EL CONDE JUAN DE TARSIS. Tu, que la dulce vida en tiernos años.

THOU, who hast fled from life's enchanted bowers,
In youth' gay spring, in beauty's glowing morn,
Leaving thy bright array, thy path of flowers,
For the rude convent-garb, and couch of thorn;

Thou that, escaping from a world of cares,
Hast found thy haven in devotion's fane,
As to the port the fearful bark repairs,
To shun the midnight perils of the main;

Now the glad hymn, the strain of rapture pour,
While on thy soul the beams of glory rise!
For if the pilot hail the welcome shore,
With shouts of triumph swelling to the skies;
Oh! how shouldst thou the exulting pæan raise,
Now heaven's bright harbour opens on thy gaze,

TORQUATO TASSO.

Negli anni acerbi tuoi, purpurea rosa.

THOU in thy morn wert like a glowing rose,
To the mild sunshine only half displayed,
That shunned its bashful graces to disclose,
And in its vale of verdure sought a shade;

Or like Aurora did thy charms appear,

(Since mortal form ne'er vied with aught so bright,) Aurora, smiling from her tranquil sphere,

O'er vale and mountain shedding dew and light;

Now riper years have doomed no grace to fade,
Nor youthful charms, in all their pride arrayed,
Excel, or equal, thy neglected form.

Thus, full expanded, lovelier is the flower,
And the bright daystar, in its noontide hour,
More briliant shines, in genial radiance warm.

BERNARDO TASSO.

Quest' ombra che giammai non vide il sole.

THIS green recess, where through the bowery gloom Ne'er e'en at noontide hours the sunbeam played, Where violet-beds in soft luxuriance bloom,

'Midst the cool freshness of the myrtle-shade;

Where through the grass a sparkling fountain steals,
Whose murmuring wave, transparent as it flows,
No more its bed of yellow sand conceals,
Than the pure crystal hides the glowing rose;

This bower of peace, thou soother of our care,
God of soft slumbers, and of visions fair!
A lowly shepherd consecrates to thee!

Then breathe around some spell of deep repose,
And charm his eyes in balmy dew to close,

Those eyes, fatigued with grief, from tear-drops never

free.

PETRARCH.

Chi vuol veder quantunque può natura.

THOU that wouldst mark, in form of human birth, All heaven and nature's perfect skill combined, Come gaze on her, the daystar of the earth, Dazzling, not me alone, but all mankind :

And haste! for Death, who spares the guilty long,
First calls the brightest and the best away;
And to her home, amidst the cherub-throng,

The angelic mortal flies, and will not stay!

Haste! and each outward charm, each mental grace,
In one cousummate form thine eye shall trace,
Model of loveliness, for earth too fair!

Then thou shalt own, how faint my votive lays,
My spirit dazzled by perfection's blaze-

But if thou still delay, for long regret prepare.

PETRARCH.

Se lamentar augelli, o verdi fronde.

Ir to the sighing breeze of summer-hours
Bend the green leaves; if mourns a plaintive bird;

Or from some fount's cool margin, fringed with flowers,
The soothing murmur of the wave is heard;

Her, whom the heavens reveal, the earth denies,

I see and hear: though dwelling far above,
Her spirit, still responsive to my sighs,

Visits the lone retreat of pensive love.

"Why thus in grief consume each fruitless day," (Her gentle accents thus divinely say,) "While from thine eyes the tear unceasing flows? Weep not for me, who, hastening on my flight, Died, to be deathless; and on heavenly light Whose eyes but opened, when they seemed to close!"