VI
| I once beheld on earth celestial graces And heavenly beauties scarce to mortals known, Whose memory yields nor joy nor grief alone, But all things else in cloud and dreams effaces. I saw how tears had left their weary traces Within those eyes that once the sun outshone, I heard those lips, in low and plaintive moan, Breathe words to stir the mountains from their places. Love, wisdom, courage, tenderness, and truth Made in their mourning strains more high and dear Than ever wove soft sounds for mortal ear; And heaven seemed listening in such saddest ruth The very leaves upon the bough to soothe, Such sweetness filled the blissful atmosphere. |
VII
| Gli occhi di ch’io parlai sì caldamente, E le braccia e le mani e i piedi e ’l viso Che m’avean sì da me stesso diviso E fatto singular dall’altra gente; Le crespe chiome d’or puro lucente, E ’l lampeggiar dell’angelico riso Che solean far in terra un paradiso, Poca polvere son, che nulla sente. Ed io pur vivo; onde mi doglio e sdegno, Rimaso senza ’l lume ch’amai tanto, In gran fortuna e ’n disarmato legno. Or sia qui fine al mio amoroso canto: Secca è la vena dell’usato ingegno, E la cetera mia rivolta in pianto. |
VII
| Those eyes, ’neath which my passionate rapture rose, The arms, hands, feet, the beauty that erewhile Could my own soul from its own self beguile, And in a separate world of dreams enclose, The hair’s bright tresses, full of golden glows, And the soft lightning of the angelic smile That changed this earth to some celestial isle,— Are now but dust, poor dust, that nothing knows. And yet I live! Myself I grieve and scorn, Left dark without the light I loved in vain, Adrift in tempest on a bark forlorn; Dead is the source of all my amorous strain, Dry is the channel of my thoughts outworn, And my sad harp can sound but notes of pain. |