The Sonnets, Triumphs, and Other Poems of Petrarch Part 67

Both G.o.ds and men alike are sway'd By Love, as poets tell;-- And I, when flowers in every shade Their bursting gems reveal, First felt his all-subduing power: While Laura knows not yet the smart; Nor heeds the tortures of my heart, My prayers, my plaints, and sorrow's pearly shower!

Thy wrongs, my soul! with patience bear, While life shall warm this clay; And soothing sounds to Laura's ear My numbers shall convey; Numbers with forceful magic charm All nature o'er the frost-bound earth, Wake summer's fragrant buds to birth, And the fierce serpent of its rage disarm.

The blossom'd shrubs in smiles are drest, Now laughs his purple plain; And shall the nymph a foe profest To tenderness remain?

But oh! what solace shall I find, If fortune dooms me yet to bear The frowns of my relentless Fair, Save with soft moan to vex the pitying wind?

In baffling nets the light-wing'd gale I'd fetter as it blows, The vernal rose that scents the vale I'd cull on wintery snows; Still I'd ne'er hope that mind to move Which dares defy the wiles of verse, and Love.

ANON. 1777.

SONNET CCI.

_Real natura, angelico intelletto._

ON THE KISS OF HONOUR GIVEN BY CHARLES OF LUXEMBURG TO LAURA AT A BANQUET.

A kingly nature, an angelic mind, A spotless soul, prompt aspect and keen eye, Quick penetration, contemplation high And truly worthy of the breast which shrined: In bright a.s.sembly lovely ladies join'd To grace that festival with gratulant joy, Amid so many and fair faces nigh Soon his good judgment did the fairest find.

Of riper age and higher rank the rest Gently he beckon'd with his hand aside, And lovingly drew near the perfect ONE: So courteously her eyes and brow he press'd, All at his choice in fond approval vied-- Envy through my sole veins at that sweet freedom run.

MACGREGOR.

A sovereign nature,--an exalted mind,-- A soul proud--sleepless--with a lynx's eye,-- An instant foresight,--thought as towering high, E'en as the heart in which they are enshrined: A bright a.s.sembly on that day combined Each other in his honour to outvie, When 'mid the fair his judgment did descry That sweet perfection all to her resign'd.

Unmindful of her rival sisterhood, He motion'd silently his preference, And fondly welcomed her, that humblest one: So pure a kiss he gave, that all who stood, Though fair, rejoiced in beauty's recompense: By that strange act nay heart was quite undone!

WOLLASTON.

SONNET CCII.

_I' ho pregato Amor, e nel riprego._

HE PLEADS THE EXCESS OF HIS Pa.s.sION IN PALLIATION OF HIS FAULT.

Oft have I pray'd to Love, and still I pray, My charming agony, my bitter joy!

That he would crave your grace, if consciously From the right path my guilty footsteps stray.

That Reason, which o'er happier minds holds sway, Is quell'd of Appet.i.te, I not deny; And hence, through tracks my better thoughts would fly, The victor hurries me perforce away, You, in whose bosom Genius, Virtue reign With mingled blaze lit by auspicious skies-- Ne'er shower'd kind star its beams on aught so rare!

You, you should say with pity, not disdain; "How could he 'scape, lost wretch! these lightning eyes-- So pa.s.sionate he, and I so direly fair?"

WRANGHAM.

SONNET CCIII.

_L' alto signor, dinanzi a cui non vale._

HIS SORROW FOR THE ILLNESS OF LAURA INCREASES, NOT LESSENS, HIS FLAME.

The sovereign Lord, 'gainst whom of no avail Concealment, or resistance is, or flight, My mind had kindled to a new delight By his own amorous and ardent ail: Though his first blow, transfixing my best mail Were mortal sure, to push his triumph quite He took a shaft of sorrow in his right, So my soft heart on both sides to a.s.sail.

A burning wound the one shed fire and flame, The other tears, which ever grief distils, Through eyes for your weak health that are as rills.

But no relief from either fountain came My bosom's conflagration to abate, Nay, pa.s.sion grew by very pity great.

MACGREGOR.

SONNET CCIV.

_Mira quel colle, o stanco mio cor vago._

HE BIDS HIS HEART RETURN TO LAURA, NOT PERCEIVING THAT IT HAD NEVER LEFT HER.

_P._ Look on that hill, my fond but hara.s.s'd heart!

Yestreen we left her there, who 'gan to take Some care of us and friendlier looks to dart; Now from our eyes she draws a very lake: Return alone--I love to be apart-- Try, if perchance the day will ever break To mitigate our still increasing smart, Partner and prophet of my lifelong ache.

_H._ O wretch! in whom vain thoughts and idle swell, Thou, who thyself hast tutor'd to forget, Speak'st to thy heart as if 'twere with thee yet?

When to thy greatest bliss thou saidst farewell, Thou didst depart alone: it stay'd with her, Nor cares from those bright eyes, its home, to stir.

MACGREGOR.

SONNET CCV.

_Fresco ambroso fiorito e verde colle._

HE CONGRATULATES HIS HEART ON ITS REMAINING WITH HER.

O hill with green o'erspread, with groves o'erhung!

Where musing now, now trilling her sweet lay, Most like what bards of heavenly spirits say, Sits she by fame through every region sung: My heart, which wisely unto her has clung-- More wise, if there, in absence blest, it stay!

Notes now the turf o'er which her soft steps stray, Now where her angel-eyes' mild beam is flung; Then throbs and murmurs, as they onward rove, "Ah! were he here, that man of wretched lot, Doom'd but to taste the bitterness of love!"

She, conscious, smiles: our feelings tally not: Heartless am I, mere stone; heaven is thy grove-- O dear delightful shade, O consecrated spot!

WRANGHAM.