 | Poetical Trifles |  |
64
FROM THE ITALIAN.
“Si'o credessi per morte essere scarco
Del pensier amoroso che m'atterra.”
Petrarch.
Del pensier amoroso che m'atterra.”
Petrarch.
Oh! could but death remove the weight
Of love my heart besetting;
Then long ere this I'd eas'd my freight,
In death my cares fogetting:
The grave my wearied limbs should rest,
The green turf closing o'er my breast.
Of love my heart besetting;
Then long ere this I'd eas'd my freight,
In death my cares fogetting:
The grave my wearied limbs should rest,
The green turf closing o'er my breast.
Alas! I fear, 'twould only be
From grief to grief a changing;
Tortures keen would still perplex me,
And wars of love be ranging;
E'en while this change I yet escape,
'Twixt life and me death seems to gape.
From grief to grief a changing;
Tortures keen would still perplex me,
And wars of love be ranging;
E'en while this change I yet escape,
'Twixt life and me death seems to gape.
65
I pray the time may soon arrive
When Love will leave off shooting;
Nor with his dart unfeeling rive,
Each victim's heart out-rooting:
Already are his hands imbru'd
With the blood his sharp arrows strew'd.
When Love will leave off shooting;
Nor with his dart unfeeling rive,
Each victim's heart out-rooting:
Already are his hands imbru'd
With the blood his sharp arrows strew'd.
Aid me, thou God, with her unkind,
Deaf to my cries, refusing;
Who left me with her beauty blind,
Bright dazzling charms diffusing:
Unfeeling maid! that ne'er replied,
And all my spoken vows denied.
Deaf to my cries, refusing;
Who left me with her beauty blind,
Bright dazzling charms diffusing:
Unfeeling maid! that ne'er replied,
And all my spoken vows denied.
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