I freeze when present; absent, my desire
Is hot: I know what cruel rigour Love
Practiseth on the mind, and doth remove
All reason thence, and how he racks the heart:
And how a soul hath neither strength nor art
Without a helper to resist his blows:
And how he flees, and how his darts he throws:
And how his threats the fearful lover feels:
And how he robs by force, and how he steals:
How oft his wheels turn round (now high, now low)
With how uncertain hope, how certain woe:
How all his promises be void of faith,
And how a fire hid in our bones he hath:
How in our veins he makes a secret wound,
Whence open flames and death do soon abound.
In sum, I know how giddy and how vain
Be lovers' lives; what fear and boldness reign
In all their ways; how every sweet is paid.
And with a double weight of sour allay'd:
I also know their customs, sighs, and songs;
Their sudden muteness, and their stammering tongues:
How short their joy, how long their pain doth last,
How wormwood spoileth all their honey's taste.
Anna Hume.
PART IV
Poscia che mia fortuna in forza altrui
When once my will was captive by my fate,
And I had lost the liberty, which late
Made my life happy; I, who used before
To flee from Love (as fearful deer abhor
The following huntsman), suddenly became
(Like all my fellow-servants) calm and tame;
And view'd the travails, wrestlings, and the smart,
The crooked by-paths, and the cozening art
That guides the amorous flock: then whilst mine eye
I cast in every corner, to espy
Some ancient or modern who had proved
Famous, I saw him, who had only loved
Eurydice, and found out hell, to call
Her dear ghost back; he named her in his fall
For whom he died. Aleæus there was known,
Skilful in love and verse: Anacreon,
Whose muse sung nought but love: Pindarus, he
Was also there: there I might Virgil see:
Many brave wits I found, some looser rhymes,
By others writ, hath pleased the ancient times:
Ovid was one: after Catullus came:
Propertius next, his elegies the name
Of Cynthia bear: Tibullus, and the young
Greek poetess, who is received among
The noble troop for her rare Sapphic muse.
Thus looking here and there (as oft I use),
I spied much people on a flowery plain,
Amongst themselves disputes of love maintain.
Behold Beatrice with Dante; Selvaggia, she
Brought her Pistoian Cino; Guitton may be
Offended that he is the latter named:
Behold both Guidos for their learning famed:
Th' honest Bolognian: the Sicilians first
Wrote love in rhymes, but wrote their rhymes the worst.
Franceschin and Sennuccio (whom all know)
Were worthy and humane: after did go
A squadron of another garb and phrase,
Of whom Arnaldo Daniel hath most praise,
Great master in Love's art, his style, as new
As sweet, honours his country: next, a few
Whom Love did lightly wound: both Peters made
Two: one, the less Arnaldo: some have had
A harder war; both the Rimbaldos, th' one
Sung Beatrice, though her quality was known
Too much above his reach in Montferrat.
Alvernia's old Piero, and Girault:
Folchetto, who from Genoa was estranged
And call'd Marsilian, he wisely changed
His name, his state, his country, and did gain
In all: Jeffray made haste to catch his bane
With sails and oars: Guilliam, too, sweetly sung
That pleasing art, was cause he died so young.
Amarig, Bernard, Hugo, and Anselm
Were there, with thousands more, whose tongues were helm,
Shield, sword, and spear, all their offensive arms,
And their defensive to prevent their harms.
From those I turn'd, comparing my own woe,
To view my country-folks; and there might know
The good Tomasso, who did once adorn
Bologna, now Messina holds his urn.
Ah, vanish'd joys! Ah, life too full of bane!
How wert thou from mine eyes so quickly ta'en!
Since without thee nothing is in my power
To do, where art thou from me at this hour?
What is our life? If aught it bring of ease,
A sick man's dream, a fable told to please.
Some few there from the common road did stray;
Lælius and Socrates, with whom I may
A longer progress take: Oh, what a pair
Of dear esteemèd friends to me they were!