 | Poems |  |
51
BEAUTY AND SCORN.
Amor può assai, ma più lo sdegno.
Ital. Prov.
Ital. Prov.
Oh, what a sun is o'er us glowing!
Oh, what a breeze is past us flying!
It cheers the flowers so sweetly blowing,
Which else, by summer's suns, were dying.
Nona, thy charms than suns are brighter;
And oh! their brilliance death would give,
But thy disdain breathes cooler, lighter
Than southern breeze, and bids us live!
Oh, what a breeze is past us flying!
It cheers the flowers so sweetly blowing,
Which else, by summer's suns, were dying.
Nona, thy charms than suns are brighter;
And oh! their brilliance death would give,
But thy disdain breathes cooler, lighter
Than southern breeze, and bids us live!
Thy beauty fills our hearts with love,
Thy scorn inspires our soul with hate;
And we should death by passion prove,
But pride steps in and combats fate!
Our hearts by love and hate are torn,
And like some bark, when winds annoy it,
Between two waves it braves the storm,
When singly either might destroy it.
Thy scorn inspires our soul with hate;
And we should death by passion prove,
But pride steps in and combats fate!
Our hearts by love and hate are torn,
And like some bark, when winds annoy it,
Between two waves it braves the storm,
When singly either might destroy it.
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