Where is the brow whose gentlest
beckonings
led
My raptured heart at will, now here, now there?
My raptured heart at will, now here, now there?
Petrarch
How have ye sunk me in this abject state!
MACGREGOR.
When memory turns to gaze on time gone by
(Which in its flight hath arm'd e'en thought with wings),
And to my troubled rest a period brings,
Quells, too, the flame which long could ice defy;
And when I mark Love's promise wither'd lie,
That treasure parted which my bosom wrings
(For she in heaven, her shrine to nature clings),
Whilst thus my toils' reward she doth deny;--
I then awake and feel bereaved indeed!
The darkest fate on earth seems bliss to mine--
So much I fear myself, and dread its woe!
O Fortune! --Death! O star! O fate decreed!
O bitter day! that yet must sweetly shine,
Alas! too surely thou hast laid me low!
WOLLASTON.
SONNET XXXI.
_Ov' e la fronte che con picciol cenno. _
HE ENUMERATES AND EULOGISES THE GRACES OF LAURA.
Where is the brow whose gentlest beckonings led
My raptured heart at will, now here, now there?
Where the twin stars, lights of this lower sphere,
Which o'er my darkling path their radiance shed?
Where is true worth, and wit, and wisdom fled?
The courteous phrase, the melting accent, where?
Where, group'd in one rich form, the beauties rare,
Which long their magic influence o'er me shed?
Where is the shade, within whose sweet recess
My wearied spirit still forgot its sighs,
And all my thoughts their constant record found?
Where, where is she, my life's sole arbitress? --
Ah, wretched world! and wretched ye, mine eyes
(Of her pure light bereft) which aye with tears are drown'd.
WRANGHAM.
Where is that face, whose slightest air could move
My trembling heart, and strike the springs of love?
That heaven, where two fair stars, with genial ray,
Shed their kind influence on life's dim way?
Where are that science, sense, and worth confess'd?
That speech by virtue, by the graces dress'd?
Where are those beauties, where those charms combined,
That caused this long captivity of mind?
Where the dear shade of all that once was fair,
The source, the solace, of each amorous care--
My heart's sole sovereign, Nature's only boast?
