dyed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By cruel Carthage, till the sentence pass'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That laid her glories in the dust at last."—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Yet mournful wreaths no less the victors crown'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In deep despair our valour oft they own'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your own impartial annals yet proclaim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Punic glory and the Roman shame."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She spoke—and with a smile of hostile spite<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Join'd the deep train, and darken'd to my sight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, as a traveller through lands unknown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With care and keen observance journeys on;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose dubious thoughts his eager steps retard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus through the files I pass'd with fix'd regard;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still singling some amid the moving show,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Intent the story of their loves to know.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A spectre now within my notice came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though dubious marks of joy, commix'd with shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His features wore, like one who gains a boon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With secret glee, which shame forbids to own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O dire example of the Demon's power!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The father leaves the hymeneal bower<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span><span class="i0">For his incestuous son; the guilty spouse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With transport mix'd with honour, meets his vows!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In mournful converse now, amidst the host,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their compact they bewail'd, and Syria lost!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Instant, with eager step, I turn'd aside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And met the double husband, and the bride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with an earnest voice the first address'd:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A look of dread the spectre's face express'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When first the accents of victorious Rome<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brought to his mind his kingdom's ancient doom.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At length, with many a doleful sigh, he said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"You here behold Seleucus' royal shade.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Antiochus is next; his life to save,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My ready hand my beauteous consort gave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(From me, whose will was law, a legal prize,)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That bound our souls in everlasting ties<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Indissolubly strong. The royal fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forsook a throne to cure the deep despair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of him, who would have dared the stroke of Death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To keep, without a stain, his filial faith.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A skilful leech the deadly symptoms guess'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His throbbing veins the secret soon confess'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Love with honour match'd, in dire debate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whenever he beheld my lovely mate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Else gentle Love, subdued by filial dread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had sent him down among th' untimely dead."—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, like a man that feels a sudden thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His purpose change, the mingling crowd he sought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And left the question, which a moment hung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarce half suppress'd upon my faltering tongue.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suspended for a moment, still I stood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With various thoughts oppress'd in musing mood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At length a voice was heard, "The passing day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is yours, but it permits not long delay."—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I turn'd in haste, and saw a fleeting train<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Outnumbering those who pass'd the surging main<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By Xerxes led—a naked wailing crew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose wretched plight the drops of sorrow drew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From my full eyes.—Of many a clime and tongue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Commix'd the mournful pageant moved along<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While scarce the fortunes or the name of one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among a thousand passing forms was known.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span><span class="i0">I spied that Ethiopian's dusky charms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which woke in Perseus' bosom Love's alarms;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And next was he who for a shadow burn'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which the deceitful watery glass return'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enamour'd of himself, in sad decay—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amid abundance, poor—he look'd his life away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now transform'd through passion's baneful power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He o'er the margin hangs, a drooping flower;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While, by her hopeless love congeal'd to stone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His mistress seems to look in silence on;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then he that loved, by too severe a fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cruel maid who met his love with hate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pass'd by; with many more who met their doom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By female pride, and fill'd an early tomb.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There too, the victim of her plighted vows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Halcyone for ever mourns her spouse;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who now, in feathers clad, as poets feign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Makes a short summer on the wintry main.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then he that to the cliffs the maid pursued,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And seem'd by turns to soar, and swim the flood;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she, who, snared by Love, her father sold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With her, who fondly snared the rolling gold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her young paramour, who made his boast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he had gain'd the prize his rival lost.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Acis and Galatea next were seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Polyphemus with infuriate mien;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Glaucus there, by rival arts assail'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fell Circe's hate and Scylla's doom bewail'd.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then sad Carmenta, with her royal lord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom the fell sorceress clad, by arts abhorr'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With plumes; but still the regal stamp impress'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On his imperial wings and lofty crest.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then she, whose tears the springing fount supplied;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she whose form above the rolling tide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hangs a portentous cliff—the royal fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who wrote the dictates of her last despair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To him whose ships had left the friendly strand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the keen steel in her determined hand.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, too, Pygmalion, with his new-made spouse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With many more, I spied, whose amorous vows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fates in never-dying song resound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Aganippe laves the sacred ground:—<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span><span class="i0">And, last of all, I saw the lovely maid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Love unconscious, by an oath betray'd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Boyd.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>PART III.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Like</span> one by wonder reft of speech, I stood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pond'ring the mournful scene in pensive mood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As one that waits advice. My guide in haste<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Began:—"You let the moments run to waste<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What objects hold you here?—my doom you know;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Compell'd to wander with the sons of woe!"—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Oh, yet awhile afford your friendly aid!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You see my inmost soul;" submiss I said.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The strong unsated wish you there can read;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The restless cravings of my mind to feed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With tidings of the dead."—In gentler tone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He said, "Your longings in your looks are known;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You wish to learn the names of those behind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who through the vale in long procession wind:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I grant your prayer, if fate allows a space,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He said, "their fortunes, as they come, to trace.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See that majestic shade that moves along,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And claims obeisance from the ghostly throng:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis Pompey; with the partner of his vows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who mourns the fortunes of her slaughter'd spouse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By Egypt's servile band.—The next is he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom Love's tyrannic spell forbade to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The danger by his cruel consort plann'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till Fate surprised him by her treacherous hand.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let constancy and truth exalt the name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of her, the lovely candidate for fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who saved her spouse!—Then Pyramus is seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Thisbe, through the shade, with pensive mien;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then Hero with Leander moves along,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And great Ulysses, towering in the throng:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His visage wears the signs of anxious thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There sad Penelope laments her lot:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With trickling tears she seems to chide his stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While fond Calypso charms her love-delay.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Next he who braved in many a bloody fight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For years on years, the whole collected might<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Rome, but sunk at length in Cupid's snare<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span><span class="i0">The shameful victim of th' Apulian fair!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then she, that, in a servile dress pursued,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Reft of her golden locks) o'er field and flood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With peerless faith, her exiled spouse unknown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With whom of old she fill'd a lofty throne.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then Portia comes, who fire and steel defied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Julia, grieved to see a second bride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Engage her consort's love.—The Hebrew swain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Appears, who sold himself his love to gain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For seven long summers—a vivacious flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which neither years nor constant toil could tame!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then Isaac, with his father, joins the band,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, with his consort, left at God's command,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Led by the lamp of faith, his native land.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">David is next, by lawless passion sway'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, adding crime to crime, at last betray'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To deeds of blood, till solitude and tears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wash'd his dire guilt away, and calm'd his fears.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sensual vapour, with Circean fume,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Involved his royal son in deeper gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dimm'd his glory, till, immersed in vice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His heart renounced the Ruler of the Skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adopting Stygian gods.—The changeful hue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of his incestuous brother meets your view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who lurks behind: observe the sudden turn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of love and hatred blanch his cheek, and burn!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His ruin'd sister there, with frantic speed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Absalom recounts the direful deed.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Samson behold, a prey to female fraud!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strong, but unwise, he laid the pledge of God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In her fallacious lap, who basely sold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her husband's honour for Philistian gold.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Judith is nigh, who, mid a host in arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With gentle accents and alluring charms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their chief o'ercame, and, at the noon of night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From his pavilion sped her venturous flight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With one attendant slave, who bore along<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tyrant's head amid the hostile throng;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adoring Him who arms the feeble hand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bids the weak a mighty foe withstand.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unhappy Sichem next is seen, who paid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bloody ransom for an injured maid:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span><span class="i0">His guiltless sire and all his slaughter'd race,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With many a life, attend the foul disgrace.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such was the ruin by a sudden gust<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of passion caused, when murder follow'd lust!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That other, like a wise physician, cured<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An abject passion, long with pain endured:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Vashti for an easy boon he sued;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She scorn'd his suit, and rage his love subdued:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soon to its aid a softer passion came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from his breast expell'd the former flame:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like wedge by wedge displaced, the nuptial ties<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He breaks, and soon another bride supplies.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if you wish to see the bosom (war<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Jealousy and Love) in deadly jar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behold that royal Jew! the dire control<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Love and Hate by turns besiege his soul.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now Vengeance wins the day—the deed is done!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now, in fell remorse, he hates the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And calls his consort from the realms of night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To which his fatal hand had sped her flight—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behold yon hapless three, by passion lost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Procris, and Artemisia's royal ghost;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her, whose son (his mother's grief and joy)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Razed with paternal rage the walls of Troy,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another triple sisterhood is seen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This characters of Hades. Mark their mien<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With sin distain'd: their downcast looks disclose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A conscience of their crimes, and dread of coming woes.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Semiramis, and Byblis (famed of old)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her mother's rival there you next behold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With many a warrior, many a lovely dame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of old, ennobled by romantic fame.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There Lancelot and Tristram (famed in fight)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are seen, with many a dame and errant knight;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Genevra, Belle Isonde, and hundreds more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With those who mingled their incestuous gore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shed by paternal rage; and chant beneath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In baneful symphony, the Song of Death."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He scarce had spoken, when a chill presage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(What warriors feel before the battle's rage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When in the angry trump's sonorous breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They hear, before it comes, the sound of Death)<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span><span class="i0">My heart possess'd; and, tinged with deadly pale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I seem'd escaped from Death's eternal jail;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, fleeting to my side with looks of Love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A phantom brighter than the Cyprian dove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My fingers clasp'd; which, though of power to wield<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The temper'd sabre in the bloody field<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against an armed foe, a touch subdued;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gentle words, and looks that fired the blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My friend addressed me (I remember well),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from his lips these dubious accents fell:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Converse with whom you please, for all the train<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are mark'd alike the slaves of Cupid's reign."—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus, in security and peace trepann'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I was enlisted in that wayward band,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who short-lived joys by anguish long obtain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whom the pleasures of a rival pain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More than their proper joys. Remembrance shows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too clear at last the source of all my woes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Jealousy, and Love, and Envy drew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That nurture from my heart by which they grew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As feverish eyes on air-drawn features dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My fascinated eyes, by magic spell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dwell'd on the heavenly form with ardent look,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And at a glance the dire contagion took<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That tinged my days to come; and each delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But those that bore her stamp, consign'd to night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I blush with shame when to my inward view<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The devious paths return where Cupid drew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His willing slave, with all my hopes and fears—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Phœbus seem'd to rise and set in tears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For many a spring—and when I used to dwell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lonely hermit in a silent cell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How upwards oft I traced the purling rills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To their pure fountains in the misty hills!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rocks I used to climb, the solemn woods,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where oft I wander'd by the winding floods!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And often spent, whene'er I chanced to stray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In amorous ditties all the livelong day!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What mournful rhymes I wrote and 'rased again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spending the precious hours of youth in vain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas in this school I learn'd the mystic things<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the blind god, and all the secret springs<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span><span class="i0">From which his hopes and fears alternate rise:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Graved on his frontlet, the detection lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which all may read, for I have oped their eyes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she, the cause of all my lengthen'd toils,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Disdains my passion, though she boasts my spoils.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of rigid honour proud, she smiles to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fatal triumph of her charms in me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not Love himself can aid, for Love retires,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in her sacred presence veils his fires:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He feels his genius by her looks subdued,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all his spells by stronger spells withstood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hence my despair; for neither force nor art<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can wound her bosom, nor extract the dart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That rankles here, while proudly she defies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The power that makes a captive world his prize.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She is not one that dallies with the foe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But with unconquer'd soul defies the blow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, like the Lord of Light, displays afar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A splendour which obscures each lesser star.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her port is all divine; her radiant smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And e'en her scorn, the captive heart beguile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her accents breathe of heaven; her auburn hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Whether it wanton with the sportive air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or bound in shining wreaths adorns her face,)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Secures her conquests with resistless grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her eyes, that sparkle with celestial fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have render'd me the slave of fond desire.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But who can raise his style to match her charms?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What mortal bard can sing the soft alarms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That flutter in the breast, and fire the veins?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! the theme surmounts the loftiest strains.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far as the ocean in its ample bed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exceeds the purling stream that warbles through the mead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such charms are hers—as never were reveal'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On earth, since Phœbus first the world beheld!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And voices, tuned her peerless form to praise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suffer a solemn pause with mute amaze.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus was I manacled for life; while she,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proud of my bonds, enjoy'd her liberty.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With ceaseless suit I pray'd, but all in vain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One prayer among a thousand scarce could gain<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span><span class="i0">A slight regard—so hopeless was my state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And such the laws of Love imposed by fate!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For stedfast is the rule by Nature given,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which all the ranks of life, from earth to heaven.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With reverent awe and homage due obey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every age and climate owns its sway.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know the cruel pangs by lovers borne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When from the breast the bleeding heart is torn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By Love's relentless gripe; the deadly harms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Cupid, when he wields resistless arms;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or when, in dubious truce, he drops his dart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gives short respite to the tortured heart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The vital current's ebb and flood I know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When shame or anger bids the features glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or terror pales the cheek; the deadly snake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know that nestles in the flowery brake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, watchful, seems to sleep, and languor feigns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When health-inspiring vigour fills the veins.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know what hope and fear assail the mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I pursue my love, yet dread to find.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know the strange and sympathetic tie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, soul in soul transfused, a fond ally<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ever seems another and the same,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or change with mutual love their mortal frame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From transient smiles to long protracted woe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The various turns and dark degrees I know;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hot and cold, and that unequall'd smart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When souls survive, though sever'd from the heart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know, I cherish, and detect the cheat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of every hour; but still, with eager feet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fervent hope, pursue the flying fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still for promised rapture meet despair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When absent, I consume in raging fire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, in her presence check'd, the flames expire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Repress'd by sacred awe. The boundless sway<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of cruel Love I feel, that makes a prey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all those energies that lift the soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To her congenial climes above the pole<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know the various pangs that rend the heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know that noblest souls receive the dart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without defence, when Reason drops the shield<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, recreant, to her foe resigns the field.—<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span><span class="i0">I saw the archer in his airy flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw him when he check'd his arrow's flight:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when it reach'd the mark, I watched the god,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And saw him win his way by force or fraud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As best befits his ends. His whirling throne<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turns short at will, or runs directly on.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rapid follies which his axle bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are short fallacious hope and certain fear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And many a promise given of Halcyon days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose faint and dubious gleam the heart betrays.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know what secret flame the marrow fries,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How in the veins a dormant fever lies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till, fann'd to fury by contagious breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It gains tremendous head, and ends in death.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know too well what long and doubtful strife<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forms the dire tissue of a lover's life;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The transient taste of sweet commix'd with gall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What changes dire the hapless crew befall.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their strange fantastic habitudes I know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their measured groans in lamentable flow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When rhyming-fits the faltering tongue employ,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And love sick spasms the mournful Muse annoy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The smile that like the lightning fleets away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sorrows that for half a life delay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like drops of honey in a wormwood bowl,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drain'd to the dregs in bitterness of soul.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Boyd.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>PART IV.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">So</span> fickle fortune, in a luckless hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had close consigned me to a tyrant's power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who cut the nerves that, with elastic force,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had borne me on in Freedom's generous course—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So I, in noble independence bred,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Free as the roebuck in the sylvan glade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By passion lured, a voluntary slave—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My ready name to Cupid's muster gave.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet I saw their grief and wild despair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw them blindly seek the fatal snare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through winding paths, and many an artful maze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Cupid's viewless spell the band obeys.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here, as I turn'd my anxious eyes around,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If any shade I then could see renown'd<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span><span class="i0">In old or modern times; the bard I spied<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose unabated love pursued his bride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down to the coast of Hades; and above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His life resign'd, the pledge of constant love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Calling her name in death.—Alcæus near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who sung the joys of Love and toils severe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was seen with Pindar and the Teian swain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A veteran gay among the youthful train<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Cupid's host.