VAGO ANGELLETTO CHE CANTANAS VAI.
FROM PETRARCH.
Sweet bird, that, singing under altered skies,
Art mourning for thy season of delight—
For lo! the cheerful months forsake thee quite,
And all thy sunshine into shadow dies—
O thou who art acquainted with unrest!
Could thy poor wit my kindred mood divine,
How wouldst thou fold thy wings upon my breast,
And blend thy melancholy plaint with mine!
I know not if with thine my songs would rhyme,
For haply she thou mournest is not dead:
Less kind are death and heaven unto me;
But the chill twilight, and the sullen time,
And thinking of the sweet years and the sad,
Move me, wild warbler, to discourse with thee.