romantic poems

WHEREIN HE ENUMERATES THE WEAPONS IN LOVE'S ARSENAL

Love uses me as target for his lance,
As snow in sunlight or as wax in flame,
Or wind-swept cloud; and though upon your name
I call, O Laura, pity looks askance.
Your flashing eyes first caused the dart to dance
In my sick breast; nor time nor place can tame
Its fire. From you, that take no thought of blame,
Were born the pangs that thwart deliverance.
Each thought drives arrows, and your face a sun,
My passion's heat: and these Love urges well

WHEREIN HE TELLS THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE

If this should not be Love, O God, what shakes me?
If Love it is, what strange, what rich delight!
If Love be kind, why has it fangs to bite?
If cruel, why so sweet the barb that rakes me?
If Love I crave, why this lament that breaks me?
If not, what tears or sighs can mend my plight?
O Death in Life, dear pain, where lies thy might
If I refuse the doom that overtakes me?
If I consent, without a cause I grieve:
So in a tempest do my fortunes heave,

LAURA'S IMAGE CONFRONTS HIM EVERYWHITHER

With inexpressible sweetness overflowing,
Which from that lovely face mine eyes drew streaming,
And sealed as fast, for very rapture gleaming,
Never to dwell on lesser beauty's glowing,
Then, Love at Love's beloved perfection knowing,
I left it: now my mind devotes its dreaming
To her alone; what is not to her seeming,
It shuts away from any sight or showing.
Deep in a dell secluded from all peering,
Sole consolation of my sad heart's sighing,

WHEREIN HE RECALLS THE SAD SWEET SOUVENIRS OF LOVE

That window where my whole sun sets and rises
Forever dazzling, lending earth new lustres,
And that where still, when savage Boreas blusters
In the brief days, the gusts assume fierce guises;
That seat of stone where she soliloquizes
In solitude beneath the cypress clusters;
Haunts where her shadow gleamed; soft grass that musters
Proud memories of her radiant enterprises;
That spot where Love first wrought my overthrowing;
The sweet new season that, without relenting,

WHEREIN, HAVING ONCE FALLEN, HE IS FORCED TO THE ETERNAL SLAVERY OF LOVE

So, with perpetual expectation spent,
And in this lingering war of sighs defeated,
I scorn desires and hate the hopes repeated,
And loathe the fetters of my discontent;
But that pure face within my soul deep-seated,
Stamped there, with every motion evident,
Hedges me in, refuses to relent,
Proves incomplete an agony completed.
This marked my doom when liberty's hard highway
Was like another Eden barred with flame:

WHEREIN LOVE FORETELLS THE POET OF HIS RETURN TO LAURA AND POETRY

Write — so Love told my heart and often said —
Write what thou seest large in letters of gold,
That white as ashes is the flock I fold,
And in a moment made alive and dead.
Time was thy spirit felt my power spread
A public proof to lovers young and old;
When other passions found in thee a hold,
I soon caught up with thee, though thou hadst fled.
And if the eyes where first I stood revealed,
Those brilliant eyes where my sweet flag unfurled,

CONCERNING THE LAMENTABLE DEATH OF CINO DA PISTOIA

Weep, women, and with you weep Love as well!
Weep, lovers everywhere, a various throng!
Since he is dead, who while he lived had sung
So valiantly of Love! O ring his knell!
For me, my dear entreaties must compel
This cruel dolour not to check my tongue
Of its melodious tears nor make less long
The heart's moan that shall lighten the heart's hell.
Rhymes, weep, and verses, do you also weep!
Since Messer Cino, of love's fragrant line

WHEREIN HE CONDOLES WITH HIS BROTHER GHERARDO ON THE UNTIMELY DEATH OF A LADY HE LOVED

The lovely lady thou didst love so greatly
Hath from our midst too soon, too soon departed
To take her place among the splendid-hearted
Whose virtue shed such light upon us lately.
No human bliss or bane her station stately
Can touch or taint: come, stand again, new-started,
New-consecrated in God's path, new-charted
In the bright flight that speeds to Heaven so straightly!
Thus, from the heavier burden liberated,

WHEREIN HE EXALTS HER BEAUTY AND AVERS THE PERMANENCE OF HIS PASSION

Golden upon the wind her loose hair streaming,
Twisted into a thousand curls was shaken;
And from her eyes, which seldom now awaken
To answer mine, a fiery light was gleaming;
Ah! — was it fancy? — but with wistful seeming,
Her lovely face by pity's tint was taken:
What marvel that my heart, so long Love's beacon,
Should flame out, fueled so by Love's fierce dreaming?
She was no mortal in her stately moving,
But stepped an angel; and her accents glowing

WHEREIN HE INFORMS CERTAIN LADIES OF THE ADVANTAGES OF LOVE'S DURESS

Fleeing the prison where these many years
Love held me in a sort of heavenly hell, —
Ladies, the story were too long to tell,
How my new freedom crushed me with new fears:
My heart felt anguish fiercer than Love's tears;
Loveless, it could not live a day: then fell
Again on me that Traitor, masked so well
He had deceived a wiser than his peers.
Wherefore, with frequent sighs turning my soul
Back, I have cried, " Ah, Christ! the yoke and chains