—The Mantuan next I found,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Begirt with bards from age to age renown'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whether they chose in lofty themes to soar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or sportive try the Muse's lighter lore.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There soft Tibullus walk'd with Sulmo's bard;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there Propertius with Catullus shared<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The meed of lovesome lays: the Grecian dame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With sweeter numbers woke the amorous flame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While thus I turn'd around my wondering eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw a noble train with new surprise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who seem'd of Love in choral notes to sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While all around them breathed Elysian spring.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here Alighieri, with his love I spied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Selvaggia, Guido, Cino, side by side—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Guido, who mourn'd the lot that fix'd his name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The second of his age in lyric fame.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two other minstrels there I spied that bore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His name, renown'd on Arno's tuneful shore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With them Sicilia's bards, in elder days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Match'd with the foremost in poetic praise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though now they rank behind.—Sennuccio nigh<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With gentle Franceschino met my eye.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But soon another tribe, of manners strange<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And uncouth dialect, was seen to range<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Along the flowery paths, by Arnald led;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Cupid's lore by all the Muses bred,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And master of the theme.—Marsilia's coast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Narbonne still his polish'd numbers boast.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The next I saw with lighter step advance;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas he that caught a flame at every glance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That met his eye, with him who shared his name.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Join'd with an Arnald of inferior fame.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Next either Rambold in procession trod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No easy conquest to the winged god.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span><span class="i0">The pride of Montferrat (a peerless dame)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In many a ditty sung, announced his flame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Genoa's bard, who left his native coast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on Marsilia's towers the memory lost<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of his first time, when Salem's sacred flame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Taught him a nobler heritage to claim,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gerard and Peter, both of Gallic blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tuneful Rudel, who, in moonstruck mood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er ocean by a flying image led,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the fantastic chase his canvas spread;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, where he thought his amorous vows to breathe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From Cupid's bow received the shaft of Death.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There was Cabestaing, whose unequall'd lays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From all his rivals won superior praise.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hugo was there, with Almeric renown'd;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bernard and Anselm by the Muses crown'd.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those and a thousand others o'er the field<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Advanced; nor javelin did they want, or shield;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Muses form'd their guard, and march'd before.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spreading their long renown from shore to shore.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Latian band, with sympathising woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At last I spied amid the moving show:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bologna's poet first, whose honour'd grave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His relics hold beside Messina's wave.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O fickle joys, that fleet upon the wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And leave the lassitude of life behind!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The youth, that every thought and movement sway'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of this sad heart, is now an empty shade!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What world contains thee now, my tuneful guide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom nought of old could sever from my side?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What is this life?—what none but fools esteem;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fleeting shadow, a romantic dream!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not far I wander'd o'er the peopled field,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till Socrates and Lælius I beheld.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, may their holy influence never cease<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That soothed my heart-corroding pangs to peace!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unequall'd friends! no bard's ecstatic lays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor polish'd prose your deathless name can raise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To match your genuine worth! O'er hill and dale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We pass'd, and oft I told my doleful tale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Disclosing all my wounds, end not in vain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their sacred presence seem'd to soothe my pain.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span><span class="i0">Oh, may that glorious privilege be mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till dust to dust the final stroke resign!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My courage they inspired to claim the wreath—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Immortal emblem of my constant faith<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To her whose name the poet's garland bears!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet nought from her, for long devoted years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I reap'd but cold disdain, and fruitless tears.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But soon a sight ensued, that, like a spell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Restrain'd at once my passion's stormy swell:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But this a loftier muse demands to sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hallow'd power that pruned the daring wing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that blind force, by folly canonized<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the garb of deity disguised.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet first the conscious muse designs to tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How I endured and 'scaped his witching spell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A subject that demands a muse of fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A glorious theme, that Phœbus might inspire—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Worthy of Homer and the Orphean lyre!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still, as along the whirling chariot flew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I kept the wafture of his wings in view:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Onward his snow-white steeds were seen to bound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er many a steepy hill and dale profound:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, victims of his rage, the captive throng.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chain'd to the flying wheels, were dragg'd along,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All torn and bleeding, through the thorny waste;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor knew I how the land and sea he pass'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till to his mother's realm he came at last.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far eastward, where the vext Ægean roars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A little isle projects its verdant shores:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft is the clime, and fruitful is the ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No fairer spot old ocean clips around;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor Sol himself surveys from east to west<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sweeter scene in summer livery drest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full in the midst ascends a shady hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where down its bowery slopes a streaming rill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In dulcet murmurs flows, and soft perfume<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The senses court from many a vernal bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mingled with magic; which the senses steep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In sloth, and drug the mind in Lethe's deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quenching the spark divine—the genuine boast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of man, in Circe's wave immersed and lost.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span><span class="i0">This favour'd region of the Cyprian queen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Received its freight—a heaven-abandon'd scene.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Falsehood fills the throne, while Truth retires,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And vainly mourns her half-extinguish'd fires.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vile in its origin, and viler still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By all incentives that seduce the will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It seems Elysium to the sons of Lust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a foul dungeon to the good and just.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exulting o'er his slaves, the winged God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here in a theatre his triumphs show'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ample to hold within its mighty round<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His captive train, from Thule's northern bound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To far Taprobane, a countless crowd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, to the archer boy, adoring, bow'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sad fantoms shook above their Gorgon wings—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fantastic longings for unreal things,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fugitive delights, and lasting woes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The summer's biting frost, and winter's rose;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And penitence and grief, that dragg'd along<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The royal lawless pair, that poets sung.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One, by his Spartan plunder, seal'd the doom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of hapless Troy—the other rescued Rome.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath, as if in mockery of their woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tumbling flood, with murmurs deep and low,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Return'd their wailings; while the birds above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With sweet aerial descant fill'd the grove.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all beside the river's winding bed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fresh flowers in gay confusion deck'd the mead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Painting the sod with every scent and hue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Flora's breath affords, or drinks the morning dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And many a solemn bower, with welcome shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over the dusky stream a shelter made.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the sun withdrew his slanting ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And winter cool'd the fervours of the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then came the genial hours, the frequent feast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And circling times of joy and balmy rest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">New day and night were poised in even scale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And spring awoke her equinoctial gale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Progne now and Philomel begun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With genial toils to greet the vernal sun.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just then—O hapless mortals! that rely<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On fickle fortune's ever-changing sky—<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span><span class="i0">E'en in that season, when, with sacred fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dan Cupid seem'd his subjects to inspire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That warms the heart, and kindles in the look,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all beneath the moon obey his yoke—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw the sad reverse that lovers own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I heard the slaves beneath their bondage groan;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw them sink beneath the deadly weight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the long tortures that forerun their fate.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sad disappointments there in meagre forms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were seen, and feverish dreams, and fancied harms;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fantoms rising from the yawning tomb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were seen to muster in the gathering gloom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around the car; and some were seen to climb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While cruel fate reversed their steps sublime.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And empty notions in the port were seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And baffled hopes were there with cloudy mien.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There was expensive gain, and gain that lost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And amorous schemes by fortune's favour cross'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wearisome repose, and cares that slept.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There was the semblance of disgrace, that kept<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The youth from dire mischance on whom it fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And glory darken'd on the gloom of hell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perfidious loyalty, and honest fraud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wisdom slow, and headlong thirst of blood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dungeon, where the flowery paths decoy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The painful, hard escape, with long annoy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw the smooth descent the foot betray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the steep rocky path that leads again to day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There in the gloomy gulf confusion storm'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And moody rage its wildest freaks perform'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And settled grief was there; and solid night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But rarely broke with fitful gleams of light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From joy's fantastic hand. Not Vulcan's forge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When his Cyclopean caves the fumes disgorge;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor the deep mine of Mongibel, that throws<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fiery tempest o'er eternal snows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor Lipari, whose strong sulphureous blast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'ercanopies with flames the watery waste;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor Stromboli, that sweeps the glowing sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With red combustion, with its rage could vie.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Little he loves himself that ventures there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For there is ceaseless woe and fell despair:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span><span class="i0">Yet, in this dolorous dungeon long confined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till time had grizzled o'er my locks, I pined.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, dreaming still of liberty to come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I spent my summers in this noisome gloom;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet still a dubious joy my grief controll'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To spy such numbers in that darksome hold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But soon to gall my seeming transport turn'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my illustrious partner's fate I mourn'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And often seem'd, with sympathising woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To melt in solvent tears like vernal snow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I turn'd away, but, with inverted glance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perused the fleeting shapes that fill'd my trance;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like him that feels a moment's short delight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When a fine picture fleets before his sight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Boyd.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE TRIUMPH OF CHASTITY.</h2> + +<h3><i>Quando ad un giogo ed in Un tempo quivi.</i></h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">When</span> to one yoke at once I saw the height<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of gods and men subdued by Cupid's might,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I took example from their cruel fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by their sufferings eased my own hard state;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since Phœbus and Leander felt like pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The one a god, the other but a man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One snare caught Juno and the Carthage dame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Her husband's death prepared her funeral flame—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas not a cause that Virgil maketh one);<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I need not grieve, that unprepared, alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unarm'd, and young, I did receive a wound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or that my enemy no hurt hath found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By Love; or that she clothed him in my sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And took his wings, and marr'd his winding flight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No angry lions send more hideous noise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From their beat breasts, nor clashing thunder's voice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rends heaven, frights earth, and roareth through the air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With greater force than Love had raised, to dare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Encounter her of whom I write; and she<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As quick and ready to assail as he:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enceladus when Etna most he shakes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor angry Scylla, nor Charybdis makes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So great and frightful noise, as did the shock<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of this (first doubtful) battle: none could mock<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span><span class="i0">Such earnest war; all drew them to the height<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see what 'mazed their hearts and dimm'd their sight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Victorious Love a threatening dart did show<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His right hand held; the other bore a bow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The string of which he drew just by his ear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No leopard could chase a frighted deer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Free, or broke loose) with quicker speed than he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made haste to wound; fire sparkled from his eye.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I burn'd, and had a combat in my breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glad t' have her company, yet 'twas not best<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Methought) to see her lost, but 'tis in vain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">T' abandon goodness, and of fate complain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Virtue her servants never will forsake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As now 'twas seen, she could resistance make:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No fencer ever better warded blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor pilot did to shore more wisely row<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To shun a shelf, than with undaunted power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She waved the stroke of this sharp conqueror.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mine eyes and heart were watchful to attend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In hope the victory would that way bend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It ever did; and that I might no more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be barr'd from her; as one whose thoughts before<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His tongue hath utter'd them you well may see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Writ in his looks; "Oh! if you victor be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Great sir," said I, "let her and me be bound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Both with one yoke; I may be worthy found,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And will not set her free, doubt not my faith:"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I beheld her with disdain and wrath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So fill'd, that to relate it would demand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A better muse than mine: her virtuous hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had quickly quench'd those gilded fiery darts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, dipp'd in beauty's pleasure, poison hearts.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Neither Camilla, nor the warlike host<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That cut their breasts, could so much valour boast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor Cæsar in Pharsalia fought so well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As she 'gainst him who pierceth coats of mail;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All her brave virtues arm'd, attended there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(A glorious troop!) and marched pair by pair:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Honour and blushes first in rank; the two<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Religious virtues make the second row;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(By those the other women doth excel);<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prudence and Modesty, the twins that dwell<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span><span class="i0">Together, both were lodgèd in her breast:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glory and Perseverance, ever blest:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair Entertainment, Providence without,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet Courtesy, and Pureness round about;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Respect of credit, fear of infamy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grave thoughts in youth; and, what not oft agree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">True Chastity and rarest Beauty; these<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All came 'gainst Love, and this the heavens did please,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every generous soul in that full height.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He had no power left to bear the weight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thousand famous prizes hardly gain'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She took; and thousand glorious palms obtained.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shook from his hands; the fall was not more strange<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Hannibal, when Fortune pleased to change<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her mind, and on the Roman youth bestow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The favours he enjoy'd; nor was he so<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amazed who frighted the Israelitish host—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Struck by the Hebrew boy, that quit his boast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor Cyrus more astonish'd at the fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Jewish widow gave his general:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As one that sickens suddenly, and fears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His life, or as a man ta'en unawares<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In some base act, and doth the finder hate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just so was he, or in a worse estate:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fear, grief, and shame, and anger, in his face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were seen: no troubled seas more rage: the place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where huge Typhœus groans, nor Etna, when<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her giant sighs, were moved as he was then.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I pass by many noble things I see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(To write them were too hard a task for me),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To her and those that did attend I go:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her armour was a robe more white than snow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in her hand a shield like his she bare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who slew Medusa; a fair pillar there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of jasp was next, and with a chain (first wet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Lethe flood) of jewels fitly set,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Diamonds, mix'd with topazes (of old<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas worn by ladies, now 'tis not) first hold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She caught, then bound him fast; then such revenge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She took as might suffice. My thoughts did change<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I, who wish'd him victory before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was satisfied he now could hurt no more.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span><span class="i0">I cannot in my rhymes the names contain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of blessèd maids that did make up her train;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Calliope nor Clio could suffice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor all the other seven, for th' enterprise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet some I will insert may justly claim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Precedency of others. Lucrece came<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On her right hand; Penelope was by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those broke his bow, and made his arrows lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Split on the ground, and pull'd his plumes away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From off his wings: after, Virginia,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Near her vex'd father, arm'd with wrath and hate.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fury, and iron, and love, he freed the state<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her from slavery, with a manly blow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Next were those barbarous women, who could show<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They judged it better die than suffer wrong<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To their rude chastity; the wise and strong—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The chaste Hebræan Judith follow'd these;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Greek that saved her honour in the seas;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With these and other famous souls I see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her triumph over him who used to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Master of all the world: among the rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The vestal nun I spied, who was so bless'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As by a wonder to preserve her fame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Next came Hersilia, the Roman dame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Or Sabine rather), with her valorous train,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who prove all slanders on that sex are vain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, 'mongst the foreign ladies, she whose faith<br /></span> +<span class="i0">T' her husband (not Æneas) caused her death;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The vulgar ignorant may hold their peace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her safety to her chastity gave place;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dido, I mean, whom no vain passion led<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(As fame belies her); last, the virtuous maid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Retired to Arno, who no rest could find,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her friends' constraining power forced her mind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Triumph thither went where salt waves wet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Baian shore eastward; her foot she set<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There on firm land, and did Avernus leave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the one hand, on th' other Sybil's cave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So to Linternus march'd, the village where<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The noble Africane lies buried; there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The great news of her triumph did appear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As glorious to the eye as to the ear<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span><span class="i0">The fame had been; and the most chaste did show<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Most beautiful; it grieved Love much to go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another's prisoner, exposed to scorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who to command whole empires seemèd born.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus to the chiefest city all were led,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Entering the temple which Sulpicia made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sacred; it drives all madness from the mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And chastity's pure temple next we find,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which in brave souls doth modest thoughts beget,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not by plebeians enter'd, but the great<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Patrician dames; there were the spoils display'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the fair victress; there her palms she laid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And did commit them to the Tuscan youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose marring scars bear witness of his truth:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With others more, whose names I fully knew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(My guide instructed me,) that overthrew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The power of Love: 'mongst whom, of all the rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hippolytus and Joseph were the best.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anna Hume.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE SAME.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">When</span> gods and men I saw in Cupid's chain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Promiscuous led, a long uncounted train,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By sad example taught, I learn'd at last<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wisdom's best rule—to profit from the past<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some solace in the numbers too I found,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of those that mourn'd, like me, the common wound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Phœbus felt, a mortal beauty's slave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That urged Leander through the wintry wave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That jealous Juno with Eliza shared,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose more than pious hands the flame prepared;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That mix'd her ashes with her murder'd spouse.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dire completion of her nuptial vows.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(For not the Trojan's love, as poets sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In her wan bosom fix'd the secret string.)