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Where the wild hills around my river swell,
Sorga,* that nurses sad poetic thought;

But Fortune, always adverse to my views,
Keeps me where, uninspired, I sing, and grieve
To see my treasure, in the mire is thrown.†
Yet late my hand was destined not to lose
Its labour, but its full reward receive,
By Love, and by myself, and Laura, known.

Philip le Bel, by whom it was proscribed, as well as, among many others, the great Dante. Petrarch, at seven months old, was carried across the Arno, as Camilla was carried by Metabus, according to Virgil.

* He had by this time, as is here seen, established himself at Vaucluse; the fountain of which has been poetically described on the spot by Sir William Jones, in his Elegy on Laura. See his Poems.

+ Meaning Laura in the vicious city of Avignon.
Alla man' ond' io scrivo, è fatta amica
A questa volta: e non è forse indegno:
Amor sel vide, e sal Madonna, ed io.

I have translated this unintelligible passage conformably to the idea of its general meaning, suggested by the author of the Memoires de Petrarque; supposing that Laura had condescended to shake hands with her lover.

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- Chitare, fresce, e dice acque,”

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Whom only I acknowledge fair;

Boughs, that to remembrance bring

Sadly, bending as ye waved,

How her reclining form ye bare;

Turf, and worthiest to wear,

Flowers that, plucking, she disposed,

O'er her robe and bosom seen;

Air, celestially serene,

Where Love my wounds afresh unclosed;

O attend while I complain

Assembled here, to my last dying strain.

If, while I with Love apace

Pine, Heaven still, unpitying, choose
To see me victim proved of Grief,

Do not, in this haunt, a place

To my ashes cold refuse.

Death half defeating, the belief
That they here shall rest, relief,
At his awful hour, will yield.
Here possess'd of Peace, in port
Mariners sea-wearied court,

Preserve them, by some stone reveal'd,

Sad remains of one whom woes

Had harass'd once, but left in safe repose.

Haply to her favourite spot

May the cruel fair return,

On whom all hopes I cherish rest;

And, astonish'd, then my lot,

Casting round her eyes, discern,

Where I that day, for ever bless'd,

Hail'd entranced: O then her breast

Love or Pity sure will touch,

And the soft, escaping sigh

Heard, to Heaven shall plead on high

For my long errors,* known too much;
Drooping as the fair it spies,

And drying with her veil her beauteous eyes.

* The turn given to this passage is countenanced by the commentary in Vellutello's edition. It is suitable likewise to the poet's customary censure of his passion, and to the spirit of his introductory sonnet, "Voi, ch'as"coltate in rime sparse," &c.

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From the flaunting branches fell
Scatter'd leaves of many a flower

On her, who cast an angel's look,
Sitting, I remember well,

Cover'd with the amorous shower.

Some upon her robe they shook;

Some their way to tresses took,
And as gems in gold appear'd:
On the fountain's margent green

Some were, early, settling seen;

While others, o'er the soil revered,

Frolic circles form'd above,

And seem'd to cry, " Here reigns almighty Love!"

Often did I then exclaim,

Awed by her sweet presence, "Sure

"Tis one of the celestial band!"

So with air divine the dame

Fairest features, and the lure

Of magic smiles that none withstand,

Joining wonder to command,

Recollection charm'd away,

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