WHEREIN HE CHERISHES THE HOPE THAT HIS LADY MAY RELENT WITH TIME

If, from the points of pain, my life persuade,
Dear Lady, grace enough, enough of years,
Reprieve enough to see through my dark tears
The brilliant energy of those eyes fade,
The fine gold of that hair with silver sprayed,
The garlands dust, the green robes in arrears,
And that face colourless which, filled with fears
Of mortal wounds, my long lament delayed —
Through Love then will such courage in me live
That I will naked show those martyrdoms

TO STEFANO COLONNA THE ELDER, INVITING HIM TO THE COUNTRY

O glorious column, pillar of our faith,
Our hope and the illustrious Latin line,
Which, through the papal thunders, proved a shrine
Not to be twisted from its perfect path:
This place no palace, porch nor theatre hath,
But in their stead a fir, a beech, a pine
Between the grass and mountain that is mine
Whence we descend, letting the lyric wrath
Exalt our earthly minds to paradise,
While the nightingale, that sweetly in the glade
Laments nightlong, with his melodious cries

TO A FRIEND, WITH A GIFT OF TRUFFLES IN THE SPRING

When the bright planet which divides the hours
Returns to dwell with Taurus in his house,
There falls a virtue from his burning brows
That paints the world with green and silver showers;
And more than gleam of grass and grace of flowers
His golden glances vehemently arouse:
Down in the cold dark womb of earth he glows
With new life and with sudden restless powers.
So that such fruits as these I send arise:
And even so does she, that is the sun
Of her sweet sex, moving her brilliant eyes

WITH A GIFT OF BIRDS WHICH ADDRESS A FRIEND

At foot of those her hills, where first her dress
Of lovely earth that self-same Lady wore,
Who often wakes him whom his fierce sobs tore —
He that now sends us to your loveliness —
Beneath those hills we flew, with peace to bless
Our flight — that peace all living things implore —
Nor ever dreamed to find a sudden door
Thwarting our wings or threatening distress.
But from our present misery, thus reft
From our so recent state, we still obtain
Even from death one comfort: him we left,

WHEREIN HE EXHORTS A FRIEND TO PERSEVERE IN THE PURSUIT OF LETTERS AND PHILOSOPHY

Gluttony, sloth and pillowed indolence
Have driven each virtue from the world away,
Till nature from her course is led astray,
Cast down by custom from her eminence;
The lights of heaven are wholly scattered hence,
Which pointed man through darkness and dismay,
So that amazement and contempt repay
Those who at Helicon drink eloquence.
" Whom now can laurel or the myrtle lure?
Let shame and hunger stalk Philosophy! "

OF HIS FOOLISH PASSION FOR LAURA

So wayward is the madness of desire
In following her who turns from me in flight,
And who, at liberty, like air or light,
My love-encumbered chase eludes like fire,
That when the more I call, the more aspire
To point the safer path by left or right,
The less it heeds; to curb or to excite
Avails not: Love drives faster, fiercer, higher!
Thus, the triumphant bit between its teeth,
I must remain incapable and mute,
The while against my will it speeds my death

WHEREIN HE WEAVES UPON THE NAME LAURETA OR LAURA

And when I move my sighs on you to call
And that dear name which Love wrote in my heart,
LAUding the which, one hears the first bells start,
The first sweet notes, the first sweet accents fall;
Your REal state, your essence actual,
Comes next to double ardour and my art;
But TAcit peace prevents the end: that part
To honour is not for my strength at all.
So that to LAUd and to REvere must teach
Your very name, if one dare call it loud,
O worth all praise, all reverence, all speech —

WHEREIN HE SINGS THE BIRTHPLACE OF LAURA

He who revealed such infinite care and pride
In His miraculous activity;
Who ordered hemispheres melodiously,
Lit Jupiter softly, poured a ruddier tide
Through Mars; who came on earth to open wide
The secret Scriptures and prove prophecy;
Took John and Peter from the nets at sea
And stationed each to stand, a starry guide,
Choosing the lowliest — so, for His birth
Humility honoured not imperial Rome,
But gentle little Judea, gem of earth!
And now from such another humble home

WHEREIN HE CHIDES LOVE THAT COULD WOUND HIM ON A HOLY DAY (GOOD FRIDAY)

It was the morning of that blessed day
Whereon the Sun in pity veiled his glare
For the Lord's agony, that, unaware,
I fell a captive, Lady, to the sway
Of your swift eyes: that seemed no time to stay
The strokes of Love: I stepped into the snare
Secure, with no suspicion: then and there
I found my cue in man's most tragic play.
Love caught me naked to his shaft, his sheaf,
The entrance for his ambush and surprise
Against the heart wide open through the eyes,

WHEREIN HE RELATES THE STORY OF HIS FALL

By one delicious headlong doom to harrow
My soul for crimes too small for designation,
As might some crafty coward take his station,
Once more by stealth Love seized his bow and arrow;
My courage watched with glances swift and narrow,
Guarding the too weak eyes without cessation,
When his proud dart, with sudden penetration
Where earlier foes had failed, pierced the heart's marrow.
Thrown off my guard by that assault I found
No will to strive, no respite in the fight,