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And why should I of common ills complain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shot by a random shaft, a thoughtless swain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unarm'd and unprepared to meet the foe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My naked bosom seem'd to court the blow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One cause, at least, to soothe my grief ensued;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I beheld the ruthless power subdued;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all unable now to twang the string,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or mount the breeze on many-colour'd wing.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span><span class="i0">But never tawny monarch of the wood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His raging rival meets, athirst for blood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor thunder-clouds, when winds the signal blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With louder shock astound the world below;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the red flash, insufferably bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven, earth, and sea displays in dismal light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could match the furious speed and fell intent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With which the wingèd son of Venus bent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His fatal yew against the dauntless fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who seem'd with heart of proof to meet the war;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor Etna sends abroad the blast of death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, wrapp'd in flames, the giant moves beneath;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor Scylla, roaring, nor the loud reply<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of mad Charybdis, when her waters fly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And seem to lave the moon, could match the rage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of those fierce rivals burning to engage.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aloof the many drew with sudden fright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And clamber'd up the hills to see the fight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the tempest of the battle grew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each face display'd a wan and earthy hue.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The assailant now prepared his shaft to wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fixed his fatal arrow on the string:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fatal string already reach'd his ear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor from the leopard flies the trembling deer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With half the haste that his ferocious wrath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bore him impetuous on to deeds of death;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in his stern regard the scorching fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was seen, that burns the breast with fierce desire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To me a fatal flame! but hope to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My lovely tyrant forced to love like me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, bound in equal chain, assuaged my woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As, with an eager eye, I watch'd the coming blow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But virtue, as it ne'er forsakes the soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That yields obedience to her blest control,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proves how of her unjustly we complain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When she vouchsafes her gracious aid in vain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In vain the self-abandon'd shift the blame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon their stars, or fate's perverted name.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ne'er did a gladiator shun the stroke<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With nimbler turn, or more attentive look;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never did pilot's hand the vessel steer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With more dexterity the shoals to clear<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span><span class="i0">Than with evasion quick and matchless art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By grace and virtue arm'd in head and heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She wafted quick the cruel shaft aside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Woe to the lingering soul that dares the stroke abide!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I watch'd, and long with firm expectance stood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see a mortal by a god subdued,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The usual fate of man! in hope to find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cords of Love the beauteous captive bind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With me, a willing slave, to Cupid's car,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fortunes of the common race to share.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As one, whose secrets in his looks we spy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His inmost thoughts discovers in his eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or in his aspect, graved by nature's hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My gestures, ere I spoke, enforced my fond demand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Oh, link us to your wheels!" aloud I cried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"If your victorious arms the fray decide:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, bind us closely with your strongest chain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ne'er will seek for liberty again!"—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But oh! what fury seem'd his eyes to fill!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No bard that ever quaff'd Castalia's rill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could match his frenzy, when his shafts of fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With magic plumed, and barb'd with hot desire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Short of their sacred aim, innoxious fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Extinguish'd by the pure ethereal spell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Camilla; or the Amazons in arms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From ancient Thermodon, to fierce alarms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Inured; or Julius in Pharsalia's field,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When his dread onset forced the foe to yield—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Came not so boldly on as she, to face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mighty victor of the human race,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who scorns the temper'd mail and buckler's ward.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With her the Virtues came—an heavenly guard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sky-descended legion, clad in light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of glorious panoply, contemning mortal might;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All weaponless they came; but hand in hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Defied the fury of the adverse band:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Honour and maiden Shame were in the ban,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Elysian twins, beloved by God and man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her delegates in arms with them combined;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prudence appear'd, the daughter of the mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pure Temperance next, and Steadiness of soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ever keeps in view the eternal goal;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span><span class="i0">And Gentleness and soft Address were seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Courtesy, with mild inviting mien;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Purity, and cautious Dread of blame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With ardent love of clear unspotted fame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sage Discretion, seldom seen below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the full veins with youthful ardour glow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Benevolence and Harmony of soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were there, but rarely found from pole to pole;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there consummate Beauty shone, combined<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all the pureness of an angel-mind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such was the host that to the conflict came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their bosoms kindling with empyreal flame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sense of heavenly help.—The beams that broke<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From each celestial file with horror struck<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bowyer god, who felt the blinding rays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And like a mortal stood in fix'd amaze;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While on his spoils the fair assailants flew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And plunder'd at their ease the captive crew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And some with palmy boughs the way bestrew'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To show their conquest o'er the baffled god.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sudden as Hannibal on Zama's field<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was forced to Scipio's conquering arms to yield;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sudden as David's hand the giant sped,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Accaron beheld his fall and fled;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sudden as her revenge who gave the word,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When her stern guards dispatch'd the Persian lord;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or like a man that feels a strong disease<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His shivering members in a moment seize—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such direful throes convulsed the despot's frame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His hands, that veil'd his eyes, confess'd his shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mental pangs, more agonising far,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In his sick bosom bred a civil war;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hate and anguish, with insatiate ire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flash'd in his eyes with momentary fire.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not raging Ocean, when its billows boil;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor Typhon, when he lifts the trembling soil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Arima, his tortured limbs to ease;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor Etna, thundering o'er the subject seas—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Surpass'd the fury of the baffled Power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who stamp'd with rage, and bann'd the luckless hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scenes yet unsung demand my loftiest lays—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But oh! the theme transcends a mortal's praise.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span><span class="i0">A sweet but humbler subject may suffice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To muster in my song her fair allies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But first, her arms and vesture claim my song<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before I chant the fair attendant throng:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A robe she wore that seem'd of woven light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The buckler of Minerva fill'd her right,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Medusa's bane; a column there was drawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of jasper bright; and o'er the snowy lawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And round her beauteous neck a chain was slung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which glittering on her snowy bosom hung.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Diamond and topaz there, with mingled ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Return'd in varied hues the beam of day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A treasure of inestimable cost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too long, alas! in Lethe's bosom lost:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To modern matrons scarcely known by fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Few, were it to be found, the prize would claim.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With this the vanquish'd god she firmly bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While I with joy her kind assistance own'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But oh! the feeble Muse attempts in vain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To celebrate in song her numerous train;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not all the choir of Aganippe's spring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pageant of the sisterhood could sing:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But some shall live, distinguished in my lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The most illustrious of the long array.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dexter wing the fair Lucretia led,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With her, who, faithful to her nuptial bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her suitors scorn'd: and these with dauntless hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The quiver seized, and scatter'd on the strand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pointless arrows, and the broken bow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Cupid, their despoil'd and recreant foe.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lovely Virginia with her sire was nigh:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Paternal love and anger in his eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beam'd terrible, while in his hand he show'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aloft the dagger, tinged with virgin blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which freedom on the maid and Rome at once bestow'd.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then the Teutonic dames, a dauntless race,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who rush'd on death to shun a foe's embrace;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Judith chaste and fair, but void of dread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who the hot blood of Holofernes shed;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that fair Greek who chose a watery grave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her threaten'd purity unstain'd to save.—<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span><span class="i0">All these and others to the combat flew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all combined to wreak the vengeance due<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On him, whose haughty hand in days of yore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From clime to clime his conquering standard bore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another troop the vestal virgin led,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who bore along from Tyber's oozy bed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His liquid treasure in a sieve, to show<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The falsehood of her base calumnious foe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By wondrous proof.—And there the Sabine queen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all the matrons of her race was seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Renown'd in records old;—and next in fame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was she, who dauntless met the funeral flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not wrong'd in Love, but to preserve her vows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Immaculate to her Sidonian spouse.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let others of Æneas' falsehood tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How by an unrequited flame she fell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A nobler, though a self-inflicted doom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Caused by connubial Love, dismiss'd her to the tomb.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Picarda next I saw, who vainly tried<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To pass her days on Arno's flowery side<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In single purity, till force compell'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The virgin to the marriage bond to yield.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The triumph seem'd at last to reach the shore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where lofty Baise hears the Tuscan roar.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas on a vernal morn it touch'd the land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And 'twixt Mount Barbaro that crowns the strand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And old Avernus (once an hallow'd ground);<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the Cumæan sibyl's cell renown'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Linterno's sandy bounds it reach'd at last,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Great Scipio's favour'd haunt in ages past;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Famed Africanus, whose victorious blade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The slaughterous deeds of Hannibal repaid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to his country's heart a bloody passage made.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here in a calm retreat his life he spent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With rural peace and solitude content.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And here the flying rumour sped before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And magnified the deed from shore to shore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pageant, when it reach'd the destined spot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seem'd to exceed their utmost reach of thought.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, all distinguish'd by their deeds of arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Excell'd the rest in more than mortal charms.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span><span class="i0">Nor he, whom oft the steeds of conquest drew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Disdained another's triumphs to pursue.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the metropolis arrived at last,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fair Sulpicia's temples soon we pass'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sacred to Chastity, to ward the pest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With which her sensual foes inflame the breast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The patroness of noble dames alone—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then was the fair plebeian Pole unknown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The victress here display'd her martial spoils,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And here the laurel hung that crown'd her toils:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A guard she stationed on the temple's bound—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Tuscan, mark'd with many a glorious wound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suspicion in the jealous breast to cure:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With him a chosen squadron kept the door.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I heard their names, and I remember well<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The youthful Greek that by his stepdame fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And him who, kept by Heaven's command in awe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Refused to violate the nuptial law.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Boyd.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE TRIUMPH OF DEATH.</h2> + + +<h4>PART I.</h4> + +<h3><i>Questa leggiadra e gloriosa Donna.</i></h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> glorious Maid, whose soul to heaven is gone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And left the rest cold earth, she who was grown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A pillar of true valour, and had gain'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Much honour by her victory, and chain'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That god which doth the world with terror bind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Using no armour but her own chaste mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fair aspect, coy thoughts, and words well weigh'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet modesty to these gave friendly aid.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was a miracle on earth to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bow and arrows of the deity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all his armour broke, who erst had slain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such numbers, and so many captive ta'en;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fair dame from the noble sight withdrew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With her choice company,—they were but few.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And made a little troop, true virtue's rare,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet each of them did by herself appear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A theme for poems, and might well incite<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The best historian: they bore a white<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span><span class="i0">Unspotted ermine, in a field of green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">About whose neck a topaz chain was seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Set in pure gold; their heavenly words and gait,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Express'd them blest were born for such a fate.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright stars they seem'd, she did a sun appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who darken'd not the rest, but made more clear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their splendour; honour in brave minds is found:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This troop, with violets and roses crown'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cheerfully march'd, when lo, I might espy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another ensign dreadful to mine eye—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lady clothed in black, whose stern looks were<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With horror fill'd, and did like hell appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Advanced, and said, "You who are proud to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So fair and young, yet have no eyes to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How near you are your end; behold, I am<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She, whom they, fierce, and blind, and cruel name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who meet untimely deaths; 'twas I did make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Greece subject, and the Roman Empire shake;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My piercing sword sack'd Troy, how many rude<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And barbarous people are by me subdued?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Many ambitious, vain, and amorous thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My unwish'd presence hath to nothing brought;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now am I come to you, while yet your state<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is happy, ere you feel a harder fate."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"On these you have no power," she then replied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Who had more worth than all the world beside,)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"And little over me; but there is one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who will be deeply grieved when I am gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His happiness doth on my life depend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I shall find freedom in a peaceful end."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As one who glancing with a sudden eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some unexpected object doth espy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then looks again, and doth his own haste blame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So in a doubting pause, this cruel dame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A little stay'd, and said, "The rest I call<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To mind, and know I have o'ercome them all:"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then with less fierce aspect, she said, "Thou guide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of this fair crew, hast not my strength assay'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let her advise, who may command, prevent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Decrepit age, 'tis but a punishment;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From me this honour thou alone shalt have,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without or fear or pain, to find thy grave."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</a></span><span class="i0">"As He shall please, who dwelleth in the heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rules on earth, such portion must be given<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To me, as others from thy hand receive,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She answered then; afar we might perceive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Millions of dead heap'd on th' adjacent plain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No verse nor prose may comprehend the slain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did on Death's triumph wait, from India,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From Spain, and from Morocco, from Cathay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the skirts of th' earth they gather'd were;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who had most happy lived, attended there:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Popes, Emperors, nor Kings, no ensigns wore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of their past height, but naked show'd and poor.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where be their riches, where their precious gems,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their mitres, sceptres, robes, and diadems?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O miserable men, whose hopes arise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From worldly joys, yet be there few so wise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As in those trifling follies not to trust;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if they be deceived, in end 'tis just:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! more than blind, what gain you by your toil?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You must return once to your mother's soil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And after-times your names shall hardly know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor any profit from your labour grow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All those strange countries by your warlike stroke<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Submitted to a tributary yoke;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fuel erst of your ambitious fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What help they now? The vast and bad desire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of wealth and power at a bloody rate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is wicked,—better bread and water eat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With peace; a wooden dish doth seldom hold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A poison'd draught; glass is more safe than gold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But for this theme a larger time will ask,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I must betake me to my former task.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fatal hour of her short life drew near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That doubtful passage which the world doth fear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another company, who had not been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Freed from their earthy burden there were seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To try if prayers could appease the wrath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or stay th' inexorable hand, of Death.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That beauteous crowd convened to see the end<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which all must taste; each neighbour, every friend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stood by, when grim Death with her hand took hold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pull'd away one only hair of gold,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[Pg 374]</a></span><span class="i0">Thus from the world this fairest flower is ta'en<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To make her shine more bright, not out of spleen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How many moaning plaints, what store of cries<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were utter'd there, when Fate shut those fair eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For which so oft I sung; whose beauty burn'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My tortured heart so long; while others mourn'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She pleased, and quiet did the fruit enjoy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of her blest life: "Farewell," without annoy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"True saint on earth," said they; so might she be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Esteem'd, but nothing bates Death's cruelty.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What shall become of others, since so pure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A body did such heats and colds endure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And changed so often in so little space?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, worldly hopes, how blind you be, how base!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If since I bathe the ground with flowing tears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For that mild soul, who sees it, witness bears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thou who read'st mayst judge she fetter'd me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sixth of April, and did set me free<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the same day and month. Oh! how the way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of fortune is unsure; none hates the day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of slavery, or of death, so much as I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Abhor the time which wrought my liberty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my too lasting life; it had been just<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My greater age had first been turn'd to dust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And paid to time, and to the world, the debt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I owed, then earth had kept her glorious state:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now at what rate I should the sorrow prize<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know not, nor have heart that can suffice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sad affliction to relate in verse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of these fair dames, that wept about her hearse;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Courtesy, Virtue, Beauty, all are lost;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What shall become of us? None else can boast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such high perfection; no more we shall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hear her wise words, nor the angelical<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet music of her voice." While thus they cried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The parting spirit doth itself divide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With every virtue from the noble breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As some grave hermit seeks a lonely rest:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heavens were clear, and all the ambient air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without a threatening cloud; no adversaire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Durst once appear, or her calm mind affright;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death singly did herself conclude the fight;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 375]</a></span><span class="i0">After, when fear, and the extremest plaint<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were ceased, th' attentive eyes of all were bent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On that fair face, and by despair became<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Secure; she who was spent, not like a flame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By force extinguish'd, but as lights decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And undiscerned waste themselves away:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus went the soul in peace; so lamps are spent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the oil fails which gave them nourishment;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In sum, her countenance you still might know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The same it was, not pale, but white as snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which on the tops of hills in gentle flakes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Falls in a calm, or as a man that takes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Desir'ed rest, as if her lovely sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were closed with sweetest sleep, after the sprite<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was gone. If this be that fools call to die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death seem'd in her exceeding fair to be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anna Hume.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>[LINES 103 TO END.]</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">And</span> now closed in the last hour's narrow span<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that so glorious and so brief career,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere the dark pass so terrible to man!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a fair troop of ladies gather'd there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still of this earth, with grace and honour crown'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To mark if ever Death remorseful were.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This gentle company thus throng'd around,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In her contemplating the awful end<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All once must make, by law of nature bound;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each was a neighbour, each a sorrowing friend.