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The Sonnets, Triumphs, and Other Poems of Petrarch
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From ancient Thermodon, to fierce alarms
Inured; or Julius in Pharsalia's field,
When his dread onset forced the foe to yield—
Came not so boldly on as she, to face
The mighty victor of the human race,
Who scorns the temper'd mail and buckler's ward.
With her the Virtues came—an heavenly guard,
A sky-descended legion, clad in light
Of glorious panoply, contemning mortal might;
All weaponless they came; but hand in hand
Defied the fury of the adverse band:
Honour and maiden Shame were in the ban,
Elysian twins, beloved by God and man.
Her delegates in arms with them combined;
Prudence appear'd, the daughter of the mind;
Pure Temperance next, and Steadiness of soul,
That ever keeps in view the eternal goal;
And Gentleness and soft Address were seen,
And Courtesy, with mild inviting mien;
And Purity, and cautious Dread of blame,
With ardent love of clear unspotted fame;
And sage Discretion, seldom seen below,
Where the full veins with youthful ardour glow;
Benevolence and Harmony of soul
Were there, but rarely found from pole to pole;
And there consummate Beauty shone, combined
With all the pureness of an angel-mind.
Such was the host that to the conflict came,
Their bosoms kindling with empyreal flame
And sense of heavenly help.—The beams that broke
From each celestial file with horror struck
The bowyer god, who felt the blinding rays,
And like a mortal stood in fix'd amaze;
While on his spoils the fair assailants flew,
And plunder'd at their ease the captive crew;
And some with palmy boughs the way bestrew'd,
To show their conquest o'er the baffled god.
Sudden as Hannibal on Zama's field
Was forced to Scipio's conquering arms to yield;
Sudden as David's hand the giant sped,
When Accaron beheld his fall and fled;
Sudden as her revenge who gave the word,
When her stern guards dispatch'd the Persian lord;
Or like a man that feels a strong disease
His shivering members in a moment seize—
Such direful throes convulsed the despot's frame.
His hands, that veil'd his eyes, confess'd his shame,
And mental pangs, more agonising far,
In his sick bosom bred a civil war;
And hate and anguish, with insatiate ire,
Flash'd in his eyes with momentary fire.—
Not raging Ocean, when its billows boil;
Nor Typhon, when he lifts the trembling soil
Of Arima, his tortured limbs to ease;
Nor Etna, thundering o'er the subject seas—
Surpass'd the fury of the baffled Power,
Who stamp'd with rage, and bann'd the luckless hour
Scenes yet unsung demand my loftiest lays—
But oh! the theme transcends a mortal's praise.
A sweet but humbler subject may suffice
To muster in my song her fair allies;
But first, her arms and vesture claim my song
Before I chant the fair attendant throng:—
A robe she wore that seem'd of woven light;
The buckler of Minerva fill'd her right,
Medusa's bane; a column there was drawn
Of jasper bright; and o'er the snowy lawn
And round her beauteous neck a chain was slung,
Which glittering on her snowy bosom hung.
Diamond and topaz there, with mingled ray,
Return'd in varied hues the beam of day;
A treasure of inestimable cost,
Too long, alas! in Lethe's bosom lost:
To modern matrons scarcely known by fame,
Few, were it to be found, the prize would claim.
With this the vanquish'd god she firmly bound,
While I with joy her kind assistance own'd;
But oh! the feeble Muse attempts in vain
To celebrate in song her numerous train;
Not all the choir of Aganippe's spring
The pageant of the sisterhood could sing:
But some shall live, distinguished in my lay,
The most illustrious of the long array.—
The dexter wing the fair Lucretia led,
With her, who, faithful to her nuptial bed,
Her suitors scorn'd: and these with dauntless hand
The quiver seized, and scatter'd on the strand
The pointless arrows, and the broken bow
Of Cupid, their despoil'd and recreant foe.—
Lovely Virginia with her sire was nigh:
Paternal love and anger in his eye
Beam'd terrible, while in his hand he show'd
Aloft the dagger, tinged with virgin blood,
Which freedom on the maid and Rome at once bestow'd.—
Then the Teutonic dames, a dauntless race,
Who rush'd on death to shun a foe's embrace;—
And Judith chaste and fair, but void of dread,
Who the hot blood of Holofernes shed;—
And that fair Greek who chose a watery grave
Her threaten'd purity unstain'd to save.—
Inured; or Julius in Pharsalia's field,
When his dread onset forced the foe to yield—
Came not so boldly on as she, to face
The mighty victor of the human race,
Who scorns the temper'd mail and buckler's ward.
