Dead is that fire; and cold its ashes lie
In one small tomb; which had it still grown on
E'en to old age, as oft by others felt,
Arm'd with the power of rhyme, which wretched I
E'en now disclaim, my riper strains had won
E'en stones to burst, and in soft sorrows melt.
In one small tomb; which had it still grown on
E'en to old age, as oft by others felt,
Arm'd with the power of rhyme, which wretched I
E'en now disclaim, my riper strains had won
E'en stones to burst, and in soft sorrows melt.
Petrarch - Poems
_
HE VENTS HIS SORROW TO ALL WHO WITNESSED HIS FORMER FELICITY.
Love, that in happier days wouldst meet me here
Along these meads that nursed our kindred strains;
And that old debt to clear which still remains,
Sweet converse with the stream and me wouldst share:
Ye flowers, leaves, grass, woods, grots, rills, gentle air,
Low valleys, lofty hills, and sunny plains:
The harbour where I stored my love-sick pains,
And all my various chance, my racking care:
Ye playful inmates of the greenwood shade;
Ye nymphs, and ye that in the waves pursue
That life its cool and grassy bottom lends:--
My days were once so fair; now dark and dread
As death that makes them so. Thus the world through
On each as soon as born his fate attends.
ANON. , OX. , 1795.
On these green banks in happier days I stray'd
With Love, who whisper'd many a tender tale;
And the glad waters, winding through the dale,
Heard the sweet eloquence fond Love display'd.
You, purpled plain, cool grot, and arching glade;
Ye hills, ye streams, where plays the silken gale;
Ye pathless wilds, you rock-encircled vale
Which oft have beard the tender plaints I made;
Ye blue-hair'd nymphs, who ceaseless revel keep,
In the cool bosom of the crystal deep;
Ye woodland maids who climb the mountain's brow;
Ye mark'd how joy once wing'd each hour so gay;
Ah, mark how sad each hour now wears away!
So fate with human bliss blends human woe!
ANON. 1777.
SONNET XXXVI.
_Mentre che 'l cor dagli amorosi vermi. _
HAD SHE NOT DIED SO EARLY, HE WOULD HAVE LEARNED TO PRAISE HER MORE
WORTHILY.
While on my heart the worms consuming prey'd
Of Love, and I with all his fire was caught;
The steps of my fair wild one still I sought
To trace o'er desert mountains as she stray'd;
And much I dared in bitter strains to upbraid
Both Love and her, whom I so cruel thought;
But rude was then my genius, and untaught
My rhymes, while weak and new the ideas play'd.
Dead is that fire; and cold its ashes lie
In one small tomb; which had it still grown on
E'en to old age, as oft by others felt,
Arm'd with the power of rhyme, which wretched I
E'en now disclaim, my riper strains had won
E'en stones to burst, and in soft sorrows melt.
ANON. , OX. , 1795.
SONNET XXXVII.
_Anima bella, da quel nodo sciolta. _
HE PRAYS LAURA TO LOOK DOWN UPON HIM FROM HEAVEN.
Bright spirit, from those earthly bonds released,
The loveliest ever wove in Nature's loom,
From thy bright skies compassionate the gloom
Shrouding my life that once of joy could taste!
Each false suggestion of thy heart has ceased,
That whilom bade thee stem disdain assume;
Now, all secure, heaven's habitant become,
List to my sighs, thy looks upon me cast.
Mark the huge rock, whence Sorga's waters rise;
And see amidst its waves and borders stray
One fed by grief and memory that ne'er dies
But from that spot, oh! turn thy sight away
Where I first loved, where thy late dwelling lies;
That in thy friends thou nought ungrateful may'st survey!
NOTT.
Blest soul, that, loosen'd from those bands, art flown--
Bands than which Nature never form'd more fair,
Look down and mark how changed to carking care
From gladdest thoughts I pass my days unknown.
Each false opinion from my heart is gone,
That once to me made thy sweet sight appear
Most harsh and bitter; now secure from fear
Here turn thine eyes, and listen to my moan.