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then Death stretch'd forth his hand, in that dread hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From her bright head a golden hair to rend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus culling of this earth the fairest flower;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor hate impell'd the deed, but pride, to dare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Assert o'er highest excellence his power.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What tearful lamentations fill the air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The while those beauteous eyes alone are dry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose sway my burning thoughts and lays declare!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And while in grief dissolved all weep and sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She, in meek silence, joyous sits secure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gathering already virtue's guerdon high.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Depart in peace, O mortal goddess pure!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They said; and such she was: although it nought<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[Pg 376]</a></span><span class="i0">'Gainst mightier Death avail'd, so stern—so sure!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas for others! if a few nights wrought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In her each change of suffering dust below!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! Hope, how false! how blind all human thought!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whether in earth sank deep the dews of woe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the bright spirit that had pass'd away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think, ye who listen! they who witness'd know.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas the first hour, of April the sixth day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That bound me, and, alas! now sets me free:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How Fortune doth her fickleness display!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">None ever grieved for loss of liberty<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or doom of death as I for freedom grieve,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And life prolong'd, who only ask to die.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Due to the world it had been her to leave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And me, of earlier birth, to have laid low,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor of its pride and boast the age bereave.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How great the grief it is not mine to show,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarce dare I think, still less by numbers try,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or by vain speech to ease my weight of woe.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Virtue is dead, beauty and courtesy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sorrowing dames her honour'd couch around<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"For what are we reserved?" in anguish cry;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Where now in woman will all grace be found?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who with her wise and gentle words be blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And drink of her sweet song th' angelic sound?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spirit parting from that beauteous breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In its meek virtues wrapt, and best prepared,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had with serenity the heavens imprest:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No power of darkness, with ill influence, dared<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within a space so holy to intrude,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till Death his terrible triumph had declared.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then hush'd was all lament, all fear subdued;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each on those beauteous features gazed intent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from despair was arm'd with fortitude.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a pure flame that not by force is spent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But faint and fainter softly dies away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pass'd gently forth in peace the soul content:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as a light of clear and steady ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When fails the source from which its brightness flows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She to the last held on her-wonted way.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pale, was she? no, but white as shrouding snows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, when the winds are lull'd, fall silently,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[Pg 377]</a></span><span class="i0">She seem'd as one o'erwearied to repose.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en as in balmy slumbers lapt to lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(The spirit parted from the form below),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In her appear'd what th' unwise term to die;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Death sate beauteous on her beauteous brow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Dacre.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>PART II</h4> + +<h3><i>La notte che seguì l' orribil caso.</i></h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The</span> night—that follow'd the disastrous blow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which my spent sun removed in heaven to glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And left me here a blind and desolate man—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now far advanced, to spread o'er earth began<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sweet spring dew which harbingers the dawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When slumber's veil and visions are withdrawn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, crown'd with oriental gems, and bright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As newborn day, upon my tranced sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Lady lighted from her starry sphere:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With kind speech and soft sigh, her hand so dear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So long desired in vain, to mine she press'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While heavenly sweetness instant warm'd my breast:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Remember her, who, from the world apart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kept all your course since known to that young heart."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pensive she spoke, with mild and modest air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seating me by her, on a soft bank, where,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In greenest shade, the beech and laurel met.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Remember? ah! how should I e'er forget?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet tell me, idol mine," in tears I said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Live you?—or dreamt I—is, is Laura dead?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Live I? I only live, but you indeed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are dead, and must be, till the last best hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall free you from the flesh and vile world's power.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, our brief leisure lest desire exceed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turn we, ere breaks the day already nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To themes of greater interest, pure and high."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then I: "When ended the brief dream and vain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That men call life, by you now safely pass'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is death indeed such punishment and pain?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Replied she: "While on earth your lot is cast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slave to the world's opinions blind and hard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">True happiness shall ne'er your search reward;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death to the good a dreary prison opes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But to the vile and base, who all their hopes<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[Pg 378]</a></span><span class="i0">And cares below have fix'd, is full of fear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And this my loss, now mourn'd with many a tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would seem a gain, and, knew you my delight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Boundless and pure, your joyful praise excite."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus spoke she, and on heaven her grateful eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Devoutly fix'd, but while her rose-lips lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chain'd in cold silence, I renew'd my theme:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Lightning and storm, red battle, age, disease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Backs, prisons, poison, famine,—make not these<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death, even to the bravest, bitter seem?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She answer'd: "I deny not that the strife<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is great and sore which waits on parting life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then of death eternal the sharp dread!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if the soul with hope from heaven be fed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And haply in itself the heart have grief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What then is death? Its brief sigh brings relief:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Already I approach'd my final goal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My strength was failing, on the wing my soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thus a low sad-whisper by my side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'O miserable! who, to vain life tied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Counts every hour and deems each hour a day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By land or ocean, to himself a prey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where'er he wanders, who one form pursues,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Indulges one desire, one dream renews,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thought, speech, sense, feeling, there for ever bound!'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It ceased, and to the spot whence came the sound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I turn'd my languid eyes, and her beheld,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your love who check'd, my pity who impell'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I recognised her by that voice and air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So often which had chased my spirit's gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now calm and wise, as courteous then and fail.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But e'en to you when dearest, in the bloom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of joyous youth and beauty's rosy prime.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Theme of much thought, and muse of many a rhyme,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Believe me, life to me was far less sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than thus a merciful mild death to meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blessed hope, to mortals rarely given:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And such joy smooth'd my path from earth to heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As from long exile to sweet home I turn'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While but for you alone my soul with pity yearn'd."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"But tell me, lady," said I, "by that true<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And loyal faith, on earth well known to you<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[Pg 379]</a></span><span class="i0">Now better known before the Omniscient's face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If in your breast the thought e'er found a place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love prompted, my long martyrdom to cheer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though virtue follow'd still her fair emprize.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ah! oft written in those sweetest eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear anger, dear disdain, and pardon dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long o'er my wishes doubts and shadows cast."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarce from my lips the venturous speech had pass'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When o'er her fair face its old sun-smile beam'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My sinking virtue which so oft redeem'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with a tender sigh she answer'd: "Never<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can or did aught from you my firm heart sever:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But as, to our young fame, no other way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Direct and plain, of mutual safety lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I temper'd with cold looks your raging flame:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So fondest mothers wayward children tame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How often have I said, 'It me behoves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To act discreetly, for he burns, not loves!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who hopes and fears, ill plays discretion's part!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He must not in my face detect my heart;'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas this, which, as a rein the generous horse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slack'd your hot haste, and shaped your proper course.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Often, while Love my struggling heart consumed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has anger tinged my cheek, my eyes illumed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Love in me could reason ne'er subdue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ever if I saw you sorrow-spent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Instant my fondest looks on you were bent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Myself from shame, from death redeeming you;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or, if the flame of passion blazed too high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My greeting changed, with short speech and cold eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My sorrow moved you or my terror shook.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That these the arts I used, the way I took,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smiles varying scorn as sunshine follows rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You know, and well have sung in many a deathless strain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Again and oft, as saw I sunk in grief<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those tearful eyes, I said, 'Without relief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Surely and swift he marches to his grave,'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, at the thought, the fitting help I gave.'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if I saw you wild and passion spurr'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prompt with the curb, your boldness I deterr'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus cold and kind, pale, blushing, gloomy, gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Safe have I led you through the dangerous way,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[Pg 380]</a></span><span class="i0">And, as my labour, great my joy at last."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trembling, I answer'd, and my tears flow'd fast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Lady, could I the blessed thought believe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My faithful love would full reward receive."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"O man of little faith!"—her fairest cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en as she spoke, a warm blush 'gan to streak—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Why should I say it, were it less than true?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If you on earth were pleasant in my view<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I need not ask; enough it pleased to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The best love of that true heart fix'd on me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well too your genius pleased me, and the fame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, far and wide, it shower'd upon my name;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your Love had blame in its excess alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wanted prudence; while you sought to tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By act and air, what long I knew and well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the whole world your secret heart was shown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thence was the coldness which your hopes distress'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For such our sympathy in all the rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As is alone where Love keeps honour's law.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since in your bosom first its birth I saw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One fire our heart has equally inflamed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Except that I conceal'd it, you proclaim'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And louder as your cry for mercy swell'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Terror and shame my silence more compell'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That men my great desire should little think;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ah! concealment makes not sorrow less,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Complaint embitters not the mind's distress,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feeling with fiction cannot swell and shrink,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But surely then at least the veil was raised,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You only present when your verse I praised,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whispering sang, 'Love dares not more to say.'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yours was my heart, though turn'd my eyes away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grieve you, as cruel, that their grace was such,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As kept the little, gave the good and much;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet oft and openly as they withdrew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far oftener furtively they dwelt on you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For pity thus, what prudence robb'd, return'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ever so their tranquil lights had burn'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save that I fear'd those dear and dangerous eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might then the secret of my soul surprise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But one thing more, that, ere our parley cease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Memory may shrine my words, as treasures sweet,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[Pg 381]</a></span><span class="i0">And this our parting give your spirit peace.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all things else my fortune was complete,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In this alone some cause had I to mourn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That first I saw the light in humble earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still, in sooth, it grieves that I was born<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far from the flowery nest where you had birth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet fair to me the land where your love bless'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haply that heart, which I alone possess'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Elsewhere had others loved, myself unseen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I, now voiced by fame, had there inglorious been."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Ah, no!" I cried, "howe'er the spheres might roll,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherever born, immutable and whole,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In life, in death, my great love had been yours."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Enough," she smiled, "its fame for aye endures,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all my own! but pleasure has such power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too little have we reck'd the growing hour;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behold! Aurora, from her golden bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brings back the day to mortals, and the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Already from the ocean lifts his head.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! he warns me that, my mission done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We here must part. If more remain to say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet friend! in speech be brief, as must my stay."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then I: "This kindest converse makes to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All sense of my long suffering light and sweet:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But lady! for that now my life must be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hateful and heavy, tell me, I entreat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, late or early, we again shall meet?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"If right I read the future, long must you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without me walk the earth."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She spoke, and pass'd from view.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Macgregor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE TRIUMPH OF FAME.</h2> + + +<h4>PART I.</h4> + +<h3><i>Da poi che Morte trionfò nel volto</i>.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">When</span> cruel Death his paly ensign spread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over that face, which oft in triumph led<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My subject thoughts; and beauty's sovereign light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Retiring, left the world immersed in night;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Phantom, with a frown that chill'd the heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seem'd with his gloomy pageant to depart,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[Pg 382]</a></span><span class="i0">Exulting in his formidable arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And proud of conquest o'er seraphic charms.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, turning round, I saw the Power advance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That breaks the gloomy grave's eternal trance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bids the disembodied spirit claim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The glorious guerdon of immortal Fame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like Phosphor, in the sullen rear of night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before the golden wheels of orient light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He came. But who the tendant pomp can tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What mighty master of the corded shell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can sing how heaven above accordant smiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And what bright pageantry the prospect fill'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I look'd, but all in vain: the potent ray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flash'd on my sight intolerable day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At first; but to the splendour soon inured,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My eyes perused the pomp with sight assured.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">True dignity in every face was seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As on they march'd with more than mortal mien;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And some I saw whom Love had link'd before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ennobled now by Virtue's lofty lore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cæsar and Scipio on the dexter hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the bright goddess led the laurell'd band.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One, like a planet by the lord of day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seem'd o'er-illumined by her splendid ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By brightness hid; for he, to virtue true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His mind from Love's soft bondage nobly drew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The other, half a slave to female charms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Parted his homage to the god of arms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Love's seductive power: but, close and deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like files that climb'd the Capitolian steep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In years of yore, along the sacred way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A martial squadron came in long array.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In ranges as they moved distinct and bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On every burganet that met the light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some name of long renown, distinctly read,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er each majestic brow a glory shed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still on the noble pair my eyes I bent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And watch'd their progress up the steep ascent.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The second Scipio next in line was seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he that seem'd the lure of Egypt's queen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With many a mighty chief I there beheld,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose valorous hand the battle's storm repell'd.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[Pg 383]</a></span><span class="i0">Two fathers of the great Cornelian name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With their three noble sons who shared their fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One singly march'd before, and, hand in hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His two heroic partners trod the strand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The last was first in fame; but brighter beams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His follower flung around in solar streams.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Metaurus' champion, whom the moon beheld,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When his resistless spears the current swell'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Libya's hated gore, in arms renown'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was he, nor less with Wisdom's olive crown'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quick was his thought and ready was his hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His power accomplish'd what his reason plann'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He seem'd, with eagle eye and eagle wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sudden on his predestined game to spring.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But he that follow'd next with step sedate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drew round his foe the viewless snare of fate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While, with consummate art, he kept at bay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The raging foe, and conquer'd by delay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another Fabius join'd the stoic pair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Pauli and Marcelli famed in war;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With them the victor in the friendly strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose public virtue quench'd his love of life.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With either Brutus ancient Curius came;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fabricius, too, I spied, a nobler name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(With his plain russet gown and simple board)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than either Lydian with her golden hoard.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then came the great dictator from the plough;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And old Serranus show'd his laurell'd brow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Marching with equal step. Camillus near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, fresh and vigorous in the bright career<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of honour, sped, and never slack'd his pace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till Death o'ertook him in the noble race,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And placed him in a sphere of fame so high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That other patriots fill'd a lower sky.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even those ungrateful lands that seal'd his doom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Recall'd the hanish'd man to rescue Rome.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Torquains nigh, a sterner spectre stood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His fasces all besmear'd with filial blood:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He childless to the shades resolved to go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rather than Rome a moment should forego<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That dreadful discipline, whose rigid lore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had spread their triumphs round from shore to shore.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[Pg 384]</a></span><span class="i0">Then the two Decii came, by Heaven inspired,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Divinely bold, as when the foe retired<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before their Heaven-directed march, amazed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When on the self-devoted men they gazed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till they provoked their fate. And Curtius nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As when to heaven he cast his upward eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all on fire with glory's opening charms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plunged to the Shades below with clanging arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lævinus, Mummius, with Flaminius show'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like meaner lights along the heavenly road;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he who conquer'd Greece from sea to sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then mildly bade th' afflicted race be free.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Next came the dauntless envoy, with his wand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose more than magic circle on the sand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The frenzy of the Syrian king confined:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er-awed he stood, and at his fate repined.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Great Manlius, too, who drove the hostile throng<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prone from the steep on which his members hung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(A sad reverse) the hungry vultures' food,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Roman justice claim'd his forfeit blood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then Cocles came, who took his dreadful stand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the wide arch the foaming torrent spann'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stemming the tide of war with matchless might,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And turn'd the heady current of the fight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he that, stung with fierce vindictive ire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Consumed his erring hand with hostile fire.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Duillius next and Catulus were seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose daring navies plough'd the billowy green<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That laves Pelorus and the Sardian shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dyed the rolling waves with Punic gore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Great Appius next advanced in sterner mood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who with patrician loftiness withstood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The clamours of the crowd. But, close behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of gentler manners and more equal mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Came one, perhaps the first in martial might,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet his dim glory cast a waning light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But neither Bacchus, nor Alcmena's son<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such trophies yet by east or west have won;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor he that in the arms of conquest died,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As he, when Rome's stern foes his valour tried<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet he survived his fame. But luckier far<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was one that follow'd next, whose golden star<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[Pg 385]</a></span><span class="i0">To better fortune led, and mark'd his name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the first in deeds of martial fame:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But cruel was his rage, and dipp'd in gore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By civil slaughter was the wreath he wore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A less-ensanguined laurel graced the head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of him that next advanced with lofty tread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In martial conduct and in active might<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of equal honour in the fields of fight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then great Volumnius, who expell'd the pest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose spreading ills the Romans long distress'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rutilius Cassus, Philo next in sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Appear'd, like twinkling stars that gild the night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Three men I saw advancing up the vale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mangled with ghastly wounds through plate and mail;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dentatus, long in standing fight renown'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sergius and Scæva oft with conquest crown'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The triple terror of the hostile train,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On whom the storm of battle broke in vain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another Sergius near with deep disgrace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Marr'd the long glories of his ancient race,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Marius, then, the Cimbrians who repell'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From fearful Rome, and Lybia's tyrant quell'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Fulvius, who Campania's traitors slew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And paid ingratitude with vengeance due.