Petrarch Read online

  so kindly understands just prayers of men.

  And if, returning to the life of love,

  to make you turn your back on sweet desire

  you found some hills or ditches on your way,

  it was to show how thorny is the path

  and just how mountainous and hard the climb

  by which a man must rise to reach true worth.

  26

  Più di me lieta non si vede a terra

  nave da l’onde combattuta et vinta,

  quando la gente di pietà depinta

  su per la riva a ringraziar s’atterra;

  né lieto più del carcer si diserra

  chi ’ntorno al collo ebbe la corda awinta,

  di me veggendo quella spada scinta

  che fece al segnor mio sì lunga guerra.

  Et tutti voi ch’ Amor laudate in rima,

  al buon testor degli amorosi detti

  rendete onor ch’ era smarrito in prima;

  ché più gloria è nel regno degli eletti

  d’un spirito converso, et più s’estima,

  che di novantanove altri perfetti.

  27

  Il successor di Cario, che la chioma

  co la corona del suo antiquo adorna,

  prese à già l’arme per fiaccar le corna

  a Babilonia et chi da lei si noma;

  e ’l vicario de Cristo colla soma

  de le chiavi et del manto al nido torna,

  sì che s’ altro accidente nol distorna

  vedrà Bologna et poi la nobil Roma.

  La mansueta vostra et gentil agna

  abatte i fieri lupi, et così vada

  chiunque amor legitimo scompagna;

  consolate lei dunque, ch’ ancor bada,

  et Roma che del suo sposo si lagna,

  et per Jhesù cingete omai la spada.

  26

  Happier than I there never came to land

  a ship battled and defeated by the waves

  when all its crew piteously painted pale

  on shore fall to their knees giving their thanks;

  nor happier that man set free from jail

  who had just felt the cord twist round his neck,

  than I to see that sword back in its sheath

  that had waged war so long against my lord.

  And all of you who praise Love in your verse,

  to that fine weaver of love’s poetry

  give honor, honor the one who strayed before;

  more glory shines in God’s realm of elect

  for one converted soul, and more respect,

  than for ninety and nine perfected ones.

  27

  The successor of Charles who with the crown

  of his ancestor now adorns his hair,

  already takes up arms to break the horns

  of Babylon and those who bear her name;

  and the vicar of Christ who bears the burden

  of keys and cloak returns now to the nest;

  if accident of sorts not turn him back,

  he’ll see Bologna, then the noble Rome.

  Your lamb of humbleness and grace destroys

  the savage wolves—and so should suffer all

  who separate a sanctified affair;

  console her then, the one who still is waiting,

  and Rome who is lamenting for her bridegroom,

  and raise your sword now in the name of Jesus.

  28

  O aspettata in Ciel beata et bella

  anima che di nostra umanitade

  vestita vai (non, come l’altre, carca):

  perché ti sian men dure omai le strade

  (a Dio diletta, obediente ancella)

  onde al suo regno di qua giù si varca,

  ecco novellamente a la tua barca,

  ch’ al cieco mondo à già volte le spalle

  per gir al miglior porto,

  d’un vento occidental dolce conforto;

  lo qual per mezzo questa oscura valle

  ove piangiamo il nostro et l’altrui torto

  la condurrà de’ lacci antichi sciolta

  per drittissimo calle

  al verace oriente ov’ ella è volta.

  Forse i devoti et gli amorosi preghi

  et le lagrime sante de’ mortali

  son giunte innanzi a la pietà superna;

  et forse non fur mai tante né tali

  che per merito lor punto si pieghi

  fuor de suo corso la giustizia eterna.

  Ma quel benigno Re che ’l ciel governa

  al sacro loco ove fu posto in croce

  gli occhi per grazia gira,

  onde nel petto al novo Carlo spira

  la vendetta ch’ a noi tardata noce

  si che molt’anni Europa ne sospira;

  così soccorre a la sua amata sposa

  tal che sol de la voce

  fa tremar Babilonia et star pensosa.

  Chiunque alberga tra Garona e ’l monte

  e ’ntra ’l Rodano e ’l Reno et l’onde salse

  le ’nsegne cristianissime accompagna;

  et a cui mai di vero pregio calse

  dal Pireneo a l’ultimo orizonte

  con Aragon lassarà vota Ispagna.

  Inghilterra con l’isole che bagna

  l’Occeano intra ’l Carro et le Colonne,

  28

  O beautiful and blessèd soul that Heaven

  waits for, soul who in our humanity

  is clothed, not burdened by it like the rest;

  so that by now the road may be less painful

  for you, God’s chosen one, obedient servant,

  by which down here one crosses to His kingdom,

  behold just now to help your boat along,

  which has already turned from the blind world

  headed for a better port,

  there blows a western wind with its sweet comfort,

  a wind by means of which through this dark valley

  in which we weep for ours and others’ wrongs

  it will be led, now free of ancient bonds,

  along the straightest course

  to the true Orient toward which it’s turned.

