The Sonnets, Triumphs, and Other Poems of Petrarch Part 60

If I said so, may I be hated by Her on whose love I live, without which I should die-- If I said so, my days be sad and short, May my false soul some vile dominion court.

If I said so, may every star to me Be hostile; round me grow Pale fear and jealousy; And she, my foe, As cruel still and cold as fair she aye must be.

If I said so, may Love upon my heart Expend his golden shafts, on her the leaden dart; Be heaven and earth, and G.o.d and man my foe, And she still more severe if I said so: If I said so, may he whose blind lights lead Me straightway to my grave, Trample yet worse his slave, Nor she behave Gentle and kind to me in look, or word, or deed.

If I said so, then through my brief life may All that is hateful block my worthless weary way: If I said so, may the proud frost in thee Grow prouder as more fierce the fire in me: If I said so, no more then may the warm Sun or bright moon be view'd, Nor maid, nor matron's form, But one dread storm Such as proud Pharaoh saw when Israel he pursued.

If I said so, despite each contrite sigh, Let courtesy for me and kindly feeling die: If I said so, that voice to anger swell, Which was so sweet when first her slave I fell: If I said so, I should offend whom I, E'en from my earliest breath Until my day of death, Would gladly take, Alone in cloister'd cell my single saint to make.

But if I said not so, may she who first, In life's green youth, my heart to hope so sweetly nursed, Deign yet once more my weary bark to guide With native kindness o'er the troublous tide; And graceful, grateful, as her wont before, When, for I could no more, My all, myself I gave, To be her slave, Forget not the deep faith with which I still adore.

I did not, could not, never would say so, For all that gold can give, cities or courts bestow: Let truth, then, take her old proud seat on high, And low on earth let baffled falsehood lie.

Thou know'st me, Love! if aught my state within Belief or care may win, Tell her that I would call Him blest o'er all Who, doom'd like me to pine, dies ere his strife begin.

Rachel I sought, not Leah, to secure, Nor could I this vain life with other fair endure, And, should from earth Heaven summon her again, Myself would gladly die For her, or with her, when Elijah's fiery car her pure soul wafts on high.

MACGREGOR.

CANZONE XX.

_Ben mi credea pa.s.sar mio tempo omai._

HE CANNOT LIVE WITHOUT SEEING HER, BUT WOULD NOT DIE THAT HE MAY STILL LOVE HER.

As pa.s.s'd the years which I have left behind, To pa.s.s my future years I fondly thought, Amid old studies, with desires the same; But, from my lady since I fail to find The accustom'd aid, the work himself has wrought Let Love regard my tempter who became; Yet scarce I feel the shame That, at my age, he makes me thus a thief Of that bewitching light For which my life is steep'd in cureless grief; In youth I better might Have ta'en the part which now I needs must take, For less dishonour boyish errors make.

Those sweet eyes whence alone my life had health Were ever of their high and heavenly charms So kind to me when first my thrall begun, That, as a man whom not his proper wealth, But some extern yet secret succour arms, I lived, with them at ease, offending none: Me now their glances shun As one injurious and importunate, Who, poor and hungry, did Myself the very act, in better state Which I, in others, chid.

From mercy thus if envy bar me, be My amorous thirst and helplessness my plea.

In divers ways how often have I tried If, reft of these, aught mortal could retain E'en for a single day in life my frame: But, ah! my soul, which has no rest beside, Speeds back to those angelic lights again; And I, though but of wax, turn to their flame, Planting my mind's best aim Where less the watch o'er what I love is sure: As birds i' th' wild wood green, Where less they fear, will sooner take the lure, So on her lovely mien, Now one and now another look I turn, Wherewith at once I nourish me and burn.

Strange sustenance! upon my death I feed, And live in flames, a salamander rare!

And yet no marvel, as from love it flows.

A blithe lamb 'mid the hara.s.s'd fleecy breed.

Whilom I lay, whom now to worst despair Fortune and Love, as is their wont, expose.

Winter with cold and snows, With violets and roses spring is rife, And thus if I obtain Some few poor aliments of else weak life, Who can of theft complain?

So rich a fair should be content with this, Though others live on hers, if nought she miss.

Who knows not what I am and still have been, From the first day I saw those beauteous eyes, Which alter'd of my life the natural mood?

Traverse all lands, explore each sea between, Who can acquire all human qualities?

There some on odours live by Ind's vast flood; Here light and fire are food My frail and famish'd spirit to appease!

Love! more or nought bestow; With lordly state low thrift but ill agrees; Thou hast thy darts and bow, Take with thy hands my not unwilling breath, Life were well closed with honourable death.

Pent flames are strongest, and, if left to swell, Not long by any means can rest unknown, This own I, Love, and at your hands was taught.

When I thus silent burn'd, you knew it well; Now e'en to me my cries are weary grown, Annoy to far and near so long that wrought.

O false world! O vain thought!

O my hard fate! where now to follow thee?

Ah! from what meteor light Sprung in my heart the constant hope which she, Who, armour'd with your might, Drags me to death, binds o'er it as a chain?

Yours is the fault, though mine the loss and pain.

Thus bear I of true love the pains along, Asking forgiveness of another's debt, And for mine own; whose eyes should rather shun That too great light, and to the siren's song My ears be closed: though scarce can I regret That so sweet poison should my heart o'errun.

Yet would that all were done, That who the first wound gave my last would deal; For, if I right divine, It were best mercy soon my fate to seal; Since not a chance is mine That he may treat me better than before, 'Tis well to die if death shut sorrow's door.

My song! with fearless feet The field I keep, for death in flight were shame.

Myself I needs must blame For these laments; tears, sighs, and death to meet, Such fate for her is sweet.

Own, slave of Love, whose eyes these rhymes may catch, Earth has no good that with my grief can match.

MACGREGOR.

[Ill.u.s.tration: AVIGNON.]

SONNET CLXXIII.

_Rapido fiume che d' alpestra vena._

JOURNEYING ALONG THE RHONE TO AVIGNON, PETRARCH BIDS THE RIVER KISS LAURA'S HAND, AS IT WILL ARRIVE AT HER DWELLING BEFORE HIM.

Impetuous flood, that from the Alps' rude head, Eating around thee, dost thy name obtain;[V]

Anxious like me both night and day to gain Where thee pure nature, and me love doth lead; Pour on: thy course nor sleep nor toils impede; Yet, ere thou pay'st thy tribute to the main, Oh, tarry where most verdant looks the plain, Where most serenity the skies doth spread!

There beams my radiant sun of cheering ray, Which deck thy left banks, and gems o'er with flowers; E'en now, vain thought! perhaps she chides my stay: Kiss then her feet, her hand so beauteous fair; In place of language let thy kiss declare Strong is my will, though feeble are my powers.

NOTT.

O rapid flood! which from thy mountain bed Gnawest thy sh.o.r.es, whence (in my tongue) thy name;[V]

Thou art my partner, night and day the same, Where I by love, thou art by nature led: Precede me now; no weariness doth shed Its spell o'er thee, no sleep thy course can tame; Yet ere the ocean waves thy tribute claim, Pause, where the herb and air seem brighter fed.

There beams our sun of life, whose genial ray With brighter verdure thy left sh.o.r.e adorns; Perchance (vain hope!) e'en now my stay she mourns.

Kiss then her foot, her lovely hand, and may Thy kiss to her in place of language speak, The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.

WOLLASTON.

[Footnote V: Deriving it from _rodere_, to gnaw.]

SONNET CLXXIV.

_I' dolci colli ov' io lasciai me stesso._