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another nobler Fulvius next appear'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there the Father of the Gracchi rear'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A solitary crest. The following form<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was he that often raised the factious storm—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bold Catulus, and he whom fortune's ray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Illumined still with beams of cloudless day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet fail'd to chase the darkness of the mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That brooded still on loftier hopes behind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From him a nobler line in two degrees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reduced Numidia to reluctant peace.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crete, Spain, and Macedonia's conquer'd lord<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adorn'd their triumphs and their treasures stored.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vespasian, with his son, I next survey'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An angel soul in angel form array'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor less his brother seem'd in outward grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But hell within belied a beauteous face.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then Nerva, who retrieved the falling throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Trajan, by his conquering eagles known.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[Pg 386]</a></span><span class="i0">Adrian, and Antonine the just and good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He, with his son, the golden age renew'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ere they ruled the world, themselves subdued.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, as I turn'd my roving eyes around,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quirinus I beheld with laurel crown'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And five succeeding kings. The sixth was lost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By vice degraded from his regal post;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sentence just, whatever pride may claim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For virtue only finds eternal Fame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Boyd.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>PART II.</h4> + +<h3><i>Pien d' infinita e nobil maraviglia.</i></h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Full</span> of ecstatic wonder at the sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I view'd Bellona's minions, famed in fight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A brotherhood, to whom the circling sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No rivals yet beheld, since time begun.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ah! the Muse despairs to mount their fame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above the plaudits of historic Fame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now a foreign band the strain recalls—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stern Hannibal, that shook the Roman walls;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Achilles, famed in Homer's lasting lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Trojan pair that kept their foes at bay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Susa's proud rulers, a distinguish'd pair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he that pour'd the living storm of war<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the fallen thrones of Asia, till the main,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With awful voice, repell'd the conquering train.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another chief appear'd, alike in name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But short was his career of martial fame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For generous valour oft to fortune yields,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too oft the arbitress of fighting fields.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The three illustrious Thebans join'd the train,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose noble names adorn a former strain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Great Ajax with Tydides next appear'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he that o'er the sea's broad bosom steer'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In search of shores unknown with daring prow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ancient Nestor, with his looks of snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who thrice beheld the race of man decline,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hail'd as oft a new heroic line:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then Agamemnon, with the Spartan's shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One by his spouse forsaken, one betray'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now another Spartan met my view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, cheerly, call'd his self-devoted crew<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[Pg 387]</a></span><span class="i0">To banquet with the ghostly train below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with unfading laurels deck'd the brow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though from a bounded stage a softer strain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was his, who next appear'd to cross the plain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Famed Alcibiades, whose siren spell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could raise the tide of passion, or repel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With more than magic sounds, when Athens stood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By his superior eloquence subdued.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Marathonian chief, with conquest crown'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Cimon came, for filial love renown'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who chose the dungeon's gloom and galling chain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His captive father's liberty to gain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Themistocles and Theseus met my eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he that with the first of Rome could vie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In self-denial; yet their native soil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Insensate to their long illustrious toil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To each denied the honours of a tomb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But deathless fame reversed the rigid doom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And show'd their worth in more conspicuous light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the surrounding shades of envious night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Great Phocion next, who mourn'd an equal fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Expell'd and exiled from his parent state;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A foul reward! by party rage decreed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For acts that well might claim a nobler meed:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There Pyrrhus, with Numidia's king behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ever in faithful league with Rome combined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bulwark of his state. Another nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Syracuse, I saw, a firm ally<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Italy, like him. But deadly hate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Repulsive frowns, and love of stern debate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hamilcar mark'd, who at a distance stood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And eyed the friendly pair in hostile mood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The royal Lydian, with distracted mien,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just as he 'scaped the vengeful flame, was seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Syphax, who deplored an equal doom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who paid with life his enmity of Rome;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Brennus, famed for sacrilegious spoil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, overwhelm'd beneath the rocky pile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Atoned the carnage of his cruel hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Join'd the long pageant of the martial band;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who march'd in foreign or barbarian guise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From every realm and clime beneath the skies<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[Pg 388]</a></span><span class="i0">But different far in habit from the rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One tribe with reverent awe my heart impress'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There he that entertain'd the grand design<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To build a temple to the Power Divine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With him, to whom the oracles of Heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The task to raise the sacred pile had given:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The task he soon fulfill'd by Heaven assign'd,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But let the nobler temple of the mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ruin fall, by Love's alluring sway<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seduced from duty's hallow'd path astray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then he that on the flaming hill survived<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sight no mortal else beheld, and lived—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Eternal One, and heard, with awe profound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That awful voice that shakes the globe around;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With him who check'd the sun in mid career,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stopp'd the burning wheels that mark the sphere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(As a well-managed steed his lord obeys,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And at the straiten'd rein his course delays,)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still the flying war the tide of day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pursued, and show'd their bands in wild dismay.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Victorious faith! to thee belongs the prize;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In earth thy power is felt, and in the circling skies.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The father next, who erst by Heaven's command<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forsook his home, and sought the promised land;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hallow'd scene of wide-redeeming grace:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to the care of Heaven consign'd his race.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then Jacob, cheated in his amorous vows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who led in either hand a Syrian spouse;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And youthful Joseph, famed for self-command,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was seen, conspicuous midst his kindred band.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then stretching far my sight amid the train<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That hid, in countless crowds, the shaded plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Good Hezekiah met my raptured sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Manoah's son, a prey to female sleight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he, whose eye foresaw the coming flood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With mighty Nimrod nigh, a man of blood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose pride the heaven-defying tower design'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sin the rising fabric undermined.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Great Maccabeus next my notice claim'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By Love to Zion's broken laws inflamed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who rush'd to arms to save a sinking state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scorning the menace of impending Fate<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[Pg 389]</a></span><span class="i0">Now satiate with the view, my languid sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had fail'd, but soon perceived with new delight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A train, like Heaven's descending powers, appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose radiance seem'd my cherish'd sight to clear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There march'd in rank the dames of ancient days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Antiope, renown'd for martial praise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Orithya near, in glittering armour shone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fair Hippolyta that wept her son;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sisters whom Alcides met of yore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In arms on Thermodon's distinguish'd shore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he and Theseus foil'd the warlike pair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By force compell'd the nuptial rite to share.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The widow'd queen, who seem'd with tranquil smile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To view her son upon the funeral pile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But brooding vengeance rankled deep within,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So Cyrus fell within the fatal gin:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Misconduct, which from age to age convey'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er her long glories cast a funeral shade.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw the Amazon whom Ilion mourn'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her for whom the flames of discord burn'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Betwixt the Trojan and Rutulian train<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When her affianced lover press'd the plain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her, that with dishevell'd tresses flew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Half-arm'd, half-clad, her rebels to subdue.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her partner too in lawless love I spied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Roman harlot, an incestuous bride.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Tadmor's queen, with nobler fires inflamed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pristine glory of the sex reclaim'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who in the spring of life, in beauty's bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her heart devoted to her husband's tomb;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">True to his dust, aspiring to the crown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of virtue, in such years but seldom known:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With temper'd mail she hid her snowy breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with Bellona's helm and nodding crest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Despising Cupid's lore, her charms conceal'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And led the foes of Latium to the field.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shock at ancient Rome was felt afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Tyber trembled at the distant war<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of foes she held in scorn: but soon she found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Mars his native tribes with conquest crown'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by her haughty foes in triumph led,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The last warm tears of indignation shed.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[Pg 390]</a></span><span class="i0">O fair Bethulian! can my vagrant song<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'erpass thy virtues in the nameless throng,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he that sought to lure thee to thy shame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Paid with his sever'd head his frantic flame?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can Ninus be forgot, whose ancient name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Begins the long roll of imperial fame?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he whose pride, by Heaven's imperial doom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reduced among the grazing herd to roam?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Belus, who first beheld the nations sway<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To idols, from the Heaven-directed way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though he was blameless? Where does he reside<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who first the dangerous art of magic tried?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Crassus! much I mourn the baleful star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That o'er Euphrates led the storm of war.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy troops, by Parthian snares encircled round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mark'd with Hesperia's shame the bloody ground;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Mithridates, Rome's incessant foe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who fled through burning plains and tracts of snow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their fell pursuit. But now, the parting strain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must pass, with slight survey, the coming train:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There British Arthur seeks his share of fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And three Cæsarian victors join their claim;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One from the race of Libya, one from Spain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And last, not least, the pride of fair Lorraine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With his twelve noble peers. Goffredo's powers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Direct their march to Salem's sacred towers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And plant his throne beneath the Asian skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sacred seat that now neglected lies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye lords of Christendom! eternal shame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ever will pursue each royal name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tell your wolfish rage for kindred blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Paynim hounds profane the seat of God!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With him the Christian glory seem'd to fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rest was hid behind oblivion's pall;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save a few honour'd names, inferior far<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In peace to guide, or point the storm of war.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet e'en among the stranger tribes were found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A few selected names, in song renown'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">First, mighty Saladin, his country's boast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The scourge and terror of the baptized host.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Noradin, and Lancaster fierce in arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who vex'd the Gallic coast with long alarms.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[Pg 391]</a></span><span class="i0">I look'd around with painful search to spy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If any martial form should meet my eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Familiar to my sight in worlds above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The willing objects of respect or love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And soon a well-known face my notice drew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sicilia's king, to whose sagacious view<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The scenes of deep futurity display'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their birth, through coming Time's disclosing shade.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There my Colonna, too, with glad surprise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mid the pale group, assail'd my startled eyes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His noble soul was all alive to fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet holy friendship mix'd her softer claim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which in his bosom fix'd her lasting throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Charity, that makes the wants of all her own.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Boyd.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>PART III.</h4> + +<h3><i>Io non sapea da tal vista levarme.</i></h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Still</span> on the warrior band I fix'd my view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now a different troop my notice drew:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sage Palladian tribe, a nobler train,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose toils deserve a more exalted strain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plato majestic in the front appear'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where wisdom's sacred hand her ensign rear'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Celestial blazonry! by heaven bestow'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, waving high, before the vaward glow'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then came the Stagyrite, whose mental ray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pierced through all nature like the shafts of day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he that, by the unambitious name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lover of wisdom, chose to bound his fame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then Socrates and Xenophon were seen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With them a bard of more than earthly mien,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom every muse of Jove's immortal choir<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bless'd with a portion of celestial fire:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From ancient Argos to the Phrygian bound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His never-dying strains were borne around<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On inspiration's wing, and hill and dale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Echoed the notes of Ilion's mournful tale.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The woes of Thetis, and Ulysses' toils,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His mighty mind recover'd from the spoils<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of envious time, and placed in lasting light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The trophies ransom'd from oblivion's night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Mantuan bard, responsive to his song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Co-rival of his glory, walk'd along.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[Pg 392]</a></span><span class="i0">The next with new surprise my notice drew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where'er he pass'd spontaneous flowerets grew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fit emblems of his style; and close behind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The great Athenian at his lot repined;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which doom'd him, like a secondary star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To yield precedence in the wordy war;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though like the bolts of Jove that shake the spheres,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He lighten'd in their eyes, and thunder'd in their ears.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The assembly felt the shock, the immortal sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His Attic rival's fainter accents drown'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now so many candidates for fame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In countless crowds and gay confusion came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Memory seem'd her province to resign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perplex'd and lost amid the lengthen'd line.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet Solon there I spied, for laws renown'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Salubrious plants in clean and cultured ground;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But noxious, if malignant hands infuse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In their transmuted stems a baneful juice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amongst the Romans, Varro next I spied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The light of linguists, and our country's pride;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still nearer as he moved, the eye could trace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A new attraction and a nameless grace.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Livy I saw, with dark invidious frown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Listening with pain to Sallust's loud renown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Pliny there, profuse of life I found,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom love of knowledge to the burning bound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Led unawares; and there Plotinus' shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who dark Platonic truths in fuller light display'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He, flying far to 'scape the coming pest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was, when he seem'd secure, by death oppressed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, fix'd by fate, before he saw the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The careful sophist strove in vain to shun.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hortensius, Crassus, Galba, next appear'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Calvus and Antony, by Rome revered,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The first with Pollio join'd, whose tongue profane<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Assail'd the fame of Cicero in vain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thucydides, who mark'd distinct and clear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tardy round of many a bloody year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, with a master's graphic skill, pourtray'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fields, "whose summer dust with blood was laid;"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And near Herodotus his ninefold roll display'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Father of history; and Euclid's vest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heaven-taught symbols of that art express'd<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[Pg 393]</a></span><span class="i0">That measures matter, form, and empty space,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And calculates the planets' heavenly race;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Porphyry, whose proud obdurate heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was proof to mighty Truth's celestial dart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With sophistry assail'd the cause of God,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stood in arms against the heavenly code.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hippocrates, for healing arts renown'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And half obscured within the dark profound;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pair, whom ignorance in ancient days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adorn'd like deities, with borrow'd rays.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Galen was near, of Pergamus the boast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose skill retrieved the art so nearly lost.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then Anaxarchus came, who conquer'd pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he, whom pleasures strove to lure in vain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From duty's path. And first in mournful mood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mighty soul of Archimedes stood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sage Democritus I there beheld,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose daring hand the light of vision quell'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To shun the soul-seducing forms, that play<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the rapt fancy in the beam of day:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gifts of fortune, too, he flung aside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By wisdom's wealth, a nobler store, supplied.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There Hippias, too, I saw, who dared to claim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For general science an unequall'd name.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And him, whose doubtful mind and roving eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No certainty in truth itself could spy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With him who in a deep mysterious guise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her heavenly charms conceal'd from vulgar eyes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The frontless cynic next in rank I saw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sworn foe to decency and nature's modest law.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With him the sage, that mark'd, with dark disdain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His wealth consumed by rapine's lawless train;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And glad that nothing now remain'd behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To foster envy in a rival's mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That treasure bought, which nothing can destroy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The soul's calm sunshine, and the heart-felt joy."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then curious Dicaearchus met my view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who studied nature with sagacious view.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quintilian next, and Seneca were seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Chaeronea's sage, of placid mien;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All various in their taste and studious toils,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But each adorn'd with Learning's splendid spoils.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[Pg 394]</a></span><span class="i0">There, too, I saw, in universal jar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tribes that spend their time in wordy war;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And o'er the vast interminable deep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of knowledge, like conflicting tempests, sweep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For truth they never toil, but feed their pride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With fuel by eternal strife supplied:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No dragon of the wild with equal rage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor lions in nocturnal war, engage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With hate so deadly, as the learn'd and wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who scan their own desert with partial eyes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Carneades, renown'd for logic skill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who right or wrong, and true and false, at will<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could turn and change, employ'd his fruitless pain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To reconcile the fierce, contending train:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, ever as he toil'd, the raging pest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of pride, as knowledge grew, with equal speed increased.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then Epicurus, of sinister fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rebellious to the lord of nature, came;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who studied to deprive the soaring soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of her bright world of hope beyond the pole;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A mole-ey'd race their hapless guide pursued,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blindly still the vain assault renew'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dark Metrodorus next sustain'd the cause,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Aristippus, true to Pleasure's laws.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chrysippus next his subtle web disposed:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Zeno alternate spread his hand, and closed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To show how eloquence expands the soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And logic boasts a close and nervous whole.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there Cleanthes drew the mighty line<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That led his pupils on, with heart divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through time's fallacious joys, by Virtue's road,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the bright palace of the sovereign good.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But here the weary Muse forsakes the throng,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too numerous for the bounds of mortal song.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Boyd.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE TRIUMPH OF TIME.</h2> + +<h3><i>Dell' aureo albergo con l' Aurora innanzi.</i></h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Behind</span> Aurora's wheels the rising sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His voyage from his golden shrine begun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With such ethereal speed, as if the Hours<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had caught him slumb'ring in her rosy bowers.