Lyric Poems Made in Imitation of the Italians. Of which, many are Translations From other Languages ... By Philip Ayres |
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 | Lyric Poems |  |
74
A Sonnet, of Petrarc,
Shewing how long he had lov'd Madonna Laura.
Pleasure in Thought, in Weeping Ease I find;
I catch at Shadows, grasp Air with my Hand;
On Seas I float are bounded with no Land;
Plow Water, sow on Rocks, and reap the Wind.
I catch at Shadows, grasp Air with my Hand;
On Seas I float are bounded with no Land;
Plow Water, sow on Rocks, and reap the Wind.
The Sun I gaz'd so long at, I became
Struck with its Dazling Rays, and lost my Eyes;
I chase a Nimble Doe that always flyes,
And hunt with a Dull Creature, Weak and Lame.
Struck with its Dazling Rays, and lost my Eyes;
I chase a Nimble Doe that always flyes,
And hunt with a Dull Creature, Weak and Lame.
Heartless I live to all things but my Ill,
Which I'm sollicitous to follow still;
And only call on Laura, Love, and Death.
Which I'm sollicitous to follow still;
And only call on Laura, Love, and Death.
Thus Twenty Years I've spent in Misery,
Whilst only Sighs, and Tears, and Sobs I buy,
Under such hard Stars first I drew my Breath.
Whilst only Sighs, and Tears, and Sobs I buy,
Under such hard Stars first I drew my Breath.
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