Quando il consiglio degli augei si tenne.
ONCE when a council of the birds was held,
It was decreed that all,
On hearing of the summons, must appear.
A roguish jackdaw, vain and full of guile,
Resolved to change her garb,
And borrowed plumes from many various birds,
And when adorned in them to council came;
But was not long endured;
For fine beyond all others was her air:
And one bird asked another, Who is this?
So that at last the daw
Was recognised. Now hear what then ensued.
Around her all the other birds collected,
And then without delay,
So stripped her plumes that naked she was left; And one said, Now the pretty minx admire ! Another said, She moults!
And thus they left her ridiculed and scorned.
Such fate we daily see attend the man
Who knavishly assumes
The virtues of another and the fame ;
For many times he glows
With others' warmth, soon after to be frozen :
Then blest is he who on himself depends.
Molti volendo dir che fosse Amore.
MANY who fain would tell us what is Love
Have lavished store of words, but still have failed
To tell of him in terms approaching truth,
And to define the nature of his worth.
One hath described him as a mental flame,
Imagination's offspring, born of Thought;
Others have said he was Desire, the child
Of Will, and born of Pleasure in the heart.
But I would say that Love no substance hath,
Nor is a thing corporeal having form;
But rather is a passion in desiring;
Pleasure from beauty springing, nature's gift;
Such that the heart's wish every wish exceeds,
And all-sufficient while that pleasure lasts.
Deh ragioniamo un poco insieme, Amore.
Oн, let us, Love, converse a while together,
And draw me from the smart of painful thought;
And for our mutual delight, dear lord,
Grant that our gentle lady be the theme.
Doubtless our journey shorter will appear,
Choosing so sweet a subject and so calming,
And joyful the returning seems already,
Hearing her praise and telling it again.
Begin then, Love; to thee it best belongs,
And be thou moved to this, for she is cause
That thou hast deigned to bear me company.
And whether pity or thy courtesy
Relieve my mind, and calm my troubled thoughts,
To hear thee my impatience is the same.
Ora che l' mondo si adorna e veste.
Now that the world adorns itself in robes
Of leaves and flowers, and every meadow smiles, And from its face the sky drives cold and mist, And all that live commence a festival, And each one seems to address itself to love: The little birds send forth their voice in song, And cease their loud laments and plaintive cries, Cheering the mountains and the plains and groves: I, too, when the sweet season bright and blithe Of spring returns in verdant loveliness, Awake to joy, and renovate my hope; Like him whose honour and whose life depend Upon that lord beyond all sovereigns loved; And who to me his servant ne'er will fail.
Giovinetta gentil, poichè tu vede.
YOUNG, tender, noble maiden, since you see
That Love, with your consent, has made me yours,
And that for you I burn, and waste, and pine,
O let me not expire without reward.
O Love, dear lord, haply thou disbelievest
How hard she is, and cruel is my pain;
For in thy generous heart there must exist
The will to succour my fidelity.
And, lady, every pain would be removed
If hope were realised, and I were blest
With joy which Love solicits you to grant.
O help me then, Madonna, ere I die;
I live for that alone, and if denied,
A corse you soon will see me at your feet.
Lo fin piacer di quello adorno viso.
THE pure delight of that fair countenance
Composed the arrow, darted by the eyes
Into my heart, when they were turned on me,
Who, fixed in wonder, on their beauty gazed.
I then perceived the spirit taking flight
From every limb, that trembled with the smart;
And as the sighs went forth, they mournfully
Exclaimed, with tears, that the fond heart was slain.
Thenceforth each thought of my afflicted soul
Wept bitterly, for ever in my view
The image of her excellence remained:
One thought there is which thus bespeaks the heart :
Pity is not a virtue formed for us,
Thou find'st it so, and thence is my despair.
Nelle man vostre, o dolce donna mia.
INTO thy hands, sweet lady of my soul !
The spirit that is dying I commend ;
And which departs so sorrowful, that Love
Views it with pity while dismissing it.
By you to his dominion it was bound
So firmly, that it since hath had no power
To call on him, but thus: O mighty lord,
Whate'er thou wilt of me, thy will is mine.
I know that every wrong displeaseth thee;
Therefore that death which I have not deserved
Enters my heart with much more bitterness.
O gentle lady, whilst this life remains,
That I may die in peace, with mind consoled,
Be pleased to be more bounteous to mine eyes.
Dagli occhi belli di questa mia dama.
THE beauteous eyes of my sweet lady pour
Love's influence in a stream so bright and full,
That every one who sees her bows the head
With awe, nor other object e'er desires.
Beauty and courtesy their goddess call her ;
And rightly so, for creature so refined
As she, appears not human but divine;
And ever ever rising in her fame.
Who loveth her how can he hope content,
Seeing her manifold and heavenly gifts?
Ask how I know them, I reply, I feel;
But if thou ask their number, and how great,
Say, 'tis not to be told; for more are they
Than infinite, and others all excel.
Ben dico certo che non è riparo.
WITH truth I say, ne'er was there shield so strong
Could save me from the darts of her fair eyes;
And this their mighty power I do not blame,
But her hard heart, to every favour closed:
For from my sight she hides her lovely face,
Whose brightness heals the wounds of my sad heart
That finds not in my tears the least relief;
Nor does my bitterest lament affect her.
Thus is she ever beautiful and cruel,
The foe of pity and estranged from love; But most it pains me to declare these truths, Wrung from my heart by violence of grief, And not by anger, for I none can feel;
But love her more than self with faith unchanged.
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