CANZONE IX.

Amor, che muovi tua virtù dal cielo.

O LOVE, who send'st thy virtue down from heaven,
As the bright sun his beams,

Who where his ray finds most nobility
There kindles most his genial influence;
And as he cold and darkness puts to flight,
So thou, O mighty lord,

Expellest from the heart all vulgar thoughts,

Nor anger against thee can long contend;

From thee must flow each blessing which the world

With toil and ardour labours to obtain ;

Without thee is destroyed

All power we possess of doing well;
Lost like a picture on a gloomy wall,
Which cannot show its worth,

Nor give delight from colour nor from art.

Thy light for ever strikes upon the heart
As sunbeam on the star;

For from my earliest days my soul became
The handmaid of thy majesty and power:
Hence has its life a thought which leads me on,
And with its sweet discourse

Directs me to regard each beauteous thing
With most delight when it most pleasing is.
By thus regarding hath a youthful maiden
Entered my mind, and made me prisoner,
And lighted up a flame,

As water glows from brightness of the fire;
For at her coming, thy effulgent rays,
Which she still sheds on me,

Had mounted all aloft into her eyes.

Beauteous and gentle as her nature is,
And lovely all she does,

So does imagination, which ne'er rests,
Adorn her in my mind where she resides:

Not that my fancy's self hath subtilty

For argument so high,

But gains a daring from thy influence,

Beyond the strength which nature grants to man.

Faith in thy virtue from her beauty springs,
As strong as can be given by an effect
Produced on thing of worth:

So the sun's virtue is confirmed by fire,
Which neither gives him strength nor takes away,
But by effects declares

The mightier goodness of his power in heaven.

O Sovereign, then, whose nature is so kind,
That from thy majesty,

Nobility and every other grace

Bestowed on earth, their origin derive;
Look down and see how wretched is my life,
And pity of it take:

For grievous at my heart I feel the flame
Which by this lady's beauty is inspired.

With thy sweet influence, Love, O make her feel
The great desire I have of seeing her:

O suffer not that she

Should bring me in the day of youth to death; For she perceives not yet how she can please, Nor knows how strong my love,

Nor that my peace she carries in her eyes.

Great honour thou shalt gain in aiding me,
And I a bounteous gift,

Prized in proportion as I know that where
I am, my life I cannot long defend;
For all my spirits are assailed by one
So strong, that reason says,

Short time they can abide without an end :
And mayst thou also make thy power felt
In this fair lady who deserves it well;
For her deserts may claim

That every good should bear her company,
As one who hath been born into the world
Supremely to command

The minds of all who contemplate her worth.

E

CANZONE X.

Poscia che Amor del tutto m' ha lasciato.

SINCE Love hath utterly abandoned me,
Not with my will,

For never was my state so full of joy ;
But that he pitied so

The sufferings of my heart

He could no longer bear to hear its plaint:
Deserted thus by Love, I will declaim
Against the vice

New born in us, which calls distortedly
That which is base and vile

By a name of mighty worth,

The name of gallantry, a grace so fair
That where it reigns, it gives

A worthy claim to the imperial robe.
It is the banner true

That designates the troop where virtue dwells:
Wherefore, I trust, that if I well defend

True gallantry, as understood by me,
Love will restore me to his grace again.

There are who prodigally waste their wealth,
Thinking to gain

An estimation where the good are found,
Who after death afford

A refuge in the mind

To those who rank among the nobly wise;
But their profuseness cannot please the good;
For thriftiness

Were wisdom, and the ills they would avoid
Attending the mistake

Of them and all the tribe

Who in their reasoning form this judgment false.
Who shall not call it sin

To riot in excess and gluttony?

And gorgeously to dress,

As if for sale where purchasers are fools?

The wise ne'er estimate a man by robes,

These are mere ornament;

But sense and generous hearts are what they prize.

Others there are, who laughing at mankind,
Would fain be thought

Of flowing wit and liberal intellect,

By those who are deceived,

Seeing them laugh at what

Their humbler understanding cannot reach :
And excellent in phrase is their discourse.
Scorned by the few,

Contented by the many to be praised.
No lovely lady

Ever enamours them;

In conversation frivolous and false,
A foot they would not stir

In courtship as true gallantry demands;
But as the thief goes forth

To rob, so they to steal a base delight;
But ladies are not so to manners dead,
And virtuous gallantry,

That they should act as things of reason void.

Virtue which leaves the strait way is not pure; Hence is condemned,

Nor owned where virtue is demanded most, That is, in quiet men

Of spiritual life,

Or habits which to science are inclined.
If then this virtue in a knight be praised,
It must be caused

By many things commixed, for one is found
With one man well to suit,

And with another ill.

But virtue which is pure suits well with all; It is the comforter,

And love and perfect works with it are joined.

Ruled by this three-fold good

Is gallantry, and in its essence lies;

The sun resembling, in whose essence dwell Both light and heat, combined

With the perfection of a beauteous form.

Although there be conjunction of the stars,
Which from its course

Turns gallantry, and more than I recount;
Yet I to whom 'tis known,

Thanks to a gentle lady,

Whose every act example of it gave,

Will not conceal its worth; for it were guilt

In me so vile,

That I should seem one of its enemies :
Henceforth then shall my song

More subtily declare

The truth of it; but I know not to whom.
By him then here I swear,

Who Love is named, and fulness is of bliss,

That without virtuous works

True praise by no one ever can be gained.
Therefore if this my argument be good,
As every one admits,

Virtue with virtue mixed is gallantry.

This virtue is the image of the sun,

Who from the east

Goes forth advancing till his light he hides ;

His beauteous beams infuse

Vigour and life below

To matter as it fitly is disposed:

So she despising the unworthy herd

Of those whose form

Resembles man's, but by their fruit are known,

Ill answering to the leaf,

By habits vile debased,

Like blessings on the gentle heart confers

In gifts of life, is prompt

With joy and acts of favour, fair and new,

Fresh springing every hour.

He takes the sun for pattern who takes her.

Shame on the recreant knights, perverse and false, The enemies of her

Who to the prince of stars may be compared.

The man she favours freely gives and takes,
And never rues ;

Nor does the sun in giving light to stars,
And by reflected light

Receiving aid from them;

But one and other in the exchange delight.
He never is provoked to wrath by words;

But those alone

He hears which pleasing are, and of himself.
Are ever full of praise.

Dear for himself he is held,

And loved by every person who is wise;