O

LOVERS, weep, for Love is weeping too,

O listen to the reason for his cries,

He hath heard women clamoring for rue,
Their bitter sorrow gushing from their eyes,
For impious death hath worked his cruel will
On a sweet heart, and into nothing made
That which our highest praise doth merit still,
Save only good repute, in tender maid.

O hear how Love hath honoured her, mine eyes Beheld his very self lamenting sore

Over the lovely face of her who died;
Often he cast his glances to the skies,
Wherein the gentle spirit evermore
Of her who looked so gaily doth abide.

s sullenly I rode the other day,

AB

Because the journey did not like me best,
I found Love in the middle of the way,

And he was lightly as a pilgrim dressed.
In beggar-wise methought he seemed to go,
As if despoiled of his high majesty ;
All comers he avoided, head bent low,
And ever and anon sighed pensively.

Beholding me, he called upon my name,
Saying: Lo, I am come out of the dim

Distance where bode thy heart through my decree Which now I bear to serve another dame."

Then I became so wholly one with him,

He disappeared, and whence I could not see.

I

o mi senti' svegliar dentro a lo core

un spirito amoroso che dormía,

e poi vidi venir da lungi Amore

allegro sì, che appena il conoscía;

dicendo:

Or pensa pur di farmi onore e 'n ciascuna parola sua ridía.

E

poco stando meco il mio segnore, guardando in quella parte onde venía,

io vidi monna Vanna e monna Bice
venire inver lo loco là ov' io era,
l' una appresso de l' altra maraviglia :
e sì come la mente mi ridice,

Amor mi disse: "Quell' è Primavera,
e quell' ha nome Amor, sì mi somiglia."

ANTO gentile e tanto onesta pare

la donna mia, quand' ella altrui saluta, ch' ogne lingua deven tremando muta, e li occhi no l' ardiscon di guardare. Ella si va, sentendosi laudare, benignamente d'umiltà vestuta ; e par che sia una cosa venuta da cielo in terra a miracol mostrare. Mostrasi sì piacente a chi la mira, che dà per li occhi una dolcezza al core, che 'ntender no la può chi no la prova:

e par che de la sua labbia si mova
un spirito soave e pien d'amore,
che va dicendo a l' anima: "Sospira."

FELT in the deep chamber of my heart
A passionate spirit out of slumber move,
And, with a gaiety strange to him, saw Love
Coming towards me from a distant part ;

He said: Now pay due honour to my fame!"

And there was laughter in his every word:
Then, as he tarried, I beside my Lord,
Gazing towards the region whence he came,
Beheld Madonna Vanna drawing nigh,
With her Madonna Bice she did bring,
One with the other marvellous to see;
And, if so be my memory do not lie,

I heard Love say: "This lady is called Spring,
That other Love, for she resembleth me."

o gentle and so pure appears to me
My Lady, when she greeting doth bestow,
That every tongue is hushed in ecstasy
And eyes for awe their heritage forego.
She passeth, hearing how she is admired,
Benignly, all regardless of her worth;
It is as if she were a thing inspired,
A miracle by heaven shown on earth.
She is so beautiful to see that by

A glance the heart is soothed in such sweet way
As only he who knows can truly say:

And from her lips a spirit seems to move,
A spirit filled with tenderness and love,
For ever saying to the soul, "Ah, sigh!"

LTRE la spera, che più larga gira
passa la sospi, och esce del mio core:

intelligenza nova, che l' Amore

piangendo mette in lui, pur su lo tira.
Quand' elli è giunto là dove disira,
vede una donna, che riceve onore,
e luce sì, che per lo suo splendore
lo peregrino spirito la mira.

Vedela tal, che quando 'l mi ridice,
io no lo intendo, sì parla sottile
al cor dolente, che lo fa parlare.
So io che parla di quella gentile,
però che spesso ricorda Beatrice,

sì ch' io lo 'ntendo ben, donne mie care.

CINO DA PISTOIA, 1270-1336

A dolce vista e 'l bel guardo soave

La

de' più begli occhi che si vider mai, ch' i' ho perduto, mi fa parer grave la vita sì, ch' io vo traendo guai :

e 'n vece di pensier leggiadri e gai, ch' aver solea d' amore,

porto desii nel core

che nati son di morte,

per la partita che mi duol sì forte.

Ohimè! deh perchè, Amor, al primo passo non mi feristi sì ch' io fussi morto ? perchè non dipartisti da me, lasso! lo spirito angoscioso ched io porto ? Amor, al mio dolor non è conforto : anzi, quanto più guardo,

al sospirar più ardo,

EYOND the sphere enfolding all the spheres

Passeth the sigh that in my heart doth rise,
And a new wisdom learns from Love in tears,
By which he may attain unto the skies.

When he hath reached the bourn of his desire
Of lady throned in glory he hath sight,
To whom his pilgrim spirit doth aspire,
She shineth with so wonderful a light;

On seeing her thus and telling it to me,
His accents are too subtle to bear sense
Unto the sorrowful heart that yearns to hear;
Yet often of my gentle one doth he
Hold converse, often naming Beatrice, whence
I understand full well, O ladies dear!

CINO DA PISTOIA, 1270-1336

HE loveliness, the glances soft and clear

Of sweetest eyes that e'er unveiled their glow,

Lost unto me, make this my life appear

So grievous that in heaviness I go ;

Instead of the gay thoughts I used to know,
Because of love for her,

Now at my heart's core stir

Thoughts that of Death are born

By reason of this parting whence I mourn.
In the beginning, Love, alas, alas,

Why didst not wound me so that I might die?

Why didst not part from me, O Love, alas,

The tortured spirit whereon I rely?

In this my sorrow unconsoled am I :
Indeed, the more I yearn

The more regret doth burn,