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That I may kiss thee now for the last Tempt my unquiet mind. But when time

the roar

But for as long as one short kiss may Of Ocean's gray abyss resounds, and livefoam

Oh let thy breath flow from thy dying

soul

Even to my mouth and heart, that may suck

That

When winds blow loud, pines make sweet melody.

FRAGMENT OF THE ELEGY ON Whose house is some lone bark, whose THE DEATH OF BION

toil the sea,

FROM THE GREEK OF MOSCHUS YE Dorian woods and waves lament aloud,

Augment your tide, O streams, with
fruitless tears,

For the beloved Bion is no more.
Let every tender herb and plant and
flower,

From each dejected bud and drooping
bloom,

II turn from the drear aspect to the home Of earth and its deep woods, where interspersed,

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Gathers upon the sea, and vast waves burst,

Τὰν ἅλα τὰν γλαυκὰν ὅταν ὥνεμος ἀτρέμα βάλλῃ--κ.τ.λ.

Whose prey the wandering fish, an evil
lot

Has chosen.
will fling

Beneath the plane, where the brook's
murmuring
Moves the calm spirit, but disturbs it

not.

But I my languid limbs

PAN, ECHO, AND THE SATYR

FROM THE GREEK OF MOSCHUS

PAN loved his neighbour Echo-but that child

Of Earth and Air pined for the Satyr leaping; The Satyr loved with wasting madness wild

The bright nymph Lyda,—and so three went weeping.

WHEN winds that move not its calm
surface sweep

The azure sea, I love the land no more;
The smiles of the serene and tranquil Be

deep

As Pan loved Echo, Echo loved the

Satyr,

The Satyr Lyda-and so love consumed them.

And thus to each-which was a woful matter

To bear what they inflicted Justice doomed them;

For in as much as each might hate the

lover,

Each loving, so was hated.-Ye that love not

warned-in thought turn this example over,

That when ye love-the like return ye prove not.

FROM VERGIL'S TENTH
ECLOGUE

[Vv. 1-26]

MELODIOUS Arethusa, o'er my verse
Shed thou once more the spirit of thy

stream:

Who denies verse to Gallus? So, when thou

Glidest beneath the green and purple gleam

Of Syracusan waters, mayst thou flow Unmingled with the bitter Doric dew!

pursue The melancholy loves of Gallus.

List!

We sing not to the dead: the wild
woods knew

His sufferings, and their echoes
Young Naiads,

woodlands wild
Wandered ye when unworthy love

possessed

Your Gallus? Not where Pindus is up-piled,

Nor where Parnassus' sacred mount, nor where

A magic ship, whose charmed sails
should fly
With winds at will where'er our thoughts
might wend,

Begin, and, whilst the goats are brows- And that no change, nor any evil chance
ing now
Should mar our joyous voyage; but it
might be,

The soft leaves, in our way let us

That even satiety should still enhance Between our hearts their strict community:

And that the bounteous wizard then would place . . in what far Vanna and Bice and my gentle love, Companions of our wandering, and would grace

With passionate talk, wherever we might

rove, Our time, and each were as content and free

As I believe that thou and I should be.

Aonian Aganippe expands . .
The laurels and the myrtle-copses dim.
The pine-encircled mountain, Mæna-
lus,

The cold crags of Lycæus, weep for
him;

And Sylvan, crowned with rustic coronals,

Came shaking in his speed the budding wands

And heavy lilies which he bore: we

knew Pan the Arcadian.

What madness is this, Gallus? Thy heart's care

With willing steps pursues another there.

SONNET

FROM THE ITALIAN OF DANTE

Dante Alighieri to Guido Cavalcanti GUIDO, I would that Lapo, thou, and I,

Led by some strong enchantment, might ascend

THE FIRST CANZONE OF THE
CONVITO

FROM THE ITALIAN OF DANTE

I

YE who intelligent the third heaven

move, Hear the discourse which is within my heart,

Which cannot be declared, it seems

so new;

The Heaven whose course follows your And said, Alas for me! how swift could

power and art,

flee

Oh, gentle creatures that ye are! me That piteous thought which did my life drew, console !

And therefore may I dare to speak to

you,

Even of the life which now I live-and

yet

I pray that ye will hear me when I

How the lamenting spirit moans in it,
And how a voice there murmurs against

her

Who came on the refulgence of your

sphere.

cry,

And tell of mine own heart this He whom

novelty;

with

This heavy heart, many a time and oft

Went up before our Father's feet,

and there

It saw a glorious Lady throned aloft; And its sweet talk of her my soul did

IV

II

A sweet thought, which was once the Thou art not dead, but thou hast

life within

wandered,

Thou soul of ours, who thyself dost fret,

A spirit of gentle love beside me said; For that fair lady, whom thou dost regret,

win,

So that I said, Thither I too will
fare.

