If we should see each other in the street,
We'll take our hats off if you will, and say:
Good-morrow, Master; but if interests wait
For settlement, then better 'twere to treat
Each for himself and each in his own way.
Relations? To the gallows with them straight,
This frankly let me state :

And if there be who blame my perorations,
Let them relate themselves with my relations!

GIOVAMBATTISTA MARINO, 1569-1625

U

NHAPPY man, as soon as he is born

Into this sorry world, openeth his eyes
To tears before he looks upon the morn,
And within swaddling bands imprisoned lies;
Then later, when grown old enough to wean,
A rigid lash his actions doth restrain,

And come unto more steadfast years serene,
'Twixt fate and love he lives, dies, lives again.
O many a death and weariness untold

Doth he sustain when poor, aged, stricken with grief
His worn bones lean upon a fragile stave ;

Lastly, a narrow stone his spoils doth fold
So swiftly that I sigh and say: "How brief
A step between the cradle and the grave!"

LTRI canti di Marte e di sua schiera,

Agli arditi assalti e l' onorate imprese,

le sanguigne vittorie e le contese, i trionfi di morte orrida e fera.

Io canto, Amor, da questa tua guerriera quant' ebbi a sostener mortali offese, come un guardo mi vinse, un crin mi prese, istoria miserabile, ma vera!

Due begli occhi fur l'arme onde trafitta giacque, e di sangue in vece, amaro pianto sparse lunga stagion l' anima afflitta. Tu, per lo cui valor la palma e 'l vanto ebbe di me la mia nimica invitta,

se desti morte al cor, dà vita al canto.

CLAUDIO ACHILLINI, 1614-1640

A nel mezzo del tempio a l' improvviso Lidia traluna gli occhi e tiengli immoti, e mirano i miei lumi, a lei divoti,

fatto albergo di furie un sì bel viso.
Maledice ogni lume errante e fiso,
e par che contro Dio la lingua arroti :
che miracolo è questo, o sacerdoti,
che Lucifero torni in paradiso ?

Forse costui che non poteo, mal saggio, sovrastar per superbia al suo Fattore, venne in costei per emularne un raggio? Torna al nodo fatal del tuo servaggio, e sgombra questa stanza al dio d'amore!

L

ET others sing of Mars and of his host,

The valorous onslaughts and the doughty deeds, The victories dearly bought, the fray, the boast Of fierce, dread death triumphant, but I needs Must sing, Love, of thy warrior fair, and tell Of all the mortal miseries I knew, How I was vanquished by a glance and fell Snared by a curl, a grievous tale but true!

Two lovely eyes were weapons whence I lay With troubled soul transpierced, which tears did strow Instead of blood for many and many a day; Thou, by whose daring prize and praise belong To my victorious adversary, though

Dost kill the heart, givest life unto the song.

CLAUDIO ACHILLINI, 1614-1640

PON a sudden in the temple yonder

UL

Lydia doth frown wide-eyed, and for a space
My glances, that so dote upon her, ponder
On fury harbouring in a lovely face!

Roundly she rates the stars both one and all,
Her tongue is sharpened even against the skies,
O Priests, what miracle doth here befall,
Hath Lucifer returned to Paradise?

O say, if he who out of foolish pride
Would not submit to his Creator's sway,
Avid of glory doth in her abide ?
Return abashed to thy deservèd doom,
Return to thy dread servitude, and pray

Unto the God of Love leave clear this room!

FULVIO TESTI, 1593-1646

N

ON aura popolar che varia ed erra,

non folto stuol di servi e di clienti, non gemme accolte, o cumulati argenti, petto mortal pòn far beate in terra.

Beato è quei che, in liberà secura povero ma contento, i giorni mena; e che, fuor di speranze e di pena, pompe non cerca, e dignità non cura.

Pago di sè medesimo e di sua sorte, ei di nemica man non teme offesa, senza ch' armate schiere in sua difesa stian de l'albergo a custodir le porte. Innocente di cor, di colpe scarco, ei non impallidisce e non paventa se tuona Giove, e se saetta avventa del giusto ciel l' inevitabil arco.

Segga chi vuol de' sospirati onori su le lubriche cime: offrirsi veggia quanti colà dove l' Idaspe ondeggia per la spiaggia eritrea nascon tesori : a me conceda il faretrato Apollo che da la corte a solitaria riva io passi un giorno: e là felice i' viva col plettro in mano e con la cetra al collo : e poi che pieno avrà con la man cruda il fuso mio l' inesorabil Cloto,

rustico abitator, a tutti ignoto,

se non solo a me stesso, i miei di chiuda.

FULVIO TESTI, 1593-1646

N

Or the world's fickle favours, nor

Of serfs and flatterers a row,
Not precious gems, nor silver hoard
Win mortals happiness below.

Blest he who poor, but satisfied,
Passeth his days in liberty,
Far from ambition and vain strife,
Seeking nor pomp nor dignity!

Contented with his lot, such dreads
The menace of no hostile hand,
Before his portals martial hosts

On watch and ward need never stand. With a pure heart and conscience clear, No sign of terror doth he show

Hearing Jove's thunders, seeing the darts
That speed forth from Heaven's fatal bow.
On slippery heights of cherished fame
Throne he who will, where Hydaspes
Floweth, by Eritrea's shore,

Cull he what treasures meet his gaze :
But armed Apollo give me leave
To pass from court to lonely strand
And live there happily, with lyre
Swung from my neck, plectrum in hand:

And when inexorable Clotho hath
Spun out my thread of life, then may
Her cruel hand in sylvan shade,
Ignored by all men, close my day!