  Perhaps all those devout and loving prayers

  and all the pious tears of mortal man

  have reached the presence of His highest pity;

  perhaps there weren’t so many or so great

  that by their merit they could swerve at all

  eternal justice from its very course;

  but rather that good King who rules the heavens

  to the holy place where He was crucified

  turns in His grace His eyes

  and breathes into the breast of the new Charles

  that vengeance whose delay has brought us harm

  and made all Europe sigh for many years;

  and doing so He helps His much loved bride,

  that One whose voice alone

  fills Babylon with fear and makes it tremble.

  All those between the mountains and Garonne,

  between the Rhône and Rhine and the salt waves,

  accompanies the Christianest of standards,

  and all who ever cared about true worth

  from Pyrenees up to the last horizon

  behind the Aragon will leave Spain empty.

  England and all the islands that are bathed

  by Ocean stretching from the Wain to Columns,

  in fin là dove sona

  dottrina del santissimo Elicona,

  varie di lingue et d’arme et de le gonne

  a l’alta impresa caritate sprona.

  Deh, qual amor sì licito o sì degno,

  qua’ figli mai, qua’ donne

  furon materia a sì giusto disdegno?

  Una parte del mondo è che si giace

  mai sempre in ghiaccio et in gelate nevi,

  tutta lontana dal camin del sole;

  là sotto i giorni nubilosi et brevi,

  nemica naturalmente di
pace

  nasce una gente a cui il morir non dole.

  Questa se più devota che non sòle

  col tedesco furor la spada cigne,

  Turchi Arabi et Caldei,

  con tutti quei che speran nelli Dei

  di qua dal mar che fa l’onde sanguigne,

  quanto sian da prezzar conoscer dèi:

  popolo ignudo paventoso et lento,

  che ferro mai non strigne

  ma tutt’ i colpi suoi commette al vento.

  Dunque ora è ’l tempo da ritrare il colio

  dal giogo antico, et da squarciare il velo

  ch’ è stato avolto intorno agli occhi nostri,

  et che ’l nobile ingegno che dal cielo

  per grazia tien de l’immortale Apollo

  et l’eloquentia sua vertù qui mostri

  or con la lingua, or co’ laudati incostri.

  Perché d’Orfeo leggendo et d’Anfione

  se non ti meravigli,

  assai men fia ch’ Italia co’ suoi figli

  si desti al suon del tuo chiaro sermone

  tanto che per Jhesù la lancia pigli:

  che s’ al ver mira questa antica madre,

  in nulla sua tenzione

  fur mai cagion sì belle o sì leggiadre.

  Tu ch’ ài per arricchir d’un bel tesauro

  volte l’antiche et le moderne carte,

  volando al ciel colla terrena soma,

  as far as there is heard

  the word of the most sacred Helicon,

  all different in their language, arms, and customs,

  charity spurs to this high undertaking.

  Ah, what love however right or worthy,

  what sons, what women ever

  were subject of so just disdain as this?

  There is a piece of this world that is resting

  forever under ice and frozen snow,

  so far from where the sun travels its course:

  there, under cloudy days that last so briefly,

  is born a people enemies by nature

  to peace and to whom dying does not hurt.

  Were these folk, more devout than in the past,

  to take up sword in their Teutonic rage,

  then Arabs, Turks, and Chaldeans

  together with all those who hope in gods

  on this side of the sea of bloody waves,

  you’ll see how little all of them are worth:

  a people naked, slow, and cowardly,

  who never seize the steel

  but rather trust the wind to take their blows.

  And so the time is now to pull our neck

  from that old yoke and to destroy the veil,

  the one that has been wrapped around our eyes;

  and time your noble mind, bestowed on you

  by grace of our immortal god Apollo,

  display the power of your eloquence

  both through your spoken words and your praised writings.

  If reading of Amphion and of Orpheus

  does not amaze you much,

  far less you’ll be when Italy and her sons

  are wakened by the sound of your clear voice

  and take their sword in hand for sake of Jesus;

  for if this ancient mother looks on truth,

  in none of her past battles

  will she find cause so fair, so glorious.

  You who, to grow rich with true treasure

  have turned the ancient and the modern pages

  soaring up to Heaven with your earthly weight,

  sai da l’imperio del figliuol de Marte

  al grande Augusto che di verde lauro

  tre volte triunfando ornò la chioma

  ne l’altrui ingiurie del suo sangue Roma

  spesse fíate quanto fu cortese;

  et or perché non fia

  cortese no, ma conoscente et pia

  a vendicar le dispietate offese

  col figliuol glorioso di Maria?

  Che dunque la nemica parte spera

  ne l’umane difese,

  se Cristo sta da la contraria schiera?

  Pon mente al temerario ardir di Xerse,

  che fece per calcare i nostri liti

  di novi ponti oltraggio a la marina,

  et vedrai ne la morte de’ mariti

  tutte vestite a brun le donne perse

  et tinto in rosso il mar di S alamina.

