The Sonnets, Triumphs, and Other Poems of Petrarch Part 30

CANZONE IX.

_Gentil mia donna, i' veggio._

IN PRAISE OF LAURA'S EYES: THEY LEAD HIM TO CONTEMPLATE THE PATH OF LIFE.

Lady, in your bright eyes Soft glancing round, I mark a holy light, Pointing the arduous way that heavenward lies; And to my practised sight, From thence, where Love enthroned, a.s.serts his might, Visibly, palpably, the soul beams forth.

This is the beacon guides to deeds of worth, And urges me to seek the glorious goal; This bids me leave behind the vulgar throng, Nor can the human tongue Tell how those orbs divine o'er all my soul Exert their sweet control, Both when h.o.a.r winter's frosts around are flung, And when the year puts on his youth again, Jocund, as when this bosom first knew pain.

Oh! if in that high sphere, From whence the Eternal Ruler of the stars In this excelling work declared his might, All be as fair and bright, Loose me from forth my darksome prison here, That to so glorious life the pa.s.sage bars; Then, in the wonted tumult of my breast, I hail boon Nature, and the genial day That gave me being, and a fate so blest, And her who bade hope beam Upon my soul; for till then burthensome Was life itself become: But now, elate with touch of self-esteem, High thoughts and sweet within that heart arise, Of which the warders are those beauteous eyes.

No joy so exquisite Did Love or fickle Fortune ere devise, In partial mood, for favour'd votaries, But I would barter it For one dear glance of those angelic eyes, Whence springs my peace as from its living root.

O vivid l.u.s.tre! of power absolute O'er all my being--source of that delight, By which consumed I sink, a willing prey.

As fades each lesser ray Before your splendour more intense and bright, So to my raptured heart, When your surpa.s.sing sweetness you impart, No other thought of feeling may remain Where you, with Love himself, despotic reign.

All sweet emotions e'er By happy lovers felt in every clime, Together all, may not with mine compare, When, as from time to time, I catch from that dark radiance rich and deep A ray in which, disporting, Love is seen; And I believe that from my cradled sleep, By Heaven provided this resource hath been, 'Gainst adverse fortune, and my nature frail.

Wrong'd am I by that veil, And the fair hand which oft the light eclipse, That all my bliss hath wrought; And whence the pa.s.sion struggling on my lips, Both day and night, to vent the breast o'erfraught, Still varying as I read her varying thought.

For that (with pain I find) Not Nature's poor endowments may alone Render me worthy of a look so kind, I strive to raise my mind To match with the exalted hopes I own, And fires, though all engrossing, pure as mine.

If p.r.o.ne to good, averse to all things base, Contemner of what worldlings covet most, I may become by long self-discipline.

Haply this humble boast May win me in her fair esteem a place; For sure the end and aim Of all my tears, my sorrowing heart's sole claim, Were the soft trembling of relenting eyes, The generous lover's last, best, dearest prize.

My lay, thy sister-song is gone before.

And now another in my teeming brain Prepares itself: whence I resume the strain.

DACRE.

CANZONE X.

_Poiche per mio destino._

IN PRAISE OF LAURA'S EYES: IN THEM HE FINDS EVERY GOOD, AND HE CAN NEVER CEASE TO PRAISE THEM.

Since then by destiny I am compell'd to sing the strong desire, Which here condemns me ceaselessly to sigh, May Love, whose quenchless fire Excites me, be my guide and point the way, And in the sweet task modulate my lay: But gently be it, lest th' o'erpowering theme Inflame and sting me, lest my fond heart may Dissolve in too much softness, which I deem, From its sad state, may be: For in me--hence my terror and distress!

Not now as erst I see Judgment to keep my mind's great pa.s.sion less: Nay, rather from mine own thoughts melt I so, As melts before the summer sun the snow.

At first I fondly thought Communing with mine ardent flame to win Some brief repose, some time of truce within: This was the hope which brought Me courage what I suffer'd to explain, Now, now it leaves me martyr to my pain: But still, continuing mine amorous song, Must I the lofty enterprise maintain; So powerful is the wish that in me glows, That Reason, which so long Restrain'd it, now no longer can oppose.

Then teach me, Love, to sing In such frank guise, that ever if the ear Of my sweet foe should chance the notes to hear, Pity, I ask no more, may in her spring.

