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“Stiamo, Amor, a veder la gloria nostra,"
Here tarry, Love, our glory to behold;
Nought in creation so sublime we trace;
What brightness to this earth the heavens unfold ! See, with what cunning, crimson, pearls and gold,
Her chosen vest, ne'er yet seen elsewhere, grace ; 'Mid the hill's arching shades observe her pace,
Her glance replete with elegance unt ld !
beneath yon agèd holm-oak's gloom, Court her fair feet to press them, and to tread; The golden stars that stud yon beauteous sky,
Cheered by her presence and her smiles, assume
“ L'aura serena, che fra verdi fronde,"
The gentle gale that plays my face around,
Murm’ring delightful through the verdant grove, To fond remembrance brings the time, when Love
First gave his deep although delightful wound;
Veiled, as disdain, or jealousy might move;
Then loose, but now with pearls and jewels bound : Those locks she sweetly scattered to the wind,
And then coiled up again so gracefully,
And bound my heart with such a powerful tie,
“ Chi vuol veder quantunque pud natura."
He who would wish the fairest work to prove,
By Heaven and Nature wrought, O! let him come
And gaze on her whose beauty and whose bloom
And takes the best, and leaves the guilty here;
And she, aspiring to that purer sphere Like other lovely things, will soon be gone. He will behold, if he arrive in time,
All noble virtues, and all loveliness,
Dowered on one form in most rare symmetry:
Weak with surprise at such unearthly grace :
“ Se lamentar angelli, o verdi fronde,"
Where mourn the birds, or where the green young boughs
Are gently moving in the summer air, Or the clear water as it bubbling flows
Is heard from flowery banks, surpassing fair : There while I sit with pensive Love, and write
Of her, who lost to earth, yet lives on high,
From so far, an answer to my sigh :-
Why waste the life which dear I deemed ?
Immortal grew; and when to you they seemed For ever closed, these eyes awoke in Heaven."
“Quand' io veggio dal ciel scender l'Aurora,"
Whene’er with golden locks and blushing brow
I see Aurora in the eastern sky,
Love pales my cheek, and with a grief-born sigh,
For thou thy lovely treasure canst regain;
But I, the sweetest Laurel not again
For with returning light again is brought
Since she hath fled, and with her every thought, Nor aught hath left me but her verdant name.
“Sento l'aura mia antica: e i dolci colli,"
I feel my ancient air, and the sweet hills
Again I see, from whence arose that light
That whilst Heaven pleased shone on my eager sight : Now it hath set, the tear mine eyelid fills. O fond, O faded hopes! O thoughts too vain!
Parched is the mead, the rills have fled away,
Empty and cold the nest wherein she lay, In which I live, who now to die am fain ; Hoping that at the end of so much woe
By those dear eyes that held my heart in thrall Some sweet repose from sorrow I should know. Oh! I have served a lord of cruel ways,
And though I lavished on his altar all, The ashes strewn are all he e'er repays.
" È questo 'l nido in che la mia Fenice," Is this the nest in which my Phænix fair
Reposed her golden-tinted azure wings;
’Neath which she held my heart, and from its strings Drew forth the songs or sighs of love or care ? O! source of all my joy and my despair,
Where is that lovely face whose light still flings
A lucid lustre o'er terrestrial things?
Indeed alone, so that thy sacred tomb
While on the hills, Night's darkest shadows stay,
From whence thou fled'st, and left'st eternal gloom Where once thine eyes did make delightful day.
“L'aura, e l'odore, e 'l refrigerio, e l'ombra,"
The air, the fragrance, the refreshing shade
Of the sweet laurel, and its flowery grace, Which I the solace of my life had made,
He hath destroyed, who all things doth displace.
So I, the lustre of my fair one's face
Such wild and gloomy thoughts do Love disgrace. Beautiful lady! thou hast quickly slept:
Now if awakened 'mid the chosen bands
Where stainless souls their Maker's essence share; And, if I Poesy's true light have kept —
Twine my poor wreath with thy immortal hands,
“ Ite rime dolenti, al duro sasso,"
Go, plaintive verse, to the dull marble go,
Which hides in earth my treasure from these eyes;
There call on her who answers from yon skies, Although the mortal part dwells dark and low. Of life how I am wearied make her know,
Of stemming these dread waves that round me rise.
But, copying all her virtues I so prize, Her track I follow, yet my steps are slow.I sing of her, living or dead, alone :
(Dead did I say? She is immortal made !)
That by the world she should be loved and known. 0, in my passage
may To greet my coming that's not long delayed : And may I hold in heaven the rank herself holds there!
she be near,
" Volo con l'ali de' pensieri al cielo,"
So often on the wings of thought I fly
Up to Heaven's blissful seat, that I appear
As one of those whose treasure is lodged there,
Listen her voice, who bids me paleness wear
“ Ah! now, my friend, I love thee, now revere, For changed thy face, and manners !” doth she cry. She leads me to her Lord : and then I bow, Preferring humble
prayer, he would allow That I his glorious face, and hers might see. Thus he replies :—" Thy destiny's secure;
To stay some twenty, or some ten years more,