Turn to this rock whence Sorga's waters rise,
And mark, where through the mead its waters flow,
One who of thee still mindful ceaseless sighs:
But leave me there unsought for, where to glow
Our flames began, and where thy mansion lies,
Lest thou in thine shouldst see what grieved thee so.
ANON.
HE VENTS HIS SORROW TO ALL WHO WITNESSED HIS FORMER FELICITY.
Love, that in happier days wouldst meet me here
Along these meads that nursed our kindred strains;
And that old debt to clear which still remains,
Sweet converse with the stream and me wouldst share:
Ye flowers, leaves, grass, woods, grots, rills, gentle air,
Low valleys, lofty hills, and sunny plains:
The harbour where I stored my love-sick pains,
And all my various chance, my racking care:
Ye playful inmates of the greenwood shade;
Ye nymphs, and ye that in the waves pursue
That life its cool and grassy bottom lends:--
My days were once so fair; now dark and dread
As death that makes them so. Thus the world through
On each as soon as born his fate attends.
ANON. , OX. , 1795.
On these green banks in happier days I stray'd
With Love, who whisper'd many a tender tale;
And the glad waters, winding through the dale,
Heard the sweet eloquence fond Love display'd.
You, purpled plain, cool grot, and arching glade;
Ye hills, ye streams, where plays the silken gale;
Ye pathless wilds, you rock-encircled vale
Which oft have beard the tender plaints I made;
Ye blue-hair'd nymphs, who ceaseless revel keep,
In the cool bosom of the crystal deep;
Ye woodland maids who climb the mountain's brow;
Ye mark'd how joy once wing'd each hour so gay;
Ah, mark how sad each hour now wears away!
So fate with human bliss blends human woe!
ANON. 1777.
SONNET XXXVI.
_Mentre che 'l cor dagli amorosi vermi. _
HAD SHE NOT DIED SO EARLY, HE WOULD HAVE LEARNED TO PRAISE HER MORE
WORTHILY.
While on my heart the worms consuming prey'd
Of Love, and I with all his fire was caught;
The steps of my fair wild one still I sought
To trace o'er desert mountains as she stray'd;
And much I dared in bitter strains to upbraid
Both Love and her, whom I so cruel thought;
But rude was then my genius, and untaught
My rhymes, while weak and new the ideas play'd.
Dead is that fire; and cold its ashes lie
In one small tomb; which had it still grown on
E'en to old age, as oft by others felt,
Arm'd with the power of rhyme, which wretched I
E'en now disclaim, my riper strains had won
E'en stones to burst, and in soft sorrows melt.
ANON. , OX. , 1795.
SONNET XXXVII.
_Anima bella, da quel nodo sciolta. _
HE PRAYS LAURA TO LOOK DOWN UPON HIM FROM HEAVEN.
Bright spirit, from those earthly bonds released,
The loveliest ever wove in Nature's loom,
From thy bright skies compassionate the gloom
Shrouding my life that once of joy could taste!
Each false suggestion of thy heart has ceased,
That whilom bade thee stem disdain assume;
Now, all secure, heaven's habitant become,
List to my sighs, thy looks upon me cast.
Mark the huge rock, whence Sorga's waters rise;
And see amidst its waves and borders stray
One fed by grief and memory that ne'er dies
But from that spot, oh! turn thy sight away
Where I first loved, where thy late dwelling lies;
That in thy friends thou nought ungrateful may'st survey!
NOTT.
Blest soul, that, loosen'd from those bands, art flown--
Bands than which Nature never form'd more fair,
Look down and mark how changed to carking care
From gladdest thoughts I pass my days unknown.
Each false opinion from my heart is gone,
That once to me made thy sweet sight appear
Most harsh and bitter; now secure from fear
Here turn thine eyes, and listen to my moan.
Turn to this rock whence Sorga's waters rise,
And mark, where through the mead its waters flow,
One who of thee still mindful ceaseless sighs:
But leave me there unsought for, where to glow
Our flames began, and where thy mansion lies,
Lest thou in thine shouldst see what grieved thee so.
ANON.
