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 For the beloved Bion is no more. From each dejected bud and drooping II turn from the drear aspect to the home Of earth and its deep woods, where interspersed, 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 Has chosen. Beneath the plane, where the brook's 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 The azure sea, I love the land no more; 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 [Vv. 1-26] MELODIOUS Arethusa, o'er my verse 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 His sufferings, and their echoes woodlands wild possessed Your Gallus? Not where Pindus is up-piled, Nor where Parnassus' sacred mount, nor where A magic ship, whose charmed sails Begin, and, whilst the goats are brows- And that no change, nor any evil chance 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 cold crags of Lycæus, weep for 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 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, 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 That thought is fled, and one doth 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, 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 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 That thou wilt cry [Love] only Lord, lo 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 Whence, if by misadventure chance should bring Thee to base company, as chance may Quite unaware of what thou dost I prithee comfort thy sweet self My last delight; tell them that they are And bid them own that thou art beautiful. MATILDA GATHERING FLOWERS FROM THE PURGATORIO Of dante, AND earnest to explore within-around Up the green slope, beneath the forest's roof, 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 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, 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 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 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 WHAT Mary is when she a little smiles SONNET FROM THE ITALIAN OF CAVALCANTI RETURNING from its daily quest, my It grieves me that thy mild and gentle Those ample virtues which it did inherit Of blind and madding men-) I loved thy lofty songs and that sweet me. |