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[Pg 395]</a></span><span class="i0">With lordly eye, that reach'd the world's extreme,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Methought he look'd, when, gliding on his beam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wingèd power approach'd that wheels his car<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In its wide annual range from star to star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Measuring vicissitude; till, now more near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Methought these thrilling accents met my ear:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"New laws must be observed if mortals claim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spite of the lapse of time, eternal fame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those laws have lost their force that Heaven decreed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I my circle run with fruitless speed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If fame's loud breath the slumb'ring dust inspire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bid to live with never-dying fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My power, that measures mortal things, is cross'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my long glories in oblivion lost.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If mortals on yon planet's shadowy face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can match the tenor of my heavenly race,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I strive with fruitless speed from year to year<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To keep precedence o'er a lower sphere.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In vain yon flaming coursers I prepare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In vain the watery world and ambient air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their vigour feeds, if thus, with angels' flight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A mortal can o'ertake the race of light!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were you a lesser planet, doom'd to run<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A shorter journey round a nobler sun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ranging among yon dusky orbs below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A more degrading doom I could not know:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now spread your swiftest wings, my steeds of flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We must not yield to man's ambitious aim.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With emulation's noblest fires I glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And soon that reptile race that boast below<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright Fame's conducting lamp, that seems to vie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With my incessant journeys round the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gains, or seems to gain, increasing light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet shall its glories sink in gradual night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I am still the same; my course began<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before that dusky orb, the seat of man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was built in ambient air: with constant sway<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I lead the grateful change of night and day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To one ethereal track for ever bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ever treading one eternal round."—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now, methought, with more than mortal ire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He seem'd to lash along his steeds of fire;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[Pg 396]</a></span><span class="i0">And shot along the air with glancing ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swift as a falcon darting on its prey;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No planet's swift career could match his speed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That seem'd the power of fancy to exceed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The courier of the sky I mark'd with dread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As by degrees the baseless fabric fled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That human power had built, while high disdain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I felt within to see the toiling train<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Striving to seize each transitory thing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That fleets away on dissolution's wing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And soonest from the firmest grasp recede,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like airy forms, with tantalizing speed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O mortals! ere the vital powers decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or palsied eld obscures the mental ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Raise your affections to the things above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which time or fickle chance can never move.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had you but seen what I despair to sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How fast his courser plied the flaming wing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With unremitted speed, the soaring mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had left his low terrestrial cares behind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But what an awful change of earth and sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All in a moment pass'd before my eye!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now rigid winter stretch'd her brumal reign<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With frown Gorgonean over land and main;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Flora now her gaudy mantle spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And many a blushing rose adorn'd her bed:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The momentary seasons seem'd to fleet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From bright solstitial dews to winter's driving sleet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In circle multiform, and swift career:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A wondrous tale, untold to mortal ear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before: yet reason's calm unbiass'd view<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must soon pronounce the seeming fable true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When deep remorse for many a wasted spring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still haunts the frighted soul on demon wing.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fond hope allured me on with meteor flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Love my fancy fed with vain delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chasing through fairy fields her pageants gay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now, at last, a clear and steady ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From reason's mirror sent, my folly shows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on my sight the hideous image throws<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of what I am—a mind eclipsed and lost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By vice degraded from its noble post<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[Pg 397]</a></span><span class="i0">But yet, e'en yet, the mind's elastic spring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Buoys up my powers on resolution's wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While on the flight of time, with rueful gaze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Intent, I try to thread the backward maze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And husband what remains, a scanty space.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Few fleeting hours, alas! have pass'd away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since a weak infant in the lap I lay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For what is human life but one uncertain day!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now hid by flying vapours, dark and cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And brighten'd now with gleams of sunny gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That mock the gazer's eye with gaudy show,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And leave the victim to substantial woe:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet hope can live beneath the stormy sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And empty pleasures have their pinions ply;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And frantic pride exalts the lofty brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor marks the snares of death that lurk below.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Uncertain, whether now the shaft of fate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sings on the wind, or heaven prolongs my date.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see my hours run on with cruel speed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in my doom the fate of all I read;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A certain doom, which nature's self must feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the dread sentence checks the mundane wheel.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go! court the smiles of Hope, ye thoughtless crew!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her fairy scenes disclose an ample view<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To brainless men. But Wisdom o'er the field<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Casts her keen glance, and lifts her beamy shield<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To meet the point of Fate, that flies afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with stern vigilance expects the war.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps in vain my admonitions fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet still the Muse repeats the solemn call;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor can she see unmoved your senses drown'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By Circe's deadly spells in sleep profound.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She cannot see the flying seasons roll<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In dread succession to the final goal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sweep the tribes of men so fast away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Stygian darkness or eternal day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With unconcern.—Oh! yet the doom repeal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before your callous hearts forget to feel;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'er Penitence foregoes her fruitless toil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or hell's black regent claims his human spoil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, haste! before the fatal arrows fly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That send you headlong to the nether sky<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[Pg 398]</a></span><span class="i0">When down the gulf the sons of folly go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In sad procession to the seat of woe!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus deeply musing on the rapid round<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of planetary speed, in thought profound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I stood, and long bewail'd my wasted hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My vain afflictions, and my squander'd powers:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, in deliberate march, a train was seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In silent order moving o'er the green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A band that seem'd to hold in high disdain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The desolating power of Time's resistless reign:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their names were hallow'd in the Muse's song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wafted by fame from age to age along,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">High o'er oblivion's deep, devouring wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where millions find an unrefunding grave.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With envious glance the changeful power beheld<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The glorious phalanx which his power repell'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And faster now the fiery chariot flew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Fame appear'd the rapid flight to rue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And labour'd some to save. But, close behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I heard a voice, which, like the western wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That whispers softly through the summer shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These solemn accents to mine ear convey'd:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Man is a falling flower; and Fame in vain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strives to protract his momentaneous reign<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond his bounds, to match the rolling tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On whose dread waves the long olympiads ride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till, fed by time, the deep procession grows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in long centuries continuous flows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For what the power of ages can oppose?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though Tempe's rolling flood, or Hebrus claim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Renown, they soon shall live an empty name.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where are their heroes now, and those who led<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The files of war by Xanthus' gory bed?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or Tuscan Tyber's more illustrious band,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose conquering eagles flew o'er sea and land?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What is renown?—a gleam of transient light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That soon an envious cloud involves in night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While passing Time's malignant hands diffuse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On many a noble name pernicious dews.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus our terrestrial glories fade away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our triumphs pass the pageants of a day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our fields exchange their lords, our kingdoms fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thrones are wrapt in Hades' funeral pall<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[Pg 399]</a></span><span class="i0">Yet virtue seldom gains what vice had lost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oft the hopes of good desert are cross'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not wealth alone, but mental stores decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, like the gifts of Mammon, pass away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor wisdom, wealth, nor fortune can withstand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His desolating march by sea and land;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor prayers, nor regal power his wheels restrain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till he has ground us down to dust again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though various are the titles men can plead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some for a time enjoy the glorious meed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That merit claims; yet unrelenting fate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On all the doom pronounces soon or late;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whatsoe'er the vulgar think or say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were not your lives thus shorten'd to a day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your eyes would see the consummating power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His countless millions at a meal devour."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And reason's voice my stubborn mind subdued;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Conviction soon the solemn words pursued;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw all mortal glory pass away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like vernal snows beneath the rising ray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wealth, and power, and honour, strive in vain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To 'scape the laws of Time's despotic reign.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though still to vulgar eyes they seem to claim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lot conspicuous in the lists of Fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Transient as human joys; to feeble age<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They love to linger on this earthly stage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And think it cruel to be call'd away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the faint morn of life's disastrous day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet ah! how many infants on the breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By Heaven's indulgence sink to endless rest!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oft decrepid age his lot bewails,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom every ill of lengthen'd life assails.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hence sick despondence thinks the human lot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A gift of fleeting breath too dearly bought:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But should the voice of Fame's obstreperous blast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From ages on to future ages last,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en to the trump of doom,—how poor the prize<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose worth depends upon the changing skies!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What time bestows and claims (the fleeting breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Fame) is but, at best, a second death—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A death that none of mortal race can shun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wastes the brood of time, and triumphs o'er the sun.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Boyd.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[Pg 400]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE TRIUMPH OF ETERNITY.</h2> + +<h3><i>Da poi che sotto 'l ciel cosa non vidi.</i></h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">When</span> all beneath the ample cope of heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw, like clouds before the tempest driven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In sad vicissitude's eternal round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awhile I stood in holy horror bound;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus at last with self-exploring mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Musing, I ask'd, "What basis I could find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fix my trust?" An inward voice replied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Trust to the Almighty: He thy steps shall guide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He never fails to hear the faithful prayer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But worldly hope must end in dark despair."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, what I am, and what I was, I know;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see the seasons in procession go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With still increasing speed; while things to come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unknown, unthought, amid the growing gloom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of long futurity, perplex my soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While life is posting to its final goal.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mine is the crime, who ought with clearer light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To watch the winged years' incessant flight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not to slumber on in dull delay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till circling seasons bring the doomful day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But grace is never slow in that, I trust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wake the mind, before I sink to dust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With those strong energies that lift the soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To scenes unhoped, unthought, above the pole.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While thus I ponder'd, soon my working thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once more that ever-changing picture brought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of sublunary things before my view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus I question'd with myself anew:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"What is the end of this incessant flight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of life and death, alternate day and night?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When will the motion on these orbs impress'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sink on the bosom of eternal rest?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At once, as if obsequious to my will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another prospect shone, unmoved and still;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eternal as the heavens that glow'd above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A wide resplendent scene of light and love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wheels of Phœbus from the zodiac turn'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more the nightly constellations burn'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Green earth and undulating ocean roll'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Away, by some resistless power controll'd;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[Pg 401]</a></span><span class="i0">Immensity conceived, and brought to birth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A grander firmament, and more luxuriant earth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What wonder seized my soul when first I view'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How motionless the restless racer stood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose flying feet, with winged speed before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still mark'd with sad mutation sea and shore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more he sway'd the future and the past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But on the moveless present fix'd at last;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As at a goal reposing from his toils,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like earth unclothed of all its vernal foils.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unvaried scene! where neither change nor fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor care, nor sorrow, can our joys abate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor finds the light of thought resistance here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More than the sunbeams in a crystal sphere.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But no material things can match their flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In speed excelling far the race of light.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! what a glorious lot shall then be mine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If Heaven to me these nameless joys assign!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For there the sovereign good for ever reigns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor evil yet to come, nor present pains;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No baleful birth of time its inmates fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That comes, the burthen of the passing year;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No solar chariot circles through the signs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now too near, and now too distant, shines;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wretched man and earth's devoted soil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dispensing sad variety of toil.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! happy are the blessed souls that sing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loud hallelujahs in eternal ring!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrice happy he, who late, at last shall find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lot in the celestial climes assign'd!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He, led by grace, the auspicious ford explores,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, cross the plains, the wintry torrent roars;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That troublous tide, where, with incessant strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weak mortals struggle through, and call it life.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In love with Vanity, oh, doubly blind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are they that final consolation find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In things that fleet on dissolution's wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or dance away upon the transient ring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of seasons, as they roll. No sound they hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From that still voice that Wisdom's sons revere;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No vestment they procure to keep them warm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against the menace of the wintry storm;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[Pg 402]</a></span><span class="i0">But all exposed, in naked nature lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A shivering crowd beneath the inclement sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of reason void, by every foe subdued,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Self-ruin'd, self-deprived of sovereign good;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reckless of Him, whose universal sway,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Matter, and all its various forms, obey;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whether they mix in elemental strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or meet in married calm, and foster life.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His nature baffles all created mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In earth or heaven, to fathom, or to find.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One glimpse of glory on the saints bestow'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With eager longings fills the courts of God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For deeper views, in that abyss of light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While mortals slumber here, content with night:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though nought, we find, below the moon, can fill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The boundless cravings of the human will.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet, what fierce desire the fancy wings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To gain a grasp of perishable things;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Although one fleeting hour may scatter far<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fruit of many a year's corroding care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those spacious regions where our fancies roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pain'd by the past, expecting ills to come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In some dread moment, by the fates assign'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall pass away, nor leave a rack behind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Time's revolving wheels shall lose at last<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The speed that spins the future and the past;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, sovereign of an undisputed throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awful eternity shall reign alone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then every darksome veil shall fleet away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That hides the prospects of eternal day:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those cloud-born objects of our hopes and fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose air-drawn forms deluded memory bears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As of substantial things, away so fast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall fleet, that mortals, at their speed aghast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Watching the change of all beneath the moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall ask, what once they were, and will be soon?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The time will come when every change shall cease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This quick revolving wheel shall rest in peace:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No summer then shall glow, nor winter freeze;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nothing shall be to come, and nothing past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But an eternal now shall ever last.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though time shall be no more, yet space shall give<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A nobler theatre to love and live<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[Pg 403]</a></span><span class="i0">The wingèd courier then no more shall claim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The power to sink or raise the notes of Fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or give its glories to the noontide ray:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">True merit then, in everlasting day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall shine for ever, as at first it shone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At once to God and man and angels known.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Happy are they who in this changing sphere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Already have begun the bright career<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That reaches to the goal which, all in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Muse would blazon in her feeble strain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But blest above all other blest is he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who from the trammels of mortality,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere half the vital thread ran out, was free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mature for Heaven; where now the matchless fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Preserves those features, that seraphic air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all those mental charms that raised my mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To judge of heaven while yet on earth confined.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That soft attractive glance that won my heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When first my bosom felt unusual smart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now beams, now glories, in the realms above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fed by the eternal source of light and love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then shall I see her as I first beheld,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But lovelier far, and by herself excell'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I distinguish'd in the bands above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall hear this plaudit in the choirs of love:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Lo! this is he who sung in mournful strains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For many years a lover's doubts and pains;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet in this soul-expanding, sweet employ,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sacred transport felt above all vulgar joy."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She too shall wonder at herself to hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her praises ring around the radiant sphere:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But of that hour it is not mine to know;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To her, perhaps, the period of my woe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is manifest; for she my fate may find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the pure mirror of the eternal mind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To me it seems at hand a sure presage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Denotes my rise from this terrestrial stage;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then what I gain'd and lost below shall lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suspended in the balance of the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all our anxious sublunary cares<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall seem one tissue of Arachne's snares;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[Pg 404]</a></span><span class="i0">And all the lying vanities of life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sordid source of envy, hate, and strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ignoble as they are, shall then appear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before the searching beam of truth severe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then souls, from sense refined, shall see the fraud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That led them from the living way of God.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the dark dungeon of the human breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All direful secrets then shall rise confess'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In honour multiplied—a dreadful show<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hierarchies above, and saints below.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eternal reason then shall give her doom;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, sever'd wide, the tenants of the tomb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall seek their portions with instinctive haste,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quick as the savage speeds along the waste.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then shall the golden hoard its trust betray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they, that, mindless of that dreadful day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Boasted their wealth, its vanity shall know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the dread avenue of endless woe:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While they whom moderation's wholesome rule<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kept still unstain'd in Virtue's heavenly school,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who the calm sunshine of the soul beneath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enjoy'd, will share the triumph of the Faith.