It vindicates the emphatic reality and personality of Petrarch's love, after all, that when from these heights of vision he surveys and resurveys his life's long dream, it becomes to him more and more definite, as well as more poetic, and is farther and farther from a merely vague sentimentalism. In his later sonnets, Laura grows more distinctly individual to us; her traits show themselves as more characteristic, her temperament more intelligible, her precise influence upon Petrarch clearer. What delicate accuracy of delineation is seen, for instance, in the sonnet (Dolci durezze)! In the sonnet (Gli angeli eletti) visions multiply upon visions. Would that one could transfer into English the delicious way in which the sweet Italian rhymes recur and surround and seem to embrace each other, and are woven and unwoven and interwoven, like the heavenly hosts that gathered around Laura.

Petrarch's odes and sonnets are but parts of one symphony, leading us through a passion strengthened by years and only purified by death, until at last the graceful lay becomes an anthem and a 'Nunc dimittis.' In the closing sonnets Petrarch withdraws from the world, and they seem like voices from a cloister, growing more and more solemn till the door is closed. This is one of the last (Dicemi spesso). How true is its concluding line! Who can wonder that women prize beauty, and are intoxicated by their own fascinations, when these fragile gifts are yet strong enough to outlast all the memories of statesmanship and war? Next to the immortality of genius is that which genius may confer upon the object of its love. Laura, while she lived, was simply one of a hundred or a thousand beautiful and gracious Italian women; she had her loves and aversions, joys and griefs; she cared dutifully for her household, and embroidered the veil which Petrarch loved; her memory appeared as fleeting and unsubstantial as that of woven tissue. After five centuries we find that no armor of that iron age was so enduring. The kings whom she honored, the popes whom she revered are dust, and their memory is dust, but literature is still fragrant with her name. An impression which has endured so long is ineffaceable; it is an earthly immortality.

"Time is the chariot of all ages to carry men away, and beauty cannot bribe this charioteer." Thus wrote Petrarch in his Latin essays; but his love had wealth that proved resistless, and for Laura the chariot stayed.

SONNETS

I

Lieti fiori e felici, e ben nate erbe, Che Madonna, pensando, premer sole; Piaggia ch'ascolti sue dolci parole, E del bel piede alcun vestigio serbe; Schietti arboscelli, e verdi frondi acerbe; Amorosette e pallide viole; Ombrose selve, ove percote il Sole, Che vi fa co' suoi raggi alte e superbe; O soave contrada, o puro fiume, Che bagni 'l suo bel viso e gli occhi chiari, E prendi qualità dal vivo lume; Quanto v'invidio gli atti onesti e cari! Non fia in voi scoglio omai che per costume D'arder con la mia fiamma non impari.

I

O joyous, blossoming, ever-blessed flowers! 'Mid which my pensive queen her footstep sets; O plain, that hold'st her words for amulets And keep'st her footsteps in thy leafy bowers! O trees, with earliest green of springtime hours, And all spring's pale and tender violets! O grove, so dark the proud sun only lets His blithe rays gild the outskirts of thy towers! O pleasant country-side! O limpid stream, That mirrorest her sweet face, her eyes so clear, And of their living light canst catch the beam! I envy thee her presence pure and dear. There is no rock so senseless but I deem It burns with passion that to mine is near.

II

Quando Amor i begli occhi a terra inchina E i vaghi spirti in un sospiro accoglie Con le sue mani, e poi in voce gli scioglie Chiara, soave, angelica, divina; Sento far del mio cor dolce rapina, E sì dentro cangiar pensieri e voglie, Ch'i' dico: or fien di me l'ultime spoglie, Se 'l Ciel sì onesta morte mi destina. Ma 'l suon, che di dolcezza i sensi lega, Col gran desir d'udendo esser beata, L'anima, al dipartir presta, raffrena. Così mi vivo, e così avvolge e spiega Lo stame della vita che m'è data, Questa sola fra noi del ciel sirena.

II

When Love doth those sweet eyes to earth incline, And weaves those wandering notes into a sigh With his own touch, and leads a minstrelsy Clear-voiced and pure, angelic and divine,-- He makes sweet havoc in this heart of mine, And to my thoughts brings transformation high, So that I say, "My time has come to die, If fate so blest a death for me design." But to my soul, thus steeped in joy, the sound Brings such a wish to keep that present heaven, It holds my spirit back to earth as well. And thus I live: and thus is loosed and wound The thread of life which unto me was given By this sole Siren who with us doth dwell.

