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Let who will be gay,
To-morrow one can ref.
Lads and Lassies ail

Love and Bacchus hari !
Dance and cong serail !
Pain and sadness ai
Tender hearts prevail.
Happen hen what may
Let who will be gay,
To-morrow, one can tell.
Youth is sweet and weil
Bur doth speed away.

Er him who is 10 lover

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Go hence and seek another

Floor on which to dance,

He merits not good chance!

Be there one who knows not Love, Let him hasten from this place, For that heart is poor in grace Which fond ardours doth not prove. Be there one whose fires burn low, Let him breathe on them, and so They blaze again, he need not go ! Love presideth o'er this feast, Those who serve him gather round. Be there one by envy bound, Take he leave, for thus at least He will go and not be chased! Only those whom Love hath graced In so sweet a bower are placed.

Be there one who is ashamed Of loving, let her ponder fair

più tosto a non lo fare ; non è vergogna amare chi di servire agogna ;

saria vergogna a chi gli fusse ingrato. Se alcuna ce ne fussi tanto vile, che lassi per paura ;

pensi bene, che un core alto e gentile queste cose non cura :

non ha dato natura

tanta bellezza a voi

acciò che poi sia il tempo mal usato.

ANGELO POLIZIANO, 1454-1494

'MI trovai, fanciulle, un bel mattino

I'

di mezzo maggio in un verde giardino.

Eran d'intorno violette e gigli

fra l'erba verde, e vaghi fior novelli,
azzurri, gialli, candidi e vermigli :
ond' io pòrsi la mano a côr di quelli
per adornar e' mie' biondi capelli
e cinger di grillanda il vago crino.

I' mi trovai, fanciulle Ma poi ch' i' ebbi pien di fiori un lembo, vidi le rose e non pur d'un colore :

io corsi allor per empier tutto el grembo, perch' era sì söave il loro odore

che tutto mi senti' destar el core

di dolce voglia e d' un piacer divino.

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I' mi trovai, fanciulle . . .

I' posi mente: quelle rose allora mai vi non potre' dir quant' eran belle: quale scoppiava dalla boccia ancora, qual' erano un po' passe e qual novelle,

And she will soon become aware
To love is to be nobly famed;
For love all homage doth deserve;
Ingratitude doth shame reserve.
Be there one perchance so vile
As to flee away for fright,
Let her understand aright,

No such coward fancies wile

In gentle hearts! Nature doth bring
Us beauty; foolish 'twere to fling
Away the roses of the spring!

ANGELO POLIZIANO, 1454-1494

AIDENS, I found myself one morn serene
Of middle May within a garden green.
Violets bloomed round about and lilies too
In verdant grass and buds of every hue,
Azure and gold and purest white and red,
Whereat to gather them my fingers sped,
That I might deck therewith my flaxen hair
And weave a garland for my forehead fair.

Maidens, I found myself . . . .

But when I'd well-nigh culled a lapful, lo,
I saw the roses multi-coloured, so

I ran to fill my skirts with them and they
Breathed such rare fragrancy that straight away
I felt awaken in this heart of mine

Tender desire and happiness divine.

Maidens, I found myself . .

To savour the sweet roses I was fain,

But to describe their loveliness were vain ;

Some I beheld just bursting into flower,

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Some still in bud, some who had spent their dower :

amor mi disse allor: "Va, cô' di quelle che più vedi fiorite sullo spino.

I' mi trovai, fanciulle

Quando la rosa ogni suo' foglia spande, quando è più bella, quando è più gradita, allora è buona a mettere in grillande, prima che sua bellezza sia fuggita : sicchè, fanciulle, mentre è più fiorita, cogliam la bella rosa del giardino.

I'

I' mi trovai, fanciulle

MI trovai un dì tutto soletto

in un bel prato per pigliar diletto.

Non credo che nel mondo sia un prato

dove sien l' erbe di sì vaghi odori.

Ma quand' i' fu' nel verde un pezzo entrato, mi ritrovai fra mille vaghi fiori

bianchi e vermigli e di mille colori, fra' quai senti' cantare un augelletto.

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Era il suo canto sì söave e bello, che tutto 'l mondo innamorar facea. I'm' accostai pian pian per veder quello ; vidi che 'l capo e l' ale d' oro avea ; ogni altra penna di rubin parea,

ma 'l becco di cristallo e 'l collo e 'l petto. I' mi trovai un dì . . .

I' lo volli pigliar, tanto mi piacque ; ma tosto si levò per l' aria a volo, e ritornossi al nido ove si nacque : i' mi son messo a seguirlo sol solo, ben crederei pigliarlo ad un lacciolo, s'i' lo potessi trar fuor del boschetto. I' mi trovai un dì

Then Love said unto me:

Go, gather them

Thou seest most sweetly blooming on the stem!" Maidens, I found myself .

When the rose every petal doth unfold,
When she is tenderest, fairest to behold,
Before her loveliness hath passed its prime,
To set her in a garland it is time.

So, maidens, let us go and pull the rose
When she most sweetly in the garden blows.

Maidens, I found myself. . . .

FOUND myself alone, alone one day
Taking my pleasure in a meadow gay.
There's not a meadow in the world I ween
Where herbs and grasses have so sweet a smell;
I wandered for awhile down pathways green
Till myriad blossoms cast their lovely spell
About me—white, red, every hue pell-mell,
And then I heard a bird uplift his lay.

I found myself alone.

O very sweetly, tenderly sang he,
Love to the heart of all the world he sped,
Then softly, softly I drew near to see,
I saw that golden were his wings and head,
And every other plume a ruby red,

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But beak, neck, bosom wore the crystal's ray.
I found myself alone
I longed to catch him, for he pleased me well,
But he rose swiftly and away he flew
Back to the nest where he was born; I fell
To following him alone, alone; I knew
That I could take him with the net I threw
Did I but lure him from the woods away
I found myself alone

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