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">These pageants five the world and I beheld,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sixth and last, I hope, in heaven reveal'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(If Heaven so will), when Time with speedy hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The scene despoils, and Death's funereal wand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The triumph leads. But soon they both shall fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under that mighty hand that governs all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While they who toil for true renown below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom envious Time and Death, a mightier foe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Relentless plunged in dark oblivion's womb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When virtue seem'd to seek the silent tomb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spoil'd of her heavenly charms once more shall rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Regain their beauty, and assert the skies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaving the dark sojourn of time beneath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the wide desolated realms of Death.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But she will early seek these glorious bounds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose long-lamented fall the world resounds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In unison with me. And heaven will view<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That awful day her heavenly charms renew,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[Pg 405]</a></span><span class="i0">When soul with body joins. Gebenna's strand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saw me enroll'd in Love's devoted band,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mark'd my toils through many hard campaigns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wounds, whose scars my memory yet retains.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blest is the pile that marks the hallow'd dust!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, at the resurrection of the just,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the last trumpet with earth-shaking sound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall wake her sleepers from their couch profound;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, when that spotless and immortal mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a material mould once more enshrined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With wonted charms shall wake seraphic love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How will the beatific sight improve<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her heavenly beauties in the climes above!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Boyd.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>[LINES 82-99.]</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Happy</span> those souls who now are on their way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or shall hereafter, to attain that end,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Theme of my argument, come when it will;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, 'midst the other fair, and fraught with grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Most happy she whom Death has snatch'd away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On this side far the natural bound of life.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The angel manners then will clearly shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The meet and pure discourse, the chasten'd thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which nature planted in her youthful breast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unnumber'd beauties, worn by time and death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall then return to their best state of bloom;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And how thou hast bound me, love, will then be seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence I by every finger shall be shown!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behold who ever wept, and in his tears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was happier far than others in their smiles!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she, of whom I yet lamenting sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall wonder at her own transcendant charms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seeing herself far above all admired.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Charlemont.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[Pg 406]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET FOUND IN LAURA'S TOMB.</h2> + +<h3><i>Qui reposan quei caste e felice ossa.</i></h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Here</span> peaceful sleeps the chaste, the happy shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that pure spirit, which adorn'd this earth:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pure fame, true beauty, and transcendent worth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rude stone! beneath thy rugged breast are laid.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death sudden snatch'd the dear lamented maid!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who first to all my tender woes gave birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Woes! that estranged my sorrowing soul to mirth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While full four lustres time completely made.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet plant! that nursed on Avignon's sweet soil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There bloom'd, there died; when soon the weeping Muse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Threw by the lute, forsook her wonted toil.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright spark of beauty, that still fires my breast!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What pitying mortal shall a prayer refuse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Heaven may number thee amid the blest?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Anon. 1777.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Here</span> rest the chaste, the dear, the blest remains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of her most lovely; peerless while on earth:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What late was beauty, spotless honour, worth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stern marble, here thy chill embrace retains.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The freshness of the laurel Death disdains;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hath its root thus wither'd.—Such the dearth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'ertakes me. Here I bury ease and mirth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hope from twenty years of cares and pains.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This happy plant Avignon lonely fed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Life, and saw it die.—And with it lies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My pen, my verse, my reason;—useless, dead.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O graceful form!—Fire, which consuming flies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through all my frame!—For blessings on thy head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, may continual prayers to heaven rise!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Capel Lofft.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Here</span> now repose those chaste, those blest remains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that most gentle spirit, sole in earth!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Harsh monumental stone, that here confinest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">True honour, fame, and beauty, all o'erthrown!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death has destroy'd that Laurel green, and torn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its tender roots; and all the noble meed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of my long warfare, passing (if aright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My melancholy reckoning holds) four lustres.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[Pg 407]</a></span><span class="i0">O happy plant! Avignon's favour'd soil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has seen thee spring and die;—and here with thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy poet's pen, and muse, and genius lies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O lovely, beauteous limbs! O vivid fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That even in death hast power to melt the soul!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven be thy portion, peace with God on high!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iname">Woodhouselee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[Pg 409]</a></span></p> +<h2>INDEX.</h2> + + +<h3>SONNETS, CANZONI, &c.</h3> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>PAGE</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Ahi bella libertà, come tu m' hai</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_93'>93</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Al cader d' una pianta che si svelse</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_273'>273</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Alla dolce ombra de le belle frondi</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_140'>140</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Alma felice, che sovente torni</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_246'>246</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Almo Sol, quella fronde ch' io sola amo</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_171'>171</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Amor che meco al buon tempo ti stavi</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_262'>262</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Amor che 'ncende 'l cor d' ardente zelo</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_167'>167</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Amor che nel pensier mio vive e regna</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_138'>138</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Amor, che vedi ogni pensiero aperto</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_155'>155</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Amor con la man destra il lato manco</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_203'>203</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Amor con sue promesse lusingando</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_79'>79</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Amor ed io si pien di maraviglia</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_153'>153</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Amor, Fortuna, e la mia mente schiva</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_113'>113</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Amor fra l' erbe una leggiadra rete</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_166'>166</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Amor, io fallo e veggio il mio fallire</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_207'>207</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Amor m' ha posto come segno a strale</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_131'>131</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Amor mi manda quel dolce pensero</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_159'>159</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Amor mi sprona in un tempo ed affrena</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_165'>165</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Amor, Natura, e la bell' alma umile</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_168'>168</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Amor piangeva, ed io con lui talvolta</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_25'>25</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Amor, quando fioria</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_279'>279</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Amor, se vuoi ch' i' torni al giogo antico</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_236'>236</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Anima bella, da quel nodo sciolta</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_263'>263</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Anima, che diverse cose tante</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_182'>182</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Anzi tre dì creata era alma in parte</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_193'>193</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>A piè de' colli ove la bella vesta</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_7'>7</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Apollo, s' ancor vive il bel desio</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_37'>37</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>A qualunque animale alberga in terra</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_18'>18</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Arbor vittoriosa e trionfale</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_226'>226</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Aspro core e selvaggio, e cruda voglia</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_230'>230</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Aura, che quelle chiome bionde e crespe</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_202'>202</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Avventuroso più d' altro terreno</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_102'>102</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='right'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Beato in sogno, e di languir contento</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_192'>192</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Benedetto sia 'l giorno e 'l mese e l' anno</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_61'>61</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Ben mi credea passar mio tempo omai</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_186'>186</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Ben sapev' io che natural consiglio</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_66'>66</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='right'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[Pg 410]</a></span>Cantai, or piango; e non men di dolcezza</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_203'>203</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Cara la vita, e dopo lei mi pare</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_225'>225</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Cereato ho sempre selitaria vita</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_223'>223</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Cesare, poi che 'l traditor d' Egitto</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_97'>97</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Che debb' io far? che mi consigli, Amore</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_233'>233</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Che fai, alma? che pensi? avrem mai pace</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_146'>146</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Che fai? che pensi? che pur dietro guardi</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_240'>240</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Chiare, fresche e dolci acque</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_116'>116</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Chi è fermato di menar sua vita</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_82'>82</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Chi vuol veder quantunque può Natura</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_216'>216</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Come 'l candido piè per l' erba fresca</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_157'>157</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Come talora al caldo tempo suole</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_139'>139</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Come va 'l mondo! or mi diletta e piace</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_251'>251</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Conobbi, quanto il ciel gli occhi m' aperse</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_296'>296</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Così potess' io ben chiuder in versi</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_92'>92</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Da' più begli occhi e dal più chiaro viso</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_302'>302</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Datemi pace, o duri mici pensieri</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_240'>240</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Deh porgi mano all' affannato ingeguo</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_317'>317</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Deh qual pietà, qual angel fu sì presto</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_297'>297</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Del cibo onde 'l signor mio sempre abbonda</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_298'>298</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Dell' empia Babilonia, ond' è fuggita</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_105'>105</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Del mar Tirreno alla sinistra riva</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_65'>65</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Dicemi spesso il mio fidato speglio</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_312'>312</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Dicesett' anni ha già rivolto il cielo</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_112'>112</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Di dì in dì vo cangiando il viso e 'l pelo</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_176'>176</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Di pensier in pensier, di monte in monte</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_127'>127</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Discolorato hai, Morte, il più bel volto</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_246'>246</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Di tempo in tempo mi si fa men dura</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_145'>145</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Dodici donne onestamente lasse</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_201'>201</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Dolce mio, caro e prezioso pegno</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_297'>297</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Dolci durezze e placide repulse</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_315'>315</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Dolci ire, dolci sdegni e dolci paci</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_182'>182</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Donna che lieta col Principio nostro</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_302'>302</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Due gran nemiche insieme erano aggiunte</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_257'>257</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Due rose fresehe, e colte in paradiso</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_215'>215</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>D' un bel, chiaro, polito e vivo ghiaccio</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_181'>181</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='right'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>E' mi par d' or in ora udire il messo</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_303'>303</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>E questo 'l nido in che la mia Fenice</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_275'>275</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Era 'l giorno ch' al sol si scoloraro</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_3'>3</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Erano i capei d' oro all' aura sparsi</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_88'>88</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Far potess' io vendetta di colei</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_222'>222</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Fera stella (se 'l cielo ha forza in noi)</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_162'>162</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Fiamma dal ciel su le tue treccie piova</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_135'>135</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Fontana di dolore, albergo d' ira</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_137'>137</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Fresco, ombroso, fiorito e verde colle</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_213'>213</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Fu forse un tempo dolce cosa amore</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_299'>299</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Fuggendo la prigione ov' Amor m' ebbe</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_88'>88</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Gentil mia donna, i' veggio</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_74'>74</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Geri, quando talor meco s' adira</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_165'>165</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[Pg 411]</a></span>Già desiai con sì giusta querela</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_195'>195</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Già fiammeggiava l' amorosa stella</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_36'>36</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Giovane donna sott'un verde lauro</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_34'>34</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Giunto Alessandro alla famosa tomba</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_170'>170</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Giunto m' ha Amor fra belle e crude braccia</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_161'>161</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Gli angeli eletti e l' anime beate</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_301'>301</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Gli occhi di ch' io parlai si caldamente</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_253'>253</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Gloriosa Colonna, in cui s' appoggia</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_9'>9</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Grazie ch' a pochi 'l ciel largo destina</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_192'>192</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>I begli occhi, ond' i' fui percosso in guisa</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_78'>78</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>I dì miei più leggier che nessun cervo</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_274'>274</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>I dolci colli ov' io lasciai me stesso</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_190'>190</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>I' ho pien di sospir quest' aer tutto</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_250'>250</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>I' ho pregato Amor, e nel riprego</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_212'>212</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Il cantar novo e 'l pianger degli augelli</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_197'>197</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Il figliuol di Latona avea già nove</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_45'>45</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Il mal mi preme, e mi spaventa il peggio</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_214'>214</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Il mio avversario, in cui veder solete</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_46'>46</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Il successor di Carlo, che la chioma</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_26'>26</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>I' mi soglio accusare, ed or mi scuso</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_257'>257</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>I' mi vivea di mia sorte contento</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_204'>204</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>In dubbio di mio stato, or piango, or canto</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_219'>219</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>In mezzo di duo amanti onesta altera</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_106'>106</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>In nobil sangue vita umile e queta</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_194'>194</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>In qual parte del cielo, in quale idea</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_153'>153</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>In quel bel viso, ch' i' sospiro e bramo</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_222'>222</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>In quella parte dov' Amor mi sprona</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_121'>121</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>In tale stella duo begli occhi vidi</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_224'>224</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Io amai sempre, ed amo forte ancora</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_86'>86</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Io avrò sempre in odio la fenestra</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_86'>86</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Io canterei d' Amor sì novamente</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_130'>130</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Io mi rivolgo indietro a ciascun passo</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_12'>12</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Io non fu' d' amar voi lassato unquanco</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_84'>84</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Io pensava assai destro esser sull' ale</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_265'>265</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Io sentia dentr' al cor già venir meno</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_48'>48</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Io son dell' aspettar omai sì vinto</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_93'>93</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Io son già stanco di pensar siccome</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_78'>78</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Io son sì stanco sotto 'l fascio antico</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_83'>83</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Io temo sì de' begli occhi l' assalto</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_43'>43</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>I' piansi, or canto; che 'l celeste lume</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_204'>204</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>I' pur ascolto, e non odo novella</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_221'>221</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Italia mia, benchè 'l parlar sia indarno</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_124'>124</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Ite, caldì sospiri, al freddo core</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_148'>148</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Ite, rime dolenti, al duro sasso</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_290'>290</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>I' vidi in terra angelici costumi</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_150'>150</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>I' vo pensando, e nel pensier m' assale</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_226'>226</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>I' vo piangendo i miei passati tempi</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_314'>314</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>La bella donna che cotanto amavi</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_89'>89</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>La donna che 'l mio cor nel viso porta</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_104'>104</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[Pg 412]</a></span>L' aere gravato, e l' importuna nebbia</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_64'>64</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>La gola, e 'l sonno, e l' oziose piume</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_6'>6</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>La guancia che fu già piangendo stanca</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_59'>59</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>L' alma mia fiamma oltra le belle bella</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_250'>250</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>L' alto e novo miracol ch' a di nostri</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_266'>266</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>L' alto signor, dinanzi a cui non vale</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_212'>212</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>L' arbor gentil ohe forte amai molt' anni</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_61'>61</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>L' ardente nodo ov' io fui, d' ora in ora</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_239'>239</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Lasciato hai, Morte, senza sole il mondo</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_295'>295</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>La sera desiar, odiar l' aurora</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_221'>221</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>L' aspettata virtù che 'n voi fioriva</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_98'>98</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>L' aspetto sacro della terra vostra</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_66'>66</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Lassare il velo o per sole, o per ombra</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_9'>9</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Lasso! Amor mi trasporta ov' io non voglio</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_206'>206</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Lasso! ben so, che dolorose prede</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_96'>96</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Lasso, che mal accorto fui da prima</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_64'>64</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Lasso, ch' i' ardo, ed altri non mel crede</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_181'>181</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Lasso me, ch' i' non so in qual parte pieghi</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_67'>67</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Lasso! quante fiate Amor m' assale</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_103'>103</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>L' aura celeste che 'n quel verde Lauro</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_178'>178</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>L' aura, che 'l verde Lauro e l' aureo crine</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_215'>215</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>L' aura e l' odore e 'l refrigerio e l' ombra</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_284'>284</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>L' aura gentil che rasserena i poggi</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_175'>175</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>L' aura mia sacra al mio stanco riposo</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_304'>304</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>L' aura serena che fra verdi fronde</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_177'>177</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>L' aura soave ch' al sol spiega e vibra</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_178'>178</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>L' avara Babilonia ha colmo 'l sacco</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_136'>136</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Là ver l' aurora, che sì dolce l' aura</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_210'>210</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>La vita fugge, e non s' arresta un' ora</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_239'>239</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Le stelle e 'l cielo e gli elementi a prova</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_149'>149</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Levommi il mio pensier in parte ov' era</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_261'>261</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Liete e pensose, accompagnate e sole</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_199'>199</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Lieti fiori e felici, e ben nate erbe</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_154'>154</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>L' oro e le perle, e i fior vermigli, e i bianchi</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_47'>47</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>L' ultimo, lasso! de' miei giorni allegri</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_284'>284</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Mai non fu' in parte ove sì chiar' vedessi</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_244'>244</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Mai non vedranno le mie luci asciutte</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_276'>276</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Mai non vo' pin cantar, com' io soleva</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_99'>99</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Ma poi che 'l dolce riso umile e piano</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_45'>45</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Mente mia che presaga de' tuoi danni</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_270'>270</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Mentre che 'l cor dagli amorosi vermi</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_263'>263</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Mia benigna fortuna e 'l viver licto</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_288'>288</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Mia ventura ed Amor m' avean si adorno</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_180'>180</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Mie venture al venir son tarde e pigre</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_58'>58</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Mille fiate, o dolce mia guerrera</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_17'>17</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Mille piagge in un giorno e mille rivi</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_164'>164</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Mirando 'l sol de' begli occhi sereno</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_162'>162</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Mira quel colle, o stanco mio cor vago</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_213'>213</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Morte ha spento quel Sol eh' abbagliar suolmi</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_313'>313</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Movesi 'l vecohierel canuto e bianco</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_13'>13</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[Pg 413]</a></span>Nè così bello il sol giammai levarsi</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_141'>141</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Nel