  Et non pur questa misera ruina

  del popolo infelice d’oriente

  vittoria t’empromette,

  ma Maratona et le mortali strette

  che difese il Leon con poca gente,

  et altre mille ch’ ài ascoltate et lette.

  Per che inchinare a Dio molto convene

  le ginocchia et la mente

  che gli anni tuoi riserva a tanto bene.

  Tu vedrai Italia et l’onorata riva,

  canzon, ch’ agli occhi miei cela et contende

  non mar non poggio o fiume

  ma solo Amor, che del suo altero lume

  più m’invaghisce dove più m’incende,

  né natura può star contra ’l costume.

  Or movi, non smarrir l’altre compagne,

  che non pur sotto bende

  alberga Amor, per cui si ride et piagne.

  you know—that from the reign of Mars’ own son

  to great Augustus who with the green laurel

  three times triumphing did adorn his brow—

  how often and how generous Rome was

  with its own blood in the defense of others;

  and now why should she be

  not generous, but pious and most grateful

  in vengeance of those merciless offenses

  against the Virgin Mary’s glorious son?

  So then how can the enemy have hope

  in any human defense

  if Christ is part of the opposing ranks?

  Consider the bold rashness of a Xerxes,

  who with intentions to tread on our shores

  had done the sea an outrage with strange bridges,

  and you will see the many Persian women

  all dressed in black because their husbands died,

  and tainted red the sea of Salamis.

  Not only does that miserable ruin

  of those unhappy people of the East

  vouchsafe your victory,

  but also Marathon and the mortal straits

  defended by the Lion with a few men

  and a thousand others you have heard and read.

  So then it is most fitting that you bend

  your knees and heart to God

  who has reserved your years for so much good.

  You will see Italy and the honored shore,

  my song, denied my eyes and hidden not

  by sea or hill or stream,

  but only Love who with his noble light

  attracts me more where more he does enflame me,

  and nature is not strong enough for habit.

  Now go, don’t separate from your companions,

  for not only beneath a veil

  does Love that gives us joy and tears abide.

  29

  Verdi panni sanguigni oscuri o persi

  non vesti donna unquanco

  né d’or capelli in bionda treccia attorse

  si bella corne questa che mi spoglia

  d’arbitrio et dal camin de libertade

  seco mi tira sì ch’ io non sostegno

  alcun giogo men grave.

  Et se pur s’arma talor a dolersi

  l’anima a cui vien manco

  consiglio ove ’l martir l’adduce in forse,

  rappella lei da la sfrenata voglia

  subita vista, ché del cor mi rade

  ogni delira impresa et ogni sdegno

  fa ’l veder lei soave.

  Di quanto per amor giamai soffersi

  et aggio a soffrir anco

  fin che mi sani ’l cor colei che ’l morse

  rub
ella di mercé che pur l’envoglia,

  vendetta fia; sol che contra umiltade

  orgoglio et ira il bel passo ond’ io vegno

  non chiuda et non inchiave.

  Ma l’ora e ’l giorno ch’ io le luci apersi

  nel bel nero et nel bianco

  che mi scacciar di là dove Amor corse

  novella d’esta vita che m’addoglia

  furon radice, et quella in cui l’etade

  nostra si mira, la qual piombo o legno

  vedendo è chi non pave.

  Lagrima dunque che dagli occhi versi—

  per quelle che nel manco

  lato mi bagna chi primier s’accorse

  quadrella—dal voler mio non mi svoglia,

  ché ’n giusta parte la sentenza cade;

  per lei sospira l’alma, et ella è degno

  che le sue piaghe lave.

  Da me son fatti i miei pensier diversi:

  tal già qual io mi stanco

  29

  Green clothes, bright red or dark or purple ones

  no lady ever wore

  or hair of gold has twisted in blond braid

  as beautiful as this one who deprives

  me of my will, and from the path of freedom

  draws me to her, so that I cannot bear

  a yoke that’s any lighter.

  And if sometimes my soul takes arms complaining,

  no longer having any

  counsel, exposed to doubt through martyrdom,

  from its unbridled will the very sight of her

  will call it back, for from the heart she strips

  all mad desire, and all of my disdain

  the sight of her makes sweet.

  All that I ever suffered in love’s name

  and all I still must suffer—

  until the one who pierced my heart will cure it,

  rebel of mercy who still makes it yearn—

  shall be revenged, as long as pride and anger

  against humility does not lock shut

  my lovely way to reach her.

  The hour and the day my eyes were opened

  to lovely black and whiteness,

  which drove me from the place Love ran to take,

  were the first root of this, my life of pain,

  as well as she in whom our century marvels;

  and he is made of lead or wood who sees

  this one and does not tremble.

  No tear, therefore, that from my eyes is shed—

  as a result of those

  arrows which in my left side bloody that

  which first felt them—turns me from my desire,

  for on the right place the just sentence falls;

  it’s their fault my soul sighs, and it is just