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With a sudden terror cowed. Often to myself I said : " She is unto Heaven vowed! By the music of her mirth.

Her words, the vision of her face, I thought I was no more on earth And, spirited so far away From common things,! Da indi in qua mi piace quest' erba si, di' altrove non iio pace.

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DI pensier in pensier, di monte in montE mi guida Amor ; ch' ogni segnato calle prove contrario a la tianquilla vita. A dascun passo nasce un penser novo de la mia donna, che sovente in gioco gira '1 tormento ch' io porto per lei ; et a pena vorrei cangiar questo mio viver dolce amaro, ch' i' dico : " Forse anco li serva Amorc ad un tempo migliore ; 74 In these green meadows I remain Since then, it pleaseth me so best, For here alone my heart hath rest. If thou, O Song, were richly pearled As matchcth thy desire, From thy retreat unto the world Boldly thou could'st aspire!

Love for ever is my guide ; The trodden pathway leadeth still From haunts of quietude aside ; On solitary shore and by A fountain or a running stream. In valleys where the hill-shades lie.

Full text of "An Anthology of Italian Poems, 13thth Century"

My sorely troubled soul may dream. As Love dictates, may laugh or weep. May fear or count itself secure. Compose the face for strife or sleep And never in one mood endure ; Till he would say, who knows such state : " He loves, uncertain of his fate. And have in mortal enmity. H tanto piti belJa il mio pensier 1' adombra ; H poi, quando il vero sgombra B quel dolce error, pur 11 medesmo assido L " Though thou dost scom thyself, maybe Another hath thee dear!

I tarry where I shelter find Of mountain-top or tall pine-tree. My Lady's features I have seen, So let him credence give who may. In waters dear and meadows green No less than in a beechen spray, Within a cloud so snowy white. Beside her Leda's child would seem A star that paleth in the light. The sun hath kindled with his beam. Where desolate my dwelling-place. Upon a bleak, forsaken coast, There doth my spirit sweetly trace Her beauty and exalt it most ; Then, numb with grief, when fancy flies Away before the fece of truth, 77 r me fieddo, pietra morta in pietra viva, in guisa d' uom che pensi e pianga e scriva.

Ove d' altra montagna ombra noa tocchi, vetso '1 maggiore e 'I piii espedito giogo, tirar mi suol im desiderio intenso : indi i miei danni a misurar con gli occhi comincio, e 'ntanto lagrimando sfogo di dolorosa nebbia il cor condenso, allor ch' i' miro e penso quant' aria dal bel viso mi diparte, che sempre m' t si presso e si lontano.

Poscia fra me pian piano : " Che fai tu lasso? Ivi i '1 mio cor, e quella che '1 m' invola ; qui veder pvoi 1' imagine mia sola. As dead stone from a stone I rise And think and write and weep for ruih.

Le 3 parole sono 2 (English translation)

Song of mine, beyond the hill, Where the skies are soft and blue. Resting by a flowering rill, Thou shalt look on me anew ; Where ftesh laurels scent the air, With the heart she stole from me, Tarrieth my Lady fair ; "Tis my spirit dwells in thee. Si vedrem chiaro poi come sovente per le cose dubbiose altri s' avanza, e come spesso indamo si sospira. Conobbi allor si come in paradiso vede 1' un 1' altro : in tal guisa s' aperse quel pietoso penser, ch' altri non scersc, ma vidil' io, ch' altrove non m' alEso.

Light-footed time speeds swiftly from my gaze And faith in him proves profitless and vain. Since Love must pass away, even so must all The dreams for which we bartered heaven and earth, Our fears, our sorrows, and our boist'rous mirth ; Then we shall know how oft it doth befall That men strive after things of trivial worth.

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And sigh for that which matters not at all. Then was revealed to me that we would bid Each other welcome thus in Paradise ; Her gracious thought was fashioned to be hid From others, though apparent to my eyes. All heavenly favours, every modest grace E'er mirrored in beloved lady's face. Were nought compared with this of which I tell ; Downwards in silence her sweet glances fell, And yet in them a meaning seemed to be : Why doth my faithful friend go forth from me? Tal m' ha in pregion, che non m' apre ne serra, nh pet suo mi riten ne scioglie il lacdo ; e non m' ancide Amore e non mi sferra ; ii6 mi vuol vivo nh mi trae d' impacdo.