dolce tempo della prima etade</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_20'>20</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Nella stagion che 'l ciel rapido inchina</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_50'>50</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Nell' età sua più bella e più fiorita</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_243'>243</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Nè mai pietosa madre al caro figlio</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_248'>248</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Nè per sereno cielo ir vaghe stelle</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_269'>269</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Non al suo amante più Diana piacque</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_54'>54</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Non dall' Ispano Ibero all' Indo Idaspe</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_190'>190</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Non d' atra e tempestosa onda marina</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_147'>147</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Non fur mai Giove e Cesare sì mossi</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_150'>150</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Non ha tanti animali il mar fra l' onde</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_207'>207</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Non può far morte il dolce viso amaro</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_305'>305</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Non pur quell' una bella ignuda mano</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_180'>180</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Non Tesin, Po, Varo, Arno, Adige e Tebro</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_145'>145</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Non veggio ove scampar mi possa omai</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_102'>102</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Nova angeletta sovra l' ale accorta</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_101'>101</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>O aspettata in ciel, beata e bella</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_26'>26</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>O bella man, che mi distringi 'l core</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_179'>179</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>O cameretta che già fosti un porto</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_206'>206</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Occhi miei lassi, mentre ch' io vi giro</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_12'>12</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Occhi miei, oscurato è 'l nostro sole</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_241'>241</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Occhi, piangete; accompagnate il core</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_85'>85</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>O d' ardente virtute ornata e calda</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_143'>143</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>O dolci sguardi, o parolette accorte</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_220'>220</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>O giorno, o ora, o ultimo momento</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_285'>285</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Ogni giorno mi par più di mill' anni</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_304'>304</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Oimè il bel viso! oimè il soave sguardo</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_232'>232</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>O invidia, nemica di virtute</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_161'>161</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>O misera ed orribil visione</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_219'>219</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Onde tolse Amor l' oro e di qual vena</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_198'>198</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>O passi sparsi, o pensier vaghi e pronti</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_154'>154</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Or che 'l ciel e la terra e 'l vento tace</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_156'>156</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Or hai fatto 'l estremo di tua possa</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_283'>283</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Orso, al vostro destrier si può ben porre</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_94'>94</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Orso, e' non furon mai fiumi nè stagni</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_43'>43</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Or vedi, Amor, che giovinetta donna</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_111'>111</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>O tempo, o ciel volubil che fuggendo</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_294'>294</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Ove ch' i' posi gli occhi lassi o giri</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_152'>152</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Ov' è la fronte che con picciol cenno</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_259'>259</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Pace non trovo, e non ho da far guerra</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_132'>132</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Padre del ciel, dopo i perduti giorni</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_62'>62</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Parrà forse ad alcun, che 'n lodar quella</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_216'>216</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Pasco la mente d' un sì nobil cibo</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_175'>175</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Passa la nave mia colma d' oblio</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_172'>172</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Passato è 'l tempo omai, lasso! che tanto</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_270'>270</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Passer mai solitario in alcun tetto</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_201'>201</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Perchè al viso d' Amor portava insegna</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_57'>57</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Perchè la vita è breve</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_68'>68</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Perchè quel che mi trasse ad amar prima</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_60'>60</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[Pg 414]</a></span>Perch' io t' abbia guardato di menzogna</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_49'>49</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Per far una leggiadra sua vendetta</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_2'>2</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Per mezzo i boschi inospiti e selvaggi</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_163'>163</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Per mirar Policleto a prova fiso</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_80'>80</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Perseguendomi Amor al luogo usato</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_103'>103</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Piangete, donne, e con voi pianga Amore</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_90'>90</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Pien di quella ineffabile dolcezza</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_107'>107</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Pien d' un vago pensier, che me desvia</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_159'>159</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Piovonmi amare lagrime dal viso</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_14'>14</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Più di me lieta non si vede a terra</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_25'>25</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Più volte Amor m' avea già detto: scrivi</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_91'>91</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Più volte già dal bel sembiante umano</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_160'>160</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Po, ben puo' tu portartene la scorza</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_166'>166</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Poco era ad appressarsi agli occhi miei</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_53'>53</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Poichè la vista angelica serena</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_242'>242</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Poi che 'l cammin m' è chiuso di mercede</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_129'>129</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Poi che mia speme è lunga a venir troppo</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_87'>87</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Poichè per mio destino</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_76'>76</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Poi che voi ed io più volte abbiam provato</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_94'>94</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Pommi ove 'l sol occide i fiori e l' erba</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_142'>142</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Qual donna attende a gloriosa fama</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_225'>225</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Qual mio destin, qual forza o qual inganno</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_198'>198</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Qual paura ho, quando mi torna a mente</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_217'>217</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Qual più diversa e nova</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_133'>133</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Qual ventura mi fu, quando dall' uno</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_205'>205</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Quand' io mi volgo indietro a mirar gli anni</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_258'>258</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Quand' io movo i sospiri a chiamar voi</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_5'>5</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Quand' io son tutto volto in quella parte</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_15'>15</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Quand' io veggio dal ciel scender l' Aurora</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_252'>252</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Quand' io v' odo parlar si dolcemente</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_141'>141</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Quando Amor i begli occhi a terra inchina</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_158'>158</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Quando dal proprio sito si rimove</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_44'>44</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Quando fra l' altre donne ad ora ad ora</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_11'>11</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Quando giugne per gli occhi al cor profondo</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_92'>92</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Quando giunse a Simon l' alto concetto</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_81'>81</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Quando il soave mio fido conforto</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_305'>305</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Quando 'l pianeta che distingue l' ore</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_8'>8</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Quando 'l sol bagna in mar l' aurato carro</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_199'>199</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Quando 'l voler, che con duo sproni ardenti</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_144'>144</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Quando mi vene innanzi il tempo e 'l loco</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_163'>163</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Quanta invidia ti porto, avara terra</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_259'>259</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Quante fiate al mio dolce ricetto</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_245'>245</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Quanto più disiose l' ali spando</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_138'>138</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Quanto più m' avvicino al giorno estremo</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_35'>35</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Quel, che d' odore e di color vincea</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_295'>295</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Quel ch' infinita providenza ed arte</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_4'>4</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Quel che 'n Tessaglia ebbe le man sì pronte</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_46'>46</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Quel foco, ch' io pensai che fosse spento</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_57'>57</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Quella fenestra, ove l' un sol si vede</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_95'>95</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Quell' antiquo mio dolce empio signore</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_307'>307</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[Pg 415]</a></span>Quella per cui con Sorga ho cangiat' Arno</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_265'>265</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Quelle pietose rime, in ch' io m' accorsi</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_111'>111</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Quel rosignuol che sì soave piagne</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_268'>268</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Quel sempre acerbo ed onorato giorno</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_151'>151</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Quel sol che mi mostrava il cammin destro</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_264'>264</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Quel vago, dolce, caro, onesto sguardo</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_286'>286</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Quel vago impallidir che 'l dolce riso</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_113'>113</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Questa Fenice dell' aurata piuma</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_169'>169</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Quest' anima gentil che si diparte</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_35'>35</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Questa umil fera, un cor di tigre o d' orsa</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_148'>148</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Questro nostro caduco e fragil bene</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_293'>293</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Qui dove mezzo son, Sennuccio mio</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_105'>105</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Rapido fiume che d' alpestra vena</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_189'>189</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Real natura, angelico intelletto</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_211'>211</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Rimansi addietro il sestodecim' anno</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_108'>108</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Ripensando a quel ch' oggi il ciel onora</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_298'>298</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Rotta è l' alta Colonna e 'l verde Lauro</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_235'>235</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>S' Amore o Morte non dà qualche stroppio</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_44'>44</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>S' Amor non è, che dunque è quel ch' i' sento</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_130'>130</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>S' Amor novo consiglio non n' apporta</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_242'>242</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Se al principio risponde il fine e 'l mezzo</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_81'>81</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Se bianche non son prima ambe le tempie</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_85'>85</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Se col cieco desir che 'l cor distrugge</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_57'>57</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Se lamentar angelli, o verdi fronde</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_243'>243</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Se la mia vita dall' aspro tormento</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_10'>10</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Se 'l dolce sguardo di costei m' ancide</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_168'>168</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Se 'l onorata fronde, che prescrive</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_24'>24</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Se 'l pensier che mi strugge</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_114'>114</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Se 'l sasso ond' è più chiusa questa valle</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_107'>107</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Se mai foco per foco non si spense</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_49'>49</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Sennuccio, i' vo' che sappi in qual maniera</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_104'>104</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Sennuccio mio, benchè doglioso e solo</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_249'>249</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Sento l' aura mia antica, e i dolci colli</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_274'>274</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Se quell' aura soave de' sospiri</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_249'>249</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Se Virgilio ed Omero avessin visto</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_170'>170</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Se voi poteste per turbati segni</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_63'>63</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Si breve è 'l tempo e 'l pensier sì veloce</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_247'>247</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Siccome eterna vita è veder Dio</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_173'>173</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Si è debile il filo a cui s' attene</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_40'>40</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Signor mio caro, ogni pensier mi tira</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_231'>231</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>S' il dissi mai, ch' i' venga in odio a quella</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_183'>183</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>S' io avessi pensato che sì care</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_254'>254</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>S' io credessi per morte essere scarce</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_39'>39</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>S' io fossi stato fermo alia spelunca</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_157'>157</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Si tosto come avvien che l' arco scocchi</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_87'>87</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Si traviato è 'l folle mio desio</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_5'>5</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Solea dalla fontana di mia vita</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_287'>287</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Solea lontana in sonno consolarme</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_218'>218</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Soleano i miei pensier soavemente</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_250'>250</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[Pg 416]</a></span>Soleasi nel mio cor star bella e viva</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_255'>255</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Solo e pensoso i più deserti campi</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_38'>38</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Son animali al mondo di sì altera</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_16'>16</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>S' onesto amor può meritar mercede</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_291'>291</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Spinse amor e dolor ore ir non debbe</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_300'>300</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Spirto felice, che sì dolcemente</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_316'>316</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Spirto gentil che quelle membra reggi</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_54'>54</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Standomi un giorno solo alia finestra</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_277'>277</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Stiamo, Amor, a veder la gloria nostra</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_174'>174</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>S' una fede amorosa, un cor non finto</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_200'>200</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Tacer non posso, e temo non adopre</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_280'>280</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Tempo era omai da trovar pace o tregua</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_272'>272</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Tennemi Amor anni ventuno ardendo</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_314'>314</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Tornami a mente, anzi v' è dentro quella</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_293'>293</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Tranquillo porto avea mostrato Amore</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_273'>273</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Tra quantunque leggiadre donne e belle</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_196'>196</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Tutta la mia fiorita e verde etade</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_271'>271</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Tutto 'l dì piango; e poi la notte, quando</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_195'>195</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Una candida cerva sopra l' erba</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_172'>172</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Una donna più bella assai che 'l sole</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_108'>108</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Vago augelletto che cantando vai</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_317'>317</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Valle che de' lamenti miei se' piena</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_260'>260</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Verdi panni, sanguigni, oscuri o persi</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_32'>32</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Vergine bella che di sol vestita</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_318'>318</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Vergognando talor ch' ancor si taccia</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_16'>16</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Vidi fra mille donne una già tale</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_292'>292</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Vincitore Alessandro l' ira vinse</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_205'>205</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Vinse Annibal, e non seppe usar poi</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_98'>98</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Vive faville uscian de' duo bei lumi</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_223'>223</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Voglia mi sprona; Amor mi guida e scorge</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_191'>191</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Voi, ch' ascoltate in rime sparse il suono</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_1'>1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Volgendo gli occhi al mio novo colore</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_63'>63</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Volo con l' ali de' pensieri al cielo</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_313'>313</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Zefiro torna, e 'l bel tempo rimena</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_266'>266</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='center' colspan="2"><b>TRIUMPHS.</b></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>Triumph of Chastity</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_361'>361</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>—— Death</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_371'>371</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>—— Eternity</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_400'>400</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>—— Fame</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_381'>381</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>—— Love</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_322'>322</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'>—— Time</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_394'>394</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'><span class="smcap">Sonnet found in Laura's Tomb</span></td> + <td align='right'><a href='#Page_406'>406</a></td> +</tr> +</table></div> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<h5>LONDON: PRINTED BY WM. CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED</h5> + +<h5>STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.</h5> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> Before the publication of De Sade's "Mémoires pour la vie +de Petrarque" the report was that Petrarch first saw Laura at Vaucluse. +The truth of their first meeting in the church of St. Clara depends on +the authenticity of the famous note on the M.S. Virgil of Petrarch, +which is now in the Ambrosian Library at Milan.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> Petrarch, in his dialogue with St. Augustine, states that +he was older than Laura by a few years.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_C_3" id="Footnote_C_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_C_3"><span class="label">[C]</span></a> "The Floral games were instituted in France in 1324. They +were founded by Clementina Isaure, Countess of Toulouse, and annually +celebrated in the month of May. The Countess published an edict, which +assembled all the poets of France, in artificial arbours, dressed with +flowers; and he that produced the best poem was rewared with a violet of +gold. There were, likewise, inferior prizes of flowers made in silver. +In the meantime, the conquerors were crowned with natural chaplets of +their own respective flowers. During the ceremony degrees were also +conferred. He who had won a prize three times was pronounced a doctor +'<i>en gaye science</i>,' the name of the poetry of the Provençal +Troubadours. This institution, however fantastic, soon became common, +through the whole of France."—<i>Warton's History of English Poetry</i>, vol +i. p 467.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_D_4" id="Footnote_D_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_D_4"><span class="label">[D]</span></a> I have transferred the following anecdote from Levati's +Viaggi di Petrarea (vol. i. p. 119 et seq.). It behoves me to confess, +however, that I recollect no allusion to it in any of Petrarch's +letters, and I have found many things in Levati's book which make me +distrust his authority.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_E_5" id="Footnote_E_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_E_5"><span class="label">[E]</span></a> Quest' anima gentil che si disparte.—Sonnet xxiii.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_F_6" id="Footnote_F_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_F_6"><span class="label">[F]</span></a> Dated 21st December. 1335.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_G_7" id="Footnote_G_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_G_7"><span class="label">[G]</span></a> Guido Sette of Luni, in the Genoese territory, studied law +together with Petrarch; but took to it with better liking. He devoted +himself to the business of the bar at Avignon with much reputation. But +the legal and clerical professions were then often united; for Guido +rose in the church to be an archbishop. He died in 1368, renowned as a +church luminary.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_H_8" id="Footnote_H_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_H_8"><span class="label">[H]</span></a> Canzoni 8, 9, and 10.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_I_9" id="Footnote_I_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_I_9"><span class="label">[I]</span></a> Valery, in his "Travels in Italy" gives the following note +respecting out poet. I quote from the edition of the work published at +Brussels in 1835:—"Petrarque rapporte dans ses lettres latines que le +laurier du Capitole lui avait attiré une multitude d'envieux; que le +jour de son couronnement, au lieu d'eau odorante qu'il était d'usage de +répandre dans ces solennités, il reçut sur la tête une eau corrosive, +qui le rendit chauve le reste de sa vie. Son historien Dolce raconte +même qu'une vieille lui jetta son pot de chambre rempli d'une acre +urine, gardée, peut-être, pour cela depuis sept semaines."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_J_10" id="Footnote_J_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_J_10"><span class="label">[J]</span></a> Sonnet cxcvi.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_K_11" id="Footnote_K_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_K_11"><span class="label">[K]</span></a> <i>Translation.</i>—In the twenty-fifth year of his age, after +a short though happy existence, our John departed this life in the year +of Christ 1361, on the 10th of July, or rather on the 9th, at the +midhour between Friday and Saturday. Sent into the world to my +mortification and suffering, he was to me in life the cause of deep and +unceasing solicitude, and in death of poignant grief. The news reached +me on the evening of the 13th of the same month that he had fallen at +Milan, in the general mortality caused by that unwonted scourge which at +last discovered and visited so fearfully this hitherto exempted city. On +the 8th of August, the same year, a servant of mine returning from Milan +brought me a rumour (which on the 18th of the same fatal month was +confirmed by a servant of <i>Dominus Theatinus</i>) of the death of my +Socrates, my companion, my best of brothers, at Babylon (Avignon, I +mean) in the month of May. I have lost my comrade and the solace of my +life! Receive, Christ Jesus, these two, and the five that remain, into +thy eternal habitations!</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_L_12" id="Footnote_L_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_L_12"><span class="label">[L]</span></a> Petrarch's words are: "civi servare suo;" but he takes the +liberty of considering Charles as—adoptively—Italian, though that +Prince was born at Prague.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_M_13" id="Footnote_M_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_M_13"><span class="label">[M]</span></a> Most historians relate that the English, at Poitiers, +amounted to no more than eight or ten thousand men; but, whether they +consisted of eight thousand or thirty thousand, the result was +sufficiently glorious for them, and for their brave leader, the Black +Prince.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_N_14" id="Footnote_N_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_N_14"><span class="label">[N]</span></a> This is the story of the patient Grisel, which is familiar +in almost every language.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_O_15" id="Footnote_O_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_O_15"><span class="label">[O]</span></a> Cercato ho sempre solitaria vita.—Sonnet 221, De Sade, +vol. ii. p. 8.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_P_16" id="Footnote_P_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_P_16"><span class="label">[P]</span></a> Charlemagne.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_Q_17" id="Footnote_Q_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_Q_17"><span class="label">[Q]</span></a> <i>Orsa</i>. A play on the word <i>Orsim</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_R_18" id="Footnote_R_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_R_18"><span class="label">[R]</span></a> This, the only known version, is included simply from a +wish to represent the original completely, the poem being almost +untranslateable into English verse. Italian critics are much divided as +to its object. One of the most eminent (Bembo) considers it to be +nothing more than an unconnected string of proverbs.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_S_19" id="Footnote_S_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_S_19"><span class="label">[S]</span></a> Harrington's Nugæ Antiquæ.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_T_20" id="Footnote_T_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_T_20"><span class="label">[T]</span></a> Harrington's Nugæ Antiquæ.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_U_21" id="Footnote_U_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_U_21"><span class="label">[U]</span></a> Harrington's Nugæ Antiquæ.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_V_22" id="Footnote_V_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_V_22"><span class="label">[V]</span></a> Deriving it from <i>rodere</i>, to gnaw.</p></div> + + +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sonnets, Triumphs, and Other Poems +of Petrarch, by Petrarch + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SONNETS, TRIUMPHS, AND *** + +***** This file should be named 17650-h.htm or 17650-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/6/5/17650/ + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Taavi Kalju and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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