 | Three Hundred Sonnets |  |
110
PETRARCH.
Poet, and hermit-scholar of Vaucluse,Whom Rome, admiring, forth with laurels sent
A crownéd lover to thy classic muse,—
That thy rare wisdom could serenely choose
Nature, and God, and quiet with content,
Spurning the baubles of ambitious strife
And wealth sin-tainted of a courtier life
In palaces of priests unholy spent,
Honour be thine, and more than mortal fame
Wreathing with amaranth thy starry name:
And may that gentle spirit, strangely rent
By love, alike unguilty and unblest,
Now with its mate, beyond the breath of blame,
After thy life-long search find endless rest.
| Three Hundred Sonnets | |