English

WHEREIN HE IS DAZED BY THE UNEXPECTED
PRESENCE OF HIS LADY

As Love in his accustomed quarters plied
His wiles, so I, aroused to threats of war,
Foreseeing all, guarding this cliff, that shore,
On the old armour of old thoughts relied;
Turning, I saw a shadow at my side
Cast by the sun, whose shape her beauty wore —
Hers, by my soul! (whom angels must adore,
Angels and all the heavenly host beside!)
And to my heart I whispered, why, then, fear?

WHEREIN HIS OPPRESSED HEART FINDS SOME LIBERTY IN RECALLING THE EYES AND WORDS OF LAURA

Alas, how Love incessantly persists!
All day, all night, a thousand times I turn
Whither I best may see those blue eyes burn
Which lured my heart to Love's immortal trysts.
Then am I quieted, and through my wrists
The blood beats softly, while the hours discern
Her eyes fixed calmly in my mind: I spurn
All else, all else nor matters nor exists.
The fragrant air which her angelic ways
Waft with each thought of hers, each liquid phrase,

THE FIFTEENTH YEAR FINDS HER EYES MORE FATAL THAN AT FIRST

No help this way! Ah, no escape that way!
Here burn her eyes, her eyes flame torches there:
Alas! too much of tyranny will tear
My foolish heart to pieces for its prey;
No quarter there! No flight! Love's latest ray,
Which night and morning haunts me everywhere,
Glows with such fury in this fifteenth year,
That it outdazzles passion's earlier day.
So far, so wide her eyes spread images
That, turn whichever way, I always see

TO PANDOLFO MALATESTA, LORD OF RIMINI

The seed of virtue shed its blossom deep
Within thy heart when Love found lodging there;
And like the flower, the fruit is also fair:
The hopes I cherished long, I richly reap.
Wherefore my spirit into song must leap
To deck with praise the mighty name you bear:
For proudest marble never can declare
More than the flesh that withers in a sleep.
Think you Marcellus or the purple name
Of Caesar, Paulus, Scipio spring to flame
By anvil's heat or hammer's nervous thrust?

TO STEFANO COLONNA, EXHORING HIM TO PURSUE HIS VICTORY OVER THE ORSINI (ORSA — SHE-BEAR)

Hannibal conquered often, yet he knew
Never the fruits of victory to obtain:
Wherefore, dear lord, be wise, lest any gain
A like advantage over yours and you.
Still in their cave the she-bear and her crew,
Having in May rough pasture found again,
With frenzy gnash their teeth and nails of pain
And the hot scent of vengeance fast pursue.
While this new wrath disheartens and appalls,
Sheathe not your honoured and so recent sword,

WHEREIN THE FACE BELIES THE HEART

When traitorous Egypt the dishonoured head
Of Pompey sent to Caesar, it appears
Proud Julius dropped a few deliberate tears
To cloak delight; and when misfortune spread
On Hannibal the shadow of her dread,
Whilst his lieutenants wept, he laughed their fears
And his away, though, ringed with spies and spears,
He heard Doom trampling with relentless tread.
So cheats the mind by frequent hues and veils
Its various passions in their several shades:

WHEREIN, EVEN AFTER FOURTEEN YEARS OF FUTILE STRUGGLE, HE STILL HOPES TO OVERCOME HIS PASSION

Alas! I know too well how Death destroys us,
How Fate with mortal mischief overtakes us!
How soon the dear delightful World forsakes us,
How swiftly Time with treachery enjoys us!
I see how brief the grace with which Hope buoys us!
Though in a flash the final trumpet wakes us,
The ardours double by which Love still breaks us,
And still with tears and tortures Love employs us.
I must observe how season follows season,

WHEREIN HE RECALLS THE SAD SWEET SOUVENIRS OF LOVE

That window where my whole sun sets and rises
Forever dazzling, lending earth new lustres,
And that where still, when savage Boreas blusters
In the brief days, the gusts assume fierce guises;
That seat of stone where she soliloquizes
In solitude beneath the cypress clusters;
Haunts where her shadow gleamed; soft grass that musters
Proud memories of her radiant enterprises;
That spot where Love first wrought my overthrowing;
The sweet new season that, without relenting,

WHEREIN HE MODESTLY COUNSELS A FRIEND TO ESCHEW WORLDLY DELIGHTS

Friend, since our fate gives all too frequent proof
Of hopes stamped down in dust before their fruit,
Come, let us lift our hearts to Heaven! Let lute
And voice lift up our hearts to Heaven's proud roof!
This earth we tread with such an arrogant hoof
Conceals the serpent at the blossom's root:
It charms the eye — and strikes fangs at the foot;
A hell at hand, a paradise aloof.
Ah then, as thou wouldst wish, ere too, too late,

WHEREIN HE CONSOLES HIS FRIEND ORSO UPON HIS ENFORCED ABSENCE FROM A TOURNEY

Orso, upon thy splendid steed God's will
May set a check to turn him from his course,
But who against itself that heart may force
Which worships honour, shuns dishonour still?
Ah, do not sigh! Its praise our pens must fill,
Though Fate curb rider and encumber horse:
Already, thither blown by wide remorse,
Thy heart stands chief in courtesy, courage, skill.
Sufficient on the jousting field to find
Itself with sacred auspices aligned