Written In Petrarchs House At Arqua, Among The Euganean Hills

Petrarch! I would that there might be
In this thy household sanctuary
No visible monument of thee:

The Fount that whilom played before thee,
The Roof that rose in shelter o'er thee,
The low fair Hills that still adore thee,--

I would no more; thy memory
Must loathe all cold reality,
Thought--worship only is for thee.

They say thy Tomb lies there below;
What want I with the marble show?
I am content,--I will not go:

For though by Poesy's high grace
Thou saw'st, in thy calm resting--place,
God, Love, and Nature face to face;

Yet now that thou art wholly free,
How can it give delight to see
That sign of thy captivity?

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