That thought is fled, and one doth
now appear
Which tyrannises me with such fierce
stress,

That my heart trembles-ye may see it leap

And on another Lady bids me keep Mine eyes, and says-Who would have blessedness

Let him but look upon that lady's eyes,
Let him not fear the agony of sighs.

III

My spirit wept, the grief is hot even

now

And the afflicted one

questioning Mine eyes, if such a lady saw they

This lowly thought, which once would talk with me

never,

And why they would

I said: Beneath those eyes might stand for ever

regards must kill

To have known their power stood me in
little stead,
Those eyes have looked on me, and I
am dead.

Hath so transformed the life which thou hast led,

Thou scornest it, so worthless art thou made.

And see how meek, how pitiful, how staid,

Yet courteous, in her majesty she is. And still call thou her woman in thy thought;

Her whom, if thou thyself deceivest not,

Thou wilt behold decked with such
loveliness,

That thou wilt cry [Love] only Lord, lo
here
Thy handmaiden, do what thou wilt
with her.

V

Of a bright seraph sitting crowned on My song, I fear that thou wilt find but

high,

few

Found such a cruel foe it died, and so

Who fitly shall conceive thy reasoning

Of such hard matter dost thou
entertain.

Whence, if by misadventure chance should bring

Thee to base company, as chance may
do,

Quite unaware of what thou dost
contain,

I prithee comfort thy sweet self
again,

My last delight; tell them that they are
dull,

And bid them own that thou art beautiful.

MATILDA GATHERING

FLOWERS

FROM THE PURGATORIO Of dante,
CANTO XXVIII, 11. 1-51

AND earnest to explore within-around
The divine wood, whose thick green
living woof
Tempered the young day to the sight-
I wound

Up the green slope, beneath the forest's roof,

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With perfect joy received the early day, Singing within the glancing leaves, whose sound

Kept a low burden to their roundelay,

Yet were they not so shaken from the
rest,
But that the birds, perched on the
utmost spray,
Incessantly renewing their blithe quest,

Such as from bough to bough gathers around

Dark, dark, yet clear, moved under the obscure

Eternal shades, whose interwoven looms With slow soft steps leaving the moun- The rays of moon or sunlight ne'er tain's steep,

endure.

And sought those inmost labyrinths, motion-proof

The pine forest on bleak Chiassi's shore,
When Eolus Sirocco has unbound.

My slow steps had already borne me o'er Such space within the antique wood, that I

Perceived not where I entered any more,

When, lo! a stream whose little waves went by,

Bending towards the left through grass that grew

Upon its bank, impeded suddenly

My going on. Water of purest hue
On earth, would appear turbid and im-

pure

Compared with this, whose unconcealing dew,

I moved not with my feet, but 'mid the glooms

Pierced with my charmèd eye contemplating

The mighty multitude of fresh May blooms

Which starred that night, when, even as a thing

That suddenly for blank astonishment Charms every sense, and makes all thought take wing,

A solitary woman! and she went
Singing and gathering flower after flower,
With which her way was painted and
besprent.

Bright lady, who, if looks had ever I dare not now thro' thy degraded state power Own the delight thy strains inspire-in vain

To bear true witness of the heart within, Dost bask under the beams of love, I seek what once thou wert-we cannot come lower

meet

Towards this bank. I prithee let me

win

This much of thee, to come, that I may

hear

Thy song: like Proserpine, in Enna's glen,

Thou seemest to my fancy, singing here And gathering flowers, as that fair maiden when

She lost the spring, and Ceres her more dear.

FRAGMENT

ADAPTED FROM THE VITA NUOVA
OF DANTE

WHAT Mary is when she a little smiles
I cannot even tell or call to mind,
It is a miracle, so new, so rare.

SONNET

FROM THE ITALIAN OF CAVALCANTI
GUIDO CAVALCANTI TO DANTE
ALIGHIERI

RETURNING from its daily quest, my
Spirit
Changed thoughts and vile in thee doth
weep to find:

It grieves me that thy mild and gentle
mind

Those ample virtues which it did inherit
Has lost. Once thou didst loathe the
multitude

Of blind and madding men-)
-I then loved
thee-

I loved thy lofty songs and that sweet
mood
When thou wert faithful to thyself and

me.

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