Veggio senz' occhi, e non ho lingua e gtido ; e btamo di perir e cheggio aita ; ed ho in odio me sresso ed amo almii ; pascomi dj dolor ; piangendo tido ; egualmente mi spiace morte e vita ; in questo stato son. Donna, per vui. IN qual pane del delo, in quale idea era 1' esempio, onde natura tolse quel bel viso leggiadro, in ch' eUa volse mostrat qua giti quanto lassli potea?

Non sa come Amor sana e come ancide chi non sa come dolce dla sospira, e come dolce patla e dolce ride. Upon the breeze these tresses of pure gold What goddess of the woods, what water-fay Hath lavished thus? What other heart could hold These virtues which have made my Ufe their prey? The gentle music of her speech and mirth. Cosi sol d'una chiara fonte viva move '1 dolce e 1' amaro ond' io mi pasco ; una man sola mi risana e punge.

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E petche '1 mio martir non giunga a riva, mille volte il di mom e mille nasco ; tanto da la salute mia son lunge. In you no single pebble now remains That is not kindled with my passionate pains. Now silence reigneth over earth and sky. The wind is still and bird and beast do sleep, Night in her starry chariot whirleth by, The slumb'rous sea is laid in cradle deep ; I think, I see, love, weep ; my grief who willed Is ever with me to my tender pain ; I am at strife, with spite and anguish filled. My thoughts in her alone And peace again.

DunqtK peidK mi date qoesta guora? Quind vedea '1 mio bene ; e per queste onne tomo a vedere ond' al dd nuda i gita, lasdando in terra la sua bella spoglia. Why thus torment me? Through no fault of mine She hath passed out of hearing and of sight And doth no longer dwell upon the earth ; Blame death alone and worship God divine, Who binds and frees, in darkness kindleth hght And giveth after sorrowing His mirth.

O VALLEY, filled with my despairful words, O river that my tears have richly fed, O creatures of the forest, happy birds, O fishes that green banks have prisoned ; Breath of desire, serene and passionate, O pleasant path grown wearisome, O hill That once I counted dear but now do hate.

But I am otherwise, O misery. Who from dehght to bitterest sorrow fell! Here where I loved I do return and see Madoima's spirit wafted to the skies, I Whilst upon earth her lovely body lies. Per man mi prese e disse : " In questa spcra saiai ancor meco, se '1 desir non eira : i' so' coici cbe ti die' tanta guerra, e compie' mia gjomata imianzi sera.

Mio ben non cape in intelleno umano ; re solo aspeno e, quel che tanto amasii c li giuso e rimaso, il mio bel velo. I' vo piangendo i miei passati tempi, i quai posi in amar cosa mortale senza levanni a volo, abbiend' io 1' ale per dar forse di me non bassi esempi. Tu, che vedi i miei mali indegni et empi. A quel poco di viver che m' avanza ed al morir degni esser ma man presta : tu sai ben che 'n altiui non ho speranza.

MY thoughts go forth to the abiding place Of her I seek below and cannot find ; In the third circle I beheld her face In beauty more compassionate to my mind. She clasped my hand and said : " Within this sphere Thou too shalt be, so my desire speak well ; Lo, I am she who wrought thee torment here And died before the shades of evening fell. My bliss no mortal mind can understand, My spirit waits on thee, to dust is given The lovely veil once precious in thy eyes.

So chastely and so mercifully shriven, I did believe I was in Paradise. Though haply they were given to prove my wordi. My sins are manifest before Thy face, O Lord of Heaven, invisible, divine, Grant to my frail and erring spirit grace. My weakness lift with potency of Thine ; Thus, though I lived in tempest and at strife.

O grant me so to live the rest of life That I may die in Thee on Whom are cast My hopes that in no other temple dwell.

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Giovanni Boccaccio, 10 mi son giovinetta, e volentieri m' allegro e canio en la stagion novella, merzi d' amore e de' doici pensieri. De' quai quando 10 ne truovo alcun che sia, al mio parer, ben simile di lui, il colgo e bacio e parlomi con lui, e com' io so, cosi 1' anima mia tutuna gli apro, e ci6 che 'I cot disia : quindi con altri il meno in ghirlandella legato co' miei crin biondi e leggieri. E quel placer, che di natura il fiore agti occhi porge, quel simil me '1 dona che s' io vcdessi la propia persona che m' ha accesa del suo dolce amore ; quel che mi faccia piii il suo odore, esprimet no '1 potrei con la favella ; ma i sospiri ne son tesiimon veri.