III

Aura che quelle chiome bionde e crespe Circondi e movi, e se' mossa da loro Soavemente, e spargi quel dolce oro, E poi 'l raccogli e 'n bei nodi 'l rincrespe; Tu stai negli occhi ond'amorose vespe Mi pungon sì, che 'nfin qua il sento e ploro; E vacillando cerco il mio tesoro, Com'animal che spesso adombre e 'ncespe: Ch'or mel par ritrovar, ed or m'accorgo Ch'i' ne son lunge; or mi sollevo, or caggio: Ch'or quel ch'i' bramo, or quel ch'è vero, scorgo. Aer felice, col bel vivo raggio Rimanti. E tu, corrente e chiaro gorgo, Ché non poss'io cangiar teco viaggio?

III

Sweet air, that circlest round those radiant tresses, And floatest, mingled with them, fold on fold, Deliciously, and scatterest that fine gold, Then twinest it again, my heart's dear jesses; Thou lingerest on those eyes, whose beauty presses Stings in my heart that all its life exhaust, Till I go wandering round my treasure lost, Like some scared creature whom the night distresses. I seem to find her now, and now perceive How far away she is; now rise, now fall; Now what I wish, now what is true, believe. O happy air! since joys enrich thee all, Rest thee; and thou, O stream too bright to grieve! Why can I not float with thee at thy call?

IV

Qual donna attende a gloriosa fama Di senno, di valor, di cortesia, Miri fiso negli occhi a quella mia Nemica, che mia donna il mondo chiama. Come s'acquista onor, come Dio s'ama, Com'è giunta onestà con leggiadria, Ivi s'impara, e qual è dritta via Di gir al Ciel, che lei aspetta e brama. Ivi 'l parlar che nullo stile agguaglia, E 'l bel tacere, e quei santi costumi Ch'ingegno uman non può spiegar in carte. L'infinita bellezza, ch'altrui abbaglia, Non vi s'impara; ché quei dolci lumi S'acquistan per ventura e non per arte.

IV

Doth any maiden seek the glorious fame Of chastity, of strength, of courtesy? Gaze in the eyes of that sweet enemy Whom all the world doth as my lady name! How honor grows, and pure devotion's flame, How truth is joined with graceful dignity, There thou mayst learn, and what the path may be To that high heaven which doth her spirit claim; There learn that speech, beyond all poet's skill, And sacred silence, and those holy ways Unutterable, untold by human heart. But the infinite beauty that all eyes doth fill, This none can learn! because its lovely rays Are given by God's pure grace, and not by art.

V

O passi sparsi, o pensier vaghi e pronti, O tenace memoria, o fero ardore, O possente desire, o debil core, O occhi miei, occhi non già, ma fonti; O fronde, onor delle famose fronti, O sola insegna al gemino valore; O faticosa vita, o dolce errore, Che mi fate ir cercando piagge e monti; O bel viso, ov'Amor insieme pose Gli sproni e 'l fren, ond'e' mi punge e volve Com'a lui piace, e calcitrar non vale; O anime gentili ed amorose, S'alcuna ha 'l mondo; e voi nude ombre e polve; Deh restate a veder qual è 'l mio male.

V

O wandering steps! O vague and busy dreams! O changeless memory! O fierce desire! O passion strong! heart weak with its own fire; O eyes of mine! not eyes, but living streams; O laurel boughs! whose lovely garland seems The sole reward that glory's deeds require! O haunted life! delusion sweet and dire, That all my days from slothful rest redeems; O beauteous face! where Love has treasured well His whip and spur, the sluggish heart to move At his least will; nor can it find relief. O souls of love and passion! if ye dwell Yet on this earth, and ye, great Shades of Love! Linger, and see my passion and my grief.

VI

I' vidi in terra angelici costumi E celesti bellezze al mondo sole; Tal che di rimembrar mi giova e dole; Ché quant'io miro par sogni, ombre e fumi. E vidi lagrimar que' duo bei lumi, C'han fatto mille volle invidia al Sole; Ed udii sospirando dir parole Che farian gir i monti e stare i fiumi. Amor, senno, valor, pietate e doglia Facean piangendo un più dolce concento D'ogni altro che nel mondo udir si soglia: Ed era 'l cielo all'armonia sì 'ntento, Che non si vedea 'n ramo mover foglia; Tanta dolcezza avea pien l'aere e 'l vento.

VI

I once beheld on earth celestial graces And heavenly beauties scarce to mortals known, Whose memory yields nor joy nor grief alone, But all things else in cloud and dreams effaces. I saw how tears had left their weary traces Within those eyes that once the sun outshone, I heard those lips, in low and plaintive moan, Breathe words to stir the mountains from their places. Love, wisdom, courage, tenderness, and truth Made in their mourning strains more high and dear Than ever wove soft sounds for mortal ear; And heaven seemed listening in such saddest ruth The very leaves upon the bough to soothe, Such sweetness filled the blissful atmosphere.