If, as in other times, When kindled to true virtue was mankind, The genius, energy of man could find Entrance in divers climes, Mountains and seas o'erpa.s.sing, seeking there Honour, and culling oft its garland fair, Mine were such wish, not mine such need would be.

From sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e my weary course to trace, Since G.o.d, and Love, and Nature deign for me Each virtue and each grace In those dear eyes where I rejoice to place.

In life to them must I Turn as to founts whence peace and safety swell: And e'en were death, which else I fear not, nigh, Their sight alone would teach me to be well.

As, vex'd by the fierce wind, The weary sailor lifts at night his gaze To the twin lights which still our pole displays, So, in the storms unkind Of Love which I sustain, in those bright eyes My guiding light and only solace lies: But e'en in this far more is due to theft, Which, taught by Love, from time to time, I make Of secret glances than their gracious gift: Yet that, though rare and slight, Makes me from them perpetual model take; Since first they blest my sight Nothing of good without them have I tried, Placing them over me to guard and guide, Because mine own worth held itself but light.

Never the full effect Can I imagine, and describe it less Which o'er my heart those soft eyes still possess!

As worthless I reject And mean all other joys that life confers, E'en as all other beauties yield to hers.

A tranquil peace, alloy'd by no distress, Such as in heaven eternally abides, Moves from their lovely and bewitching smile.

So could I gaze, the while Love, at his sweet will, governs them and guides, --E'en though the sun were nigh, Resting above us on his onward wheel-- On her, intensely with undazzled eye, Nor of myself nor others think or feel.

Ah! that I should desire Things that can never in this world be won, Living on wishes hopeless to acquire.

Yet, were the knot undone, Wherewith my weak tongue Love is wont to bind, Checking its speech, when her sweet face puts on All its great charms, then would I courage find, Words on that point so apt and new to use, As should make weep whoe'er might hear the tale.

But the old wounds I bear, Stamp'd on my tortured heart, such power refuse; Then grow I weak and pale, And my blood hides itself I know not where; Nor as I was remain I: hence I know Love dooms my death and this the fatal blow.

Farewell, my song! already do I see Heavily in my hand the tired pen move From its long dear discourse with her I love; Not so my thoughts from communing with me.

MACGREGOR.

SONNET LIV.

_Io son gia stanco di pensar siccome._

HE WONDERS AT HIS LONG ENDURANCE OF SUCH TOIL AND SUFFERING.

I weary me alway with questions keen How, why my thoughts ne'er turn from you away, Wherefore in life they still prefer to stay, When they might flee this sad and painful scene, And how of the fine hair, the lovely mien, Of the bright eyes which all my feelings sway, Calling on your dear name by night and day, My tongue ne'er silent in their praise has been, And how my feet not tender are, nor tired, Pursuing still with many a useless pace Of your fair footsteps the elastic trace; And whence the ink, the paper whence acquired, Fill'd with your memories: if in this I err, Not art's defect but Love's own fault it were.

MACGREGOR.

SONNET LV.

_I begli occhi, ond' i' fui percosso in guisa._

HE IS NEVER WEARY OF PRAISING THE EYES OF LAURA.

The bright eyes which so struck my fenceless side That they alone which harm'd can heal the smart Beyond or power of herbs or magic art, Or stone which oceans from our sh.o.r.es divide, The chance of other love have so denied That one sweet thought alone contents my heart, From following which if ne'er my tongue depart, Pity the guided though you blame the guide.

These are the bright eyes which, in every land But most in its own shrine, my heart, adored, Have spread the triumphs of my conquering lord; These are the same bright eyes which ever stand Burning within me, e'en as vestal fires, In singing which my fancy never tires.

MACGREGOR.

Not all the spells of the magician's art, Not potent herbs, nor travel o'er the main, But those sweet eyes alone can soothe my pain, And they which struck the blow must heal the smart; Those eyes from meaner love have kept my heart, Content one single image to retain, And censure but the medium wild and vain, If ill my words their honey'd sense impart; These are those beauteous eyes which never fail To prove Love's conquest, wheresoe'er they s.h.i.+ne, Although my breast hath oftenest felt their fire; These are those beauteous eyes which still a.s.sail And penetrate my soul with sparks divine, So that of singing them I cannot tire.

WROTTESLEY.