For Cino, master of the love-fraught lay,
E'en now is from our fond embraces torn!
E'en now is from our fond embraces torn!
Petrarch
_
ON THE DEATH OF CINO DA PISTOIA.
Weep, beauteous damsels, and let Cupid weep,
Of every region weep, ye lover train;
He, who so skilfully attuned his strain
To your fond cause, is sunk in death's cold sleep!
Such limits let not my affliction keep,
As may the solace of soft tears restrain;
And, to relieve my bosom of its pain,
Be all my sighs tumultuous, utter'd deep!
Let song itself, and votaries of verse,
Breathe mournful accents o'er our Cino's bier,
Who late is gone to number with the blest!
Oh! weep, Pistoia, weep your sons perverse;
Its choicest habitant has fled our sphere,
And heaven may glory in its welcome guest!
NOTT.
Ye damsels, pour your tears! weep with you. Love!
Weep, all ye lovers, through the peopled sphere!
Since he is dead who, while he linger'd here,
With all his might to do you honour strove.
For me, this tyrant grief my prayers shall move
Not to contest the comfort of a tear,
Nor check those sighs, that to my heart are dear,
Since ease from them alone it hopes to prove.
Ye verses, weep! --ye rhymes, your woes renew!
For Cino, master of the love-fraught lay,
E'en now is from our fond embraces torn!
Pistoia, weep, and all your thankless crew!
Your sweetest inmate now is reft away--
But, heaven, rejoice, and hail your son new-born!
CHARLEMONT.
SONNET LXXII.
_Piu volte Amor m' avea gia detto: scrivi. _
HE WRITES WHAT LOVE BIDS HIM.
White--to my heart Love oftentimes had said--
Write what thou seest in letters large of gold,
That livid are my votaries to behold,
And in a moment made alive and dead.
Once in thy heart my sovran influence spread
A public precedent to lovers told;
Though other duties drew thee from my fold,
I soon reclaim'd thee as thy footsteps fled.
And if the bright eyes which I show'd thee first,
If the fair face where most I loved to stay,
Thy young heart's icy hardness when I burst,
Restore to me the bow which all obey,
Then may thy cheek, which now so smooth appears,
Be channell'd with my daily drink of tears.
MACGREGOR.
SONNET LXXIII.
_Quando giugne per gli occhi al cor profondo. _
HE DESCRIBES THE STATE OF TWO LOVERS, AND RETURNS IN THOUGHT TO HIS OWN
SUFFERINGS.
When reaches through the eyes the conscious heart
Its imaged fate, all other thoughts depart;
The powers which from the soul their functions take
A dead weight on the frame its limbs then make.
From the first miracle a second springs,
At times the banish'd faculty that brings,
So fleeing from itself, to some new seat,
Which feeds revenge and makes e'en exile sweet.
ON THE DEATH OF CINO DA PISTOIA.
Weep, beauteous damsels, and let Cupid weep,
Of every region weep, ye lover train;
He, who so skilfully attuned his strain
To your fond cause, is sunk in death's cold sleep!
Such limits let not my affliction keep,
As may the solace of soft tears restrain;
And, to relieve my bosom of its pain,
Be all my sighs tumultuous, utter'd deep!
Let song itself, and votaries of verse,
Breathe mournful accents o'er our Cino's bier,
Who late is gone to number with the blest!
Oh! weep, Pistoia, weep your sons perverse;
Its choicest habitant has fled our sphere,
And heaven may glory in its welcome guest!
NOTT.
Ye damsels, pour your tears! weep with you. Love!
Weep, all ye lovers, through the peopled sphere!
Since he is dead who, while he linger'd here,
With all his might to do you honour strove.
For me, this tyrant grief my prayers shall move
Not to contest the comfort of a tear,
Nor check those sighs, that to my heart are dear,
Since ease from them alone it hopes to prove.
Ye verses, weep! --ye rhymes, your woes renew!
For Cino, master of the love-fraught lay,
E'en now is from our fond embraces torn!
Pistoia, weep, and all your thankless crew!
Your sweetest inmate now is reft away--
But, heaven, rejoice, and hail your son new-born!
CHARLEMONT.
SONNET LXXII.
_Piu volte Amor m' avea gia detto: scrivi. _
HE WRITES WHAT LOVE BIDS HIM.
White--to my heart Love oftentimes had said--
Write what thou seest in letters large of gold,
That livid are my votaries to behold,
And in a moment made alive and dead.
Once in thy heart my sovran influence spread
A public precedent to lovers told;
Though other duties drew thee from my fold,
I soon reclaim'd thee as thy footsteps fled.
And if the bright eyes which I show'd thee first,
If the fair face where most I loved to stay,
Thy young heart's icy hardness when I burst,
Restore to me the bow which all obey,
Then may thy cheek, which now so smooth appears,
Be channell'd with my daily drink of tears.
MACGREGOR.
SONNET LXXIII.
_Quando giugne per gli occhi al cor profondo. _
HE DESCRIBES THE STATE OF TWO LOVERS, AND RETURNS IN THOUGHT TO HIS OWN
SUFFERINGS.
When reaches through the eyes the conscious heart
Its imaged fate, all other thoughts depart;
The powers which from the soul their functions take
A dead weight on the frame its limbs then make.
From the first miracle a second springs,
At times the banish'd faculty that brings,
So fleeing from itself, to some new seat,
Which feeds revenge and makes e'en exile sweet.
