English

WHEREIN HE LASHES OUT AGAINST THE LAUREL

The perfect tree I loved so many years,
Before her golden boughs disdained my suit,
Encouraged my meek blossom into fruit
Beneath her shade, disturbed by anxious tears.
But now, my soul secure from all such fears,
She turns to cruel wood in branch and root:
And all my thoughts to one sad purpose put,
Must still address their grief to heedless ears.
What can he say, the windy fool of love,
Infatuated by new rhymes with hope,
Who for that laurel has lost all — but this?

TO HIS FRIEND, THE CARDINAL COLONNA, WITH GIFTS OF CUSHIONS, BOOKS, A GOBLET

Thy cheek, once worn with weeping, rest upon
The first, my cherished lord; and do thou be
Of thy dear self somewhat more niggardly
With Love that gloats and turns men white as stone;
And with the second shut that path, O shun
That left-hand path where Love is far too free;
In August as in January see
Time fail thee not ere the long way be done.
And with the third, drink that rare medicine,
Sweet at the last, though sour at the start,

CONCERNING THE SAME OCCASION

My fortunes come upon me late and slow —
Hope is uncertain, passions mount and swell;
Suspense and expectation both rebel —
But swifter to depart than tigers go.
Tepid and black, alas, shall turn the snow,
Waveless the sea, the fish on mountains dwell,
The sun sink in the East, by that same well
Whence both the Tigris and Euphrates flow,
Ere I in this find peace or any truce,
Ere Love or Laura other habits use
Than these conspiracies and cruel snares:

WHEREIN THE POET AWAITS LAURA AT A PROMISED TRYST — IN VAIN

Either that blind flame which destroys the heart,
Numbering the hours, cheats my misery,
Or the time pledged to mercy and me,
Even as I speak, speeds like a plunging dart.
Alas! what cruel shadow blights the chart
Of the seed so near its hoped maturity?
What beast within my fold roars balefully?
What wall keeps hand and ear of corn apart?
Alas! I know not, but in truth I guess
Love to such joyful hope has merely led
To sink my life more deeply in distress;

LAURA TURNS HIM TO STONE, WHEREFORE HE ENVIES INSENSATE THINGS

Had that same light which dazzles from afar
Moved but a little nearer to my eyes,
Like Phaebus in Thessalian disguise,
I should have changed my form in amorous war;
But if I cannot lose myself in her
More than I have — though it scarce win her sighs —
I should today a stonier enterprise
Present in aspect than a knife or bar
Or hammer ever hewed from adamant
Or frozen marble, out of fear, or proud
Jasper coveted by the greedy crowd.

WHEREIN IN HER PRESENCE HE CAN NEITHER SPEAK, WEEP NOR SIGH

Although from falsehood I with all my will
Restrained you, and bestowed each honour due,
Ungrateful tongue, no honour came from you
To solace me, but only shame and ill:
When most I need your help, you are most chill,
Winning for me no mercy while I sue;
And those your words are most imperfect too,
You speak as speaks a dreamer strange and still.
And you as well, sad tears, each lonely night
Attend me when I most would be alone;

WHEREIN HER PRESENCE INFLAMES HIS HEART BUT FREEZES HIS TONGUE

If never fire by fire was yet subdued,
If never flood by dint of rain grew less,
But, like to like, if each of each increase,
And opposites are often mutual food;
Love, that canst sway the music of each mood,
Through whom two bodies keep their singleness
Of soul, how, why in her with such distress,
Between the flesh and spirit prolong the feud?
Perchance, as the vast downward Nile will run
Deafening all the valleys with his tide,

HE MUST SEE THOSE EYES AGAIN OR DIE

Already had I felt within me fail
Those spirits which from you their life derive;
And since by nature, everything alive
Must against death aspire to prevail,
I gave Desire the bit, let the reins trail,
In his almost forgotten path to thrive,
Though night and day against his call I strive,
Though day and night his wiser choice assail.
And so it led me back, ashamed and slow,
Again to see those eyes illustrious
With love, which I must never dim by woe:

WHEREIN HE RAILS AGAINST THE MIRROR THAT ABSORBS HER TO HIS NEGLECT

The gold and pearls, vermilion flowers and pale,
Her various charms that should in winter pass
Withered with frost, more permanent than brass
Endure, more sharp than arrows pour a hail
Of poison on my heart: so my days fail
And fade, for grief puts flesh beneath the grass;
But most I blame that sweet tyrannical glass,
Thy mirror of delight, thy holy grail!
This on my lord imposed the silent seal,
Lord Love that trembled, since to thy desire,

WHEREIN HE DEPLORES LAURA'S INFATUATION WITH HER MIRROR

That glass, my rival, where you dote upon
Those eyes which Love and Heaven do both adore,
With beauties, not its own, enamours more
Your gaze than mortal sweetness ever won.
And me, by that antagonist goaded on,
From your breast, like a beggar from your door,
You have to wretched exile sent as poor,
Too poor to share what is for you alone.
But were I fixed thereto with nails of steel,
A mirror should not make you, to my spite,