With her the Virtues came—an heavenly guard,
A sky-descended legion, clad in light
Of glorious panoply, contemning mortal might;
All weaponless they came; but hand in hand
Defied the fury of the adverse band:
Honour and maiden Shame were in the ban,
Elysian twins, beloved by God and man.
Her delegates in arms with them combined;
Prudence appear'd, the daughter of the mind;
Pure Temperance next, and Steadiness of soul,
That ever keeps in view the eternal goal;
And Gentleness and soft Address were seen,
And Courtesy, with mild inviting mien;
And Purity, and cautious Dread of blame,
With ardent love of clear unspotted fame;
And sage Discretion, seldom seen below,
Where the full veins with youthful ardour glow;
Benevolence and Harmony of soul
Were there, but rarely found from pole to pole;
And there consummate Beauty shone, combined
With all the pureness of an angel-mind.
Such was the host that to the conflict came,
Their bosoms kindling with empyreal flame
And sense of heavenly help.—The beams that broke
From each celestial file with horror struck
The bowyer god, who felt the blinding rays,
And like a mortal stood in fix'd amaze;
While on his spoils the fair assailants flew,
And plunder'd at their ease the captive crew;
And some with palmy boughs the way bestrew'd,
To show their conquest o'er the baffled god.
Sudden as Hannibal on Zama's field
Was forced to Scipio's conquering arms to yield;
Sudden as David's hand the giant sped,
When Accaron beheld his fall and fled;
Sudden as her revenge who gave the word,
When her stern guards dispatch'd the Persian lord;
Or like a man that feels a strong disease
His shivering members in a moment seize—
Such direful throes convulsed the despot's frame.
His hands, that veil'd his eyes, confess'd his shame,
And mental pangs, more agonising far,
In his sick bosom bred a civil war;
And hate and anguish, with insatiate ire,
Flash'd in his eyes with momentary fire.—
Not raging Ocean, when its billows boil;
Nor Typhon, when he lifts the trembling soil
Of Arima, his tortured limbs to ease;
Nor Etna, thundering o'er the subject seas—
Surpass'd the fury of the baffled Power,
Who stamp'd with rage, and bann'd the luckless hour
Scenes yet unsung demand my loftiest lays—
But oh! the theme transcends a mortal's praise.
A sweet but humbler subject may suffice
To muster in my song her fair allies;
But first, her arms and vesture claim my song
Before I chant the fair attendant throng:—
A robe she wore that seem'd of woven light;
The buckler of Minerva fill'd her right,
Medusa's bane; a column there was drawn
Of jasper bright; and o'er the snowy lawn
And round her beauteous neck a chain was slung,
Which glittering on her snowy bosom hung.
Diamond and topaz there, with mingled ray,
Return'd in varied hues the beam of day;
A treasure of inestimable cost,
Too long, alas! in Lethe's bosom lost:
To modern matrons scarcely known by fame,
Few, were it to be found, the prize would claim.
With this the vanquish'd god she firmly bound,
While I with joy her kind assistance own'd;
But oh! the feeble Muse attempts in vain
To celebrate in song her numerous train;
Not all the choir of Aganippe's spring
The pageant of the sisterhood could sing:
But some shall live, distinguished in my lay,
The most illustrious of the long array.—
The dexter wing the fair Lucretia led,
With her, who, faithful to her nuptial bed,
Her suitors scorn'd: and these with dauntless hand
The quiver seized, and scatter'd on the strand
The pointless arrows, and the broken bow
Of Cupid, their despoil'd and recreant foe.—
Lovely Virginia with her sire was nigh:
Paternal love and anger in his eye
Beam'd terrible, while in his hand he show'd
Aloft the dagger, tinged with virgin blood,
Which freedom on the maid and Rome at once bestow'd.—
Then the Teutonic dames, a dauntless race,
Who rush'd on death to shun a foe's embrace;—
And Judith chaste and fair, but void of dread,
Who the hot blood of Holofernes shed;—
And that fair Greek who chose a watery grave
Her threaten'd purity unstain'd to save.—
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